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notiddygothgf · 5 months ago

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SEX IS FREE (her)

★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader

★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)

★ c.w.: nanami being sexy asf, suggestive content, mentions of sex (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: HIIIIII omg so i can explain the hiatus lol.... it was totally unintentional. i wound up getting super depressed over school and then fell into a chainsaw man hyperfixation (read shameless, its an aki ff i wrote youll love it). I FINALLY PICKED THIS STORY UP AGAIN because for some reason it's been getting a lot of attention recently??? lol anyway! your comments inspired me to continue writing it (though i cant promise that i'll update quickly, i AM a full time student so #bepatientwithme).

I was salivating over Nanami in this chapter if you couldnt tell lol.... but enjoy!!! keep those comments coming! who knows, maybe i have another chapter stored away and will update a little earlier....... x

★ w.c.; 5.6k

my kinda love; chapter index

‘AND I’M BAD LIKE THE BARBIE. I’m a doll, but I still wanna party,’

“Donnie, baby, you in there?”

“Yeah!” You called back, loud enough for your coworker to hear through the door. You pressed the tube of red lipstick against your bottom lip, peering into the mirror, filling in the outline you had done in black. When you didn’t receive an immediate answer, you continued humming along to the song playing quietly from your phone. “Pink vette like I’m ready to bend. ‘Imma ten so I’m pullin a ken, likeee.”

Your coworker entered the dressing room – you were the only one there. Most of the other girls from the afternoon shift had gone home already.

“Some dude wants to rent you,” She told you.

“No. I don’t do private rooms,” You replied without even looking back. You knew who she was. You weren’t the biggest fan. “I’m good, Mandy.”

“He asked specifically for you,” She added. “Offered a lotta money, too. Helluva lot more than we normally charge.”

You froze up at that. Initially, your first thought was to send her off a second time. Then, you thought of her running off with your money.

“Is he one of them greasy, sleazy old guys?” You asked. It was wild, how quickly you perked up when you heard that. “Last guy was throwin’ himself onto me. I should’ve filed a police report.”

“Oh, stop your ‘bitchin,” The girl sighed. “He’s paying 200 just to see your ass.”

If you had a tail, it would have started wagging.

What? A girl had bills to pay. “So he is a greasy old pervert.”

“No, actually. He’s a fine, young thing. Well, not young, but younger than most of the guys we usually get back here,” She trailed off in thought. You watched her body move in the corner of the mirror. “Sexy as hell. Serious, businessman type. Tall, blond, handsome, a jawline that could cut paper,” here, she bent over, leaning over you and muttering the next words into your ear, “I could always take him off your hands, y’know.”

“As if,” You replied. Spinning the chair back around, you got up. “Better not be expecting nothing extravagant. I’m considering this overtime.”

With a deep breath, standing in front of the cherry red door, your heart began to pound against you chest. It was some strange mixture of nerves and excitement you felt as you raised your hand to knock.

Here goes nothing. You reached for the doorknob and entered the private room, turning back only to lock it behind you.

“Special delivery!” you crooned, trying to embody a playful tone to mask the jittery feeling within. When you turned around to face the client, you were caught by surprise.

Your wide eyes traced over a familiar silhouette – broad shoulders, perfectly-fitted, navy blue two-piece suit that clung to his large arms, and matching slacks that clung to his legs – his widespread, casual position hinted at sophistication. A pretty, sharp, angular face framed by neatly-cropped blond hair. A tasteful timepiece on his wrist caught your eye.

Narrow eyes obscured by peculiar glasses, chiseled cheekbones and jawline. His blond hair – framing his apricot skin – was done up carefully, perfectly, sweeping over his head like a ray of sunlight. You recognized him by his signature scowl.

He came back for more?

You liked your lips, trying to play it cool (like you hadn’t been waiting for him to come back). “Oh, hey, it’s you again,” you said with a smirk. Strutting over to him, you cooed, “Couldn’t stay away?”

He’s so fucking hot.

Though his response wasn’t verbal, the pink hue that dusted his face was not lost on you. You swayed your hips from side to side. “Can you give me somethin’ to work with? I don’t usually do these rooms, you know.”

The devastatingly handsome man swallowed, fixing his gaze on the door – the one you had locked on the way in. As you worked your way between his legs, teasingly dragging your hands up and down your body, his gaze wandered back to you. Shamelessly, you reveled in the attention – studying his reaction.

You could smell his cologne from here – again – and, shit, it made your head spin all over again. The warm notes lingered beneath the collar of his dress shirt. Amber. Wood. Musk. Something dark?

“So I’ve heard,” The man replied, finally breaking his silence. His voice was a revelation – deep, mellow, and smooth, carrying a certain tone of weariness that seemed to add to his enigmatic charm. Charm? Yes, you supposed he charmed you.

He loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt to let some fresh air in. The action drew your attention to his neck, provoking you to take a moment to appreciate the details your coworker had emphasized: Tall, blond, with a jawline that could indeed cut paper.

You were wretched. You had to have been. This is so wrong.

“You seem tense,” You remark, making your second attempt at breaking the ice. “You’re new to the scene, aren’t you?”

The handsome stranger – Nanami, if you remembered correctly – licked his lips, drawing mindless shapes over the deep-toned fabric that covered his knee. “Is it that obvious?” he asks, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The movement did not go unnoticed.

“A little,” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Do you want a dance? We could just sit and chat, too, if you want. I don’t mind. I know your type tend’ta like talking.”

You couldn’t control the way your eyes flitted down over his toned thighs – mind hazy with unwelcome thoughts. The temptation to crawl into his lap a second time was strong, but you reminded yourself of the situation – he was your roommate’s teacher, for fuck’s sake. Your roommate’s handsome… muscular… expensive-looking teacher… with a deep, sexy voice that you could hardly resist.

You must have been ovulating. That was the only excuse.

“I won’t make you put on a show for me,” Nobara’s professor trailed off, eyes distant, clearly lost in thought. He seemed to snap out of it after a moment, pretty brown eyes peering into yours – they looked so dark up close. “As crazy as it sounds, I only wanted to speak to you.”

Your sultry facade cracked a bit at that, surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation. From your experience, men usually came here with only one thing in mind. He wanted to talk… to you. Oh my god.

You nearly squealed. Clearing your throat and pressing your legs together, you turned to hide your flustered face from the older man. “Alright,” you said. “You have 30 minutes.” Plopping down on the couch next to him, you threw your legs over his lap. “What’s your name, handsome stranger?”

You already knew his name. Still, to keep up appearances, you played coy with him. You knew that, reasonably, there was no reason you should be continuing to entertain him — financial commpensation aside, though you could always reimburse him. You should have turned back the moment you realized it was him.

Then again… he had come to see you. It wasn’t like he knew you were his student’s roommate, but that was besides the point. That alone was moral justification enough for you.

The stiff man had his eyes trained on the spot where your legs had been thrown haphazardly over his. Then, nervously, he answered, “Nanami. Kento.”

Kento. You liked that name. It rolled off the tongue real easy — a buttery smooth name for a man as composed as him.

“Nice to meet you Nanami… Kento,” You chipped, mimicking his prose. “Donetta DiVine. I’m sure you already knew that, though. Do you wanna start, or should I?”

Nanami Kento knitted his brows. “Start…?”

You rolled your eyes rather playfully, giving his leg a nudge with your heel. You had ditched the stage platforms for a smaller pair of stilettos. “What do you do for a living?”

He licked his lips. After a brief pause, he answered, “I can’t really say, but I teach on the side.”

“Ooh— mysterious…” You grinned. Leaning into the couch, you braced your chin on your hand, staring into his eyes. It didn’t take much effort to play the role of the ‘interested’ siren like it normally did. Not with him. “You already know what I do,” You added, “You look tired.”

His brown eyes widened with surprise.

Shit, I overstepped.

You took your statement back quickly, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s not—“ He trailed off. Something in his harsh expression softened. “You’re right. Just the first person to notice.”

If your attraction to the man had been any more obvious, you would’ve been waving a sign around with his name on it.

“Really? You’ve got such tired eyes,” You continued anyway. You figured you would at least try to make the most of this half hour with him. “Wanna talk about it?”

He sighed, “Where would I even begin?”

“Your week?” You answered, making a rolling gesture with your spare hand. “How… how was it?”

He looked equal parts confused and intrigued by you, quirking a perfecftly arched brow before clearing his throat. “My week was alright. I started work again after taking a leave of absence for a few months.”

“No kidding…” You trailed off. It didn’t take much to make your interested tone seem real, as you felt nothing but the most genuine sense of interest while listening to him drone on in that deep, raspy voice of his. You could have listened to it for hours. “What happened?”

Something flashed in his eyes. It was quick, fleeting – you almost missed it. “Workplace injury,” He sighed. “If it’s alright, I’d rather not go into detail about it.”

This guy’s like a brick wall.

“Did you heal up okay?” You asked, eyes wide and prying.

He didn’t seem to mind you much. That was a good sign.

“Had to undergo some minor surgery but, yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” He smiled, actually smiled, and it made your chest stir with something unfamiliar. He was devastatingly handsome – the kind of handsome you kept in a little locket in your pocket when you went to war, or something like that. “My bosses have been pressuring me to come back ever since I left. One superior of mine in particular… has been a nuisance. I was under the impression that sick leave was supposed to be a period of peace… but I guess I thought wrong.”

You laughed at his attempt at humor. It came easily to you. Too easily. “I know how you feel. I busted my ass a few months ago. Twisted my ankle real bad,” You raised your leg off of his lap, twirling your stiletto heel around in the air, cutting through it like a knife. “These things are deadly. Boss gave me a solid two days before he started blowing up my phone asking when I was going to be back. It’s like… can you let me live?”

He laughed, then – really laughed, the kind that made his chest rumble, head thrown back against the cushiony couch. And as he released the melodious sound that made your head spin, his eyes creased at the corners. The experience gap between the two you couldn’t have been more apparent. He was a grown man, hardened by years of trials and tribulations – a mysterious one, at that. And there you were, a naive little dancer with your legs strewn over his lap like he was a partner and not a client. He seemed so wise beyond his years, something only accentuated by the tiredness in his eyes. You longed to hear him drone on about his life a little longer, 30 minutes be damned.

“My superior and I actually went to highschool together. He’s been up my ass as long as I can remember,” He hummed, licking his lips, and you followed the path of his tongue as it wet the skin like a hungry feline.

“Which superior?” You asked, mindlessly picking at the fabric of the velour couch beneath you. “The one you were here with last time? With the white hair?”

When the man knit his brows together, you froze up. Shit. I just gave myself away.

There was a brief, tense pause, during which you tried to focus on the music playing from the speakers, the jazzy tune, the faint remnants of a song playing in the showroom outside and up the hall, the wallpaper – anything but him.

“Yes, that would be him,” He answered, finally. He seemed to be… intrigued by you. Yes, that’s what it was – his half-lidded amber gaze lingered on your face for a moment too long. “You’re very perceptive.”

You cleared your throat. “So, this job of yours… do you like it?”

“I despise it,” He sighed, like he had been waiting his entire life to confess those words. “But, at least, I figure I’m doing something meaningful with my life. You could say I’m a professor on the side.”

I already know that, You thought. Still, he didn’t have to know you knew.

“It’s a demanding job, but I enjoy feeling like I’ve made a difference,” He continued on. “Unfortunately, after the incident, I had to take some time away from the kids to recover.”

“You seem to enjoy teaching,” You answered back, perching your chin on your hand against the back of the couch.

“Sometimes,” He replied. “Other times, the work can be unbearable,” He looked up, then, pretty brown eyes on yours in a way that had your heart skipping more than a couple of beats. You could practically feel the way they burned right through your extroverted facade, saw past the layers of glitter and scanty clothes and deep into the abyss in your chest. See who you really were.

It was him who turned to you, then, asking you, “What about you?”

“Me?” You asked, just to make sure you’d heard him correctly. A client? Caring about your experience at work? That was… dizzyingly rare.

“Yes, you,” He reiterated with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Do you enjoy working here?”

Do I…? You took a moment to consider your answer. You could lie to him – preserve the perfect, sexual image the women in your company were expected to uphold. That was always an option. But, the moment you peered into those all-knowing, tired eyes of his, you found that you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. No, not when he had been so honest with you.

No one’s ever asked me that before.

Before you could catch yourself, the words were already leaving your lips. “Not really, but it pays the bills.”

His eyes softened at that. He didn’t look the least bit upset by your words. If anything, he looked as if he had grown suddenly tender with a sense of understanding. Women didn’t often join your line of work. Not unless they were desperate for money. He seemed mature enough to realize that – to see right past the fantasy you were supposed to paint for him and peer into your eyes like windows into your soul. One look at him, and you knew he didn’t see you as a dancer.

He saw you as a person. As a woman.

You broke the moment with a hum, “Why don’t you keep telling me about your week?” You asked, changing the subject, shifting the conversation back into comfortable territory.

The rest of the half-hour with Nanami flew by like a fleeting dream. He spoke with a quiet ease, his voice low and steady, yet somehow captivating. He complained about the inefficiencies at work—endless meetings that led nowhere, piles of paperwork that seemed to multiply overnight, and colleagues who turned simple tasks into impossible challenges. Yet, when he talked about his students, something in his tone softened, revealing a warmth that made your chest ache. You found yourself asking questions, small ones at first, but each answer drew him out more. The way he spoke—measured, thoughtful, with just the faintest edge of weariness—made you want to listen forever. For someone who seemed so guarded, he had a surprising amount to say, and you realized how much you liked hearing him talk.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed until a sharp knock interrupted the quiet cocoon of your conversation.

“Donnie? You okay in there? Your 30 was up ten minutes ago.”

It was your coworker.

“I’m good!” You called back, swinging your legs off of Nanami’s lap, turning to him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I completely lost track of time.”

“No, it’s alright. I should have been checking my watch,” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, long fingers combing through the buzzed, blonde strands of his undercut like wind blowing through a field of wheat. Then, after glancing down at his watch, he stood up, cleared his throat, and straightened out his suit jacket. “Thank you for your time.”

You hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch, brows furrowed. “That’s it?”

You had half expected him to extend the time. The conversation was going so well, you had silently found yourself hoping that he would lean over and do something – place his strong hand on your thigh, brush his fingers up your arm, anything. No-touching policy be damned.

You would make an exception for him. Men that fine don’t just grow on trees.

So, trying your best to lure him back in, you kicked one leg over the other, crawling into a sexy pose on the couch. In the most sultry tone you could manage, you breathed, “Is that really all you wanted?”

Please ask me for a lapdance, You found yourself wishing internally.

He paused, looking back at you like he wasn’t the least bit phased by the sexy pose or the outfit or… well, anything. “Yes, why?”

“Nothing, I don’t know, I just… You spent so much money tonight to be here,” You uttered, suddenly bashful when he was peering down at you like that – he was so much taller than you, a height gap that was only emphasized by your seated position on the couch below him. You imagined you would have to stand on the tips of your toes to be at eye level with his neck, maybe his chin. Mindlessly, you caressed the couch. “I figured you would have at least wanted a lap dance, or something.”

“I’m not going to make you do something that neither of us are interested in doing,” He said, sliding his hands down over his slacks to straighten out the creases that had formed in them where your legs had been resting only a moment earlier. “Sex is free. It’s rare to find someone who’s willing to listen.”

You sat there, stunned into silence, still in that sexy pose on the couch, your body frozen in the aftermath of his words. His calm, unbothered demeanor completely threw you off balance, leaving you scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. Men like him didn’t come in here looking for conversation. They came in here for fantasies, for attention, for touch. But not him.

“Thank you for everything,” he said softly, bowing his head slightly in a gesture so gentlemanly it made your stomach twist. Then, without another word, he moved to the door, unlocking it with smooth precision.

You didn’t even have time to gather yourself before he slipped out, leaving you sitting there in your sultry pose, legs crossed, mouth slightly open. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the room, final and undeniable.

You blinked, your mind racing, the moment replaying over and over in your head. Did I just get… emotionally blue-balled?

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks, both incredulous and a little amused at how absurdly fitting it was. You flopped back against the couch, your sultry act forgotten, staring up at the ceiling as the jazzy tune from the speakers drifted lazily through the air.

For the first time, a client had left you feeling something you couldn’t quite put into words. You couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed, intrigued, or just completely thrown off your game.

All you knew was that you wanted more.

DARREN: Hey imu.

DARREN: U busy tn?

YOU: I’m working but I get out early. Y.

DARREN: let me pick u up after work

DARREN: maybe i can help you ease some of that stress.

Darren rolled off of you with a huff and an exhale, proud of himself. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the backside of his elbow, sighing, “That was great. Did you cum?”

“Yeah,” You liked straight through your teeth. Feeling vulnerable, you reached for your shirt and slipped it back on. There was a point in time where the two of you would sleep skin-to-skin after sex. A point in time long ago, of course, but you couldn’t help but reflect. Now, all that was left was a feeling of discomfort where the intimacy used to be.

He flopped down onto the bed next to you, throwing his arm around your waist. Not moving a muscle, you trained your gaze on the ceiling above, hoping that maybe, if you spent enough time counting the dots in his popcorn ceiling, he would see that you did not, in fact, enjoy the experience. You doubted he would do anything to fix it even if he did know.

52, 53, 54.

You had been counting for the past five minutes – thirty seconds after he had grunted the words, “Let’s do missionary” into your ear before flipping you over. Truthfully, you hadn’t wanted to do missionary. That would mean that he could see you and, more importantly, that you had to look at him. So, to pass time and to avoid his gaze, you looked up at the ceiling, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tides of pleasure that his strokes gave you.

55, 56, 57.

He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling. “You smell like a man’s cologne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I work at a strip club.”

With a groan, Darren rolled onto his back, finally putting a comfortable distance between you and him. “Don’t remind me. I’ve been telling you that you’re wasting your talents at a place like that.”

Your jaw tightened. There it was, the same old Darren: judgment wrapped in concern, but laced with the unspoken assumption that he knew what was best for you.

You slipped off the bed, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. The cool floor against your bare feet helped ground you.

Unlocking your phone, you typed a message to Nobara, your roommate:

Can you come get me? I’m at my ex’s.

The response came almost instantly:

Girl, r u srs?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you replied:

I’ll explain later, ik, just pls… I wanna gtfo of here.

Sliding the phone into the pocket of your hoodie, you turned back to Darren. He was staring at the ceiling now, one arm slung across his chest, his fingers idly tapping against his bicep. For a moment, you hesitated. The familiarity of this scene—him in his sweatpants, you in one of his old T-shirts—was a cruel reminder of how things used to be. But you weren’t that girl anymore.

“I think I should go,” you said, breaking the silence.

Darren’s head snapped toward you. “No, wait,” he said, sitting up. His hair was tousled, his expression almost pleading. “Please… I really want you to stay.”

You crossed your arms, keeping your distance. “Why?”

“Because…” He raked a hand through his hair, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know. I thought things were going good between us.”

You blinked, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “Things? Darren, I come here, we have sex, and then I leave. That’s it. That’s all this is.”

“Is that all I am to you?” His voice carried a tinge of desperation, his eyes searching yours.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Or maybe,” you said slowly, “you’re asking if there’s any chance of us getting back together.”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard. “Is there?”

You laughed again, colder this time, shaking your head. “No. There isn’t.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was sharp. “That’s not fair. I’ve done so much for you—”

“Done so much?” Your voice rose, and you stepped closer, anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t give me shit but dick and attitude, Darren.”

He flinched, but you didn’t stop. “You wanna know what’s not fair? The fact that you went and knocked me up and then forced me to have an abortion. Where the hell were you during that, huh? Seeing as you’ve done so much for me?”

He sat frozen, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. His eyes darted toward the floor, guilt pooling in their depths.

“And you wanna know what’s really unfair?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words spilled out like a flood you couldn’t contain. “The fact that you fucking cheated on me when I needed you the most. That’s what’s not fair, Darren.”

Darren stared at you, his face contorted with frustration. “That’s not fucking fair,” he snapped, his voice rising.

“Oh, fuck you, Darren,” you shot back, your hands trembling as you pointed at him. “What else do I have to do to show you I’m done? What else do I have to say?”

“I’m trying!” he yelled, stepping closer. “I’ve been fucking trying! But nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it? You’re so goddamn impossible!”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You call this trying? You call cheating, lying, and gaslighting me trying?”

“God, you’re such a fucking idiot,” he spat, his words sharp enough to cut. “You act like you’re perfect, like you’ve never made a mistake in your goddamn life.”

“I’m not perfect, Darren,” you hissed, stepping forward, your voice shaking with anger. “But at least I own my shit. At least I don’t treat the people I love like they’re disposable!”

“Oh?” he scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “You think you’re so much better than me? You’re the one who keeps coming back. So what does that make you, huh?”

The room was thick with tension, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then he muttered under his breath, “Pathetic.”

Your blood boiled. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone dripping with venom.

“Fuck you, Darren!” you screamed, shoving him hard against the chest.

His expression darkened. “You don’t get to do that,” he snarled.

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you away. The force of it sent you stumbling back, and you hit the edge of the dresser, pain shooting up your arm as you fell to the floor.

“Wait, I…” His face shifted, panic flickering in his eyes. He took a step toward you, his hand outstretched.

You scrambled to your feet, holding your arm where it throbbed. “You know what? I’m done.” Your voice was quieter now, but no less firm. “I’m done, Darren.”

“Wait—”

“No!” you shouted, cutting him off. “Go fuck yourself!”

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t let us go. We had something special. You know that.”

You stared at him, disbelief flooding your chest. Then you laughed—a cruel, hollow sound. “If you thought this was anything more than sex, then you’re the fucking idiot.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you were already grabbing your stiletto boots from the floor.

“We can make it work,” he said desperately, following you as you stormed out of his apartment.

“Make it work?” you echoed, spinning around to face him as you reached his car. “Make it work?” You hefted one of your boots in your hand. “Make this fucking work!”

Before he could respond, you hurled the boot at his car window. The glass shattered on impact, the sound ringing out like a scream in the still night.

The car alarm blared, its shrill wailing cutting through the silence. Darren stood frozen, his mouth agape.

“Shit,” he muttered, rushing toward the car.

You grabbed your other boot and slung it over your shoulder. “Fix that, asshole!” you yelled as you walked away, the sound of the alarm trailing behind you.

“Her!” Darren called after you, but you didn’t turn around.

You kept walking, the cold air biting at your skin, the adrenaline coursing through you keeping you upright. Your arm throbbed where you’d hit it, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t look back.

You made it about halfway home before the exhaustion hit you like a freight train. Your legs wobbled, and you collapsed onto the curb, cradling your arm as the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.

Your phone buzzed weakly in your pocket. Nobara’s name lit up the screen.

“Where the hell are you?” she demanded as you answered, her voice sharp but tinged with worry.

You gave her your location, your words slurred with exhaustion and pain. “I can’t— I just can’t walk anymore.”

“Stay put,” she said firmly. “I’m coming to get you.”

By the time her car pulled up, you were slumped against a lamppost, your eyes half-closed. Nobara jumped out, wrapping her jacket around your shoulders as she helped you to your feet.

“What the hell happened?” she asked, her tone softer now.

You shook your head, too drained to explain. “I’m hungry. I’ll tell you later.”

“Let’s stop and get you something to eat,” She didn’t press further, guiding you into the car. As the city lights blurred past, you stared out the window, the events of the night replaying in your mind like a bad dream.

The car was warm, the quiet hum of the heater and the golden glow of streetlights spilling through the windshield easing the tension in your chest. You cradled your injured arm as Nobara maneuvered through the drive-thru, shooting you occasional glances.

“You want the usual?” she asked as she pulled up to the intercom.

“Yeah. Large fries, nuggets, and a Coke,” you murmured, leaning your head back against the seat.

She placed the order, and soon you were pulling into a parking spot under the dim glow of the lot’s overhead lights. The smell of greasy goodness filled the car as she handed you the bag, cracking open a box of nuggets for herself.

“So,” she said, dipping a nugget into a cup of barbecue sauce. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened back there, or do I just have to assume you went full-on ‘Carrie’ at prom?”

You snorted, the first genuine laugh you’d had all night. “Something like that.”

“Well, shit.” She popped the nugget into her mouth. “Guess I missed a show.”

You sighed, staring at the fries in your lap. “It’s over. For real this time.”

“Good,” Nobara said firmly. “That guy was a walking red flag.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Speaking of red flags…” You smirked as an idea popped into your head. “You’ll never believe what happened at work today.”

Her eyes narrowed as she dunked another nugget. “Oh, this should be good. Spill.”

You leaned back, a grin playing on your lips. “I got booked for a private room.”

Nobara froze mid-bite. “I thought you didn’t do those?”

