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coweye · 11 months ago

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The Honda Odyssey

Logan Howlett x Reader | smut | 6k words Summary: The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.

I got carried away. I just love Wolvie so much. I'm so happy Logan is getting the adoration he deserves. Long live the Wolverine renaissance.

Warning: smut, p in v, ass play, foul language.

If you had to pinpoint a moment when your life became the shit show it had steadily developed into, you’d say it was the moment you auditioned for X-Force.

In your tenure as besties with Wade Wilson, it's fair to say things hadn’t gone smoothly. The man was a conduit to all things fucked up, but you adored his loose morals and quick mouth. The idiot in red had weaselled his way into your heart and became something of a brother to you and more recently a roommate.

Now, if you’d have told your younger self you’d be in your late twenty’s sharing an apartment with a burn victim who regularly staples a toupee to his fucking head and a coke-head, blind, old African American woman, you’d have laughed in their fucking face.

So, you’d like to think that as these things go you are pretty damn well adjusted but traversing the multiverse was a bit of a stretch, even for you.

One moment you’re at Wade’s surprise party, the next your ass has been zapped to the TVA and you’ve been given a sacred mission; to accompany Marvel Jesus (Wade) and protect the sacred timeline.

Naturally you’re fucking mind blown, you’re a low-level mutant, fuck, you couldn’t even join the X-Men. Your particular set of skills were a dime a dozen and your flagrant disregard of rules had made you a ‘poor candidate’.

No, the mutant powers you had been graced with weren’t extraordinary by any means. You were basically an off-brand Captain America, just without the gorgeous cheekbones, patriotism and righteous need to do good.

In layman terms, you are strong as shit and have an accelerated healing factor. Not quite the same level as Wade’s mind you. You have, give or take, an inconvenient five-minute turnaround on the more fatally debilitating wounds.

To say you were unqualified was an understatement and to say you were reluctant was a simple fact. A fact you repeated, loudly to anyone that would listen as you were bathed in rich black leather.

“I think maybe you meant to grab negasonic teenage whatchacallit… she’s great, super powerful!” You continue. “Did you mean to get Domino or Colossus or maybe one of the X-Men? “

“No Miss Y/L/N. We have not got the wrong person for the job.” The man you later find out is called Paradox, calls out as you re-enter the operation headquarters. “Mr Wilson requested your presence; he wanted your assistance on his mission.”

“Y/N/N… ten out of ten, baby girl, I one hundred percent would bang. I’m talking raw dog, Barry White on a rug, let’s go all fuckin’ night.” Wade hollers in his own brand-new suit and even you must admit, you look fucking amazing. “Sweet angel, we’ve just gotta’ come up with a superhero name for you!”

You are enrobed in rich thick black and teal leather, your first ever hero suit and it’s a fucking good one. It doesn’t cling, but instead pulls you in securing your flesh and extenuating curves, ones you hadn’t entirely realised you had. The bottom half your face is concealed with a mask, carefully crafted to follow the contours of your nose and cheekbones.

You’d barely recognised the mysterious figure in the mirror.

“Right?! Tailor was pretty handsy though!”

“Oh yeah, ha! - that man is indeed a predator.” Wade says with a chuckle and a fond sigh.

It shames to you to say but that’s when you stopped fighting this whole thing. You looked the part of a hero; you thought that maybe the TVA knew what they were doing. That they had seen something in you and knew that you had a good heart under all the darkness that lingered on the surface.

Wrong.

You were just a demand Wade had made. He wanted his number one disciple at his side whilst he carried out his sacred mission. You were part of an attempt at appeasing him whilst they destroyed your timeline.

Little more than a pawn to be used whilst they manipulated him into a false sense of security.

Thus, you were thrown into a series of events far beyond your control when Wade being Wade decided you were hunting down a Wolverine to stabilise the timeline, only to be once again fucking zapped into some place they called the void by that little English shitbird named Paradox. It’s entirely accurate to say that you were a little less sturdy than your compadres.

Unfortunately for you, the fall from such a height into the void was fatal. When you finally awake in the desolate wasteland to the sounds of blades clashing it is disorientating to say the least.

Forcing yourself to your feet you lower your mask and gasp in the sweet strangely stale oxygen as you stretch out your newly healed spine with a groan. It was impossible to tell how long you were out as you take in the scene before you; Wade and the Wolverine are engaged in a heated battle. From the looks of it, Logan is winning this fight despite being the human equivalent of a knife block with Wade’s katanas protruding from his chest.

For a moment you pause, perhaps its head trauma that hasn’t healed (He’s fucking Deadpool, he can look after himself for two minutes) and appreciate his form, the Wolverine the two of you had kidnapped was gorgeous. Tch, as if there was any other kind.

Sure, you were biased you’d always been somewhat of a fangirl, but the Wolverine was objectively breath-taking.

You’d indulged in comics whilst growing up but when you found out he was real and looked the way he did, hell, Wolverine was your sexual awakening. He was the first man to make you feel that tingle in your lower stomach. Yes, you may have been thirteen years old, a ball of puppy fat and social anxiety but you’d been waiting for him ever since.

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Wade loses baby knife in Logan’s shoulder blade, finally you spring into action. In good time as well as you’re not sure if even Deadpool can survive decapitation.

In the singularly most stupid act of your life you throw yourself in front of your friend’s body. “Wait, Wait! Please!”

Wade has paused behind you, you can feel him weighing up the situation, pausing for a moment to see what you’re going to pull out of the bag.

“The TVA they can fix it, whatever you did, whatever made you the worst Logan, they can fix it! – They have the power to end universes, but they also have the power to fix yours! Help us get back there and we can fix both of our worlds! I promise, they can fix it.” You plead, it’s not quite a lie exactly, more of an Educated Wish than anything.

Okay it is a lie, but you’re sure that the TVA can most likely, probably, maybe fix his world.

Logan’s eyes lock with yours in that moment you can see that he wants to kill you both and be done with it, but that hope won’t let him. You feel a smidgen of guilt for the deceit, but frankly you’ve done worse for less. Your world was on the line it wasn’t the time to pull your punches.

Fast forward four exhausting hours, two periods of unconsciousness and one flaying to find yourself sat opposite Wade gagging down cold spoonful’s of Spam in some dusty ass diner.

You were no better than a man as you watched the Wolverine.

Those arms, those thighs, the way he had beheaded Sabretooth without even breaking a fucking sweat. You wanted him to wrap those instruments of death he called hands around your throat and fuck you dirty until the sun came up.

It had been a long exhausting day and you had been soaking wet for most of it.

Shit, could he smell that? Does that count as sexual harassment? You’d have to ask Wade.

Logan, however, was utterly dismissive of your advances in the face of what was undoubtedly utterly horrific past trauma. Something you were trying to be understanding about, but self-pity in a man, it just turned you on. I said you had some surface layers of darkness.

Unable to help yourself you gaze at him as he opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You are utterly entranced, watching the thick chords in his throat bob as he takes a swig.

That tanned skin where his jaw ends and neck begins, slick with sweat and dirt. You’d love to sink your canines into the strip below his ear. He must feel your stare on him as he looks up and catches your eyes dark with lust already surveying his person.

It should embarrass you, that every time he peers your way, he catches you gaping at him like a lovesick puppy, but there’s something about Logan you can’t quite put your finger on. The man heats your blood like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, maybe it’s that torch you’ve carried for him since girlhood, maybe it’s the thick thighs you’d kill to ride – who can say for sure?

In what you assume is against his better judgement, he comes to perch on the booth beside you. His broad shoulders cast an imposing figure as he gets close enough that if you were to move your hand a couple of inches to the right, you’d finally be able to touch that yellow fabric that plagued your tween dreams.

You’re burning up at the thought of him, unable to stop yourself you part your legs slightly to ease some of the pressure. Logans nose twitches, his head swivels your way and his eyes catch your own.

Welp - at least you have your answer about him smelling your arousal.

Deciding that you were most likely verging on sexual harassment charges you decided to focus back in on the task at hand, gagging once again at another spoonful of spam.

“Be a good girl and swallow, Y/N/N, you know the rules!” Wade jokes, your chortle was your only response. What could you say? He always hit your funny bone despite the ocean that was raging in your panties.

Logan stares at Wade for a long moment before turning to your way and addressing you for maybe only the fourth time today?

“What are you doing with this fucking clown? You his sidekick? Following him round to laugh at his stupid fucking jokes whilst he gets kids killed?”

“Why I have never.” Wade is faux outraged at his words, clutching his imaginary pearls as the Wolverine throws around accusations that aren’t entirely untrue.

The Wolverine’s expression remains stern as his eyes track your face. They seem to be evaluating your character and from the flare in his nose and crease in his brow you can guess he finds you lacking. You’re embarrassed to admit how much that deflates you, so you do what you do best; you deflect.

“I could follow you around and laugh at your jokes instead, if you like?” When you speak your voice has a sultry edge to it and there’s no mistaking your intentions.

Logan seems to think on your proposition for a second or two, before he huffs grabs his rubbing alcohol and unopened can of Spam and heads over to sit at the bar.

“Holy hot ham and cheese on rye, Y/N, you fucking slut.” Wade berates you though his voice is as light as it’s always been as he boots your shin under the table. “Trying to your holes filled by Wolvie during a world saving mission, Marvel H Christ, stay on fucking task!”

You swear you hear Logan mutter a Jesus Christ from the bar.