“I don’t,” you said, shrugging. “But they offered me a shit ton of money. Guess who it was.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

You couldn’t help but draw it out for dramatic effect. “Your teacher.”

Her jaw dropped, and the nugget in her hand fell back into the box. “No way, Bitch.”

You nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

“What did he want? Is he, like, a total pervert or something?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, actually. He just wanted someone to talk to.”

Nobara blinked, clearly baffled. “Huh.”

“I know, right?” you said, grabbing a nugget. “Easiest money I’ve ever made.”

“Damn,” she muttered, chewing thoughtfully. “I never took him as the emotional type.”

“Don’t go telling your friends, though,” you warned, wagging a finger at her. “He told me some pretty heavy shit.”

Nobara tensed, her expression flickering with something you didn’t catch as you reached for your Coke. “Like what?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Like hell if I’d tell you.”

“Oh, come on!” she said, pouting dramatically. “I won’t tell anyone!”

You smirked, leaning back in your seat. “I’m not risking it. Client confidentiality or whatever.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” she groaned, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the car filled with the sound of crinkling wrappers and occasional laughter.

“Hey,” Nobara said suddenly, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “You’re okay, right?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I will be.”

She smiled, a small, genuine one. “Good. ‘Cause if you ever go back to that asshole, I’m slashing his tires.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “Deal.”

As you both dug into the last of the nuggets, the weight of the night seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of greasy food and a friend who always had your back.

a/n: and there she is! my first update in like a year lol. lmk what you thought! tell me what you would like to see in the story, who knows, i might be able to incorporate it in! Thank you all for your lovely comments. I loveee reading them.

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. I can't find the artist, but if you know them pls dm for credits!!! please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @ynjimenez , @soraya-daydreams , @nonksity , @hinata7346 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @sad-darksoul , @sasuke-slut , @yuunie135 , @bratkuna , @aydene , @mshope16 , @pretentiousteentrash , @galactict3a , @kokos-property , @moonriseoverkyoto , @lyn-soso , @arilostie , @violetmatcha , @markleeisdabestdrug , @erensdior , @hp-simp505 , @fushiguro-kyuuuuuu , @bontensbabygirl , @switch-godess , @honey-yuh , @ddotsie

wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#my kinda love ʕ•㉨•ʔ #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami fluff #nanami angst #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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crimeboys · 2 months ago

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hey guys. it's me. cyrus aliveburs. a bit of uhh a washed up update. now you may notice that i have taken out the no smut and implied sexual content tags on washed up. and also added the sexual content tag. dont get scared. i mean you can get a little scared if you want but im probably never going to be writing quackity and wilbur straight up having sex mostly bc i have come to learn that writing sex is kind of boring but as i was writing chapter 7 things got more sexual than intended and that might happen a few more times in the fic i dont really know i just dont care enough to shave it down to be less sexual especially bc it would make the scene less funny. anyway i'll also put a warning at the beginning of the chapter for the people who dont follow me on tumblr obviously. hope you enjoyed my #SexUpdate

#text post #mine #washed up au

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chuuyasheaven · 2 years ago

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5th day with chuuya?? I need more jealous chuuya content

"I’m gonna fuck you up, fuck you until you ask me for more.." - Hands up! by 6arelyhuman !!

Tags: Chuuya Nakahara / afab! Reader, PM! Reader, jealous! Chuuya, jealous sex, rough sex, slight dumbification, pet names, degrading / praising kink, slight choking, teasing, hickeys, fingering, soft to rough! Chuuya, ooc?, smudged makeup, overstim, might contain grammar errors, rushed, quite long lol, etc.

Notes: SORRY FOR BEING SO SLOW; first of all, my asshole of a father took my damn phone, so i have to write on the computer now.(until I get it back). Also depression has been kicking me in my gut!! Anyway, enough abt me and let's carry on!! HOPE YOU ENJOY MWAH !!;:)

Update(two days later): THIS SHI BE LONG ASF BUT IDC ENJOY THIS FILTH RAHHH‼️

You put on one of your most expensive dresses on for this mission. Your make up was perfectly done too, and all this not even for him!

Just because you had to seduce the target to get them killed, still, this was just unfair to Chuuya..

"Hey, pretty,", you heard comming from behind you, assuming it was the victim to be. When you turned around, you were right. The target was hitting on you, infront of Chuuya too, just like you planed.

“Can I help you?”, you asked with a seductive tone, the target smiled at you, completely ignoring Chuuya. ��Yes, you could, by coming home with me, sweetheart.”, you couldn’t wait until taking his life, this was getting annoying.

“I would love to, handsome.”, you responded, cringing at your own response. You weren’t enjoying this, this felt so wrong, but you clearly weren’t the only one thought that.

As you took a quick side glance, you noticed how Chuuya was giving him the death stares. You played it off as if it was nothing, then you felt how the target put their hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, we couldn’t miss the fun now, could we?”, you didn’t want to say anything, so you just left with him. Chuuya followed without you knowing though.

When the Victim entered his car, while closing his door. You got ready to shoot him dead on the spot, but Chuuya did so before you even got the chance.

As the target laid there dead in the car, you closed the door and Chuuya brought you home on his motorcycle, not even saying a word to you.

At home, you walked into your room, not noticing Chuuya again. Sitting down onto your shared bed, you just let out a sigh.

Suddenly, he came through the door unannounced. This startled you a little bit, but he just stood there. Feeling confused, you decided to ask him why he was acting this way.

“Look, sweetheart, I know this mission was really weird and all, but-,”, you got interrupted by Chuuya grabbing your arm slightly harsh. He pulled you up rather quickly and pressed you up against him. “What a-are you doing?-”, again you were interrupted by him.

This time, it was by a kiss, a kiss so gentle but yet possessive. It truly caught you off guard, but you didn't complain, he kept on kissing you.

Chuuya pulled away shortly, then kissed you again, harder this time, with more hunger and lust. While he was kissing you, he kept on walking towards the wall until he cornered you there.

Chuuya pulled away again, looking deep into your eyes. “I couldn't wait to finish off that bastard, i can't stand when someone takes something that's mine.”, he growled into your ear. “Guess I'll have to mark you up tonight..”, he added on, you looked away from that remark, knowing what he was talking about.

You felt your face being positioned back to look at him, Chuuya was grabbing your chin, as you looked at him you could see him smirking. “Unless you don't want me to, i won't force ya, darling,”, Chuuya said, hinting for you to whether consent or not.

Nodding 'yes' as an answer, Chuuya looked at you, like a hunter would look at it's prey. “Good, 'cause i won't be going easy at it either.”, he warned, hinting what he was about to do.

He went back to kissing you, his hands held you by your waist. You melted into the kiss, letting go once again, Chuuya licked his lips. “Be good for me, will you, princess?”, you nodded again.

“Good girl.”, Chuuya said before he went down on your neck, kissing down his way to your collarbone. You let out quiet but soft whimpers, which got him to smirk against your skin.

“Sensitive, huh?”, Chuuya slightly teased as his knee made it’s way between your thighs. As he gently removed the straps of your dress, he pulled it down until it reached your stomach, revealing your favorite bra.

Chuuya kissed his way to your nipples, sucking on them lightly. Your whimpers got louder, knowing your super sensitive there. When he was done with that, he patted on your thighs, you knew what he meant.

You jumped up for him, he caught you mid-air and held you by his waist, his grip was firm so you wouldn’t fall.

Now he was kissing your lips again, smudging your lipstick. Chuuya turned around and carried you back to bed, placing you there. Your arms still clung around his neck while he was topping you.

Separating yourselves from the kiss, Chuuya smirked at you while he ripped off your dress. “C-chuuya, this was-”, “I know, baby, I’ll buy you plenty more of ‘em, promise..”, he promised you.

The ripped dress hit the floor, now you were in black laced panties under him, and he was enjoying the view. Chuuya was still in his clothes, even his gloves, the same gloves which were pushing your panties to the side to finger you.

His fingers were inside of your cunt, making you feel good. Since you were wet anyway, he already got slick on his gloves. “Look at how wet you’re for me, slut.”, Chuuya said to you.

You felt your first release near, as his fingers were buried deep inside you, every spot was reached almost perfectly. When your knot snapped, you tried to warn him, but failed. Chuuya pulled out his fingers, looking at the mix of slick and cum stained on his black gloves. “Now you got my gloves dirty..but that’s okay,”, Chuuya claimed while licking some of it. “You taste so fuckin’ good, so I’ll let it slide.”, you looked at him as he removed your panties completely. You got desperate now, you wanted his cock to replace the emptiness inside your pussy, and he clearly knew because you were dripping slick again.

“Oh? Wet again, darling?”, you looked away in embarrassment and desperation, suddenly Chuuya was hovering over you again, grabbing your chin. Giving your lips a quick peck while smirking at you, you talked again.

“Chuuya. P-please..”, you said quietly. “Please what? Speak up f’me, princess..”, Chuuya asked in a mockingly tone. “Need you so bad, p-please,”, you slurred at him, Chuuya could feel his cock harden up at this. “Really? How bad do you want it?”, he denied you even longer.

“S’bad, I need you so fucking bad, please.,”, you paused for a few seconds, “I need your dick inside me, need you to fuck me, Chuuya..”, you begged, now he couldn’t eventually deny you any longer, he needed you now.

Chuuya looked satisfied with this, he slightly aggressively removed his pelt and freed himself from his pants and boxers. “Such a needy whore, hm?”He gave his cock a few small rubs and pushed it past your walls.

You slightly tense up at the feeling, but pleasure followed after. Chuuya then thrusted into you with force, rough and desperate, he was finally fucking you!

You grip the sheets, his skin clapping against yours, huffs and moans were heard from you. His dick reached all the right places, when Chuuya held your legs up to his waist, you could feel him even deeper inside. “F-fuck,”, he cursed under his breath, “You’re suckin’ me in, tell me, who’s fuckin’ you this good?”, Chuuya asked while he waited your response. “Y-you, Chuuya. Nobody else, j-just you- ah!”, you almost shouted when his tip hit your sweet spot.

“Good girl, seems like I found your special spot, right?”, Chuuya asked in a teasing tone, as he hit that spot repeatedly now. You nodded, he chuckled. Your orgasm started to build up again. The urge to cum was big, to you and Chuuya, at this point he started to grunt by every thrust. Deciding to add more pleasure, he started to draw lazy circles on your clit, now your grip on the sheets got more firm.

Chuuya’s thrusts got more sloppier and messy but were still rough, the overstimulation becoming too much for you, your knot snapped faster. Your sweet release washed over you.

After you, Chuuya came right inside you, filling you up. It felt like a lot, and it probably was, or it wouldn’t be spilling out slightly past Chuuya’s cock. Actually, why hasn’t he pulled out yet?

“—Well, seems like I’ll be needing to fill you again, princess. You might need to take a day off because you won’t be walking tomorrow..I will make sure of it.”

That’s very hot of you, Chuuya.. meow. ;3

IMPORTANT NOTE: I might need to pause this event because I’m traveling with my family! So I’ll be able to post like 2-3 fics before I go! Sorry that it came so sudden, but I promise I’ll be very productive after!! Until then, bye pookies!!

#chuuya smut #bungo stray dogs smut #chuuya nakahara smut #bsd smut #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #Rei’s Events !! 🎀

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synamartia · 1 year ago

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[ Featured Artwork © lustylita ] ❀ [ Featured Divider © cafekitsune ]

[ Story © synamartia ] ❀ [ Text banner created via TextStudio ]

Chapters: [ One ] ❀ [ Two ] ❀ [ Three ] ❀ [ Four ] ❀ [ Five ] More coming soon. I'm getting the first few chapters in a queue right now and should have them posted over the next couple of days! Frequency of chapter releases are not yet determined; I will update once decided. The first few are a singular scene divided into multiple chapters for easier reading.

Content Warnings: AlastorxReader ; Afab!Reader ; No pronouns or Y/N used ; Use of gendered pet names like "good girl" ; Explicit / MDNI / 18+ ; Sexual situations ; Domestic abuse ; Descriptive violence ; Eventual mild body horror ; Angst ; Slow burn ; Potential happy ending - we'll see where it takes us ; Specific CWs will be added in each chapter. Some chapters may include gifs to better explain specific scenes and will be tagged accordingly!

Author's Notes: Ya'll... When I first started sending little tidbits to Hazel, Mink, and Danny, I did NOT expect it to blow up like it did nor did I think I would be jumping back into the writing game like this. It was something that I started out of pure boredom and horniness due to ovulation. I sure as shit wasn't expecting to write a FUCKING BOOK for my first piece, but my praise and service kinks took over when I saw the responses my baby loves were getting, and I just couldn't control myself after that. Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy this wonderful little journey we're about to take together, and please- make sure to give ALLLLLLL of your love to @hazelfoureyes, @minkdelovely, and @sugoi-writes, because they're awesome, they deliver with every beautiful thing they post, they deserve it, and none of this would have been possible without them! Thank you, my loves! Mwuah~! 💋❤️

#Series masterpost #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin angst #synamartia #alastor angst

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the-kipsabian · 1 year ago

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wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

#wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fic #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #i hope this make some sort of coherent sense #despite being a writer im really bad at words lmao #i also dont know what to tag this with without clogging main tags so im going to trust moots to get this going first #just. this is a topic im passionate about. i love writing i love writers and having seen the wrestling fandom as of late really struggling #with this. we need to do something. even a little bit helps. actually get people leaving feedback and commenting again #supporting each other. we can do this together #dont let dreams be dreams lets fucking do this #just be nice and help each other out #im gonna stop now before i get overly emotional. if theres any questions let me know tho i think i got the main parts pretty clear here #again moots. im trusting you to get this started. im not gonna add my own shit here immediately this isnt about me #this is about the community as a whole #i also hope nobody is afraid of adding themselves here. you are all valid and worth the attention no matter what #just remember to also give if you leave something here. look at the previous links. look in the notes to find more people #okay thats it i need to make dinner now #lets just be kind and support one another. promise me that 💜#night is an absolute mess on main

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chestersbraincell · 5 months ago

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Finally doing an Introduction post 👀

It’s quite long, so I’ll put it as a “Read more”

I don’t necessarily identify with any particular name, but I have adopted a few Proper Noun - ish names which are in the list below. I don’t particularly attach myself to them as I don’t think I have a true name that exists, but the below are some things which I’ve collected that somewhat tangentially relate to myself or that I just, well, like! Aside from those, I much prefer to be referred to by, well, descriptors, I guess? It’s like you would go- oh, look at that ________ over there!/That _________ is……… kinda like that!

Well anyway, listed in somewhat of an order of preference(THEY’RE NOT PRONOUNS BTW):

•[REDACTED]

•Chester/Jester

•creature or any other variants of such descriptor

•Void/Voidling/shadow

•Shifting Void

•Nix/Asher

•Weeping Willow

(More may be added in the future)

I go by any pronouns, including any neos you think might suit my vibe! (that is, only with neo’s that are respectful, ie no slurs/otherwise offensive terms). I much prefer gender-neutral terms along with they/them, but I don’t get dysphoric with masc-leaning stuff. The only slightly touchy terms/pronouns for me are the feminine ones, I mean, they’re fine to use I would just rather they were used on rare occasions/as sayings(stuff like girl).

With that out of the way, it’s pretty important to say what I post, right? I partake in MANY fandoms, so never expect a singular theme. That being said, you can largely expect many reblogs/posts about:

•Undertale/Deltarune(rarely utmv stuff, I’m just not really a fan)

•Hermitcraft/Life series(Mainly Grian, Mumbo, GoodtimeswithScar, Smallishbeans and Geminitay), as well as sometimes generally just Minecraft related things

•Our Wonderland(VERY underrated psychological horror visual novel that you should check out NOW!!! 🫵🫵)

•My experiences as Alterhuman/Otherkin(more on this later)

That’s the main bulk of my stuff, however, I also pretty frequently post and reblog about:

•Mouthwashing

•Slay the Princess

•Corru.observer

•Detective Beebo

•Severence

•Dress to Impress(I often like to post my own outfits that I make!!)

•my experiences with Dermatillomania/Skin Picking Disorder

•generally rants/rambles/storytimes/whatever comes into my mind really. I use this blog a lot like a public diary, so also expect a fair share of venting/trauma dumping. I try my best to trigger warning these but yeah.

Now!! That’s!!! A lot of stuff wouldn’t you say? How does one navigate said stuff if you’re browsing my blog? Well!! The featured tags have been edited to feature my most commonly posted about things, and they’re a great way to filter through my blog. I reblog ALOT(especially using the queue, which I choose to not tag), so if you’re interested solely in my original posts I have just the tag for you: Asher’s Ramblings . With one small problem unfortunately. Annoying part being you have to manually type asher’s ramblings into my blog’s search bar WITH a space at the end for most posts to show(I think it’s because at a point I just started to copy and paste the tag instead of manually typing it). Otherwise the featured tags should work fine.

I have additionally created side blogs to reblog my writing ( @jestersrambles ) , dress to impress outfits ( @sillyjesterplaysroblox ) and otherkin posts/reblogs ( @shiftingvoid ) if you’re here from seeing posts related to those and don’t want your dash cluttered with the other stuff I reblog/post about. Keep in mind these sideblogs are updated irregularly/later than this blog so they are a lesser option to the main blog. Alas the choice is up to you. I will not be making fandom-specific blogs as I mostly reblog about those anyway and the purpose of the sideblogs was to allow people to more easily follow for content created BY me. So yea

Sometimes when you interact with someone, you have an image of them in your head. For a lot of people, that is influenced by their profile picture. And if you wish to see me as a Garfield dressed up in yellow and red clown attire that is completely fine! But!!! If you were curious as to what my internet sona looked like, then the closest I think I could get would be my Roblox avatar:

But alas, that is, as well as my current mortal human body, a mere suit, a shell, that contains my true self. Yupp here is where you get an exact description of my Alterhuman/Otherkin identity yippie!!!

The main “kin” identities I identify with are “Voidkin” and “Shapeshifterkin”. I am like the physical/metaphysical embodiment of, well, space, I guess? That is my “home”, anyway. The void is my home. Where I come from. But sometimes I’m also part of it. Not to get too spiritual with it but I do believe in reincarnation in my own way, and I believe that being part of the “void”, or just general “energy” floating around there is the in-between in which my soul resides in between lifetimes.

I think I’ve lived many a lifetimes which have shaped the main forms I take when I’m more, well, shaped. Most of the time the shape I take is mostly humanoid, with various animal/otherwise features at different times, such is the way of being a shapeshifter. I’m vanta-black in colour, except for the two glowing circles that are my eyes. They’re not always visible/open, but a lot of the time are. Also occasionally my teeth/fangs will highlight in a similar way. Oftentimes as of recent I’ve been covered in fur/my silhouette is “fuzzy” on the edges, but there are times when I feel more cool, smooth. The best way I could describe it is the texture of phone/computer screen. That and I’m semi-corporeal. So. Not entirely tangible. I take a liking to forests and dark spooky hallways/general areas, I think at some points I might’ve been something similar to a cryptid. Generally just like to become one with the darkness I occupy, too. Malleable is my shape is all I want to say.

Rarely, but it does happen, I experience more animalistic shifts(in the shapeshifter way, btw, since I know “shifts” is something used by otherkin identities in a different context). The forms I take, then, are most often either feline or canidae in nature. I’ve considered moth and squirrel before but I’m not sure whether I just share some traits/behaviours or whether I have had moments where I was completely shaped like that.

Well, I guess coming to an end, it would be worth to do a somewhat “DNI” list or whatever people do in that vein, if we’re speaking of interaction. A good rule of thumb would be that, if you don’t fw the things I am or the things I enjoy, probably move along. You’ll probably get a block from me if you’re Homophobic, Transphobic, Racist, Nazi, just generally if you’re a shitty human being and if I don’t block you because I don’t know of these views you hold, I would appreciate if you stay away from me thanks. I don’t enjoy partaking in discourse most of the time, especially if I’m not in a place to speak on the matter(ie not affected by it personally).

Though, I guess since this is tumblr, I guess I should specify my attitude towards shipping. I personally don’t like the terms pro/anti because they’re very reductive and people define them in different ways anyway. I’d say I have like 3 tiers of attitude towards ships:

Tier 1(A-okay with it, no problems here)-basically any ships considered completely unproblematic and healthy. I guess the only one some may disagree with being healthy that I put in this category is (STRICTLY) romantic minor x minor pairings. Because don’t act like minors don’t get into relationships/have crushes. If you make it weird/sexual then that’s on you and you’re weird.

Tier 2-ships where the relationship between the two characters may be seen as toxic or unhealthy. This includes stuff like Yanderes, bully x victim, codependency, non-age related power imbalances, stuff like that. With these, I do ship them, but in the way that I like to see these dynamics explored and written about/depicted. If you romanticise/endorse these then I am not okay with you and if I find out you do this I will likely block you at my own discretion. I just like to see them purely for the angst+the representation.

Tier 3- what you’re likely thinking of. Incest, anything involving minors x adult, SA victim x abuser, sexualisation of minor x minor pairings(yes, even if you age them up). I don’t want to see it. I will likely view you with disgust if I see you endorsing/posting it. I want to clarify I am against witch-hunting and harassing individuals who do this, and that I know some do this as a trauma response. I am not in a place to tell someone how to process their trauma. But I don’t want to see it.

Oh yeah, also, I’m 18, so I guess I should set out some boundaries there. Of course, I have no way of verifying your age and quite frankly I’m not responsible for your unrestricted internet access, so everything is up to your discretion. However. If I may lay down some personal preferences I would say my page is okay for anyone aged 13 and up; just make sure to have the tag “nsfw” blocked since I tag some of my more suggestive posts/jokes that way. As for more personal interaction like DMs or being something akin to “friends”(I don’t particularly like getting close to anyone let alone calling them a friend because of my trust issues, calling someone a friend makes it official and that scares me) I would personally prefer if you were at-least 16, 15 if we’re really pushing it but then again it really depends on how emotionally mature you are on whether we would be able to find common ground.

#gahhhh I had so many blinkies and graphics and stuff to add here and only just realised tumblr has a limit #intro post #introduction #masterpost #of sorts #it’s about time #I got around to it tbh

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awardenandacrow · 7 months ago

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Hello! This blog is by Tabitha “Purrmage” Cummings. I’m a traditional mixed media fantasy character artists based in Connecticut, USA. This blog is for me to post my art, screenshots/recordings, and fanfic snippets (and maybe eventually an actual full length fanfic? 👀👀) relating to my first Dragon Age: The Veilguard playthrough with my Grey Warden Rook, Naimeryn “Naimy” Thorne, with whom I’m completely obsessed. She’s romancing Lucanis Dellamorte! This blog WILL feature spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard, if you haven’t played it/if you make different decisions. I’m mostly making this because I started posting snippets to Threads, but Threads doesn’t actually organize it’s… threads… very well and people were having trouble reading. I hope this will alleviate that issue!

PLEASE NOTE: I write down fanfic snippets as they come to me, and so they aren’t in chronological order as far as the game is concerned. Additionally, I have not actually finished my first playthrough of Veilguard yet, so there may be edits later to account for things I’m misremembering/things that don’t actually make sense with the actual game, etc etc. this is not an AU, this basically is just my headcanon for how the game went for my Rook, filling in blanks, embellishing scenes to fit her character more, etc.

SPOILER ALERT. If you are not as far into the game as I am/have made different decisions and don’t know what happens if you make the opposite choice, there may be spoilers for you within what I’ve written, drawn, or screenshotted/recorded. Please read at your own discretion.

CONTENT AND/OR TRIGGER WARNINGS: I will try to put any relevant CW/TW information at the introduction of each snippet [I do an introduction to each scene in brackets like this for my own reference, and hopefully it will help readers as well]. I’m not an erotica writer, so if I mark something “mature” it’s likely steamy but not spicy (if I try my hand at spice, I’ll be sure to indicate that, but generally it’s just gonna be steamy. I think that fits the innocence of the relationship between my Rook and Lucanis, anyway, personally). In general, you will likely see mostly a strong language tag, though there is one snippet that very, VERY vaguely hints at SA (it’s intended to be implied, but nothing explicit is said). I hope this will help everyone read and enjoy comfortably!

ADDITIONAL NOTE: Taash’s story arch in the game included them coming out as non-binary. However, before they come out to Rook, they use she/her pronouns. I write in third person, from my Rook, Naimeryn’s, point of view, so the reader only knows what Naimeryn knows, and so, just as in the game, before Taash comes out, she/her pronouns will be used, and then they/them pronouns will be used once Naimeryn is aware that Taash is non-binary. I will also include this disclaimer before any snippets in which Taash is referred to by she/her pronouns.

ABOUT NAIMERYN

NAIMERYN’S RELATIONSHIPS

NAIMERYN FUN FACTS

SCREENSHOTS

FANFIC SNIPPET MASTER POST

LINK TO FANFIC AS PUBLISHED ON AO3

#dragon age the veilguard #dragon age rook #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #fanfic #my rook #rook #rook x lucanis #rookanis #dragon age #fan blog #original character #player character #the brainrot is real

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finickyfelix · 1 year ago

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Writeblr Intro: Up-to-date Version

About Me:

You can call me Felix. Adult, trans man, he/him pronouns exclusively. Also aromantic and bisexual, which probably explains a few things about how I write relationships. I am extremely shy and socially awkward, but I'm trying my best to become more social, mostly by talking in reblog tags, which is my main method of communication around here.

Also I draw, sometimes. I occasionally post my art here, but only very, very rarely.

I am a very big fan of Slay the Princess and Scarlet Hollow, so expect to see reblogs related to them sometimes.

Feel free to tag me in tag games, but I can't guarantee that I will do most of them. I only do them very occasionally. But tag me anyway; I want to see your writing! I am also open to asks.

I now have a sideblog @phantasmalfelix where I reblog random stuff that doesn't fit this blog. You're welcome to follow that one too if you want to get to know me more outside of my writing. I am currently way more active on that blog than this one.

What I Write:

I once would have said write fantasy, but who knows what I write anymore, honestly. Horror mostly, lately, I guess? Regardless of genre, I always write character-focused stories without much of a focus on plot. I often write fairly dark stuff so please be careful around here. Also I have been known to write (and reblog) NSFW writing. I do make sure to try my best to tag everything appropriately and use mature content labels when applicable, but still. I will also block any minors who interact with my NSFW writing or reblogs.

Below the cut are my currently posted works + info on my WIPs, which I shoved down there because this gets long otherwise. Please click on the read more if you're interested.

Currently Posted Writing:

Note: Although I have works on AO3, I no longer can use AO3 going forward due to reasons involving their updated privacy policy and my anxiety. So although my works are staying up, I can no longer reply to comments and I can't read anyone else's work on AO3 anymore. Sorry!

Snakeskin:

(Available on both Tumblr and AO3)

Part one on Tumblr

Part two on Tumblr

Linos Tievis, a failing medical student who has an interest in monsters, finds an injured monster on the side of the road. Obviously he can't just leave her there, so he does what he can to nurse her back to health. However, she hates him, which is making things difficult.

Word count: 11,117 (on AO3. The word count on Tumblr is a little different due to edits.)

Genre: I have been told that it's horror. It's not supposed to be scary though, just... subtly disturbing. It's mostly meant to be a character study.

Content warnings: Blood and injury, misgendering, familial death, childhood trauma/child abuse, gender dysphoria, non-consensual kissing, past sexual assault, sexual thoughts, kind of cannibalism threats. Very brief and minor mentions of animal death and self-injury.

Notable features: villain origin story set 15 years before Faded Daisy, has a one-sided and very toxic monster/human "romance," has authentic evil insane trans man representation. Also there is a hot lizard lady.

There is also a separate NSFW monsterfucking bonus content story that I wrote for Snakeskin that exists both on Tumblr and on AO3. The Tumblr version is better because I added a bit to it. Please do not click on that link if you are a minor.

Some Company for the Evening:

(Currently only available on AO3.)

Mazarian, a priest currently in line to become the High Priest of Palvis, has recently made a habit of sneaking out at night and drinking in the Lower District. He's kept his celibacy vow intact though; although he's breaking several other vows, this is one line he's not willing to cross. However, tonight he encounters a somewhat suspicious foreign prostitute who seems determined to make him break that vow.

Word count: 8,139

Genre: Fantasy-romance

Content warnings: No actual sex but there are a lot of sexual themes. Also contains themes of religion, implied self-harm, and mild transphobia

Notable features: Fluffy tea date, exploration of religious sexual repression, a cat indirectly contributes to a religious crisis

WIPS:

Faded Daisy:

A monster wakes up with no memories and no idea who or what they are, in a city that usually kills monsters on sight. However, they survive due to the help of the questionable Dr. Tievis, who names them Nameless and says he has never seen a monster like them. Grateful to him for saving their life, Nameless trusts him.

First draft word count: 38,656 words

Status: finished 8/10 of the first draft, taking a break from it at the moment.

Genre: Horror, probably

Notable features: Second person POV, a mad scientist, monsters, an extremely fucked up relationship.

Content warnings: Abuse, manipulation, injury and mutilation, blood and needles, borderline sexual assault, cannibalism, kinda maybe body horror?, referenced self harm, referenced child abuse.

Foxglove Dust:

Linos Tievis has lost everything, his career, his clinic, his assistant– and worst of all, the monster who he had depended on to try to achieve his life goal. But he's come back from worse. He'll get it all back, one way or another.

Estimated final word count: Probably slightly longer than Faded Daisy.

Status: Writing the first draft.

Genre: Also horror, probably.

Notable features: Human/monster sexual relationship that is actually consensual? Mad scientist gets a redemption arc??

Content warnings: Not entirely solidified, but expect suicidal thoughts, injury and mutilation, blood and needles, mention of past child rape, probably body horror of some variety, and probably explicit sex. Who knows what all else.

I posted some erotica involving the Foxglove Dust characters that you can read here without knowing much about Foxglove Dust.

I had other WIPs once, but I abandoned them all and Faded Daisy and its sequel are all that's left.

#writeblr intro #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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howfarwillitcarryyou · 2 years ago

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okay so change of plans—i won't be putting "as far as it takes" on ao3 anymore, it'll be on squidgeworld instead

so here's the new link

#marble hornets #slender: the arrival #anyways like i said before content warnings are in the tags + more will be added as i write/update #fic tag.#ark.txt #edit: should probably mention this rq #the reason why i'm moving sites is bc otw supports israel in their continued occupation in palestine #and the current on-going genocide against the palestinian people #so yeah jic anyone who sees this didn't know that abt otw. there you go

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arcane-vagabond · 1 year ago

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Arcane-Vagabond's FAQ

Hi! Welcome to my FAQ page! Here is a list of the different questions I get asked fairly frequently or things I've had to address more than once.

✨ Can I tag you in my fics?

Did I ask to be tagged? Then no.💛

(You will be blocked if you do this anyway.)

✨ Will you promote my fic?

I try to reblog fics I come across, and promote the ones from smaller authors as much as possible. However, that does not mean my blog is a billboard for you to promote your fics on. I was once a small time author, so I know how hard it can be to get your stuff out there. Shoving your work at me is a guaranteed way to get me to NOT read it and actively ignore it in the future.

✨ Can I make fan art of your fics?

My brother in Christ…..we will have a spring wedding.

(Just let me know/tag me/give me credit)

✨ Can I be added to your taglist?

I do not have a taglist. If you would like to be notified on when I post, follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications. I will ignore requests asking to be put on a taglist from here on out.

✨ Do you have a posting schedule?

I attempted, but that ended fast. So….no, not currently.

✨ Can I request something?

If my requests are open, then yes! But please keep in mind that I might say no if I'm not interested or comfortable with the topic. Usually, I will send you over to an artist/writer who I think might be able to fulfill your request if I cannot.

✨ You haven't answered my ask/request/questions or updated my favorite story in a while. Why?

While I try to get to requests, sometimes the writing juice just isn't plentiful for an idea. Also, I'm a grown woman with a full time job, friends, family, and other hobbies/obligations outside of this blog. I travel for work which means at any given time, I'm sitting in a hotel room after multiple hours of driving. If I have time, I try to answer everything, but I also have (as of 7.30.24) 94 requests sitting in my inbox, with some from a couple of months ago. Please be patient.

✨ I want to write a story, but it's similar to yours. Is that okay?

Listen, my love, as long as it's not a complete ripoff of one of my stories, I really don't care what you write. You want to write about mermaids? Please do! You want to write about cursed pirates? Go ahead! The nature of AUs is that you are going to use similar tropes for the stories, and the nature of tropes is that you are going to have similarities to stories that use the same ones. There's only so many ways you can write a meet cute in a bar.

✨ Why do you have so many WIPs (Works in Progress)? You know you probably won't finish all of those, right?

I do, and that's okay. That's the nature of writing fanfic, unfortunately. Not everything is going to get finished. You also have to understand that just because I haven't touched a story in a month or two doesn't mean it's been abandoned. The writing muses just haven't given me inspiration or motivation to write for it. I will make an announcement and take something off of my masterlist if I have decided to abandon it.

✨ What are some thing I can do to get my writing noticed?

Tag appropriately. I cannot tell you how many people are going to scroll past your writing if you tag a character fic with the actor (for example, tagging a Jake "Hangman" Seresin fic with Glen Powell). In fact, you are more likely to get yourself blocked versus someone reading your fic. Make use of the "Read More" feature on your fics. People are more likely to block you than read your fic if they have to scroll endlessly past your fics. People will find your fics by searching the appropriate tags. Just give it time.

✨ What are some things I should do when posting/writing?

Put appropriate trigger/content warnings above your fic. If you are going to write about sensitive topics, it is SO important that you warn people before they reach the story. Writing about losing a child, cancer, or sexual behavior? Tag it explicitely so people can filter it. Do not censor your warnings and do not use "angst" as a catch all. Allow people to protect themselves.

✨ I didn't like [insert fic here].

I literally don't care. Telling me you didn't like something instead of scrolling without a hateful comment makes you a loser, actually.

✨ Do you take non-fanfic related questions?

Yes!! I encourage them, actually! Never feel like you can't shoot me an ask that's not related to fanfic or fandom because I love chatting!! Even if you want to chat with me about fics, I'm more than happy to do so!

✨ Who do you write for?

Mainly Top Gun Maverick at the moment, but I might write for other fandoms in the future! I write reader inserts, and it’s good to note that my reader inserts are female unless otherwise stated!

This is by no means a comprehensive list, and will be updated as I get more questions!

#liz's faq #arcane-vagabond’s faq #arcane-vagabond faq #faq #Read this before you send in questions #long post

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evieismol · 10 months ago

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Ye Olde Introductory Post

Hi all! I'm Evie, I use she/her pronouns, I'm 24, and I wish I was 3 inches tall. As you may infer from that last line, this is my g/t blog. If you don't know what g/t even is, here's a great post explaining wtf I'm rambling about. If that's what you're here for, great! This blog is going to be a mix of my original writing and art as well as reblogs from other amazing community members in the g/t community (of course).

If you'd like to know what to expect more specifically, keep reading.

What type of content you can expect (and not);

A lot of fluff, angst, and romance. Occasional darker themes and content (more on that under content warnings in a minute), but nothing that's intended as kink content nor explicitly sexual. I'm ace and gt is not a kink for me (no hate to people who feel otherwise though!). I mostly just write and draw things that interest me, from original works to fandoms. Occasional v.ore mentions, I'm not super into it as a thing overall so there's no actual v.ore but the potential is a fun horror/angst trope like "Oh no man eating giants (but they're not)" or "friendly giant is sad bc everyone thinks he's a man eating giant". Regardless, any such mentions will be in content warnings so you can avoid easily. Or find easily, whichever lol. Maybe occasional horror adjacent stories, I write non gt horror on occasion so who knows. Will also be included in content warnings if you're just here for the fluff. Finally maybe occasional "suggestive" content - nothing actually sexual and always between consenting adults but I write romance so there might be a "behind closed doors"/"fade to black" scene at some point. Again, will also be in content warnings. I think that's everything I can think of for potentially objectionable content that might show up; for more on content warning system keep scrolling. If I write something that begets updating this section it shall be updated.

Content warnings;

All of my original works have content warnings at the top for any content I think might reasonably need to have a warning, including swearing, injury, angst, fearplay, etc. I'm additionally planning on, moving forward, adding tags for each content warnings so people that would like to filter by tag can do so as well. If you're planning on sticking around and there's a content warning I'm not currently using but you'd appreciate being used (eg, specific phobias, certain words, etc), let me know via ask or message and I'd be happy to add it! Tumblr and the gt community on here is thankfully small enough that I can reasonably do that

DNI;

Minors!! This is a sfw blog, if you want to follow that's fine BUT I'm in my mid twenties, there's no reason we need to be interacting beyond that. In fact, if you're a minor and you're reading this, be suspicious of any adult who feels otherwise tbh, it's not a good or safe standard to set.

Anyone promoting or subscribing to any kind of bigotry, including transphobes, homophobes, racists, etc

Exclusively nsfw/kink blogs, I'm ace and have trauma and would prefer to not interact. If you just have NSFW content amongst other content this doesn't apply to you, my thought process is just if ur blog is exclusively kink based/NSFW I don't have what you want here and you don't have what I want there so we don't need to interact further lol

Pedophiles, abusers, etc. I have no idea why this sort of person would follow a dni anyways but you will be blocked if you're posting things sexualizing minors or encouraging pedophilia or abuse or it comes out you're messaging kids or something because wtf.

Organization;

My master post for writing and art is here

About me;

♡ I go by Evie

♡ pronouns: she/hers

♡ age: 25

♡ im autistic

♡ im a tiny (in my dreams)

♡ tv shows I like: Loki, Criminal Minds, Scooby Doo (don't get me started)

♡ favorite genres: horror or romance. Polar opposites (except when it's both at once. Love a good Gothic romantic horror. Hate a dark romance tho)

♡ favorite artists: fleetwood Mac, lord huron, hozier

♡ other assorted interests: nature, national parks, spooky season, BEING 3 INCHES TALL

#g/t #giant/tiny #gt #sfw g/t #gt sfw

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suleikashideaway · 9 months ago

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Time Will Tell Ch 14 Update

Updated September 19, 2024

Chapter 14: Plans and Intentions

Chapter length: 4,943

Chapter Summary:

“Edea is usually more on the self-sacrificing side, which is also tricky,” Cid continued. “She would give you anything you ever needed, even if it killed her. Hyne, it was hard getting Garden started with her back then. She knew what needed to happen but she was so resistant…” He paused, nostalgic. Squall stared at him. “But I loved her so much, I would do whatever she wanted. You know, we were seventeen when we met? Like you and Rinoa?”

—

I almost didn’t get this one out today! With that said, my work schedule is getting a little more hectic, and I’m trying not to overdo it with my health and all that, so I may be posting a little less. Hopefully I can still get some time in to write because you knowwww it gives me life.

More about Time Will Tell under the cut!

Fic Summary: Carefree, fun-loving, passionate, free spirited, can also mean impulsive, reckless, obsessive, thoughtless. Rinoa Heartilly is learning the dangers of her own personality, and who she will become if she continues down this path.

Squall Leonhart is fully awake now, no longer a pawn in someone else’s plan. He’s ready to take charge of his own fate. But what if fate has other plans?

Rating: M

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Chapters: 14/?

Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII

Relationships: Rinoa Heartilly/Squall Leonhart, Selphie Tilmitt/Irvine Kinneas, Zell Dincht/Library Girl, Rinoa Heartilly & Selphie Tilmitt, Ellone & Squall Leonhart, Squall Leonhart & Quistis Trepe, Squall Leonhart & Irvine Kinneas, Ellone & Rinoa Heartilly

Characters: Rinoa Heartilly, Squall Leonhart, Cid Kramer, Edea Kramer, Selphie Tilmitt, Irvine Kinneas, Zell Dincht, Quistis Trepe, Library Girl, Laguna Loire, Ellone, Kiros Seagill, Ward Zabac, Fury Carraway, Seifer Almasy, Original Characters

Tags: Angst with a happy ending, Fluff in early chapters, Self discovery, Navigating relationships, Depression, Anxiety, PTSD, Codependency, Sexual content, Drug & Alcohol use, Canon-typical violence, Debunking a fan theory, Friendship, Fandom blind, Post-canon, What is time anyway, Fate & Destiny, Tags to be added

#ffviii time will tell #ffviii fanfiction #final fantasy viii #fanfiction #ffviii #ff8 #squall leonhart #rinoa heartilly #final fantasy fanfiction #angst with a happy ending

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opaljm · 4 years ago

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i. legend of the lamp (m) – jjk

➺ pairing: genie!jungkook x female reader

➺ genres/tropes: fluff; humor; smut; fantasy au; magic au; strangers to lovers

➺ warning/content tags: 18+; explicit sexual content: female masturbation (solo shower time activities, pro anal enthusiast y/n she wants it SOO bad but is very deep in denial); underwater sexual activities plz do not attempt at home you might drown (kissing, fingering, multiple orgasms, boob kink jeon makes his debut, he likes to bite and make it hurt but he also likes to kiss it better); sex in public (jungkook is an exhibitionist freak, y/n and jungkook give the ‘mile high’ club a new meaning, very mild food play, mean cocky jungkook shows up as expected, jjk's dirty talk is UNMATCHED, gross nasty jeon with the spit/licking kink, overstimulation, orgasm denial, the slightest bit of breath play/choking kink, impregnation kink is mentioned, possessive attention whore jungkook); sloppy cunnilingus with too much teeth tbh, finger fucking, there’s almost fisting but they both wimped out— there's always next time tho ;), forced orgasms, big dick hung like a fucking stallion jeon jungkook, unprotected sex but its fine cuz koo is a genie with fetus deletus powers, spanking, soft dom jk who degrades y/n like a CHAMP if it were a contest he would be winning a gold medal for it, jungkook likes to punish y/n until she can’t even think straight, standing up sex courtesy of strength demon jeon, praise thirsty competitive af constantly wanting validation jungkook, they both have a size kink let’s be real, reader has a strength kink throughout this entire fic she just wants to be manhandled and thrown around like she’s jungkook’s pretty sex doll, soft passionate sex, creampie, lovely aftercare from our cleaning fairy koo

➺ word count: 23k semi-edited but im too tired to actually do it properly :(

➺ summary: Jungkook has been serving his time as a genie for the last 2000 years, unfortunately stuck in a lamp for the last 200 years before he is woken from his slumber by a beautiful woman who somehow activates his lamp while making a wish that ends up letting him out. After eons of having to bend over backwards to make the desires of evil individuals from power hungry dictators to spoiled princesses come into fruition, he’s updated his contract to be more choosy over who the lamp allows to be his master. It comes to his great surprise that this woman was able to make the lamp work and that she only yearns to be loved and no longer be lonely. But all of the wishes he grants now have time constraints, another caveat he added to the contract, and he wonders what life would be like if he had never made that stupid rule. Because, as the week progresses, he finds himself falling deeper and deeper into her spell, pondering what it would be like if he never had to stop playing the role of her man.

➺ author’s note: Sorry for disappearing after announcing a fic, I had a health scare which kind of had the domino effect of making me have a really shitty three weeks regarding my education and future and pulling me into a depressive episode (which yea turns out can be firmly blamed on the medication I've been taking because its a possible side effect). It's been a mess and a half but, I'm here, the fic's here (or half of it anyways). I hope you all enjoy it and leave some love 💕 Also, if I had known that all of that shit would’ve happened, I would’ve posted part one a lot longer ago, since you all know I had finished writing it a while back. I just kept holding out hope that I would be able to finish the entire fic in time but life got in the way of that. I hope that y’all don’t hold that against me too much! Part two will drop after Jimin’s birthday fic drop so I don’t fuck up that deadline as well! I’m under a lot of pressure as one of the hosts of his birthday collaboration. Please, please, please leave feedback for this story. Since it’s a two shot, your feedback is absolutely critical in helping my self-esteem about the direction of the story and flowing my creative juices for writing part two!

This fic is a part of Namkook’s Moonrise Masquerade! Banner made by @kimtaehyunq. Beta-read by @jimilter (miss girl helped out with the content warnings too we love her!), @ressjeon, and @amourtae the lovely angels❣️

↳ second/final part | main masterlist

Today has just absolutely not been your day.

It seems like things went off to a rough start from right when your morning began. You woke up late because your alarm clock hadn’t gone off, and in your hurry to leave for work this morning, you picked out your outfit for the day half asleep as you attempted to brush your teeth and comb through the unruly mess that was your bedheaded locks of hair. When you spit out that white cloud of mint flavored foam, it got on your peach colored lavallière top, staining the silk pussycat bow.

You ended up wearing a too tight black with gray pinstripes pencil skirt you kept meaning to donate to Goodwill, but never quite got around to it, and a silky white blouse that you had loved when you thrifted but then later had realized that the abstract black lines that made up its designs were not flowers like you initially had thought but were rather depictions of nude female silhouettes. The shirt is lovely; it’s certainly a statement piece and one that would look great on you on most occasions and would make for a darling ‘outfit of the day’ post on Instagram, however it is not exactly workplace appropriate attire for the public university where you work as an admissions counselor.

But even with that little kerfuffle, you had not been too stressed early on in the day. Oh, if only you knew how badly the rest of the day would continue to be. As you went out the door, you smartly thought of snatching your black peacoat off the coat hook in the entryway, which could be used to cover up the sexually deviant positions the ladies on your shirt were contorted into. You ended up needing it too, after a mishap at the coffee shop in the student union left you with dark coffee dripping down your torso and making your shirt transparent as it clung to you with the wet sugariness of the shaken espresso seeped with vanilla syrup.

Things continued to go badly during your appointment with an incoming freshman and her parents who wanted to pull her out of the university because of the trouble she had gotten into over the summer after graduating from high school. Your heart goes out to the girl after remembering how badly that conversation had gone and how despite your best attempts, neither you nor she could sway her parents’ made up minds. You weren’t even able to convince them to change her enrollment to an off-campus one where she could commute from her parents house, whereas she was previously an on-campus student with a room in the freshmen dorms. They wanted her to pay for her actions by going to community college and getting a part time job.

Making matters worse, you had almost thrown up the 6-inch Subway tuna melt you had gotten and now as you walk home, in your pinching heels, too tight skirt, and your peacoat hiding your stained shirt, to your apartment just two miles away on the far end of the glittering and bustling university village that was adjacent to one of the largest and most vibrant cities in the country, it starts to drizzle.

Normally, you do not mind the rain. Of course, your previous attitude of the rain was based on the fact that you did not have too many experiences of being wet like a drowning rat, caught in the middle of the storm without an umbrella or any sort of protection while wearing shoes that were not that slip resistant.

You sigh as you continue onwards, wondering if maybe you should duck into the Target that you are passing to buy an umbrella. But you already know that Target will be out of stock, like it always is out of stock during unexpected bouts of rain because the students buy out the umbrellas, even going so far as to making the overpriced ones in the student store, that are in the school colors and have the school’s mascot imprinted on them bold and center, out of stock.

When you finally do get home, you leave your wet shoes on the mat you have just inside the entrance, toeing them off and exchanging them for your fuzzy pink bunny slippers that are not only soft and dry but a huge and warm comfort to your freezing feet. You scamper your way to the opposite side of the apartment, sliding the glass doors that lead to the balcony open, and you hang your coat off of the backs of one of your iron outdoor chairs for it to dry, or at least keep it from dripping all over your apartment.

You debate whether you should take your clothes off on the balcony too. You’re not afraid of university students seeing you; your apartment is out of most of their price ranges except for the richest of them all, but even knowing that, you don’t have a lot of fear since half of your balcony is covered in thin mesh privacy netting. The half of your wraparound balcony that is exposed to the elements is the part of it that you can access from your bedroom’s sliding doors as well. Not wasting another second, you quickly shed the offending articles of clothing off, just standing there in your fuzzy slippers and a matching black pair of Sabrina panties and brassiere from Honey Birdette. You regret your decision instantly as the transparent tulle and ribbons of lace do nothing to protect you from the blasts of wind causing the rain to drift your way but you fight through it. After letting those clothes hang to dry as well, you make your way back in, bypassing the living room to head straight for the shower.

Your black underwear set clings to your body, you notice when you catch a glimpse of yourself of the giant mirror that takes over half the wall over your dual sink vanity. You see a figure with hardened plum colored nipples, covered in goosebumps, staring back at you. Her eyes widen from her surprise at how her body quivers even indoors and her hair is drying in messy curly tendrils around her ears. You look almost unrecognizable.

Flittering around the modern minimalistic styled bathroom, you busy yourself turning on the shower and waiting for the water to turn warm, as it always takes the pipes a moment to heat up. In the interim, you grab two fuzzy towels, one for your hair and one for your body, to throw over the glass partition of the shower since there are no conveniently placed towel racks. You also grab your fancy pink “cloud” face wash from the sink, which honestly does too little for its steep price point, in your opinion, and your A Thousand Wishes body cream from Bath & Body Works, that you had stocked up on during the summer semi-annual sale.

By now, the water is finally hot enough and starting to steam up your bathroom a bit. You slide off your bra and step out of your panties before flinging them into the laundry hamper. Walking into the shower stall is a welcome respite after your long day. For a moment, you just stand there motionless, letting your eyes flutter shut as the showerhead jets water over you, soaking your hair completely and soothing your worn out exhausted muscles. You could pass out from comfort in the shower and that would be horrible but oh you understand now why some people are able to fall asleep in their baths.