Though as Wade continues irritating the hero hunched against bar, you can’t help the realisation that he didn’t say no.

“You’re uh… well regarded in our world.” Wade complements, being real doesn’t come easy to him. You appreciate the effort.

“Well, I’m not shit in mine.”

“I tried to join the X-Men because of you.” You speak up finally joining their conversation. Wolverine’s back goes rigid, but he doesn’t respond. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to continue or hoping you’ll stop. “You made a difference to this world, made me think I could do the same. I just never quite make the cut.”

Logan doesn’t seem to have a response.

It seems your words have an effect as you catch him watching you more often. When Wade makes his jokes, he looks to you for validation of his withering looks.

You’re probably more distracted by this revelation than you should be when the three of you come across a real nasty variant of Colossus seeking out Wade for… you want to say… revenge?

The not-so-gentle-anymore-giant flips the Honda and tosses both Wade and Logan through the treeline as they advance on him as if they were little more than toys his mother had asked him to pick up.

One by one your bullets ricochet from his metal skin as he comes towards you. You aren’t built for this fight; you are completely and utterly outmatched.

All you’re doing at this point is buying yourself some time for your backup to pull themselves from the rubble, however during a particularly spirited cartwheel the metal oaf finally gets his hands on you. Colossus’ metal palm is cold on your throat, and you could swear you hear your neck snapping before you feel it.

With a gasp you return to life to find a slightly dishevelled Logan standing above you. By the grace of god, his sleeves have been worn away in the fight, his arms, oh sweet lord, his arms are on full display.

“Thought you were a goner.” He offers you a hand when you simply stare mutely his way. Locking your fingers around his wrist he pulls you to your feet. You don’t release your hold on him and neither does he.

“Don’t throw the party just yet, eh?” You joke weakly, for a second you could swear there’s a slight raise of the corner of his mouth, imperceptible, if you didn’t know what you were looking for. In the past few hours you had become an expert on Wolverine’s face.

Your mouth is dry as you take in his thick sweat laden biceps.

“Where’s Wade?” You query whilst rolling your aching neck as you haven’t heard his voice in a record thirty seconds, Logan suddenly remembers himself and drops your hand.

“’fraid Metal man took your clown, was pissed with him and can’t say I blame the guy.”

“Shit.” You sigh rubbing your temples as you kneel to pick up the dismembered arm of your best friend. “Well – fuck. That’ll take him a few hours at least to grow back – He’ll be so sad about his suit.”

You peel the fabric from the limb and tuck it under the breast plate of your own suit. Wade will want his glove back when it grows back.

“He say where he was taking him?”

“Oh yeah, that along with his plan for world domination...” Logan huffs as if your mere presence annoys him.

“Thought you didn’t like sarcasm.”

“I like sarcasm just fine, Bub. It’s you I don’t like.” You can’t help but smile his way at the comment made at your expense, his brows crease. “You’re a strange one.”

“Can you do your sniffy thing?” Its impressive, you thought he’d reached the limit with his scathing looks towards Wade, yet he somehow manages to pull a deeper frown out the vault especially for you.

“Sniffy thing?” His words are spoken with such derision, it turns you on a little. You realise that perhaps you are in fact a deeply troubled individual.

“Oh, sorry.” You pretend to clear a frog in your throat. “Please, oh, please, beautiful, handsome Wolverine, please can you locate my bestest pal with your heightened sense of smell?” His face doesn’t break despite your hands clasped in front of your chin.

“You’re just as fucking annoying as that moron.” He huffs “Get in the fucking car, we’ll follow his trail.”

“You can smell him from the car?”

“The blood, Jesus Fucking Christ, there’s a trail of blood.”

“Ah.” Is all you reply as you find your seat in the passenger side and start your own one on one team up with Wolverine. Its not exactly the way you imagined it, but beggars certainly can’t be choosers.

After a few moments of sullen silence, you decide that there’s no time like the present to form a long-lasting bond.

“What’s your world like?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Okay... What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they can save your world? I bet its something boring as fuck, like team-“

“What did you just say?”

“I bet you’re gonna do something boring like-“

“No before that.”

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they save your world?” You question, his sudden interest in your words takes you by surprise as he has been vacant from your conversation.

The breaks suddenly shriek as the car comes to a stop.

“What do you mean if?”

“I…”

“You said they could fix my world. Undo it all, is what you fucking said.”

“I mean I think they can!”

“You fucking liar.” The edge to The Wolverine’s voice is terrifying. The realisation trickles down your spine, Logan has been nice to you all this time, you’re finally meeting The Wolverine.

“I didn’t lie!” For some reason you’re ashamed of your deceit, you’ve murdered countless people and still, you’ve felt less remorse. Logan’s eyes pin you in your seat as disgust clouds his face. It hurts more than you can fathom. “Not exactly, I think they can fix your world! – I needed your help and if you killed Wade there was no hope for my universe!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your universe!” He spits your way; his hands are gripping the wheel in what seems like an effort to keep his cool.

“I know, but I do!” You cry back at him. “You know how to save the world, you’re the fucking Wolverine! I know how to kill people, but this hero shit, this isn’t me!”

“Ha! No shit.” There is pure hate in the man’s eyes as he stares back at you.

“Please, you’re Logan. Whether you’re the worst one or not - You’re still better than me.”

“Get out of the fucking car.” The words come from between clenched teeth and are filled with warning.

“No – fuck you.” Your rage breaks the banks to meet Logan’s. Perhaps it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fear for Wade but something within you snaps at his constant bad temper. “It was an educated guess and a fucking reasonable one at that, get the fuck over yourself you big bird wannabe geriatric fucker! “

He slams his palms on the steering wheel, his nose flares and his teeth clamp together. “Fuck me? Fuck you – you sad pathetic excuse for a side-kick. No wonder the X-Men wouldn’t take you, and they’ll take fuckin’ anyone. You are a ridiculous, immature, moron who spends her days following around a fucking clown to avoid facing the reality that you are no one. I have never met a sadder, more attention starved asshole in my entire life. You were right about one thing, you’re no fucking hero.”

Its shameful the way your stomach drops, and your eyes involuntarily begin to tear. To hear your hero say the words you’ve thought about yourself whilst laying awake at night. It’s a knife to the gut.

“Nothing to fucking say, huh, Angel?” The use of Wade’s nickname for you is like sandpaper on your skin, it rubs you the wrong fucking way.

“I am going to hurt you now.” Your voice is barely a broken whisper.

“You’re going to hurt – “His faux chortle is cut short by a swift punch to his face. You’re worried you may have been overzealous with your swing when his nose begins bleeding. The Wolverine is stunned for only a moment before he grabs the back of your neck and proceeds with smashing your face into the dashboard and those concerns are quickly put to bed.

The old fucker is strong, but you don’t think he’ll kill you, yet another educated wish.

“Not so tough now…” He shouts as the radio channels change with your skull. Pulling a knife from your leg strap you embed it in his thigh and pull the lever to recline your seat whilst he’s distracted, luckily, you’re not there when he swings for retribution.

Though one of his fucking steak knives catches your upper arm slicing through the leather. Warm blood trickles down your arm, staining the beige interior of the poor Honda.

Your legs are your strongest asset, so when he attempts to restrain you with the seatbelt, you are presented with your window of opportunity. You wrap them around his neck as you pivot your hips slamming the Wolverine headfirst into the metal of the door. Once, twice, three times - on the fourth he lands a fist to your gut, luckily, he has retracted his claws.

If he was willing to kill you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.

You’re winded struggling to catch your breath from the gut punch, but you manage pull the knife from his thigh that is nestled between your legs and thrust it into his neck, you aim for the spot you’d fantasied about kissing before he’d torn your character apart piece by piece, now you just want to bathe in his fucking blood.

It was the pain that instantaneously made his claws extend. He’s quick to move them, though he slices through the sides of your suit as he buries them in the chair behind you. Your ribs are a bloodied mess though you don’t care, in a few hours they’ll be good as new.

Logan has seized the opportunity and has your arms pinned to your sides, his blood has cooled a little more than yours, he doesn’t seem to want to murder you over an argument.

Perhaps he’s more well-adjusted than yourself, that thought alone should concern you, except it just enrages you further.

“You stupid fuckin-“The Wolverine starts admonishing you, before you swing your head forward and headbutt him.

Yes.

You really do that.

You headbutt the man with the adamantium fucking skeleton– at full strength. Its sheer dumb luck you don’t crack your own skull in the process– maybe Logan was right, you are fucking dumb.

“Fucking fuck!” You cry grabbing your forehead and writhing. Noone wins with a headbutt, except Logan apparently.

“Fucking stop that.” Your writhing has pushed your core against his crotch, and he is already packing quite the heat at what feels like half-mast. He grabs your hips to stop your movement, but it only seems to push you closer. “Stop fucking moving.”

The constant arousal you’ve felt since meeting him returns in double time, Logan’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken. It’s debased and you’re ashamed that you want him, you haven’t stopped wanting him, despite the awful fucking words that left his mouth minutes ago.

“Like … a little pain Wolvie?”

Its relief you feel, you think, when instead of answering or punching you in the face, he closes the gap.

The Wolverine’s claws retract, and he grabs at your chin. Logan’s mouth utterly devours your own, your front tooth clashes with his own as you push yourself upwards, you pull your knife out of his neck, catching his grunt of pain on your tongue as you begin licking your way down his thick throat.