Your shampoo and conditioner bottles are the pump kind so you don’t need to put in too much effort to squeeze out the peony and amaretto scented ambery gold colored liquid into your cupped palm. Today is going to be a simple shower; you’re too drained to go into your whole hair routine with its scalp scrubs, serums, and hair masks, in addition to the usual shampooing and conditioning you do. When it's finally worked into your hair, making it foamy from how well you scrubbed it in, you let the shower wash your hands clean and let the suds disperse.

Your shower gel is A Thousand Wishes scented too; you’re not the type to mix scents and give yourself a migraine when you can avoid it. Abandoning the loofah, you decide to run your soapy hands over your body for a quick clean. When your hands skim over your breasts and your long acrylic nude ombre nails catch on a nipple, instantly turning the already hard nub into a rock solid bullet, you stifle a surprised moan. Your mind whirls as you recover from the sensation.

Even as fatigue clouds your mind, the world seems to get closer as your senses become hyperaware. Suddenly you can feel the cool stone underneath your feet that much more as your toes curl in pleasure from how it contrasts wonderfully with the warm water cascading over you. As your hands wander down your body, molding your palms against every curve and divot, the shower gel and water provides a nice lubrication, making it easy for you to slide your fingers over your body. You have to press harder to make your touches rougher, and the delicious friction that comes from those more frantic brushes make your voice catch in the back of your throat before it crawls its way up in the form of a delicious keen.

Oh, what you would do to have a gorgeous male manhandle you right now. You like it rough; you like a little bit of force that reminds you of the strength behind his muscles that you know he would never use on you but the idea that he could make your strength and size kinks come alive. Your hand now transverses over to your throat and you wrap your slim fingers around it, your long nails lightly scraping against the delicate flesh, relishing in the hold but sighing in frustration that your small weak hands can’t apply the pressure that you actually want.

You’re single because the males you keep finding have no idea how to treat a woman in a way that makes her feel safe even when she wants to be utterly destroyed. A lot of it is based on trust and respect. The shitheads you meet? You wouldn’t even trust them to walk you home at night without angling for a kiss you don’t want to give.

Abandoning the hand from your throat, you instead press your front side against the marble walls of the shower, pretending that it’s your lover who’s got you clinging to the damp stone and that his hands are dipping over your hips before going lower, wrapping themselves around your thighs in a way that has his thumbs pressing into the clefts of your asscheeks as he spreads them apart and the water from the shower flows into the puckering hole that is revealed. You hate the concept of anal sex but as one of your hands busy themselves in the front, plucking at your clit and fluttering across your folds as you tease yourself to the brink without any insertion, the other hand is working on your tight asshole, your thumb pressing onto it, flirting by only letting the tip of your thumb in before pulling away.

What you would do to have a big heavy cock stroke your ass, painting it with its precum, taunting the sensitive hole hidden between by pressing against it but not entering. Or for you to be on your tiptoes with your legs parted so that his cock could slide underneath, thrusting against the petaled furls of your pussy until he plunged into it from behind while you’re trapped between his warm slick body, his hard abdominal muscles and chest pressing against your back, and the cool marble, your nipples turning into stiffened peaks that are begging to be touched but finding no purchase against the slippery walls. It would feel almost claustrophobic, like you can’t move due to his delicious weight and like the only part of you that could move was your pussy, its walls clenching around him and clinging to him every time he slammed into you.

With three fingers inside you, you can almost pretend that it’s real. Though, you know that at any moment you can move away since there's nothing actually trapping you into the position that you are in. You can’t finish though, your mind is your own mental prison, too cynical and realistic for its own good. You find yourself reaching up for the removable shower head and pulling it down. Your hand frantically clicks on the controls, increasing the water pressure. You debate if you want to do this standing up but you know that you will lose the feeling in your legs the second your explosive orgasm hits after being edged for so long. Thus, you slide down to a sitting position in your shower, your back against the wall, your legs folded up and spread apart as you position the showerhead right at your cunt, knowing that your clit will be getting the maximum pressure possible.

You emerge from your shower ten minutes later with your legs feeling so jelly-like you have to grip at the walls to make it back to the sink to finish up your skincare routine and return the products that you had taken with you into the shower back to their original homes.

When you feel squeaky clean and refreshed, bundled up in your favorite pajamas, a beige plaid set you had gotten as a white elephant present so they are very roomy and swamp your body, you finally deal with your wet work clothes properly and put them for a cycle in the dryer. You’ll likely have to deal with your Chinese Laundry peep toe pumps as well so that the leather doesn’t dry weirdly and make them crack in places but, that’s a concern for you in the future.

With a towel wrapped high around your head in a way that might end up giving you a receding hairline, if you don’t stop using that method to dry your hair soon, you step back into the main part of your apartment. Your eyes quickly go to the coffee table where it appears that your best friend had dropped something off while you were away at work.

There’s a bouquet of pink and white peonies that you immediately fix up in a vase with the proper amount of water, a square box covered in black matte wrapping paper with art deco style gold designs embedded into it, and lastly, a wine bottle in a gorgeous black and gold gift bag that compliments the wrapping on the box and has a matching envelope pinned to it. Before you sit back down on the plush comfort of your oat colored cloud sofa, you rip the envelope off from how it’s been stapled to the gift bag so that you can tear open the flap and get to the card inside. Reclining back, you narrow your eyes to read, having forgotten to grab your glasses from your bedroom dresser and having already taken off your contacts for the day:

Happy Birthday my darling Y/N! I hope that your 25th birthday is the most beautiful one to come so far! Wishing you nothing but blessings and good fortune on this beautiful day! Your present this year is one that surprised me as well but when I saw it, I was drawn to it instantly and the thought that it might be perfect for you abruptly flooded my mind! Can’t wait to hear your opinion on it!

Love, Safi

P.S. Don’t waste this wine by keeping it for a better day! Live in the now by cracking it open today and enjoying a birthday toast because today is just as important as whatever future occasion you’re trying to justify would be a better opportunity to enjoy the wine! (save the Sephora gift card for a rainy day though lol)

You laugh self-indulgently and look back inside the envelope where there is indeed a black $100 Sephora gift card before putting them all aside. You suppose you should listen to Safi’s advice even though today has not been a great birthday by any stretch of the words since it will be nice for you to unwind with a glass of wine. Pulling the bottle out you can see that it is a bottle of rosé, Gerard Bertrand Cote des Rosé to be precise, and the glassware is magnificent with the bottom of the bottle being designed in the shape of a rose with all its petals.

The box lies unopened for now even if it’s your main present. You have too much of a one track mind and you immediately want to crack open the alcohol to let loose and make yourself forget about your day for just a little bit. You head for the kitchen cabinets and reach for the first drinking vessel you can grab, not too picky when it’s almost 11pm and you have to wake up at 6 in the morning. Perhaps Safi didn’t want you to drink the alcohol out of a coffee mug, in your most comfy sleepwear and a towel wrapped around your head, but it’s the best you can do at the moment.

You nestle the bottle in the crook of your right arm, holding the mug in the same hand while grabbing the box with your left and taking all three objects out with you to the balcony. It takes you a little finagling to manage opening the sliding door but you soon make your way out where a light breeze brushes against your body comfortingly. Placing everything on the table you have outside, you head back in once more to grab your corkscrew from where it was misplaced in the junk drawer.

It’s not long before you’re back outside, sitting down and admiring the rainfall, which you are now able to appreciate since you are no longer soaking in it. It’s more of a light drizzle now and most of the clouds have dissipated, leaving only the thinnest types of stratus and stratocumulus clouds. In the heart of the city it’s impossible to make out any stars in the night sky due to the pollution and lights but you enjoy looking at the moon as you sip from your mug and let the rosé, which somehow managed to stay chilly all this time, slide down your throat.

Your attention finally goes to the box and you carefully unwrap it, though you know that it will be unlikely that you will reuse the wrapping paper unless you take up scrapbooking again. Inside is a simple black colored cardboard gift box, and once you remove the top, you find yourself looking at a gorgeous antique looking hanji lamp though you know better than to think that Safi dropped money on an authentic Silla era lantern. You can’t even begin to imagine how much that would cost. Even still, as you turn over the rectangular structure in your hands, you find yourself musing that you would never dare to light the magnificent ornament. It was going to remain a purely decorative piece whose design and history you would appreciate from its place on one of your shelves.

You find yourself holding it up to your face to get a closer look at all four paper sides of the wooden structure, squinting to make out the images painted on them though it’s difficult because you had forgotten to turn on your string lights and the moon is only a crescent, not providing much of a glow, so you are practically bathed in darkness.

You scrunch up your forehead thinking of how nice it would be if you had better lighting, No sooner does the thought come across your mind, do you find yourself suddenly bathed in a luminous glow as a shooting star hurls across the inky black sky, painting it with a white blue streak of light. You have never in all of your years seen a shooting star flying across the sky so close to you and you immediately snap your eyes closed. You were never one to waste your time on wishes but maybe in between it being 11:11pm, the shooting star, and the fact that you have not made a birthday wish yet, one of them will work to make your desire come to fruition. It can’t hurt to try right? Maybe finally your deepest yearnings will come to life.

Little do you realize, that as you make your wish, a little light is cast from the inside of the hanji lamp, warming it up with a small soft candle glow before it flickers out at the end of your wish. When you finally open your eyes and look down, of course you see nothing. That hope you had quickly vanishes as your cynicism returns and you find yourself painfully laughing in a self-flagellating way. You down the last of the wine in the mug and stand up, picking up all your things and getting ready for bed.

Little do you know, you’ve just wildly changed the course of your life.

While you’re asleep, a slow cloud of golden shimmery smoke begins to seep out from the lamp you placed on your dresser before sinking into bed and burrowing yourself under a mountain of blankets.

A man emerges when the gold mist seems to have finally fully trickled out, building himself up from the cloud, becoming humanoid and corporeal. He is bare from the chest up, a golden chain around his hips marking the thing that holds him captive to the lamp and trapped under its control. His lower half is wearing loose baji brown trousers, the lower half of a hanbok that is the fashion of the Silla dynasty. It’s embroidered jeogori that’s a shiny silky white with gold embroidery is somewhere back in the lantern but he’s too lazy to get it now. Those are the clothes that he was entrapped in, so those are the clothes he is stuck in whenever he is kept inside the lamp. No one could blame him for whiling away his time in the vessel by choosing to slumber instead of waiting for himself to be let out again.

Besides, as his gaze flickers over your modern style bedroom and he makes out a pile of clothing on top of a chair, he distinctly gets the feeling that he is no longer in the Joseon era, which was the last time he had been let out. Jungkook had gotten trapped in the lamp and turned into a genie when he was about 24, on the eve of his 25th birthday around 2,000 years ago, and has been paying for his mistake and the punishment that followed it ever since. In between that time and now though, he’s been let out of the lantern sporadically, over the centuries, every time it fell into the hands of someone who understood its power and wanted to make use of his abilities.

But right now, his mistress is asleep and he is free, so he finds himself leaving the apartment, in search of what fashion and culture must be like in this weird modern time. He can’t escape her permanently, not when she has one wish left and his lamp in her possession, but he is free to wander while she’s not using him. It’s a little harder to define when and when she isn’t using him because of her second wish but since she’s unconscious right now it’s obvious that she cannot be requiring his presence currently.

With nary but a thought, he’s suddenly on the streets in front of her apartment. He has no idea where he is; could this truly be Korea? Just because it’s past midnight doesn’t mean that the city is any less alive. He almost gets run over by a car, it’s impossible for him to get hurt given what he is, but his presence, with his feet over the line that separates the two lanes, spooks a driver who yells out a barrage of hateful language before manueving his gray SUV and driving around Jungkook’s body. Some of the comments are about a shirtless madman wandering the roads which makes Jungkook wince and even more impatient to get a change of clothes. They were not spoken in Korean which he won’t realize until later since he is gifted with omnilingual abilities that make him able to understand any and every language that exists or comes into being.

He wanders all the way to the shopping district where all the words are definitely not in Korean but using his mythical powers he’s readily able to translate them, understanding every language instantaneously. Whatever clothes he sees on the mannequins that he likes, he imagines them on himself and thus builds an entire wardrobe this way. His powers of manifestation come in handy giving him clothes that are perfectly tailored to fit his muscular frame which is paired with not only bulging biceps, broad shoulders, and thick thighs but a narrow waist too. He vastly prefers this power to his ability to make anything he wants be in his possession. Why not just make his own more perfect version than the store sizes of a men’s medium and large? Those cookie cutter sizes only account for his muscles but hide the rest of his body away under their expansive lengths of fabric.

After his clothing shopping spree he sends all his creations back to his mistress’s home with a snap of his fingers and then begins his prowl for food. Genies don’t need sustenance and they can’t gain weight, though they can change their appearances if they wanted, but Jungkook loved food from his time as a human and he regularly uses his powers to let himself enjoy its taste, when he is out of his lamp, even though he can never make himself feel full.

His wanderings take him to a Korean restaurant that is open until dawn, and since food is the one thing he hates creating, he instead magicks himself the currency of this country, in this day and age, and bows to the ajumma who is working inside the establishment. He gets a table for one and orders a giant set of tteokbokki that has the maximum amount of heat allowed along with extra fish cakes and cheese, as well as three different kinds of Korean fried chicken: honey garlic, sweet and spicy, and barbeque, which are all flavors he has never heard of before, and finishes off with a clay pot of kimchi soondubu jiggae, a kimchi soft tofu stew. He only buys one beer knowing that the ajumma would get concerned over his tolerance if he had a dozen glasses.

When he’s done with all the food, he finds himself wistfully pining for the time when he was human and would have been truly able to not only enjoy but also appreciate this bountiful feast. After all, he had been born into a family of laborers, it’s why he had been able to grow so strong through hard manual work.

He finally returns to the apartment, but his work is not over. Unlike his mistress who can sleep blissfully having no idea what she had just done, Jungkook has long hours ahead of him to make her wish come to life in a way that seems believable and that she readily buys into by the time she wakes up. It’s not the hardest desire or demand he has ever had to complete but it will use a lot of his power, more than he’s used lately. And though he’s got an unexpendable amount of magic, he’s out of practice.

When you rouse the next morning, you can instantly tell that something is different and it immediately makes your hackles rise up. It’s more than just the smell of fried eggs, apple sausages, and maple syrup permeating the air of the apartment, making its way from the kitchen into the bedroom, though you know that you live alone and have no one to cook you such an amazing spread to wake up to.

The air feels different, like the energy of the universe had shifted somehow. None of that makes any sense and yet somehow it also does. You don’t know what you mean when you think that but there is no other way that you can put this sense of unease into words. When you open your eyes and look across the room you see a male lounging against the wall wearing a street style look with black and gray FILA joggers and windbreaker covering the length of his long modelesque body; there’s a black bucket hat hiding his blond locks.

You let out a loud scream immediately, terrified out of your wits, and instantly pull your comforter up to your chin even if you had gone to sleep in a pair of pajamas that covered you as though you were a nun. The male narrows his eyes at the shrill sound but the look is quickly shuttered away when a small pleasant smile takes over his face instead.

He walks closer to you and murmurs, his doe eyes shining with the twinkle of stars from a million galaxies, “Are you okay, jagiya? I’m sorry for surprising you with breakfast this morning but I missed you. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday since I didn’t get the chance yesterday.”

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” you yelp, tightening your comforter even closer around your body, wrapping yourself up like a human burrito.

“Your lover, Jeon Jungkook,” the male calmly states, his eyes peering at you, not losing their shine as he looks at you like you had grown another head and are the crazy one amongst the two of you.

“I don’t have a lover named Jeon Jungkook,” you contradict, narrowing your eyes into slits full of suspicion. And if you did, you didn’t think you would call him your lover. Perhaps, your man, your boyfriend, or even your fwb though you weren’t really the type to dabble in such meaningless romps of pleasure, but not lover.

“Are you sure about that,” he silkily purrs, using his tattoo adorned hand to gesture to your gallery wall.

Your eyes follow its path and you’re horrified to see the most adorable couple pictures, most of which appear to have been professionally photographed though some are cutely caught candids, of you and this ‘Jungkook’ together, staring into each other’s eyes lovingly while holding each other in an embrace that speaks volumes about passion and affection.

“Would you like to check your phone,” suggests the male as well, his blond locks playing peekaboo with his bucket hat as his head turns towards your nightstand and he nods at the iPhone that had been charging on top of it.

You instantly grab the device, unplugging it from the white charging cord and clutching it possessively to your chest before you finally work up the nerve to see what exactly he means. You swipe down to look at your lockscreen and it’s a live photo of Jungkook squishing his face into the side of your’s, rubbing the tip of his nose into the apple of your cheek softly. Mortified, you use facial recognition to gain further access into your phone and what you see leaves you even more bewildered. Your home screen is the most aesthetic that you’ve seen it: organized by using the IOS 15 feature. It’s blush pink and cream and the background image is a digitally manipulated picture of you and Jungkook looking into the bay from your perches on a bridge at the bottom of the image as the sky melts into a creamy pink color that's been altered to match the theme of your phone.

At this point, you’re nervously holding onto your disbelief, so it’s with trepidation that you go into your camera roll to find hundreds upon hundreds of photos of Jungkook in an assortment of scenarios, from cute date night pics with you to dozens almost identical selfies where he’s trying out a variety of facial expressions from the same angle and in the same outfits to then even the embarrassing kinds that look like you took them on the down low when you thought he wasn’t looking. None of this makes any sense. But he looks so cute and kissable. You almost want to cry helplessly at the insanity of this all. What if he was your boyfriend? Life would be so much easier then.

You leap out of bed to go out to the front of the apartment and it’s even more confusing because there’s half a dozen pairs of chunky sneakers and boots with spiked soles that look like fashionable and weaponized soccer cleats on the shoe rack that’s by the front door— all belonging to designer brands and looking slightly threatening. It is clear that those shoes belong to a male, most likely this male, and they are all neatly organized to one side while your shoes, the shoes that you remember, are off to the other end.

“This makes no sense,” you whine, rubbing your forehead frantically. Is this what hyperrealistic nightmares feel like? It seems as though you’ve been transported to the Twilight Zone in your opinion, and you just want to desperately get out.

“Would you like to call your mother and ask her about me?” Jungkook, his voice a smooth cadence as he unhelpfully directs the suggestion to your back. He had evidently followed you out back here.

“What?”

“Your mother? We FaceTime her all the time. She’s really been pushing for me to pop the question for the last couple of months. Despite what she thinks, it’s really not that covert,” he scoffs, his lips flaring out into a pout. You note with bemusement that there is a small mole underneath the plush of his strawberry colored lower lip. How dare he have a mole in such a perfect location? Now your mind would never know peace until you dragged his lower lip between yours and sucked on that tiny chocolate chip. It’s actually deranged how your mind continuously chooses to flit between lust and rationality.

“Jungkook?” Your voice takes on a shrill sound, “How long have we been dating?”

“As long as you want it to be.”

That doesn’t make any sense.

“Jungkook, please don’t mess around with me! How long have we been dating?” you demand more urgently. You are halfway to a full-blown panic attack and you need to calm down but nothing seems to be placating you about this entire situation.

The male walks around to step in front of you and then faces you head on. He keeps his hands to himself, crossing them while making sure that his fingers are folded and tucking into his armpits. He bends a little to look you in the eyes since he’s much taller, to peer carefully into your eyes that are slightly blown out from your constant state of shock and bewilderment. “Why didn’t it work?” he wonders.

“HAVE YOU BEEN GASLIGHTING ME?!”

“Well, not intentionally,” he muses, tapping a finger to his lip. God, even his hands are perfect. Each digit is long and tipped with neatly cut and perfectly clean fingernails. And they’re shiny too like he uses some type of cuticle oil. Not to mention how he’s got sexily protruding veins wrapping along the back of his hand and down to his wrist and arm.“I thought you’d be in on it. Could it be that it didn’t work on you even though it worked on everyone else in your life because you made the wish? My magic probably assumed that you didn’t need convincing since after all, this was what you wanted.”

Things make even less sense after his explanation even though Jungkook probably thought he was being helpful by providing it. Your eyes are narrowed in disbelief as you perturbedly shake your head.

“What are you talking about?” you hesitantly ask. You’re nervous because you’ve moved on from the idea that this is a hyperrealistic bad dream to the conspiracy theory that you have a crazy stalker who somehow figured out how to almost seamlessly integrate himself into your life and that he’s more than just the ordinary type of psychopath; this one seems like he’s the delusional type that thinks he has otherworldly powers. Wouldn’t that be just your luck: Jungkook is the first man you’ve been attracted to in months but he didn’t approach you like a normal person who wanted to pursue something.

Jungkook’s mouth takes on a pursed shape as he narrows his eyes at you, deep in thought; the coral red lips are scrunched together with the upper one flaring out. You can see the chocolatey brown mole right below them again and you are suddenly hit with the urge to kiss his lips until the frown is smoothed out.

“Do you have any idea what you even did last night?” he barks, his tone entirely too accusatory for your liking. One would think you had cheated on your imaginary boyfriend the evening before. He takes off his bucket hat in frustration and runs a hand through his blond locks, ruffling them. His jerky hand movements bring attention not only to the length of tattoos that encompass his arm but also its muscular veininess that had held you previously enraptured. You blink, you need to get dicked down soon. You wanted to give into Stockholm Syndrome way too easily for this man. Don’t do it, Y/N, no matter how hot Jungkook is, it’s scary that he’s in your house right now.

You rack your brain but come up woefully short. “I went to bed with only rosé as my dinner?” you hedge. You don’t think it’s that big of a deal although it’s definitely unadvisable to do.

The male huffs, raising his right hand up before he snaps the fingers on that hand. A paper lantern appears, landing perfectly on his palm. Your eyebrows both raise because you recognize it immediately; it’s the lamp Safi had gifted you as your birthday present.

“You made a wish for the perfect beau,” Jungkook explains patiently, “I made your wish come to life.”

“Can’t you undo it?” you push urgently. Why are you entertaining this mad man? Magic isn’t real, Y/N!

He excitedly quirks an eyebrow of his own, smirking as he takes in your look of bemusement. “Is that another wish?” he asks.

“No!” you swiftly interrupt. If you are in the Twilight Zone somehow, you need to be smart with how you navigate within this nightmare, at least until you figure out a way to wake yourself up.

“You only have one left, anyways,” he sasses tapping his plumper lower lip with his pointer and middle fingers, you’ve already noticed it’s a habit, rolling his big doe eyes, “I could kind of undo the effects of the wish by making its time constraint shorter so that it stops in the next five minutes but in my opinion, that’s just another wasted wish. So if I were you,” he says with a shrug, “personally I’d go along with it for the next ten days. We wouldn’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable but I would still be playing the role of the doting attentive paramour.”

You blink at him, your mind still sluggish from your wine hangover and terrible bout of sleep. “I only have one wish left?”

“Not the smartest of my mistresses or masters by a long stretch,” Jungkook agrees, teasing you, scrunching his nose to peer at you cutely.

You gasp loudly, obviously affronted. Not the handsome weirdo calling you dumb.

“Do I get three?” you question. Your mind is working on overtime today and it’s still taking you too long to understand things. You’d like to tell this Jungkook character that you graduated from the top university in the nation and have two degrees but you don’t think that he would believe you if you bragged and let that tidbit slip.

“You do,” he nods, unhelpful as ever.

It kind of makes sense; you assume the purpose of genies is to manipulate their rulers into making all of their wishes as quickly as possible.

“Oh, you want me to tell you what your two used wishes were. Humans really are weak, aren’t they? Is your mind normally supposed to be so foggy after drinking so much?” He calls you out directly and you gasp; you suppose that genies don’t have manners. Or at least this one doesn’t, you glare at Jungkook’s untactfulness.

“I know one of them was to have you here,” as your boyfriend, you finish off in your head, too unnerved to say it out loud just in case that makes it more true, “but what was the one before it?”

“Oh! You wanted there to be light.” Fiat lux, look at you, and you thought you weren’t philosophical.

You blink again. Nope, that doesn’t follow. You would never be so profound. What would a wish like that even mean to a genie? An increase in intelligence? For there to be less ignorant people in the world? Ah. Wait. You do vaguely remember thinking that it would be so nice if you had more light to see the markings on the lantern. But—

“I made my wish for a man on a shooting star,” you retort as a counterargument, trying to wheedle out of Jungkook’s covenant so that you’ll have an additional wish to add to your arsenal.

“Nice try,” snorts Jungkook. He’s probably listened to a thousand arguments by a thousand masters that have all tried to bargain and reason with him trying to manipulate him and exploit him for more wishes, “But I made that appear in the night sky. It was not fated to be there that night until I materialized it. It wasn’t real so it didn’t have the powers of a normal shooting star.”

“So shooting stars actually work?”

He shrugs, “Sometimes. Wishes depend on the caster. Theoretically you can make a wish on a shooting star, a wishing well, your birthday, on a deity, etc. But you can rarely succeed at having a wish granted, much less by using the same method twice. And most people, if they’re lucky, only get to have one wish come true in their lifetime. It’s much more common for there to be no successful ones. Aren’t you lucky to have woken me up from my slumber,” he snarks, “you got three.”

“I made a birthday wish,” you faintly mutter rather dispiritedly.

He hears you anyways, “I don’t think it worked. Why not try again next year?”

You ignore the snarkiness of his suggestion, “So you’re really my boyfriend for the next ten days.”

He nods. You squint at him, you still haven’t put your contacts on for the day and your glasses remain forgotten in your bedroom.

“Can I ask you to do things? Like a girlfriend asks her boyfriend? Or does that count as a wish.”

“You can ask me anything. Whether or not I do anything is entirely up to me. I suppose I will be more courteous and mindful of your requests since I am playing the part of the perfect significant other. As long as it’s related to this wish, I will try my best to make it come to fruition for you. For example, if you wanted me to take you out for dinner on the rooftop of a skyscraper I probably would. If you wanted me to buy you a bunch of gifts or fill your rooms with flowers, I could do that too.”

“Why is it only ten days? I didn’t wish for ten days,” you inquire.

Jungkook smiles at you sheepishly, showing the first sign of less than suaveness. “As far as mistresses go, you’re not a selfish one but would you believe me if I told you that in the past only terrible people used to be able to draw me out of my lamp and make demands of me? As the years went by I added rules: only three wishes, no wishes have permanent effects, and only those pure of heart can awaken me, just to name a few.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say.

“In ten days, your life will go back to normal. And even though you will always remember this, it will become more and more dreamlike and disconnected from reality as time goes on. One day you might even come to the decision that you had made me up and that I was a figment of your imagination. No one can hold onto the idea that this was all real for too long.”

“So for this week, everyone in my life is convinced we’ve been together for a while but next week they won’t even have known I had a boyfriend?” you conclude.

“You’ll wake up on the eleventh morning like time hasn’t passed at all; it’ll be like it’s today all over again but without me in all those pictures that stand as proof of a shared, albeit fake, history,” Jungkook confirms.

“But what will happen to you?” you worry.

“I’ll be sticking around unless you make your third wish before then.” He looks at you hopefully but you snort in retort. “When you make the third wish, I’ll go back into the lamp and it will disappear from your life before the process starts all over for me. I’ll probably be sleeping until I’m let out again.”

“I wasn’t the one who found you,” you frown. “My best friend gave it to me as a birthday present.”

Jungkook's eyes widen marginally but you don’t catch how the genie appears momentarily unnerved, he shrugs it off to you, feigning nonchalance, “That doesn’t really matter because you were the one that was able to let the lamp open.”

You hum but say nothing. You’re distracted by the magnificent bounty of breakfast food that Jungkook has arranged on your tiny square table for four, not that you ever had to use all four of the place settings at the same time. You make your way to the dining area, edging away from Jungkook and the conversation, but as expected, the male trails after you like a lost puppy.

“Do you have any plans for how our day should progress, mistress?”

“Please stop calling me that,” you blush hotly. You are the subbiest sub ever so it’s discomforting to hear you being referred to in such a manner even if it’s not in a sexual context.

“What would you like to be called instead?” Jungkook inquires, altruistically.

“Let’s just stick to my name for now,” you mutter, placing two fried eggs on your plate before going for the waffles. Jungkook should be glad you’re such a benevolent holder of the lamp, he says you’re pure of heart but you don’t know about all that, all you do know is, you won’t make Jungkook’s life any harder than it needs to be for the next ten days.

A light smirk paints Jungkook’s lips as he takes the seat opposite to you. “We can make our way to pet names and terms of endearment as the days progress.”

You choke, coughing and sputtering as a square of waffle gets lodged in your throat. But as your eyes water up, widening from pain and surprise, Jungkook smoothly waves his hand in a flippant manner in your direction and the waffle disappears immediately.

Gasping for air you ask, “Does this mean that when you’re finally gone I’ll be going back to choking and die a painful death?”

Jungkook scoffs, “Only the wishes I make come true for my masters have limits to them. And it’s a recent development I made to curb their usually evil desires. I’m very powerful. Everything I do has permanent effects. It’s why I’m locked up any time I don’t have an owner.”

You blink, gobsmacked. Somehow his arrogance is terribly sexy and it makes your pussy throb.

On the first day, following breakfast, Jungkook makes the two of you disappear and reappear in Malta for an island vacation and date. You’re in a panic, claiming that you can’t be in a foreign country without any identification, money, or clothes. But the male just rolls his eyes at your antics and reminds you just who exactly has been cast to play the role of your picture perfect boyfriend.

You side-eye him now. He is walking slightly ahead of you to the left so that there is space left for you to walk beside him if you want to catch up but you can’t make up your mind if you want to. His blond hair is trapped under yet another black bucket hat which makes you wonder if he hates the pale color of his locks and he’s wearing a black Hawaiian shirt with white hibiscuses creating an artfully arranged pattern. His black board shorts have a 5 inch inseam and you’re wondering how it is that this thousands-of-years old mythical being dresses like an emo alt boy. Not that you know what two out of those three words mean. You assume it’s like a vibe from what the gen z college students that appear in your office tell you. Jungkook looks just like them.

You’ve been wheedling Jungkook to reveal details about his own life but the individual has managed to remain tight-lipped thus far. He runs ahead to a street vendor to excitedly buy you a sandwich. The round leavened bread has a filling of potatoes, capers, tomatoes, and mozzarella. He hands you one of the diagonally cut slices before bringing the other half to his mouth.

You hold it in your hand bemusedly, at a loss of what to do with it. You had quite literally finished the meal he had prepared for you half an hour ago. Side-eyeing him once again, this time enviously, you sigh; you can’t eat like he does because unlike him you do not have magical powers and if he continues to feed you like this, you’ll gain 30 pounds by the end of the 10 days. And you could ask him to keep you from gaining weight but that would probably count as a third wish instead of being an extension of his boyfriendly duties.

“Are you ready to see our lodgings?” he asks, a droplet of olive oil, that the sandwich had practically been doused in, glistening on his perfectly coral colored Cupid’s bow.

You give him a look that wordlessly states ‘lead the way,’ and follow him as your walk takes the two of you before a two story condo located on the waterfront.

“Can I ask you a question,” you start off.

Jungkook interrupts you immediately, knowing just where your head was going, “I did not make the apartment appear out of midair. It was conveniently empty and I planted a thought in the owner’s head that he had rented it to us.”

Okay first of all, that was not what you were going to ask. “Are you going to pay him?” you demand self-righteously.

“Why?” Jungkook deadpans, “The timeline will be reset soon enough.”

“I was actually going to ask you,” you tread carefully, though apparently not delicately enough because the male’s hackles start to rise and his gaze turns into one that is more filled with suspicion and distrust. You plow ahead anyways and repeat, “I wanted to ask you why you were going along with this.”

“Because it is your wish.” He says it with such simplicity, his face as expressionless as his tone.

You sigh frustratedly, “Yes but—am I making you uncomfortable? You don’t have to pretend to be my lover. I have to admit I wasn’t thinking that this would happen when I made that wish.”

“So, did you have a male in mind then?” Jungkook’s expression turns even more grim as he shutters away his emotions. His large dark brown eyes are impassive for the first time since you’ve met him and you’re starting to miss the shine of those doelike lenses.

“Well, no. But, if I wanted my fake boyfriend to be Kim Namjoon, could you do that?”

“Who is Kim Namjoon?” He sounds so affronted, unable to believe that you could prefer anyone to him. Huh. You had the feeling that Jungkook was a cocky self-aggrandizing genie but you hadn’t realized how much until now.

“My celebrity crush.”

“What is a ‘celebrity’?”

You stare at him blankly, “So you weren’t out in the twentieth century either, huh?”

When he frowns at you, those cute lips of his curving down, you hurriedly tack on, “It doesn’t matter, anyways. I just asked because, well— We don’t have to be ‘lovers,’” you quote Jungkook from earlier on in the day. “What if we just hung out as friends for the next ten days?”

“I would like that,” admitted Jungkook. “Although I’m not sure if that actually fulfills your wish.”

“Why not?” you pout. “What was the explicit wording of my wish, anyways?”

Jungkook looks away without answering you and then wordlessly marches towards the front door of the condo, expecting you to follow.

The inside of the two storied structure is very rustic but clean. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of clutter, which you appreciate, but you wouldn’t call it minimalistic. It had a beachy European vibe to it with furniture pieces that had probably seen their prime in design in the late 90s. You actually like the old school feel of the place; it makes it feel more authentic. The place has about four bedrooms but Jungkook tells you that the two rooms the two of you will be sharing are right next to each other.

When you walk into the place where you’ll be sleeping tonight, you are met by the sight of a white painted metal bed frame that has a lot of curlicues making up the headboard. The bedding looks comfy and clean which is always nice and the box springs and mattress look relatively new, providing a nice height and plumpness to your bed. There’s a massive pile of shopping bags and boxes stacked against the wall and you can only wonder if your attractive genie companion had gone into the trouble of making sure you would have a variety of clothes and necessities on this trip.

As you fiddle through the tissue paper hiding the contents of a bright orange Louis Vuitton bag, you are puzzled how Jungkook is both on top of and out of the loop when it comes to the 21st century. The male is on top of fashion but not famous people and you wonder what else he knows or is woefully oblivious about. You put on a cute russet brown bikini set that looks gorgeous on your honeyed skin; there is a large gold hoop connecting the two halves of your top as well as two matching hoops on the sides of your hips. You are currently pulling on a pair of Louis Vuitton shorts with cute pockets that are lined with a gold colored zipper and are almost the exact same shade of brown as your swimming suit but covered by the familiar and iconic pattern of interlocking LV’s with flowers in white, teal, orange, and light brown, just about having buckled in the cute strappy belt that comes with it when your door is unceremoniously thrust open.

You stand, jaw slackened in surprise, as Jungkook walks into the room looking so colorful that you blink to make sure it’s actually him. His hair is now the pinkish red color of cherries and he's wearing a yellow T-shirt that has an opened shirt that looks like a white baseball tee over it, though the fabric is more airy and lightweight; the sleeves of his yellow top are tucked into the sleeves of the white one. He’s wearing navy blue swimming trunks and you love that he turned out to be the type of male that sticks to 5-7 inch inseams rather than wearing shorts that go down super low and cover his knees like you know so many men in your acquaintance to do. It baffles you; don’t they realize how ugly it makes their outfits look?

Jungkook snaps his fingers to make a pair of black Ray-Bans with gold frames cover your eyes to match the ones tucked into his soft red hair and you notice the multitude of beaded bracelets adorning his wrist.

“I haven’t gone to the beach in years,” you proclaim excitedly.

Now that you two have settled that he’s a genie and you’re his mistress who gets to call all the shots, there is a sense of calm over the two of you and this wayward situation that you’ve thrusted the two of you into. He’s not acting the role of your boyfriend. He’s just someone you’re on vacation with and it makes it so much easier to relax when you keep that in mind.

You eagerly reach out to grab his large hand in your much smaller one to tug him along with you, back outside of the condominium so that you two could eventually make your way to the beachfront. The male gives in easily, he engulfs his hand with yours and you can feel its warm heat cupping you comfortably. You give him a happy smile and proceed to pull him along with you which is much easier said than done because Jungkook finds it hilarious to drag his feet and stand his ground on the gravelly cobblestone streets so that he can laugh at your feeble attempts at strength as you try to move him.

Jungkook is bored at the beach. You scowl at him. He’s being a party pooper, acting like a black hole that’s bringing down your excitement and sucking it all in. He has no idea how to relax. You had told him as much when he sighed as he sat down next to you in the little area you made him create for the two of you. There’s a cute blanket for the two of you to lie on and an umbrella if you no longer want to be in the sun. You even got him to materialize some books for you (you just had to tell him the author and title) but from the looks of his displeased frown when he discovered that nearly all of the books have raunchy covers, Jungkook’s not thrilled about your little omission.

You glower at him. The blanket is massive with enough space for the two of you, yet Jungkook sits so close beside you that you’re almost halfway to the sand as you hover near the edge of the cloth. You slip your shorts off and put it on one of the beach chairs next to the two of you before flopping down again. You turn your body around so that you are facing the beach as you lie on your stomach, your elbows propping you up so you can read the third book of the Bridgertons series.

“God, Jungkook,” you goad, “If you’re not going to do anything, can you apply my sunscreen on me?” It’s in the little tote you have with you.

Jungkook scrunches up his face as he scrutinizes you from behind the lenses of his matching black sunglasses. You had to put yours back on your head because you couldn’t read anything with how dark they made the page appear. “Why don’t you put sunscreen on me first?”

“Jungkook, you don’t need sunscreen!” you whine. “You’re a genie. You don’t have to worry about the dangers of skin cancer and UV rays.”

“It’s amazing how often I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muses as he huffs at you, going into your bag to pull out the sunscreen.

Perhaps because he’s unused to applying sunscreen on, you doubted the Joseon era (which was the last time he had been out) Koreans did because you were pretty sure it was invented in the early 1940s, he squirts what feels like half the bottle on your back. You screech at the cold aqueous feeling of the liquid as it trails down your figure approaching the barriers of your cute bikini top.

“Jungkook!” you yelp. “Untie my clothes! It’s going to ruin them and leave ugly chalky marks on the fabric, you asshole! And you’re supposed to blend it into my skin so there’s no white cast.”

Jungkook places his hand against your back, cupping the deliquescent lotion and trapping it beneath his massive palm. One handedly, he undoes the tie to your brown string bikini, leaving your back bare as the cloth protects your minimal modesty in the front only. Ignoring what you had said about getting your bottoms ruined, he doesn't remove them, though you have no idea why. There’s not anyone near you on this long stretch of the coast. Instead, he just tugs it halfway down your ass.

He moves his body so that his knees are straddling you on either side but since he’s lightly perched on your thighs, your uncovered ass is mere centimeters away from his crotch and when he moves to make sure that his hands are covering every inch of your revealed body with the sun block, you swear you can feel something large poking you at times.

His touch is feather light as his fingertips ghost along your back making you arch into him. His finger traces along your spine, making you keen lightly as you bite down on your lower lip to keep him from hearing you. His palms knead at the knots in your body as you still at the sensations he is pulling from your body. He’s being perfectly respectful, his hands stay on the length of your back, not moving under to canvas your breasts or slip down your hips or drift along the plump curve of your ass, yet somehow you are still mindless under his dexterous palms.

Your eyelashes flutter closed, your eyes no longer able to focus on Benedict Bridgerton’s love story, as Jungkook massages the white cream into your skin with his strong hands. The male pulls his lip between his bunny teeth as he frowns when he hears your attempts to conceal the sounds that he is coaxing out of you.

“Jungkook,” you pant out nervously, fearing how much further this can go if you don’t put a wise stop to it now.

“Hmm?”

“I can do my legs,” you suggest.

“Ah okay, Y/N,” he agrees. “But do you really want to spend the whole day reading that?”

His face is twisted into a grimace as he glares at the upside down book you half opened to hold its place.

“What do you want to do?” you ask getting up from the blanket and grabbing the bottle of sunscreen before squirting some on your hands to go over all the areas Jungkook hadn’t gotten around to.

“Do you want to go scuba diving?”

“Have you ever gone scuba diving?”

“Of course not,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “But I’ll try everything once.”

He whisks you two away to the Maltese island of Comino once you’re ready to call it quits at the beach. When you’re finally with the group of people who are getting ready to scuba dive with the instructor, suiting up and paying attention to the directions so they’re safe as they start to explore the reefs, lagoons, and underwater caves, you start to panic.

“Jungkook,” you mumble, edging closer to him and tiptoeing so you can whisper into his ear. The male turns his head to look at you, moving closer and instantly stooping down so you can easily state your piece. “Jungkook, I don’t feel comfortable scuba diving.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Y/N.” God, did you wish for the perfect boyfriend or what? Maybe drunk off her ass Y/N had something going for her. Even before, you had been tempted to make things get sexual as he was running those powerful hands over your pliant body, but you had managed to barely control yourself and keep yourself from shoving Jungkook down on the sand to climb over his body. It had been so nice of him to do that for you, very boyfriend, or as Jungkook would probably say, lover-like.

“Yes, I know,” you pause, deep in thought, before you continue, “but I don’t want you to limit your enjoyment because you’re so busy looking over me, trying to keep me from accidentally killing or maiming myself. Can we like do something a little more tame... like snorkeling? I don’t want to go so deep into the water.”

He gives into you easily, it doesn’t even take him a second to think about what you’re asking from him, and he readily transports the two of you onto a boat where a snorkeling class has already began to put on their masks and flippers before they make their ways to the edge of the boat to jump off.

After watching the humans struggle putting on the equipment for ten or even fifteen minutes each, Jungkook decides it’ll just be easier if he does it for you so you don’t have to worry about if anything was worn improperly or unsafely.

He thinks you look adorable with the giant clear goggles; your long mane of hair squishes to your skull where the straps of the mask are pressing into your head and the lenses magnify your eyes making them look cute albeit a little bug-like. He quietly commands you to stop fiddling around with the snorkel; he knows you’re worried but he doesn’t want you to mess around with the pipe and accidentally disconnect what Jungkook had correctly set up for you. You’re waddling a bit in your large black and indigo flippers, attempting to pull your shorts off and get the holes through your suddenly enormous feet. You trip and Jungkook catches you, holding you against his bare chest because he had gotten rid of his clothes as well so he would only be in his swimming trunks.

“You okay?” he softly inquires, keeping you trapped within the heat of his comforting embrace.

You can only squeak your reply, distracted about how his massive palms are so warm and almost entirely encapsulate your waist as he holds you up against him. There is something cool and metallic digging into your skin and your hand brushes against it. Was Jungkook wearing a waist chain? The male flinches away from your hold, stepping back instantly.

“No need to worry about the jump or the water being too cold,” Jungkook murmurs, blatantly ignoring whatever had happened seconds ago, “I’ve got you.”

And in a flash, the two of you are underwater, surrounded by so much clean liquid that you can enjoy the greenish blue hue of the ocean and yet make out everything with such clarity.

You frown when you notice that though Jungkook put on flippers he didn’t have a mask covering his face and making him look as distorted and ugly as you felt. It was so unfair; you have to look unattractive so you can breathe and not die submerged in the sea but Jungkook looks like a model with the water lifting his red locks and making them swirl around his head. Though he doesn’t want your eyes to focus on his waist, your gaze is immediately drawn to it, shifting their focus from the clean cut muscled edges of his eight pack, just barely able to make out the gold band that sits snugly around his bronzed skin, kept in place by the minimal flare to his hips, due to how your vision is slightly warped and distorted by your goggles.

Jungkook reaches out to grab your hand, his long fingers wrapping themselves around your delicate wrist and he gently pulls you towards him, his lengthy legs swiftly flapping along as he propels his body around the water, taking you on his guided tour for one. Swimming side by side with Jungkook, you follow him deeper into the half submerged caves of St. Maria, your eyes taking in the mesmerizing schools of snappers and sea bream swimming around, ducking in and out of view when they travel around sandbars. You flinch into yourself, pulling away from Jungkook when you see a moray eel but the male just giggles, air bubbles releasing from his mouth as his chortles continue, his red hair a darkened burgundy cloud around his ears. He softly tugs you back to him and pursues on with the two of yours sea adventure.

You gasp and clap excitedly when you see several cuttlefish and even a sand colored octopus, eagerly pointing it out to Jungkook, who only smiles when he notices your hand slip out of his again and then swims closer to the octopus to ooh and aah over it. Eventually, the snorkeling guide asks for everyone to come back onto the boat so that they can direct it over to a ship wreckage where you all will be allowed to go back into the sea to get a closer glimpse at the German minesweeper.

The rusting boat is a little deeper than expected and you find yourself hesitantly waddling your legs in the water to keep yourself in the same unmoving position, while the rest of your class energetically flaps their legs to swim towards the ship, swimming further into the depths of the Maltese sea. Jungkook looks back at you from where he had gone to follow the crowd, his lips jutting out as he purses his lips, deep in contemplation.

His eyes narrow as he looks at you consideringly though you’re absentminded in your persisting fear and have not become aware of his gaze in your direction yet. He smoothly paddles back to you, holding you with his warm palm pressed against the small of your back. You look up at him and shiver.

Do you want me to help you? You know I wouldn't let you drown or have anything bad happen to you? You purposefully screw and unscrew your eyes shut, trying to make sense that this powerful genie possesses the ability to broadcast his thoughts into your mind because the two of you can’t speak in water. He probably has a more equipt way of dealing with that too but was choosing to exert less energy.

You nod brusquely and the male transports the two of you right by the wreckage where the rest of the class are enthusiastically swimming around and admiring the ruins of the World War II ship. Jungkook gently presses on your lower back pushing you forward to encourage you to explore the minesweeper on your own but you back up pressing yourself into his front, not even leaving an inch of space in between you.

He looks down at you indulgently, tucking one of your wildly floating locks of hair behind your ear, as his hand moves away, it caresses the side of your cheek, making its way down. As you let out a longing sigh, he grips the underside of your jaw, tilting your chin up so he can remove the mouthpiece to your snorkel before he swoops down to capture your lips with his.

You’ve been yearning for his kiss since the moment you woke up and found your eyes enraptured by those pillowy coral colored lips, and Jungkook does not disappoint. They taste like mint chapstick and coffee as he hauls your body against his, one of his brawny arms locking you into his hold while the other works its way up while he winds his fingers through the drenched locks of your hair. As you continuously gasp in between every short kiss he slots over your lips, your hands travel across his broad shoulders and impressive back where you can feel flexing bundles of muscles beneath your fingertips.

Tiring of the small abrupt pecks, Jungkook pulls you up, your legs instinctually wrapping around his hips as you meet him for a more impassioned kiss. You enthusiastically part your mouth, welcoming him and his tongue licks its way into that wet cavern, twining around your tongue as you both fight for control. You’re weak to the way that his lips mold against yours with its firm pressure, fitting against you perfectly. As you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tight, Jungkook moves his hands to cup your ass, fitting you more perfectly against him. He gropes your butt fervently as your fingers snake themselves into his luscious locks.

You can feel his curious wandering hands roving across the planes of your body as you lean deeper into the kisses, gasping when Jungkook releases you to let you catch your breath. But even then, your lips are still attached to his as he busies himself with nibbling on your plump bottom lip, not wanting to waste a single second. His fingers find themselves into the hidden space between your cheeks, gripping on them softly to spread them more apart and then he runs his index finger across the seam, traveling from your clenching asshole to your fluttering core. Your pussy gushes more and more with his every pass over it, not that he can tell with you both underwater. But surely he can sense that your clit is becoming more sensitive and engorged with the minimal simulation, eager for more. His fingernail catches on that little bud his next pass over and you moan loudly against his lips before accidentally biting down on the lower one impassionately.

When the two of you break apart, he leans his forehead against your nape, licking over his bitten lip tasting the faint flavor of iron and sea salt. It stings a little, if he wants to be completely honest. But with a simple burst of his powers, the pain is gone and since Jungkook already has his face pressing against your neck, he uses the opportunity to dart his tongue into the shallow pools of your collar bones, lapping at them softly, his tongue moving across your throat to manipulate whines and keens out of you. Even as he does this, his focus is split and he finds himself nudging your copper colored bikini bottom to the side as he reveals your pussy folds to one of his questing hands.

Jungkook grows daring as he nudges at your pussy with nimble fingers, thumbing your clit and pressing down hard enough to make you wail. His fingers dart across the furled petals leading to your throbbing core and he ghosts those appendages, letting you feel the sudden sensation of fullness before it’s swiftly gone like you imagined it. You’re writhing in his arms, sound travels differently in the ocean but he selfishly doesn’t want anyone to see your eyes rolling backwards as your mouth opens wide in an ahegao type expression.

A red flush covers your tanned skin, travelling from your décolletage to your throat and Jungkook finds himself capturing your chin in his firm grasp. His thumb swipes at your lips repeatedly until you finally part them so he can shove it inside all whilst jutting two fingers in and out of your cunt deliciously. You gag around the appendage, saliva trailing down your lips and painting the sides of your mouth as you struggle to acclimate your body to the brutal and hectic pace of how he thrusts his fingers in and out your folds.