The vein you’d spotted hours ago is throbbing freshly healed, you sink your canines into the flesh and its as good as you’d fucking imagine. His groan is utterly beast-like as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

The Wolverine’s throat tastes like salt and iron. Thick, tangy and warm on your tongue as you soothe the bite. It drives Logan wild, thrusting his hardened member against your warmth. One of his gloved hands rises to lock on the back of your neck to pull you into yet another earth-shattering kiss. His sharp hot tongue slides against your own, exploring the expanses of your mouth like its his to claim.

You bite at him again then, your teeth catching his bottom lip sharply. Logan groans into your mouth before you use every ounce of your enhanced strength to throw him backwards against the dashboard.

He is taken utterly by surprise as his head slams into the windscreen cracking the glass with a grunt. When he looks your way Logan’s eyes are blackened with desire, he is utterly wild.

Slowly as if afraid to make any sudden moves, you unzip your combat boots, your eyes never leaving his. One boot and then the next.

You thank the TVA’s tailor for making your suit a two piece as you shuffle backwards into the backseat, pushing the thick leather down your legs all whilst maintaining eye contact with the beast leaning against the dashboard.

“You sure you want this Darlin’?”

“Darlin’?” You question mockingly, your voice lowering to imitate his own, as you wantonly spread your legs, your bare leg resting next to the headrest. Only a pair of black cotton panties separate him from your most intimate parts and his eyes are locked on your clothed core. “a second ago it was ‘Pathetic Moron’ to you.”

Your head tilts in question as his eyes lock back on your own, you think perhaps for a moment something akin to regret passes over his face, but you’ve never been entirely comfortable with feelings, so you drop your hand into the waistband of your panties, you’ve barely circled your opening with your pointer finger before he’s on you.

“That’s my job, you fucking Moron.” He plunges two bare thick fingers into your heat. Gasping you throw your head back against the headrest, it’s a tight fit and its been a while but the slight burn eases some of the aching in your core. “You’re fuckin’ soaking wet, you like it huh, bub? Making me bleed?”

Your grab his jaw, your nails digging into his flesh. “I’d like to bathe in-” He scissors his fingers finding that spot inside you and you let out an embarrassing noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “-Your fucking blood… you mean motherfucker.”

You’re an absolute goner when he starts rubbing your clit, after a day of foreplay your body seizes, and you grab at the nape of his neck trying to find something to anchor you down. But as fast as the build was you come tumbling down just as quickly, when he cruelly withdraws his hands.

“No! - Wha- what the fuck?!” You’re almost crying as your torn from the precipice.

Logan flips you over onto your stomach before you can complain any further, your face down on the filthy upholstery as he pulls your panties from your hips. You can’t see him from this angle, though you can feel his warm hands tracing the globes of your ass.

You force your knees further apart, pushing your bare soaking pussy against the tight bulge of his yellow suit. If you had enough of your facilities about you, you’d be embarrassed that you’re currently rubbing your cunt against The Wolverine like a bitch in heat after he’d chewed you out only minutes ago.

Logan’s hand dip between your thighs, his fingers swirl along your hole, dragging your wetness along to your aching clit.

“You think I’d make it that easy?” He asks as he continues the journey back and forth. On the second pass he dips his finger inside of you for a fraction of a second before resuming its path. “What do you want, darlin’?”

You weren’t going to beg, in fact you bit your tongue to stop the traitorous words from forming, this man had already made you abandon most of your self-respect, he wasn’t having this.

“Logan…” At your breathy words the man leans forward, pressing his fabric covered cock into your ass as he folds his body over yours. One hand comes down next to your shoulder, the other explore your tits as he rocks himself into your throbbing core. It’s the perfect storm as he nuzzles into your exposed throat but somehow you manage your words. “Fuck me or don’t, I’m not begging, bub.”

He exhales through his nose in what you guess is equal parts amusement and annoyance, but you’re far beyond caring. He places a bite on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder as his body pulls back. Momentarily his hands leave your hips to deal with his own pants. You hear the clank of his belt hitting the car floor moments before you feel the head of his cock, running along your folds.

The head of his cock is thick, and it feels hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick. All of a sudden Logan pushes forward and sheathes himself inside of you with a single thrust.

You try your best to hold in your incoherent moans but to little avail as he pulls back before slamming full force back into you. If you were a human woman, your pelvis would’ve shattered from the force of his hips against your ass, instead you gather your strength and push back, allowing him deeper. The both of you moan in unison at the depth he reaches.

You grab onto the foam of the seat, ripping through the fabric with your bare hands desperate for an anchor as Logan unforgivingly pounds into you from behind, once again he folds his body over yours, wrapping a palm around your clawed fingers.

“.” He grunts something incoherent into your ear as he picks up the pace, slamming into you repeatedly, slowly picking up his pace. Your core is positively aching as you throb around him, pulling him deeper within you. If you were expecting any further explanation, you’re sorely disappointed.