With Jungkook’s promise to keep you safe, you don’t have to worry about sputtering and choking on salty sea water, instead you’re doing so on his thick fingers which are a pale and slim imitation to how his cock will feel in your mouth. With your focus so frayed and with him dead set on making you go mindless with lust, Jungkook turns his focus to his mouth, nipping his way down the neglected column of your throat, until he gets to your cleavage. Jungkook chooses to bite down on that golden circle connecting the two halves of your skimpy bikini, pulling at it with his bunny teeth before letting go again to have the swimwear bounce against your skin, stimulating your nipples and making them harden into beads. He kisses and tongues your breasts through the moisture resistant fabric, growling in frustration at its thickness that inhibits his abilities to inflame you even further. He nabs it between the hold of his clenched teeth and tugs, pulling at your top until only one cup is left maintaining your precarious modesty.

With one of your breasts free from the cloth, Jungkook wastes no time to wrap his lips around it’s stiffened tip. His agile tongue swirls itself around, laving the hardened bud, and he gently nibbles at it, making you reflexively nip at his thumb. He has you wrapped around him both figuratively and literally, and he divides his attention, never forgetting to incite your pulsating pussy with forceful pumps of his appendages as he sucks on your breasts and lets you suck on the fingers to his other hand. There’s something about gagging on Jungkook’s tatted digits that has you raggedly inhaling through your nose and falling apart at the seams at all the attention your body is under.

When you finally cum, you sag against him; your top is halfway down your abdomen and one of its straps is dangling by your elbow. Your eyes are still blown out from lust but you’ve calmed down somewhat though you're desperately trying to catch your breath, counting on Jungkook’s inexhaustible strength to hold you up beside him. You seem to be completely unaware of your surroundings and how the other snorkelers swim closer to the two of you since you are both breathless and a little disoriented from the heated kisses, and more, that followed.

Fortunately for your unsettled self, the male isn’t standing idle as you are, trying to make sense of your surroundings. He fixes your bottom so that it no longer digs into your soft curves and repositions it so that your pussy is completely covered. You float in the water and let him manhandle you like you’re his pretty doll, letting him secure up your bikini so your breasts are no longer exposed. He even reties it in the back for you before he puts your snorkel back onto your mouth. But as he does so, he bites on his lower lip, sucking his cheeks in as his eyes hold a glimmer of something that he’s trying to hide from you.

You irately raise your eyebrows at him as he finally lets out the laughter he had been holding in, in the form of a breathy chuckle. Sorry, it’s nothing, his thoughts are once again intruding your mind, it’s just I forgot you were wearing your cute goggles, that’s all!

Immediately you are still as mortification takes over your body, a frown adorning your features. And just like that, the moment is broken and you are no longer under his spell.

In the afternoon, you two walk around the beachfront of where your condo lies, tired after scuba diving and wanting to engage in some low level, minimal effort tourism. Well, you’re tired; Jungkook has a boundless expanse of energy. He’s like an excitable puppy who takes on everything he sees as if it’s his first life although you know it’s not. But you suppose, if you were kept in a prison regularly for upwards of hundreds of years without any idea when your next chance at freedom was, you too would make the most of every opportunity that presented itself to you.

Jungkook claps every time you pick up something that suits you and immediately buys it for you, flitting between acting the role of a supportive best friend and a sexy sugar daddy, but you’re into it, enraptured by the duality that suits him, giving him a cute glow to his dark brown doe eyes. After you end up with too many souvenir bracelets and little knick knacks, even a little pouch to hold your phone and money, though you aren’t likely to call anyone or need to spend any money during the next ten days, you cut Jungkook off from getting you anything more. You beg off for a chance to relax, maybe even take a midday nap which isn’t something you’ve done since you were in high school, before getting ready to go to the night time date that Jungkook promises will be even more spectacular.

It’s about 6pm, and you’re all glammed up for your date with Jungkook. He’s taking his job of wooing you super seriously. You dimly wonder whether all genies are as competitive as Jungkook, striving for a 100% satisfaction guaranteed (which he certainly had done in the turquoise water earlier in the day). You had asked him about it during one of the rounds to the small kiosks around the open air bazaar, if you got to fill out a customer service report at the end of this entire experience. The male had narrowed his eyes at you, a slandered look of affront taking over his face as he wound up his arms together tightly and pointedly stalked away from you.

He seems to have mellowed out however. You could have sworn you heard him singing lightly as he went around his room, immersed in his tasks, talking to inanimate objects like the Disney character that he was. However Jungkook is a little bit petty, and had decided to withhold the location of your date tonight from you which left you with no idea of what dress code to aim for.

You think you did pretty well, all things considered.

Your thick locks have been washed to get rid of all the salt that clung to them after your snorkeling excursion and you have it slicked back into a sleek half up half down hairdo that doesn't have a single hair out of place. Meanwhile, your makeup features smokey eyes and dark currant colored lips since you wanted your glam look to have an edge to it.

Your outfit is made out of the contents of the packages and shopping bags that Jungkook had lined the wall of your room with, earlier in the day. You’re wearing a skin clinging Versace mini dress with a plunging neckline that barely covers your ass and is covered in glittery burgundy colored sequins. It makes your rack look fabulous which is only being held up with some nude bra pads, sticky tape, and sheer pleas for divine intervention. Meanwhile, your ass looks scrumptious and perky like you just got a BBL on this Maltese vacation. There are long strappy black Saint Laurent heels wrapping around your legs and lengthening the limbs making you look like an Amazonian queen. Gold Harry Winston hoops adorn your ears with a slim gold chain from the brand dipping into your cleavage while an assortment of rings from Chanel and Cartier adorn your fingers and offset the gold love bracelet banging against your left wrist. To put it simply, you look like a Goddamn fucking catch.

After making sure that every detail to your look is perfect as you gaze into the full length mirror in your room and attempt tugging on the skirt of the Versace dress one more time, you leave your room to knock on the door to Jungkook’s room that is right beside it.

The male opens it instantly, almost like he was waiting for you to knock and his jaw slackens a little as he takes in the full, lethal, image of you in your micro mini, with the tumbling dark locks of hair falling over your shoulder and your legs looking like they would look perfect over his shoulders with the strappy sandals still on, their thin stiletto heels digging into his back as he pounded you into blissful nirvana.

Like always, you remain oblivious to Jungkook’s ravenous and coveting glances. Mostly, it’s because you are similarly distracted. His hair is no longer cherry red or the blond that you think is its default; rather, Jungkook has long cobalt colored locks that get darker towards the roots framing his face suavely. He stands in front of you looking gloriously tall as he wears a slightly loose fit dark colored blazer that reveals a white tucked in shirt underneath and black cargo joggers to soften the formal look to his outfit. His black Prada Chelsea boots make him tower over you with their giant imposing soles. He has a few earrings in and a silver chain hanging from his neck that makes you wonder if it will clink against your nude body if the night ends with another bout of heated sexual exploration. When he offers you his hand, you notice that he has a few bands adorning his fingers as well.

You allow yourself to get pulled into his embrace. He tucks you against his chest, your bare back hitting the soft cotton of his T-shirt, the fabric is so thin that you can easily feel the heat of his body and more importantly, every hard ridge of muscle. The waist chain is there too and you have figured out that it is probably what keeps Jungkook bound under the lamp’s control. No wonder he hates it.

His arm is securely pressed against your waist, squeezing you lightly. He’s in a good mood and you are too. You’ll just ignore the fact that he’s an immortal and that he’s not actually yours. You two can play pretend for nine more days. While you sigh and your eyes softly shutter shut in contentment, he dips his chin into the hollow of your collarbone before he whisks the two of you away to the dinner that he had planned for the two of you.

You blink in confusion as you take in the new sight.

The sky is turning purplish blue in the evening and from the looks of it Jungkook has just taken you to an empty construction site. There’s nothing but excavators, front loaders, and a bulldozer in your vicinity. The skeletal metal outline of a partially made building explains the presence of the class 8 vehicles.

You gingerly step out of Jungkook’s hold, walking a full ten feet away before turning back towards him. Your head is cocked and your freezing fingers are gripping your hips as you place your hands on them. “Can you kill your master?” you whisper yell back at him hesitantly, “Is that allowed?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes before he scoffs, “No, it isn’t. Not that I would want to,” he side eyes you, “yet, anyway.”

He says it lightly as a joke, obviously, but you let out a dry laugh of, “Ha. Ha. Ha,” to match his heinous sounding cackles as you glare back at him, full of indignation as you hold your ground, extremely nonplussed.

“Get over here, will you?” he hisses, “Our date isn’t even here; it’s over there.”

He points to a crane on the left and you squint in the direction, still baffled. “I don’t get it.”

Jungkook sighs with displeasurement before he transports in front of you and grabs you by the waist again. Within seconds you are transported to what appears to be a dinner table attached to a crane and Jungkook has already gotten you seat belted and safely harnessed into your seat. And to your even greater surprise, his comfy blazer is covering your arms, enveloping your body and keeping you warm as Jungkook’s discernible scent of delicate florals and rich sandalwood overwhelm your senses.

He sits next to you because the table is long and rectangular and this is the only way to be close to each other. You have to twist your body to the left to face him but you don’t find yourself minding when you notice that there is a lovely grin on his kissable mouth and a lock of dark blue hair falling into his face that he doesn’t move away. The waiters as well as the safety instructors of this sky high restaurant suddenly reappear, from wherever it was that they were hiding, to bustle around the two of you, breaking the spell you had been under, hypnotized by Jeon fucking Jungkook.

They fill up your wine glasses with a 1967 Burgundy and water, placing two baskets between the two of you that hold a variety of French breads. Jungkook gazes into your eyes from beside you, his palm pressed against his cheek. “Anything you want to try?”

You blink, flustered, as you take on the brunt of the heat from those glowing chocolatey orbs. You don’t think you have ever been in such close proximity to Jungkook while under such a thorough perusal. Your eyes immediately slide down and you focus your attention onto the menu that had been placed before you. Almost all of it is in French.

You happily hum when you notice there is seafood, choosing to order the Moules-frites, mussels on a shallot and white wine sauce with shoestring fried potatoes. You murmur your request to Jungkook and he calls the waiter over to tell him your desire for seafood. Perhaps inspired by you, he orders salmon en papillote with beurre blanc, sauce vierge and sauteed asparagus. It sounds fancy but it’s just salmon wrapped in parchment paper that Jungook cuts open in front of you with a side of tomatoes dressed with vinaigrette, the French white butter sauce and asparagus.

The two of you dig into your meals vigorously and you almost forget that you’re on a date as you sigh after every bite of the scrumptious meal that brings tears to your eyes over how amazing it tastes.

Jungkook chuckles softly next to you, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so happy.” There is almost a wistful tone to his remark.

You lick a drop of the white wine sauce off your lip before tapping your mouth with a cream colored cloth napkin. “Well, you’ve only known me for about a day,” you tease. “But I love food.”

“I do too,” admits Jungkook. You knew that. You had spent more time around food and eating today than you did over most weekends that you had off. And it was always so much food. If anything, you would’ve been surprised if he had said he hated eating and that it was just a necessary task he had to partake in to continue to be alive like some of the gym bros you knew. This time the wistfulness of his tone is more evident and you easily catch it in his words.

“You can’t enjoy food?” you inquire, sharply. You’re aghast. You could never imagine living such an abhorrent half-life. This was primarily one of the reasons that you were anti-Edward during the Twilight craze of the 2010s. You would never give up on the pleasures that came from eating to exchange it for a life of drinking only blood for sustenance.

“I don’t need to eat food to survive,” admits Jungkook forlornly, “I can’t enjoy it at all; it's just mastication for me. Like I’m chewing on sawdust covered in spices. But I still do it. It’s the only way to remind me of my humanity. And it looks so good. I can smell it but it tastes like nothing much and I can’t savor it at all.”

You quirk an eyebrow silently. This was the first hint you had gotten into Jungkook’s person. He used to be human once upon a time. You don’t want to rock the boat so you don’t hedge for more details.

“That’s horrible,” you cry out instead, visibly livid on his behalf. “Would it help if I ate for the both of us?”

He laughs again and pushes his salmon towards you, “Only because I know how much you adore seafood. You won’t be able to get the wine or dessert away from me though,” he warns.

You just grin at him and he returns a lopsided one at you, his eyes crinkle at the corners softening his gaze as his dimples make an appearance for the first time. You gawk at him, mesmerized by his gorgeous features. He’s so handsome. You wonder if he was this handsome before he was a genie or if being a genie amped up his attractiveness so you would fall under his lure like a siren with her prey. Nah, with your luck Jungkook was probably born looking like Adonis.

You two eat in comfortable company, the conversation ebbing and flowing freely. You tell Jungkook about your job as an admissions counselor and the terrible guilt you feel when you can’t help one of your students accomplish their dreams of graduating from one of the best four year universities in the nation. Jungkook oohs and aahs while also making sounds of dismay at the appropriate moments. He’s a great listener; he’s super involved in the conversation and makes you feel important as though what you’re sharing deserves to get heard. You’re not sure how much of it is an act he’s putting on for your benefit to fulfill your wish and how much of it is him going above and beyond, but you greatly appreciate it. Today might just be the best day of your life. You’ve been treated like a queen the entire time.

In exchange for sharing your little anecdotes you beg Jungkook to share something with you to keep the repartee going. With a groan he gives into you, and animatedly chats to you about the time he had a vampiress find his lamp.

You gasp loudly, “Vampires aren’t real Jungkook!” you can’t stop laughing. It’s a good thing you weren’t chewing because you would have spit out your fancy dinner all over the pristine white table cloth.

He wags his eyebrows at you with a cocky smirk painting his lips, “Oh? Are you sure? I mean I’m a genie, Y/N. It would make sense for there to be other magical beings besides me. I wasn’t born into existence as a genie, I was created.”

“Yeah,” you murmur softly, is this your moment to ask Jungkook how it had all begun? “Jungkook, I—”

“Monsieur, mademoiselle,” one of the servers had returned with your desserts in tow, intruding on your conversation, “crème brulée à la lavande.”

He places two leaf shaped cream colored ramekins in front of the pair of you. You hum in astonishment as you take in the delectable looking lavender infused crème brulée with the browned sugar crust and the decorative buds of lavender on top. It smells faintly floral and you just know that when you taste it, your tongue is going to be in heaven, tasting the delicate yet complex layers to the dish.

Jungkook smirks at you cockily before he spoons up a sizable scoop of the crème and pulls it into his mouth, his lips pursing around the utensil until he sucks off all the dessert on the ladeled part. He hums his pleasure as his tongue rolls around in his mouth, sucking in the taste of the rich cream and the sweet sugar that is roped through it. His eyelids turn heavy and you have to suck in a breath when you realize this is probably what Jungkook would look like if he ate you out and was savoring the taste of your juices on his velvety lush tongue.

You’re flustered but you can’t let him have the upperhand. You pick up the little dessert spoon and tap on the sugar crust, cracking it softly before you carefully scoop some of the confection onto your utensil, making sure to get both the hardened sugar and the smooth cream underneath.

You moan around it as you close your mouth with the first bite. You’re in heaven, you’re not sure you have ever had anything that was quite as rich or decadent as this before in your life. The velvety texture of the crème brulée swamps your tongue while the sugar melts into it from the heat of your warm, lush mouth. Your senses are heightened as you can taste every single ingredient that has gone into the dish and you inhale sharply before letting out another soft moan of satisfaction.

You wrap your lips around the spoon as you twirl your tongue around it to make sure you’ve gotten every last bit of the dessert off of it before you release from your mouth with a light pop. There’s a gossamer thread of spit connecting your lip to the spoon so you quickly dart your tongue out to break it. The male next to you shudders lightly, his breath hitches raggedly as he glares at you with hard eyes that have gone dark from the heat of his debauched desires.

“Y/N,” he warns, groaning lightly, his tongue nearly poking a hole through his cheek in his irritation.

“Hmm?” you reply with faux innocence, determined to play with fire tonight. You don’t want to get burned tonight, oh no, you want much much more than that. You want to get consumed by the flames that have Jungkook within their hold.

You continue to eat up your crème brulée slowly, savoring each and every carefully scooped spoonful. Your tongue rolls in your mouth after each bite as you try to lick up all of the cream from the crevices before you go in for the next spoon. You’re not playing up your reactions by any means; it’s so delicious and rich, meant to be relished. And Jungkook is, figuratively, eating up all of the noises slipping between your plump sugar covered lips. His jaw is tight, lips thinned into a harsh line as he heatedly glares at you.

“It seems to me like you want something else to draw out those little pathetic sounds from your throat,” Jungkook grates, “until, perhaps, they are full blown moans of ecstasy.”

You still when you feel his long sinuous fingers gripping into the soft flesh of your exposed thigh. His palm is feverishly hot against your skin and Jungkook takes advantage of the fact that you’re wearing a mini dress to push your thighs apart and slip his hand in between.

“Ju-Jungkook,” you stammer, letting your spoon clank against the ramekin where there’s still more than half of the dessert left. Your hands go to where his is cupping your cunt through the diaphanous black mesh thong you’re wearing from Agent Provocateur, you pull at his arm and attempt to take it off but you’re unable to shake the grip he has on you as his fingers stroke lines against the seam to your cunt through the thin, ineffective barrier of your panties. The pad of his index finger runs its path up and down until your pussy lips feel swollen, the folds sensitive and inflamed, as you slowly wet the mesh material until it’s practically invisible from how drenched it becomes.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, his tone both gruff and lethal. “Get your hands off of me.”

Your insides warm as you get aroused from his harshness and you let your hands fall off from where they were still attempting to pull him away. You already had a flush from the wine earlier heating your skin but now the blood crawls up your chest and rushes to your cheeks for a different reason.

“Don’t you have a dessert to eat, Y/N?” Jungkook mocks, pausing his fingers’ wickedly dexterous pursuit.

“I-I,” you stutter, “Y-y-yes, Jungkook.”

Your body was turned 90 degrees so that you could face him but when he raises an eyebrow that means ‘Get on with it,’ you instantly turn back around to properly face the dinner table and pick up your spoon from the ramekin with a shaking hand. You scoop up some of the dessert into your mouth and nervously close your lips around it, hyper aware of everything that is happening around you, on the tether hooks as you wait with bated breath for Jungkook’s next move.

He pinches your clit, invoking a squeal to slip out of your mouth as your walls flutter around nothing, clenching in dismay. “Why so silent, Y/N? Aren’t you enjoying your dessert? I think I’m going to feast on you though.”

“Mmpfh,” you moan behind clenched teeth, hurriedly swallowing down the velvety cream and spooning up another bite to place into your mouth, “It’s so good, Jungkook,” you gasp breathlessly.

“Good,” Jungkook grunts into your ear, he’s halfway out his chair, his body stretching over the small distance between your seats. His chest is digging into your shoulder and he has an arm, the one whose digits aren’t currently focused on stroking you into madness, wrapped around your back so that he can slip it around the front and hold your neck in it’s grip, squeezing it lightly in warning. Your breath catches in your throat and you gulp, able to feel every cold curve of each individual metal ring on his fingers lightly pressing into your skin.

“You want to keep eating, Y/N?” Jungkook murmurs, hot breath tickling your ear as his lips brush against it before he pulls your delicate lobe between his teeth.

“N-No!” you protest.

“Oh?” He quips. His voice has gone low and raspy, the tenor of his tone licking flames in the pit of your stomach, causing your nerves to tingle from anticipation, “Got something else in mind for dessert, princess?”

You pause hesitantly. The words are stuck in your throat.

“Go on, Y/N, tell me what my bratty spoiled princess really wants for dessert,” Jungkook growls, removing his long nimble fingers from the wet heat of your cunt when you don’t answer him.

Your hands immediately fly down, pressing down on his to keep it trapped between your warm palms and your waxed, bare mons. “You, Jungkook. You,” you wail, “I want you for dessert.”

“I thought so,” murmurs the genie silkily. He removes his hand from your throat, his thumb rubbing circles into the delicate flesh before his fingers move away to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. He unwinds his arm from around you, choosing to grip your chin, tilting your mouth up before meeting your lips in a fervent messy embrace.

It’s more desperate than sensual, a frantic clashing of lips as your tongues tangle with each other and your teeth almost knock against each other from the brutal force of the kisses. Jungkook drags your plump lower lip into his mouth, his teeth lightly nipping on it while he sucks until it feels raw and battered. His hand is tangled into your hair and he’s gripping on those locks tightly to maneuver your head in the exact position he wants. You ignore the pain erupting from your scalp as your palms freely roam the length of his upper body, slipping under the thin cotton T-shirt he had on to rake your long acrylic nails against his warm, muscled back. Your fingers travel up to his broad shoulders, gripping them under his shirt until you leave little crescent indentations from your nails on his flesh.

Jungkook shifts his lips from yours as he leaves you gulping for air, struggling to catch your breath. “My fucking selfish princess has bitten off more than she can chew on her quest to feast on everything she possibly can,” he murmurs, his hot breath fans over your cheek before he softly nips on the plumpest part of it. When you gasp at the sting, his tongue immediately darts out to soothe the pain as he licks up the side of your face messily. “Baby, you made a deal with the devil for these wishes,” he rumbles.

Your dress barely covers your chest which hectically heaves as Jungkook trails suctioning, bruising kisses down the length of your throat on the path to your breasts. The shimmery wine red cloth is barely hanging on to you as your hardening nipples struggle to keep them in position acting as the only thing holding them in place. The slippery cloth has almost fallen down several times, and you are millimeters away from suddenly exposing your entire upper half to the birds that are flying around as you sit on your sky high dinner date.

Jungkook’s strong agile fingers pull at the fabric as his mouth finds the large exposed expanse of cleavage available to him. He gently presses his lips on your soft warm skin before he parts them to leave hard open mouthed kisses on your breasts. When he’s finally able to get a strong enough purchase on the dress that he can pull it down to your waist, he deftly plucks the nude silicon pads off and flings them into the night sky before wrapping his lips against one of your hardened peaks.

His fingers are strumming at its twin while Jungkook sucks and sucks at your nipple like he thinks that he can get it to leak if he tries hard enough. That thought makes you still. An impregnation kink? You had never thought of it before but the thought of Jungkook fucking you with the sole purpose of breeding you and making you round and luminous as you carry his children, your breasts large and your curves plumper and softer than before has your heart beating loudly and erratically in your chest.

“Hey,” he complains when he notices you've gotten sidetracked in your thoughts. He bites down on your furled bud to draw back your attention, “Where did you go? Someone’s getting greedy. Do you need more, princess? Do you need me to do more so you’ll pay attention to me?”

“I,” you stammer. But Jungkook ignores you, he uses both of his hands to maneuver your skin clinging dress over your hips and then he tucks two fingers into the thin ribboned band of your underwear, pulling it away from your heated skin until the delicate mesh falls apart from his use of force, getting ripped straight off of your cunt. His jaw absentmindedly falls open a little as takes in the sight of your glistening pussy folds.

“Oh, baby, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs.

He plunges his middle finger in, going deep within your core as he curls it up, pumping within you so furiously that you can hear loud squelching sounds coming from your gushing pussy.

“Jung-Jungkook,” you whine. You need more. You need to be stuffed. “Jungkook, I can take more!” The last word comes out as a scream when he suddenly thrusts his ring finger and pinky inside you too. All three digits are assailing your insides, your core tightens around them, clenching hard but it doesn’t stop his intensity as he makes a complete mess of your pussy, wetness gushing out and dripping on your seat, trailing down your parted thighs.

He has the side of his face pressed against your chest, your stiffened tips poking harshly into his right cheek as he glances downwards at the wreckage he’s created from the fruits of his labor. Your head is bent with your chin tucked on top of his crop of dark cyan hair, your long tumbling locks of hair falling forward to hide your expression as Jungkook makes you lose your mind underneath him.

“Your clit is so swollen, sweet girl, do you want me to rub it?” He asks, turning towards your breasts, rubbing his face into them, his nose tickling the valley between them.

“Yes, Jungkook,” you urge breathlessly, “Please.”

His thumb and forefinger pinches that little sensitive bead, rolling it in between them before rubbing it side to side in a rapid, furious pace. “Or maybe it’s still not enough,” Jungkook wonders, “Do you want my head buried between those thighs as you ride your way to release or do you want my cock pounding you into submission, baby?”

Your mouth is hanging open, you can barely think, let alone put together a string of words that will have Jungkook satisfied with your reply. “Jungkook,” you pant, “I need—”

“Monsieur Jeon?” the waiter inquires after returning.

You still immediately, your head bending even further to conceal your body with your hair though you are already covered by Jungkook’s body on top of yours.

“Yes, Pierre,” Jungkook murmurs, not moving his face away from the comfort of your breasts. You hadn’t even realized that had been the name of your server.

“If you and mademoiselle are done with your dinners we can take you back to the ground.”

“Yes, thank you, Pierre. We would appreciate that.”

“I will go inform the team,” Pierre acquises, “Would you like for me to get more wine as we make our way down?”

“I think we are fine for now,” assures Jungkook.

When the staff finally leaves you push Jungkook off of you, straightening up your dress, pulling it over your breasts and tugging it down to cover your bottom again.

Jungkook merely smirks, purring, “You’re changing your tune so soon, princess? I take it you don’t want for things to continue when we’re on the ground then?”

You stiffly cross your arms over your chest, using them as supports under your breasts to hold onto the dress and keep it from slipping down and making you expose yourself to all of the sky high restaurant’s crew since Jungkook had gotten rid of your bra pads.

“Did you have to do that?” you demand.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, princess,” Jungkook fibs.

You roll your eyes, “It’s not enough that every time we do something it’s in public but you’ve started to destroy my underwear too.”

“Oh relax, Y/N,” Jungkook coaxes, “Your rack is spectacular and will be doing a more than great job of holding up your dress. You have nothing to worry about. And even if you did ever expose yourself to anyone you didn’t want to, I would just erase their memories for you.”

“My hero,” you simper sarcastically, tugging on his right ear.

The male narrows his eyes at you, consideringly. His front teeth nip at his bottom lip and you know that you’ve gotten yourself in trouble again as Jungkook thinks up ways to get back at you during the descent of the restaurant.

When you are finally back touching solid ground, you are able to messily untangle yourself from the harnesses that kept you secured to your seat. You almost fall flat on the ground when you gingerly step off the platform you two had been eating on, towards the cracked pavement of the empty lot. Your legs had turned into jelly during their time up in the air, it’s a combination of vertigo and your legs still being shaky from having you edged to an orgasm that was woefully stolen away from you.

Jungkook immediately catches you in his arms, peering down at you softly before coming to a decision. He lowers himself, bending down to wrap his arms around your back and thighs more securely, before picking you up in a bridal carry. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him after hesitantly locking your arms around his thick neck.

“So,” he hedges, moving his face forward so that he can nudge at your plump cheeks with his nose. “Should the night end here princess?” he asks, “Or do you want the fun to continue when we get back home?”

“Yes, please,” you quietly beg.

Jungkook gently brushes his lips against your forehead before escorting the two of you home in a whirlwind cloud of gold dust before you two suddenly reappear in the hallway in front of the two of your rooms.

“Are we sleeping in different rooms tonight?” Jungkook inquires, just to check that your mind hasn’t changed within the last two minutes.

“Take me to your bed,” you softly urge the genie as you upturn your face, your nose nudging against the thin scar across his left cheek. He swiftly traipses forward, his long legs reaching his door in one effortless stride.

His room is similar to yours except his bed is bigger, you notice with envy, and his furniture appears to be made of black colored iron unlike the white painted pieces in your room. He sets you down in front of him as he goes to close the door.

“Jungkook, babe,” you call out to his back. He raises an eyebrow as he turns to face you again. “Can you help me with my zipper? It’s a little hard for me to get it down.”

The slim invisible zipper to your deep burgundy shimmery dress is located right on the topmost part of your ass since it’s a mostly backless piece. Jungkook crowds you from behind, his massive frame enveloping yours as his long deft fingers go to zip you down. You shudder as his knuckles brush against the warm sensitive skin of your back, each touch sending a lighting bolt of attraction shooting up your spine while causing arousal to pool between your thighs. When the zipper is halfway down, resting on the swell of your ass, you step out of his hold.

You turn around to face him as you pull down on the thin straps of the dress, letting them hang around your elbows as your bust works overtime to keep the dress up. With a twisted smirk painting your plush lips, you shimmy out of the glittery wine colored fabric, letting it pool around your Saint Laurent encased feet before stepping out of the circle of clothing lying on the ground. You lithely stalk towards Jungkook, your hair a sexy mess around your shoulders, curling into your breasts and brushing against your nipples as you make your way to the genie, completely nude since he had gotten rid of all of your underwear a while back.

Jungkook’s eyes softly shutter close as you finally reach him, his eyelids fluttering as he raggedly takes in a deep breath. You look utterly divine wearing only gold jewelry and your long strappy black heels that make your sun kissed limbs look miles long. You wrap your arms around his thick neck, pressing your heaving breasts against his hard pectoral muscles, “Jungkook?”

His hands grip onto your hips pulling your smooth crotch against his clothed one as he backs the two of you into the door. His hard pulsating cock is pressed against your slit and it makes you whimper when you shift and the zipper to his pants hits your clit. He secures his arms across your ass, pushing you up into his hold, making your toes tip because even in your heels you’re unable to be face to face with him. The man is sexily and inconveniently tall. Balancing all of your weight on your toes and Jungkook’s arms, you stretch so that your face is aligned with his and you can comfortably kiss him. Your teeth grab for his plump lower lip and pull it between yours so you can suck on that lush flesh, agitating it so it becomes red, wet, and swollen.

A subtle growl starts low in Jungkook’s chest as he pushes your body even further up and as you lose your footing you tangle a leg around Jungkook’s hips. His other hand moves up to roughly capture your jaw in its hold, locking you in position as he aggressively meets your lips back. His kisses are greedy and all-consuming; Jungkook kisses you like he’s a starving man and you are his first meal in a long time. His hand, the one that's gently hanging by your ass, starts to knead the supple flesh and your breath catches in your throat as you let out a choked gasp. His fingers are right by your puckered sensitive hole and you’re reminded of the fantasy you had had the night before he came into your life. Of a man touching and stroking you there in that forbidden orifice and working you up.

Meanwhile, his mouth is busy; his tongue is prodding its way past your lips, slipping in and licking a torrid path in the lush cavern of your mouth. It’s agile and long, and the strong wet muscle twirls with your own, easily taking control of your mouth. The sounds slipping out of both of your lips as you continuously meet each other for more and more impassioned kisses are obscene; they’re loud wet sounds of fervent hunger that grow more frantic as the kisses persist.

Your core is clenching around nothing and it has you rutting against Jungkook’s crotch like a bitch in heat, leaving a dark damp patch on the black fabric of his dressy joggers. Jungkook stops stroking and squeezing your ass to pull your other leg around his hips until your stiletto heels are digging into his butt and you are wrapped entirely around his body like a koala. He backs away from the door, his lips breaking apart from yours so he can look where he is walking and carrying you. You are still kissing him though; your lips have trailed down to kiss and bite along his jaw and neck, you even let yourself suck on his Adam’s apple which has him gulping and your lips stretching into a smirk against the flushed smooth flesh of his throat, as you can feel every movement underneath the delicate skin.

He carefully drops you onto the bed, taking precaution not to fall over with you and crush you underneath his weight. You stare up at him, wide-eyed as your lips part with hunger and surprise at the change in position. His large doe eyes have gone black with lust, becoming heavy lidded as they travel up the entire length of your body with lazy glances.

He steps in between your parted legs, his hands curling around your soft meaty thighs, dimpling into them with the pressure from his fingertips. “Let me eat you out?” he asks huskily, his tenor sounding ragged and raspy.

“Please,” you beg with wide eyes shining with lust. Your legs part even more to let Jungkook see just how wet your folds are.

He sinks to his knees before you, holding down on your thighs as he lowers himself to the ground. He places a flurry of light open mouth kisses against your soft thighs as he nudges them apart and pulls you forward so that your ass hangs off the bed and he can throw your legs over his shoulders. Your Saint Laurent encased limbs spasm against his back and the pointed heels dig into his white T-shirt making him grunt as he falls forward a little.

You let out a pained whine when you notice Jungkook manages to catch himself right before he faceplants onto your cunt. He slowly lowers his face, nose tenderly nudging at your slit before he purses his lips and kisses at your folds. He gently mouths at the petals of oversensitive and swollen flesh, softly lapping at the juices that cling to them. You let out a shrill, frenzied moan when he flattens his tongue against your core, licking long and hot fat stripes down the opening. Your fingers snake into his damp indigo colored locks, drenched from his sweat, scratching your acrylic nails against his scalp as you attempt to push him down further into your crotch.

He slides his hands up your warm thighs making your muscles contract at the sensation before he grabs onto your hips, guiding their motion with his grip. He lets you rock against his mouth frantically, opening his jaw wide as your juices that he’s unable to capture drip down his chin. You wail, letting out a desperate sob as he buries his face deeper into your cunt licking and slurping like a man maddened from lust. His nose juts against your swollen inflamed clit as his teeth clamp down lightly on your folds and pull at them gently, making you convulse and twitch as you mindlessly shove your pussy against him.

“Is this good, sweet girl,” he murmurs huskily, “Is this what you wanted?”

He brushes his plush lips over your clit, teasing you, tempting you until he has your laser focus drawn to what he is doing. It’s then that he starts working on that hyper responsive bundle of nerves, teasing that little bead with flicks of his tongue, hard focused snaps of his wet muscle against the overworked bud. He’s giving you everything; his mouth wrapping around your clit, his lips gently pressing against it in faux respite, his teeth nipping it to draw out cries, and his tongue manipulating it to make you turn feral. He’s got you in the palm of his hand and it makes him realize that he’s been neglecting you in perhaps the most important way.

“Is,” his tongue jabs into your core, “This,” his teeth clamp down on your clit, inducing tears to spring from your eyes, “Good,” he slurps at your arousal noisily, repeating the question.

You frantically nod in his direction before you realize he can't see your expression with his face shoved into your pussy. “Ye-Yes,” you choke out, clearing your throat that's gone rough from the constant stream of screaming that Jungkook’s been able to pull from your lips. You think it subsides him but then he tilts his head in a calculating way that’s got you freezing against him.

He pulls away to draw your attention back to his face, you glance at him with glazed over eyes that are confused yet frustrated. Staring right at you with sleepy, hooded lids, he holds your gaze as he runs his index finger up and down your fluttering core, gathering up your juices on top of his finger, using the transparent ropes of arousal to coat his finger, lubricating it before he plunges it into you.

“Jungkook,” your legs spasm over his shoulders as you accidentally hit his back with one of your high heels. “I’m gonna c— I’m gonna COME! I can’t— I can’t take much more of THIS!” Your hips raise up from the bed as you squirm, fucking his finger into you since he hasn’t started moving it yet.

He stares at you consideringly, “Fuck my fingers Y/N,” he raspily commands, “Fuck yourself to completion.”

You still, momentarily unnerved but Jungkook uses his thumb to flick the nail of his middle finger against your clit, which not only pulls out an embarrassing keen from your mouth but also spurs you into action, rocking your hips in fluid motions as your core takes in the entire length of his index finger.

You whine in frustration, complaining, “Jungkook, this isn’t enough!”

“I’d say make it enough,” the male responds, “If I hadn’t been tempting you all night long. Consider yourself lucky, princess.” And with that Jungkook shoves three more fingers in you, pumping them into you impressively faster and harder than he had ever teased you before, almost inserting half his hand, a centimeter into his palm as well, into the cunt he stretched out during dinner. It’s a good thing he thought to do that since you would be struggling when he finally took you.

Your vision turns white as your eyes almost roll backwards and your teeth chatter, knocking into each other due to the violent intensity at which Jungkook was impaling your pussy with his fingers. Your thighs quake uncontrollably as you’re finally pushed to the brink. With your voice crescendoing into a needlessly long and cacophonously loud scream, you reach an earth shattering climax, slumping down onto the bed, your legs twitching absentmindedly.

The male gets off of his knees, the bottom half of his face is still glistening with the remnants of your arousal. He stretches, his broad shoulders getting rolled back, before he one-handedly pulls off his fitted white tee in a decidedly sexy manner. Your eyes immediately shift to his bare upper half when you hear the clink of metal and you find yourself staring at, for the first time, his golden waist chain. The gossamer strands of metal are wrapped around his thin, sun bronzed waist, practically blinding you with the shine from their yellow color that glitters as it moves with every flow and shift of Jungkook’s body.

Jungkook doesn’t let the chain hold your attention for too long, immediately distracting you as he unbuttons and undoes the fly on his dark cargo joggers. He lets the fabric hang loose around his hips as he palms his massive shaft though the black cotton of his Balenciaga boxer briefs. He rubs the bulbous tip of his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear as he toes off his imposing spiky heeled Chelsea boots. Once the shoes are off, he gently tugs on his pants, letting them pool around his ankles and stepping out of them.

He walks towards you almost nude except for the briefs that cling to his muscley thick thighs and show how pronounced his dick is as it struggles to pop out from behind the band. There is a cocky smirk painting his lovely coral colored Cupid’s bow and his nicely shaped eyebrows quirk in challenge as he steps in your direction. You groan in impatience and need as he stands in front of you, legs spread hips’ length apart. A light chuckle sounds from behind the plush lip he’s biting hard as he pushes down on the black elastic band of the underwear and his massive cock, which you have only felt against you but never seen before this moment, bounces out from the confines. He’s larger than you dreamed he could be, and you know better than to assume that Jungkook, fiercely competitive and authentic as he is, would increase the size with magic.

Your hips are already subconsciously gyrating against the air as you take him in with a slackened jaw and numbly hanging open mouth. It’s girthy and twitching lightly, slightly bouncing as it stands proud free from the confines of pants and underwear. The mushroom tip is swollen and flushed a dark berry red. The thick protruding vein you wanna nibble on, runs along the underside of the cock and is more pronounced, becoming easier for you to see, when he holds up the shaft to rub at its bulbous head to work precum out of it, make the white viscous liquid bead from the tip.

His cock is fucking pretty, and you want to suck on it, but a quick glance at the male reveals that he’s too impatient to let you do that now and just wants you to take him in. You can’t blame him after he’s gotten you off about half a dozen times over the course of the day without having blown off some steam himself.

The tattoos along his arm seem to pop against his sun kissed skin as he strokes his cock which swells at the stimulation. “Ready princess?” he asks quietly.

“Please.” You beg a repetition of the one word that always finds its way easily to your lips when Jungkook is working you up.

He guides his cock to your gushing slit, brushing the mushroom head against your folds, rubbing it into them causing his precum and your arousal to combine and mix. He slaps his head against your clit a few times before he deems you sufficiently drenched and ready to take him in. He slowly presses the round tip into your folds, hunting for your opening, his veiny hand guiding his shaft’s path. Slowly it breaches you, causing your mouth to fall open as a sex crazed look takes over your features. You moan a long, wanton sound at the intrusion, even though Jungkook took his time preparing you, it’s been more than a year since you’ve fucked anyone. With one hand still directing his cock, he uses the other to grab your hip to gently lift it up so he can palm the small of your back and push you up towards him.

You meet him eagerly, squirming as you help him get you up, throwing your arms over his shoulders and holding onto his neck with a deathgrip. He slowly moves the hand from your back to run along your hip and then your thigh so that he can wrap your curvy leg around his hip. Pulling your leg up had another advantage as well, now he can more easily enter you and he slams into you, impaling you with his cock until he is fully sheathed and your waxed bare mons meet the nicely groomed dark patch of hair on his pubic bone, your pelvises flush against each other.

You can feel the ridges of his shaft sliding along your walls as they clench around him, letting you feel every bump and vein. “A-Ah,” you stutter as a mewl slips from your panting lips. “Jung—JUNGKOOK,” you cry out as his cock twitches within you and the tip just barely hits that elusive g-spot.

“Fuck,” he grunts before a guttural moan breaks out of him.

“God, princess. This is what you wanted all along didn’t you. The entire day you’ve been teasing me. Tempting me with those fucking sly smiles and suggestive looks. You didn’t want a fucking considerate boyfriend you wanted a rude libertine to blow your back out. Isn’t that right—princess,” he hisses through his clenched teeth.

You’re unable to answer him as he quickens the pace, slipping in and out of you furiously, taking his cock almost entirely out with only his fat tip in you before thrusting manically again, pounding into your pelvis, battering up your insides and making you turn into a boneless pile of goo.

You’re practically drooling at this point while your eyes are shiny from the tears that come from his frantic impaling as he jackhammers into you. Your mouth is hanging open and he smacks the ass cheeks he’s been gripping onto this entire time when you don’t give him a reply.

“This.” Smack. “Is.” Smack. “What.” Smack. “You.” Smack. “Wanted.” Smack. “Isn’t it, princess?” he growls, ending off with one last smack.

“Yes, Jungkook!” you sob, “This is what I wanted!” You’re inconsolable as he continues with the frenzied onslaught of sex.

He hauls you up even further, he had one arm hugging your lower back as the other focused on keeping your thigh firmly locked around his waist and then you’re bouncing on his cock in midair, the metal of his waist chain poking into the soft skin of your tummy every time the two of you met into the middle. It’s a good thing he’s helping you stay attached to him because with the way he is bending you over, making your back arch as he attacks your breasts and neck with impassioned bites and kisses, you would have fallen right off of him without the extra support.

He makes his way up to your mouth, peppering your skin with sucking kisses before finally reaching it and wildly attacking your lips with his in a messy frenzy of teeth and tongue. After what seems like long interminable moments, he finally releases your lips with a wet pop. There’s still a string of saliva connecting the two of you that breaks when he parts open his mouth and whispers sweetly against yours, “That’s all you had to say, princess.”

He picks up the pace as he buries his face into your neck, dead set on leaving a bruising hickey that will remain for several days. You press your lips against his crown, his blue hair tickling your nostrils as you attempt to silence your cries against his scalp. His hold on you tightens like he never wants to let you go, keeping your sweaty body clinging to his, his biceps flexing as he grips onto you and jackhammers uncontrollably, losing all signs of rhyme or rhythm, just knowing that he wants to be buried in your heat forever.

“Say you want this,” he demands. “Say you want ME!” The last word is punctuated by a brutal thrust that hits your g-spot perfectly and has you crying into his hair.

“I want you,” you sob, “God, I need you Jungkook.” Your breasts are heaving against his hard pecs, your nipples dragging along the smooth solid planes of his chest as you struggle to get your words out.

If you could have seen Jungkook’s eyes at that moment, you would have seen how they turned reddish black, the color of molten lava as a look of pure possessiveness took over his features. But since you can’t see his face, you’re unaware of how your genie is falling for you just as easily as you are falling for him.

The loud sounds of his balls hitting your skin resound through the bedroom and Jungkook never lets down on the pace. He fucks you into submission as you hang off of him, jellylike with no control over your spasming limbs. Jungkook takes your well timed bout of flexibility to maneuver your legs off of his thighs to hang off his elbows as he wraps his arms around your knees and has them circle behind you. This new height and shift in position has his hip rolls drag his cock through your folds in a more enticing manner, working up your engorged clit with every pounding. You almost forget that he’s no longer hitting your g-spot as you shriek loudly, your poor clit sobbing at the new brutal onslaught of stimulation.

“Jungkook,” you keen, “God, Jungkook. I don’t know how much further I can go.”

“I’m sure you’ll keep up,” he hums meanly, as he pistons his hips again and again. You’re writhing against him, barely able to roll your hips to meet his every thrust anymore. You feel like you just ran a marathon and you’re approaching the last yard. The end is near and you can sense it with how overheated your body becomes and how you wince and whimper at every move Jungkook makes, able to feel every drag of his magnificent cock through your core down to what feels like the cellular level. Your walls keep clenching onto him tighter and tighter as well, reluctant to release him from their hold and he finds himself putting in even more effort into every snap of his hips.

“You’re almost there aren’t you, sweet girl,” he mumbles against your throat, biting harshly along the delicate skin under your jaw and pulling at it with his front teeth. You can only let out a wordless amalgamation of sounds erupt from your throat as you moan.

“Let me take you there, princess,” he mutters, “I’ll be your guide, darling.” He bucks into you one last time and he’s almost done it. He’s sent you there to that precipice. You’re hanging on the high but you need to come down. All it takes is one pinch from his clever fingers to your bruised clit as he bites down on your shoulder and you’re there, screaming as you hit your release, gushing around him like a broken sprinkler while Jungkook soothes the abused flesh with soft kitten licks from his tongue, his cool saliva covering the tender area like a balm.

As you hang of his body, your head sagging against his chest, arms no longer bothering to hold onto his neck, the male lets a faint smile grace his lips, holding you up with his impressive strength, gently rocking his cock into your drenched folds a couple more passes over before he explodes inside of you, painting your walls with his hot viscous ropes of white cum.

You’re practically asleep in his arms when he’s struggling to pull his shaft out of your fluttering folds that still want to keep it sheathed in their slick embrace, warming his cock with their heat, but he persists, gently dragging it out. The amount of cum that flows out from between your thighs after that is almost obscene.

Jungkook looks back at his bed before glancing at the mess the two of you have created and decides that the best thing to do right now would be to magically make the liquid disappear before also cleaning you two up like you two had come straight out of a shower. Once your skin is glowing and clean, he gently lays your body down on the right side of his bed, carefully making sure that your head is correctly positioned on the fluffy pillow before covering up your nudity with the silk comforter.

He walks over to the other side and slips easily into bed, facing the ceiling as he reclines next to you, pondering something. He seems to finally come to a decision and the lights flicker off, swamping the room in darkness, as he turns over to face you and drags your body into his so that your ass is pressed against his front. Throwing an arm and a leg over your form that is loose-limbed in slumber, the male comfortably spoons you before he plunges into sleep as well.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License

©OPALJM 2021

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 3 years ago

Text

Chaconne: Part Thirteen (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 6.1K

Summary: The fall concert season is known to bring drama, but tensions rise as Y/N makes a decision on what to do about her relationship with Agatha and her future with the MSO

A/N: Hello Chaconne friends! Welcome to chapter 13 of Chaconne. I have decided to do something different with this update…in the past I stated I wasn’t comfortable writing smut for personal reasons. However, after some thought I am…tentatively adding in more mature content going forward. So consider this a warning! If that were to offend anyone it’s in the beginning so you can just skip. Anyways, after this we have one chapter left to go! Thank you all for joining me on this very fun journey, your comments and likes and support have brought me so much happiness, and I’m honored that anyone has even read this fic. As always, thank you for reading and please leave me a comment if you enjoyed the new things I’m adding in. My asks and DM’s are always open, xoxo

Tag List: @anxiousgoldengirl @celasteria @danvers97 @imthedoctorlove @mcfriggingonagall @meowsaidmissy @scarletmeltstheice @shinkomiii @sxfwap @thestrangeundoing @upsidedowndanvers @venticalooks @vintagegoddess12 @thoroughly--confused @genderenvyeveryone @thewelshelk @tr333sus

Y/N POV

From the moment she came storming in the concert hall you could tell that Agatha was in a mood. If you had to guess what set her off, you would assume it had something to do with the interns. You heard rumblings that they planned a ‘Dress Like Maestra Day’ which could presumably only end in disaster (you wisely chose to decline the invitation they sent you to participate). Usually, Agatha would share her frustrations with you, however today it seemed like she wasn’t in the mood for talking.

Taking her usual seat in the front row, Agatha crossed her legs and looked expectantly at you. “Have you fixed the last page of Vitali?”

You wanted to point out that you just had a lesson with the conductor yesterday and barely had the time to sleep after getting home, but quickly weighed your options. While you would never admit it, there were a few times in college where you would forget to practice before your lessons. Although this caused tremendous waves of anxiety as you prayed your professor wouldn’t notice, you quickly learned that you were pretty good at winging it when need be. Plus, Agatha appeared to be in a bad mood, and you knew telling her you didn’t practice would infuriate her even more. She would never know…hopefully.

Lifting up your violin, you recalled Agatha instructing you to relax your shoulders to make sure your right hand was loose enough to properly grip the bow. Breathe. You could do this. Setting your bow on the string you closed your eyes, picturing the sound you wanted to create. The last page was a flurry of double stops beginning in triplets and ending in sixteenth notes. So, you had to use the same amount of bow, while also focusing on the position of your left hand to ensure you were playing the correct notes. You also had to adhere to the accelerando, which was just a fancy way of saying you had to gradually get faster throughout the passage.

Yesterday, Agatha tore you to shreds over your intonation. She claimed if she wanted to listen to someone butcher the same notes over and over again she would have invited Dottie to come on stage and play whatever godforsaken solo she was working on (Agatha’s words, not yours). But this was an easy fix, you were sure of it.

Unfortunately, you were overconfident. Although you had always prided yourself on your ability to memorize music over short periods of time, there was the occasional instance where you ran flat. Literally. Like, right now, for instance. After barely playing 10 bars, you heard Agatha ordering you to stop.

Placing your violin under your arm, you looked out to see Agatha’s eyes scanning you. The conductor looked agitated, and you were starting to have a sinking feeling her annoyance wasn’t solely directed towards the interns anymore. “Darling.” Agatha drawled out, her voice low and sweet as she slowly stood up, making a point to take off her glasses. “You did practice this section, right?”

You needed to come clean, and tell Agatha that no, you hadn’t found the time to practice. But, on second thought, she looked pretty mad. You nodded, trying to appear calm. “Mhm, I practiced.”

The conductor arched an eyebrow, as if she was shocked to hear those words come out of your mouth. “You practiced?”