The wolverine pulls back, gripping at your hips keeping you still as he resumes his powerful strokes. Logan’s hand dips to your clit, rubbing quick circles sending you barrelling back towards your orgasm. As you begin to clench around him, he pulls your body upwards, his head brushing against the top of the car as he holds you against him his fingers never leaving your clit.

“Come on my cock, Angel.” Unable to stop yourself you clench around him, hearing him talk like that does something primal to you.

You fucking loved Logan’s mouth, you bet he ate pussy like a champion if he played the clit this fucking well.

You stopped fighting it and threw yourself from the cliff, shattering in his thick muscle veined arms as he held you up against him, his cock still viciously plundering your depths.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispers against your neck whispers peppering it with bites.

Logan gives you a few moments to come down from your high before he resumes his punishing pace, you think perhaps you’ve reached your limit of pleasure, that the threshold can’t possibly be topped until he whispers into your ear in that gruff voice.

“What was it Wilson said? Filling all your holes?” The Wolverine asks, his eyes meet yours over your shoulder meaningfully, asking permission as he offers you his thumb. You merely moan your approval and wantonly draw his finger into your mouth, soaking the pad in saliva.

Logan yanks your head into a vicious kiss. It’s a messy one, filled to the brim with need. The hand not currently locked on your neck holding your face to his, travels down your back, through the valley of your bodies. The pad of his pinky runs appreciatively over the globe of your ass, before his hand dips into the crease.

Logan’s thumb runs teasingly against the tight ring of muscle, it’s a foreign experience which makes you startle slightly.

“Anyone ever fucked you here?” He asks as he bites down your neck, delicately pushing you forward until your head rests on the backseat. You shake your head as your eyes close, his cock is buried balls deep within you as he plays with your asshole.

When his thumb finally breaches your tight hole just past the nail, he begins his thrusts once more. His cock fills your pussy from behind and suddenly you feel so fucking full, Its far too much for you.

“Fuck… Logan.” You gasp almost on the verge of tears as pounds you into the back seat. It seems the ass play has gotten to him more than expected, as his pace has increases.

“Where?” He asks breathless from the exertion as he pulls his thumbs from your ass and takes a handful of the meat on your hips.

“Inside…. Please … Logan.” You practically beg though you’ll never admit it, his rhythm becomes stunted as his hips slam into the back of your thighs.

“Give me something tight to come in, Darlin’.” Moaning at his words you’re eager to obey as you reach your hand between your own legs and rub mercilessly at your clit. The unforgiving pounding, the grunting and the fingers currently bruising your hips and the burning of your now vacant ass send you sailing over the edge.

You clamp down on him like a vice, groaning unable to hold back your whimpers anymore as he finally bites your neck and pumps his seed deep inside you as far as it can go. Logan grunts like a beast as he pulses deep inside of you.

Logan collapses beside you. Dents in the interior of the van you don’t even remember making have appeared from where a stray elbow or knee has hit the metal in the throes of passion.

The Wolverine tucks his cock back in his suit. Ever the gentleman, he uses your black panties to wipe away the cum dripping from your thighs, you haven’t got the heart to tell him that when you’re commando redressed in your suit that you can still feel him dripping from you, your pussy uncomfortably slick against the leather.

After dressing, the two of you sit in contemplative silence. Neither one of you has the emotional complexity to discuss what happened and neither one of you will accept fault for your argument that led to it, so, silence reigns.

The tension is sliced in two as Logan leans forward and pushes an errant lock of hair behind your ear in an act so goddamn endearing, you melt. You still wouldn’t apologise for lying, because you didn’t lie but you can meet him a quarter of the way.

“I’m sorry for calling you geriatric.” You whisper catching his eyes, a small spark of humour leaps into them, you’ve seen more emotions from your hero in the past half an hour than you knew he was capable of.

“I shouldn’t have-“ Logan’s heartfelt apology is cut off by the lead of this goddamn story.

“Well, well, well. Would you look at this, My best friends, Ha! I get fucking kidnapped, an arm ripped off and you’re nowhere to be found? I thought don’t worry Wade, they won’t leave you, Y/N/N will come around that corner any second."

Wade has appeared through the passenger side window; he looks a little worse for wear and has a child’s arm growing from his stump, its kind of gross to look at.

"What if Colossus had had his way with me? What then Y/N? I expect this from Wolvie, but not from you! No, no heroic rescue for old Deadpool. I have to save myself because you fuckers are too busy playing hide the adamantium bone! Thanks for nothing guys. Now the car has old man sex stank to it, as if this hunk of shit Honda could get any worse!”

#deadpool #wolverine deadpool #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #james howlett x reader #worst logan #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #wolverine x you #graphics by saradika

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kathaelipwse · 3 months ago

Text

The Moment I Saw You || C.San

Pairing: Rookie.Idol!Reader x Idol!San

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 10,495 words ; Reading Time: 40-ish mins

Synopsis: They called you the "guitar rookie" — cool, mysterious, and unforgettable on stage. But for San, it only took one performance to fall completely under your spell. What starts as quiet glances and backstage banter slowly turns into secret texting, emotional confessions, and late-night comfort. But fame is cruel, and love in the spotlight even more so. When the hate gets brutal, San does something no one expects — he fights for you.

Author’s Note: This story’s a love letter to that electric spark between two people who meet in the whirlwind of fame and find peace in each other. I adore writing flustered San, loyal San, "ride-or-die" San — so this fic gave me life. Hope you enjoy the slow burn, tension, and soft chaos.

The air in the practice room always smelled faintly of sweat and ambition, a potent cocktail that you had grown accustomed to. Just six months into your solo debut, the buzz around you was a low hum, a quiet acknowledgment of the raw talent that crackled through your live performances. In a sea of perfectly synchronized dance routines and polished pop anthems, you offered something different: grit. Authenticity. And a damn good electric guitar.

Your company, a smaller label that had taken a gamble on your unique blend of idol charm and rockstar edge, was cautiously optimistic. Your digital single had performed respectably, earning you a small but fiercely loyal fanbase who appreciated your self-composed tracks and the way your fingers danced across the fretboard during live stages – a genuine rarity in the current idol landscape.

You yourself preferred the quiet hum of anticipation to the deafening roar of immediate fame. It gave you space to breathe, to hone your craft, to let the music speak for itself. Your stage presence was a carefully constructed paradox: cool and composed, almost aloof, yet undeniably magnetic. There was a mysterious charm about the way you’d offer a fleeting smirk after a particularly sharp riff, the way your dark eyes would scan the crowd with an unreadable intensity.

Tonight, however, the quiet hum was about to be amplified to a deafening roar. Tonight was the culmination of a year’s worth of relentless work: the prestigious Gayo Daejun. The air backstage thrummed with nervous energy, a chaotic symphony of hurried footsteps, last-minute mic checks, and the hushed excitement of idols from every corner of the industry.

Your own dressing room felt like a small island of calm amidst the storm. Your black custom guitar, affectionately nicknamed 'Shadow', leaned against the wall, its sleek body gleaming under the soft lighting. Your stylist fussed with the subtle silver chains adorning your black leather jacket, while your makeup artist dabbed at your already flawless smoky eye.

“Ready, Y/N-ah?” your manager, a kind but perpetually stressed man named Mr. Kim, poked his head in.

You offered a small, confident nod. Inside, however, a familiar flutter of nerves danced in your stomach. This was the biggest stage you’d ever performed on. The audience wasn’t just your fans; it was the entire Korean entertainment industry, fellow idols you admired, and millions watching at home.

As the minutes ticked by, the tension backstage thickened. Snippets of other performances drifted into your room – the booming bass of a powerful dance track, the soaring vocals of a ballad. Then, Mr. Kim gave you the signal. It was time.

Walking towards the stage felt surreal. The backstage area was a blur of glittering costumes and anxious faces. You took a deep breath, the scent of hairspray and expensive perfume filling your lungs. The roar of the crowd beyond the heavy curtains was a tangible thing, a wave of sound that promised both exhilaration and potential disaster.

Your name flashed on the monitor, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins. This was it.

The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight pierced the darkness, landing squarely on your silhouette as you stood center stage, Shadow slung low across your hips. A hush fell over the arena, a pregnant silence that amplified the frantic beating of your own heart.

Then, you raised your hand, your fingers hovering over the strings. A single, clean note rang out, cutting through the silence. It was the opening of your self-composed track, a raw and edgy anthem about breaking free. The crowd responded with a wave of cheers, but you barely registered it. Your focus narrowed, your world shrinking to the six strings beneath your fingertips.

The first chord hit like a punch to the gut – a gritty, distorted power chord that reverberated through the stadium. The stage lights pulsed in time with the music, casting sharp shadows that danced around you. Your cool composure settled over you like a second skin. Head tilted slightly, you launched into the opening riff, your fingers a blur of practiced precision.

From the side of the stage, hidden in the shadows after the explosive finale of his own group’s performance, Choi San stood catching his breath. Ateez had just delivered a high-octane set, leaving the crowd in a frenzy. He was about to grab a water bottle when a lone figure walked onto the stage. He barely glanced up, expecting another flashy dance number.

But then, the first chord struck.

San froze. The plastic water bottle slipped from his suddenly numb fingers, clattering unnoticed on the floor. His jaw went slack, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn’t just the sound – though the raw, live tone of the electric guitar was a shock in itself – it was the sheer confidence emanating from the figure bathed in the spotlight.