Nodding again, you hoped she would stay down there and far away from the stage. You would be relatively safe from her up here. But unfortunately it seemed you would be wrong yet again today as Agatha slowly walked onstage. It seemed the conductor enjoyed taking her time, and you felt a sense of dread as she approached you. There was a dark look in her eyes you couldn’t quite place, and you barely had time to register her being in your close proximity before she motioned for you to play.

“Once more if you don’t mind, dear.” Agatha instructed, leaning against the piano, her eyes never leaving you. “I want to see all this progress you made.”

Well that’s it, you were fucked. Unfortunately she noticed your hesitation, causing her to frown. “Is something the matter, sweetheart?”

Shuffling your feet awkwardly, you thought of the best way out of this situation: back pedal. “Well, you see-”

Agatha held up a hand to silence you, and you grimaced at how mad she appeared to be. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Y/N. I asked you three times if you practiced, and all three times you chose to lie.”

“Well, I actually didn’t say anything the first time.” You pointed out, causing Agatha to shake her head.

“Put your violin away.”

“But Agatha I-” You began to protest, but were cut off by Agatha closing the distance between you. Kissing you.

You had kissed Agatha before, but this was different. In the past the conductor made a point of being relatively gentle and slow. She never went too far, and always stopped before things could progress. But today was different. Today she kissed you with a hunger that made your knees buckle, almost causing you to drop your violin on the stage floor. Agatha gently grabbed your violin from you, and when she broke the kiss you could see how blown out her pupils had become. She quickly set your violin down in its case before turning her attention back to you.

“I’ve already had a stressful day dealing with the complete idiots that are this season’s interns, and now I have to deal with your disobedience?” Agatha questioned, her voice was dripping with arousal. She stalked up to you, and pressed you up against the piano. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Her body was firmly set against yours and she was so close to you, so unbearably close you could practically smell her, and all you could think about was getting on your knees to taste her. “I’m…sorry, Maestra.”

You watched eyes darken even more so if that was possible, before she kissed you again. Her tongue invaded your mouth with vigor and you were swept up in her dominance over you. Her hands slowly slid down your body, stopping to squeeze and touch every part of you before roughly grabbing your ass, and pulling you impossibly closer to her.

“I’ll show you how sorry you’ll be.” The conductor whispered against your lips, her voice raspy and low, as a hand came up to roughly grab your jaw, causing you to moan at the contact. “And this pretty little mouth needs to remember too.”

Shoving you away from her, she sat on the piano bench, moving it back to make more room. “Come here, and get on your knees.”

“Yes, Maestra.” You were so turned on you could barely think straight, the only thoughts in your brain consisted of Agatha finally taking you the way you had dreamed of night after night.

Kneeling down, you looked up at the conductor and pouted, causing her to coo down at you. “Oh honey, what’s the matter? Do you want something?”

Nodding, you continued to pout, as the words became turning into mush in your brain. Damn this woman for being so hot, she barely touched you and you were already a dripping mess.

Agatha appeared to be delighted at your inability to form coherent sentences, as she chuckled. “My poor baby. I know how hard it is to think when your cunt starts to drip for me, isn’t it?”

Fuck. You moaned again, picturing her long fingers inside you, hitting the spots you couldn’t quite reach. “Yes, Maestra.”

Agatha took in a deep breath at that, and let it out slowly, trying to maintain her composure. “Good girl. Now, I’m very upset with you for lying to me. Do you think you could make it up to me darling?”

You nodded, ever eager to please her.

“Mmm that’s what I thought.” Agatha unbuttoned her pants, before sliding them off and just leaving on her lacy black panties. She grabbed your ponytail and dragged you between her legs until your mouth was almost on her. It took everything in you to not stick out your tongue. “You’re going to let me ride that pretty face until I come.”

The beeping of your alarm roused you from your dream, and you let out a displeased groan.

It was a dream, of course it was a dream. It was always the same dream; Agatha punishing you during a lesson, and using you in various ways. At first you had been embarrassed, almost too embarrassed to know how you’d ever look her in the face again. But then that embarrassment turned into pure desire and longing. Agatha in reality often treated you like a delicate porcelain doll; it was as if she was afraid she would break you if she was too rough. While you loved how sweet she could be when you were alone, you didn’t know how to tell her that it was okay to let go. That you wanted her just as badly as she seemed to want you.

Unfortunately you had no time to try and go back to sleep because you were running late enough as it is. The Manhattan Symphony Orchestra’s fall gala and season opener was quickly approaching, which meant working even longer hours than usual. Under any other circumstance you would have been thrilled at the opportunity to spend more time with Agatha, but your mind was too focused on your current problem, well problems. In addition to your incredibly realistic sex dreams, you desperately needed to tell Agatha you had been offered a spot in Natasha’s group. You had managed to get more time to decide, as Natasha reached out to you saying she would be busy with a project for the next few weeks. But you knew time was running out, and you’d have to make a decision sooner rather than later.

However, when you arrived at work, your dilemmas were put on hold as you saw the chaos that was Agatha’s office. Music scores and sheet music were scattered across the floor, and you clocked two batons that were snapped in half. You would have assumed someone had broken in if the conductor wasn’t standing in front of her book case, holding a giant binder. Her hair was pulled back by a giant clip, and she was so focused on whatever it was she was reading that she didn’t notice you come in.

Attempting to avoid stepping on the various piles of papers on the floor, you cleared your throat. “Agatha? Is everything alright?”

The conductor hummed, but continued reading. “Yes, dear. Give me just a moment, hm?” She flipped through, mindlessly humming along to…Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. Interesting. As you tried picking up the overwhelming amount of things on the floor, you heard her make a noise of disapproval, and without even looking up she said, “Leave it, I’ll clean it up later.”

You wanted to check to see if she somehow acquired a concussion this morning, but chose instead to begin compiling the rehearsal schedule for the week when you noticed something strange. Every Monday when you logged on, Agatha had an updated list of what she wanted to rehearse for the week. Only now it looked like she deleted the file. Or an intern did. For the sake of the remaining interns, you hoped it was the former.

“Agatha? Do you have this week’s rehearsal schedule on a different file? I can’t find it anywhere.”

Agatha had turned her attention back to her bookshelf, and she must still be searching for whatever it was she needed. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet darling.”

Feeling uncomfortable just sitting around with the mess surrounding you. “Well, is there something I can help with?”

“Mmm yes actually,” Agatha replied, grabbing two more binders before finally going to sit across from you at her desk. “I need you to go to the symphony’s music library and pull the orchestra parts for a few pieces.”

The conductor handed you a piece of paper, and you frowned at Agatha’s messy scribble. “Why do you need pieces by Shostakovich and Tchaikovsky?”

“Well I’ve decided to switch around the concert programming,” Agatha explained, as if that was a totally normal and not insane thing to do a month out from the debut. “I need to challenge the orchestra more, and I don’t feel that Dvorak is providing that. Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 5 will be perfect.”

“Right, but what Tchaikovsky piece did you choose? Something in addition to the Rachmanioff?”

Agatha had turned her attention back to the binders on her desk as she replied. “Well, after selecting Shotakovich, I decided to make it a concert filled with only Russian composers. So we’re scrapping Rachmanioff and bringing in a violin soloist for Tchaikovsky.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at her comment, she was getting rid of Wanda? From what you gathered, it was Hayward’s decision to hire Wanda to begin with, and it seemed like her contract was near impossible to break. Then you wondered what soloist had the time and skills to be brought on this late into the concert season. Instead of asking any of those more difficult questions, you opened your mouth and asked the first thing that came to mind- “But isn’t Rachmaninoff a Russian composer?”

The conductor gave you a pointed look, but before she could continue there was a loud and insistent knock on the door. Agatha sighed, “If it’s one of those interns with the wrong coffee order, I’m not going to be happy. Come in.”

The door opened and Hayward came barging in, looking entirely displeased. You always felt rather uncomfortable in the CFO’s presence, and could never quite figure out why; whenever you interacted with him, he just always seemed so calculated and cold. It was far too unnerving and you were thankful Agatha was here with you.

Hayward stopped to catch his breath, as if he had run all the way from his office to the conductor’s, his face red. “I’m not allowing you to do this.”

“Well good morning to you too, Mr. Hayward,” Agatha drawled as you suddenly became quite interested in looking at the updated seating chart. “How can I be of service?”

He looked more annoyed than amused. “Cut the shit, Harkness. You can’t do it, I’m not going to stand by and allow you to blow hundreds of thousands of dollars due to your inability to make up your mind.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re referring to,” Agatha replied, and you could practically taste the sarcasm dripping off her lips as she added. “Care to elaborate?”

It seemed Hayward wasn’t in the mood for Agatha’s witty banter, and you grew more uncomfortable by the minute. “You cannot change the entire fall concert repertoire this late in the season!”

Smirking, Agatha stood up and walked around her desk, holding open one of the binders she had grabbed earlier. “Actually, I can.” All but shoving the binder in Hayward’s hands, she pointed to a paragraph you couldn’t make out. “If you could do me the honors of reading that aloud, Mr. Hayward.”

“I’m perfectly aware of what’s in your contract, Agatha. I signed off on it.” Hayward slammed the binder shut. “But you need a majority board approval to make any changes to the concert repertoire, and I know for a fact you do not have it.”

Agatha let out a dramatic sigh, and you were frozen in your seat, pretending to not listen to every word. “I was hoping you would mention that. Y/N, could you please hand me my phone?”

Why, oh why, does she always insist on dragging you in the middle of these uncomfortable situations? Grabbing the phone, you swiftly handed it to the conductor while trying to avoid eye contact with Hayward.

This exchange was growing more and more uncomfortable and in desperation,you tried to think of an excuse, any excuse to get you out of this room. “Maestra, maybe I should go grab those parts for you?”

Agatha waved off your suggestion, keeping her gaze locked on Hayward. “That’s unnecessary, Y/N. We’re almost done here.”

“We are nowhere near being done,” Hayward argued, throwing you a glance as an afterthought before adding, “So perhaps your assistant should leave to get some work done. You do have her doing actual work, right?”

The jab was subtle enough that anyone else in the room would have failed to pick up on it, but it was obvious to you that he was insinuating something. If Agatha had noticed, she didn’t dare react. Instead, she completely ignored Hayward and began scrolling through her phone, intent on finding whatever it was she needed. In the interim, you went back to nervously studying the seating list, hoping that Hayward would decide to leave you alone.

Finally, the conductor seemed to find what she was looking for, as a satisfied smirk settled over her face. “Ah yes. If you wouldn’t mind checking your email, Mr. Hayward. You’ll find that ten board members signed off on my request to change the fall concert programming. With those votes and my two votes as being both Music Director and conductor of the MSO, I have enough to change the program to Tchaikovsky and Shostakovich.”

Hayward read the email and shut his phone’s screen off with so much aggression you thought he was going to crack it in half. “This isn’t over, Harkness.”

Hayward stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him, and you waited until you were sure he was gone before looking back at Agatha. “So, how did you convince the majority of the board to vote for your idea?”

Agatha gave you a mischievous smirk, as she began picking up the heap of papers scattered across the floor. “The way everyone does, darling. I’ve spent enough time with the board to know how to entice them to do what I want.”

Letting the conductor’s words sink in, you let out a slightly horrified gasp, staring at the woman in disbelief. “Please do not tell me you’re blackmailing the entire MSO Board.”

Shrugging, Agatha dropped a ream of papers on her desk and after they landed with a heavy thud she replied, “I’m not blackmailing the entire MSO Board.” She paused for dramatic effect before adding, “I’m only blackmailing half of the MSO Board.”

“Agatha!”

“It’s not my fault those buffoons don’t know how to hold their liquor,” Agatha argued, setting down another pile of papers, accidentally dropping some on your lap in the process. Before you could react, she leaned over to grab them, her hands lingering on your thighs a moment longer than necessary.

Up until that point you had forgotten entirely about your dream. But feeling Agatha’s fingers on you caused you to shift uncomfortably, as flashbacks from your dream began to play on a loop. The way she looked at you as if she was going to devour you. Having her drag you by your hair to settle between her legs; how close you were to tasting her.

“Y/N?” Agatha was staring at you with a curious expression on her face, and you blushed as you quickly tried to put the dream out of your mind once more. “Is everything alright, dear? You seem distracted.”

The conductor’s question was innocent, but with her eyes glued to you, it felt as if she was peering into your soul. Agatha possessed that rare ability to read you better than anyone ever had before. Nodding, you cleared your throat, and decided walking around would help clear your head. “Yeah, I’m fine. How about I go grab those pieces for you, and while I’m grabbing your morning coffee, I can ask a few of the interns to start making copies of the music?”

Agatha was looking at you with a suspicious expression, as if she didn’t believe you. “Don’t worry about the coffee, dear. I already sent Marcus out to get everyone’s orders.”

“Wait, everyone’s orders?”

“The interns haven’t been annoying me as much lately, so I decided to treat them to coffee,” Agatha explained, causing you to arch an eyebrow. “What? I have high standards, but I’m not a tyrant.”

“And who’s Marcus?” You ran through the names of the interns in your head and couldn’t remember there ever being a Marcus.

“Marcus is the really tall, sort of scrawny one.” Agatha replied, giving you a description which could fit over half of the interns working at the MSO.

“Agatha, there isn’t an intern named Marcus.”

Agatha frowned, clearly perplexed. “I’ve been calling him Marcus for months and he’s never said anything.”

You were tempted to say that he was probably too afraid to correct the conductor, but refrained. Agatha was making a lot of progress with the interns, and you were weirdly proud of her. “Well, then while ‘Marcus’ is getting your coffee I’ll get started on grabbing the pieces.”——————————————————————————Agatha’s POV

Shortly after Y/N went off to get her work done, you were in the midst of sending emails to the social media manager regarding new publicity for the fall concert when the red haired menace popped her head in your doorway. Frowning, you pointed to the Do Not Disturb sign you had one of the interns tape to your door. “Are you incapable of reading English in addition to notation now too, Maximoff? I’m busy.”

Wanda rolled her eyes as she ripped the sign off your door before walking it in, closing it behind her. “You have a lot of nerve, Agatha. First leaking that story, and then having my contract with the MSO voided? Are you still that upset with me?”

You wanted to inform Wanda that you weren’t upset with her, you merely had no desire or want to ever be within 100 yards of her ever again. However the first accusation caused you to grow even more irritated with the pianist. You knew perfectly well who leaked the story, but you currently had bigger fish to fry. “I know this is a difficult concept for you specifically to grasp, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. Why would I leak a story that has the potential to destroy my reputation?”

Wanda fell silent at that, appearing to allow the words to sink into her thick-headed skull. “I didn’t think of that.”

Of course she didn’t think of that. Again, you had to bite your tongue before saying something you would ultimately regret. “I have a lot of work to get through, so if you could please allow me to get back to it.”

The pianist pulled a signed check out of her coat pocket. “And I’m not taking this money either.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you tried to think of those meditation exercises Y/N had shown you. “Wanda, your contract payout stated you were to be paid fifty-thousand dollars. Not giving you that money would be a breach of contract.”

Glaring at you, Wanda waved the check in the air. “But this isn’t the MSO’s money. It’s yours, and I don’t want it.”

Ah. Yes. It was your money. Most of the board members who were not being…persuaded to vote for your concert changes had argued there wasn’t enough money to pay Wanda, and have enough funds for the soloist you were eyeing to take her place. So you proposed to pay Wanda out directly. You would do anything to not have to deal with the Sokovian nuisance any longer than you had to.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you wondered when the sweet relief of death would come. “Just take the money and go, Wanda.”

As usual, instead of following your wishes, she just stood there, staring you down. If there was one thing you would admit that Wanda was an expert at, it was being terribly, annoyingly, and extremely stubborn. Shutting your laptop, you folded your hands on top of it and looked up at her. “What is it going to take to get you to go away?”

“Let me stay on as the fall concert soloist,” Wanda requested, and you couldn’t help but let out a loud cackle. Was she insane? In what universe would that ever be a good idea?

“Wanda-” You tried to intervene but the pianist held a finger up for you to be quiet, and stunned at the audacity, you let her cut you off.

“You’re single-handedly making this orchestra the greatest it’s been in decades, and I would be honored if you let me stay on as the soloist.” Wanda stated calmly, and you tried your best not to roll her eyes. She just wouldn’t stop, would she? “I know you hate me, Agatha. But this isn’t anything personal, it’s business. I swear I won’t do anything to get under your skin, and I’ll even leave Y/N alone. I can see that it bothers you.”

If you weren’t already agitated enough, her last remark nearly sent you over the edge. “I have no idea what you are referring to. Besides, I already asked a violinist to come on for Tchaikovsky, you’re not needed.”

Wanda had unfortunately usually been able to see right past you, a trait you found maddening. “Natasha told me, but said if I was able to get my position back she would gracefully bow out.”

Damn that Russian violinist. “Fine. Then I’ll cut Tchaikovsky and look elsewhere for someone to play Rachmaninoff. You’re not the only pianist in Manhattan, Maximoff.”

Wanda shrugged, thinking over what you said. “No, but I am the best.”

Cocky as ever, what a surprise. “I’m not rehiring you, Maximoff. There’s a greater chance of me giving that imbecile Dottie a raise than allowing you back on my stage.”

“You seem different with her,” Wanda noted, the sudden shift giving you whiplash, though her tone was thoughtful. “Happier.”

“If you’re trying to get in my good graces, you are failing miserably,” You deadpanned, wishing Y/N would hurry up. What was taking her so long?

“She’s a fine violinist, there’s lots of potential there. And I know Natasha was impressed with her as well,” Wanda added, and you froze. Natasha? What did Natasha have to do with this?

Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “What are you talking about?”

Wanda hesitated, and you watched her with a calculated frown. As talented as Wanda was at playing the piano, she was just as lousy a liar. “Nothing. We’re getting off topic.”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to get any more information out of her now that she’d clammed up, and as much as you hated to admit it, she had a point. There were at least a dozen pianists you could think of that would be available, but none of them came close to Wanda. Damn her. It was now clear that Natasha being interested in your offer was probably just some sick ploy to get her friend her job back. You missed the days where most musicians were too cut throat to even think about friendship.

Then there was the issue of Tyler Hayward. You weren’t stupid, you knew he was the one who leaked the story to The Times. How he found out was the least of your concerns; the music world was relatively small enough that once one or two people heard it would spread like wildfire. You knew it was the same reason he hired Wanda in the first place; he was trying to get rid of you. In his slimy, conniving little brain he probably assumed that if bringing Wanda in didn’t get you to quit, leaking a potentially scandalous story to the press would force you to resign.

Unfortunately for Hayward, he miscalculated; the board didn’t care that much about gossip from years ago. Even worse, now that Wanda was staying, the concert would most likely be sold out in the coming weeks. It seemed his plan was failing miserably, and as much as you wanted to relish in that delightful fact, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had any other tricks up his sleeve. To that end, you had had a rather enlightening dinner the other night with Mr. Laufeyson, where he informed you of far more interesting, recent scandals that conductors and musicians alike had been getting into- giving you enough ammunition to secure yourself against any future potential fallout from this little episode. It never hurt to be prepared, after all, and you were hellbent on not letting anything to do with Wanda Maximoff catch you flat footed ever again.

Realizing you had kept Wanda waiting long enough, you let out a bored sigh. “Fine.” You gave the pianist a cold, dead stare. “Rehearsal is tomorrow at six. Don’t be late.”

Wanda had a blank expression on her face, as if she couldn’t believe you’d actually rehired her. “You’re serious?”

Ignoring her, you went back to your work; you were behind enough as it was. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Maximoff. Now get out of my office, and rip up that check. I’m not paying you twice.”

Wanda offered a quiet, but sincere thanks as she left your office, leaving you alone to your thoughts once more

——————————————————————————

Y/N POV

The rest of the day passed by rather quickly. You were surprised when Agatha informed you that she’s decided to keep Wanda on after all as the soloist, but you were thankful she did. Even after the article was released spilling the beans about Agatha’s previous relationship with Wanda, you’d never had any negative feelings toward the pianist. If anything, it made you understand the dynamic a bit better. Wanda had been nothing but nice to you, and as far as you were aware her kindness was genuine. She was also the most talented pianist you had ever met, and watching her play was absolutely mesmerizing.

Agatha had even surprised you with your favorite coffee order when you had finished your work, and you were touched she had remembered (even though she made a teasing remark that oatmilk was an atrocity). Before you knew it, the day was over and everyone had gone home for the evening. Well…almost everyone. You were currently tuning up your violin in the symphony hall, waiting for Agatha to arrive. Right after you finished your scale warm-ups, the side entrance hall doors opened, and Agatha swept in, baton and binder in hand.

“Alright, Y/N, are you warmed up?” Agatha asked as she set her belongings down, making herself comfortable.

Nodding, you adjusted your shoulder rest and your mind briefly flashed to your dream. No, you needed to focus. Being distracted over a sex dream was guaranteed to lead to disaster, and you wouldn’t be able to hold in your embarrassment if Agatha noticed your mind was elsewhere. Instead you tried thinking of the music you were working on, the notes and bow changes would surely distract you.

“Let’s start with the Vitali,” Agatha instructed as she began flipping through her score, and stood up, heading to the stage. “I’m not sure what your thoughts are on the subject, but I was thinking we could do something different this evening?”

You felt your heart rate quicken when you realized she was going to be a lot closer to you. Far too close. “What did you have in mind?”

Setting her binder down on the piano, Agatha smirked at you. “We’re just about done with this piece, and I thought it would be good to add in the piano part.”

It took you a minute to comprehend what Agatha just said. Add in the piano part…you held in the gasp you wanted to let out. Agatha was going to play? You had never heard her perform in person, only in rare archived videos that you spent hours searching for. “You’re going to play…with me?”

Chuckling, the conductor shook her head at you, clearly amused. “If that’s alright, darling. Although I can think of a few ways I’d like to play with you.”

Your breath hitched lightly, and just as you went to take a deep breath, the conductor pulled out the piano bench. As she sat down you were transported to your dream, how vivid the images were in your mind. Agatha sat at the piano bench, all but yanking you by the hair. How you could smell her. Oh, this was going to end badly.

Glancing at Agatha, you were horrified to find her staring back, an all-knowing smirk playing on her lips. Your blush deepened- she couldn’t possibly know what you were thinking, right? You took one more deep breath, and tried to get your body to relax. “From the top?” You tried to sound collected and cool.

The opening of Chaconne featured eight bars of piano accompaniment before your entrance. Agatha’s fingers gracefully swept over the keys and you felt a chill as you heard the notes. No one had heard Agatha perform live, the conductor point blank refused when she was invited to. Despite it being a simple eight bar phrase, you were blown away. She played the piano with such an ease, a rare familiarity that reminded you of breathing. It was as if the piano was a mere extension of her person.

You were so distracted from watching that you almost missed your entrance, and you swore you heard her snicker in response. Your favorite part of playing this piece with solo piano was the intimacy that came along with it. The two instruments played off each other; the piano offering the obvious backing, but there were also moments where you’d synchronize, then Agatha would pick up where your melody left off, expanding on it.

The usual closeness you felt to the conductor was amplified by a thousand while you were like this. How you made sure to play in sync with the other. The way Agatha watched you like a hawk, seemingly being able to follow all of your tempo changes without so much of a cue. It was as if your souls were intertwined, with how easily you worked together. There was something so breathtakingly beautiful about sharing this moment with her, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

As you began a particular passage you had played a million times, you allowed your mind to wander. You knew you needed to make a decision about Vienna, you owed that to Natasha. This morning you had been particularly torn, and as much as you hated to admit it you were leaning towards accepting. You loved Agatha, and you loved your job. But you had never been the kind of person to put your love life before your career. It was basically an unspoken rule in the musical world that your instrument, the music, would always be the number one love in your life. You had sacrificed so much to reach this moment, and it was so close; you were so close.

But now, as you were playing Chaconne with Agatha by your side, you found yourself realizing that you had found something you never thought to be possible. You found the kind of love that you read about growing up, only this was actually real. No, it wasn’t perfect, but you knew nothing in life was. Could you really leave this job behind, leave Agatha behind? You couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t. You didn’t want to. This was your choice, and this is what you wanted more than anything.

Deciding you would call Natasha in the morning, you knew what you needed to do at this very moment. Setting your violin down suddenly, mid-phrase and slightly out of breath, you waited for Agatha to stop too; it took her a beat to notice but when she did, she came to a jarring halt and looked at you with a bewildered expression on her face. You didn’t give her any time to berate you for stopping before you put your violin down, coming to join her on the piano bench.

“Darling, are you alright?” Agatha’s brow creased, as she was clearly torn between scolding you for the sudden pause and checking in on you

Lifting a hand up to her face, gently cupping her cheek, you nodded. Finally doing what you had wanted all day, you leaned in to kiss her. This is what you wanted, and nothing was going to stop you now.

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