His heart, which had been pounding from Ateez’s intense performance, now seemed to have vanished entirely, replaced by a strange, hollow ache.

He watched, unblinking, as you moved with a fluid grace that belied the aggressive energy of your music and your soft voice blending well. The way your head would snap back with a flick of your dark hair during a particularly powerful strum, the fleeting smirk that would play on your lips as you effortlessly shredded a solo – it was captivating.

The music surged, a tidal wave of sound washing over the arena. San was oblivious to the cheers of the crowd, the flashing lights, the murmurs of his own members nearby. His entire world had narrowed to the figure on stage, the girl with the guitar, the raw talent that seemed to bleed from her fingertips.

He watched as you stepped closer to the edge of the stage during a particularly intricate solo, your eyes locking with unseen members of the audience. There was a fire in them, a fierce passion that resonated deep within him.

The final chord crashed, echoing through the stadium before fading into a sudden, profound silence. Then, the arena erupted. The cheers were deafening, a testament to the captivating performance they had just witnessed.

You offered a small bow, the corner of your lips tilting into that enigmatic smirk one last time before you turned and walked off stage, disappearing behind the curtain.

San remained rooted to the spot, his mind a complete blank. The echoes of the music still vibrated in his chest. It wasn't just that you were talented; there was something else, something that had resonated with him on a visceral level.

Finally, as his members started to nudge him, concern etched on their faces, San managed a single, breathless utterance, his voice barely a whisper amidst the lingering roar of the crowd.

“…who is she?”

The adrenaline from Ateez’s performance had long since faded, replaced by a persistent, almost unsettling hum within San. Back in their dorm, the usual boisterous energy of the members felt muted, a backdrop to the insistent replay echoing in his mind. He’d excused himself shortly after they’d arrived, claiming exhaustion, but instead, he’d retreated to his bunk, phone clutched tightly in his hand.

The YouTube video title glowed on the screen: “Y/N - Iconic Solo Debut Stage @ Gayo Daejun” He’d found it within minutes of searching, the algorithm already attuned to the sudden spike in interest surrounding the mysterious guitarist.

He pressed play.

The opening chord of ‘[Your Song Title]’ reverberated through his earbuds, sending a familiar jolt through him. He watched, his eyes glued to the screen, as you stepped into the spotlight. Every subtle movement, every confident strum, every flick of your hair was magnified, imbued with a significance he couldn’t quite articulate.

He watched the entire performance again, and then again. A strange tension coiled in his stomach, a feeling he hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t just admiration for your talent; it was something deeper, something that felt intensely personal.

On the fourth viewing, he paused the video. It was a fleeting moment, almost imperceptible – a small, genuine smile that flickered across your lips after nailing a particularly challenging riff. It wasn’t a practiced idol smile for the cameras; it was a flash of pure, unadulterated joy, a glimpse behind the cool facade. San’s thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the curve of your smile as if he could somehow capture the feeling it evoked within him. His chest tightened.

He replayed the solo, the intricate melody and the raw energy of your playing sending shivers down his spine. He’d always appreciated good musicianship, but this… this was different. It wasn't just skill; it was soul. It was like the music was an extension of you, a direct line to something honest and captivating.

A restless energy began to build within him. He needed to know more.

He exited YouTube and opened his browser, typing in your stage name. Information flooded the screen: your full name, your company, the name of your debut single, even a few interviews where you spoke shyly about your music and your unconventional path as a guitar-playing idol. He clicked on every link, devouring every piece of information, piecing together a fragmented image of the person behind the captivating performer.

He learned you were a soloist, which surprised him. Your stage presence felt like it could command an entire band. He scrolled through fan forums, reading comments that echoed his own fascination: “Who is this girl?”, “That guitar solo was insane!”, “Her vibe is so cool.”

Later, when a few of the members had gathered in the common room, their post-show buzz slowly dissipating into comfortable exhaustion, San couldn’t contain it any longer. He wandered in, his phone still clutched in his hand.

“Do you guys know the rookie guitarist from tonight?” he asked, his voice a little too eager.

Wooyoung, sprawled on the couch scrolling through his own phone, looked up, a playful smirk already forming on his lips. “You mean the one you haven’t stopped watching on your phone?”

San flushed slightly, trying to appear nonchalant. “I was just… impressed. Her live playing was really something.”

Jongho, ever the straightforward one, nodded. “She was good. Definitely stood out.”

Hongjoong, who had been quietly sketching in a notebook, looked up, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Bro. You’ve watched that clip six times since we got back.”

San’s ears burned. He hadn’t realized he’d been that obvious. He mumbled something about needing to analyze different performance styles.

Hongjoong leaned back, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Analyzing, huh? Or maybe… admiring?” He tapped his pen against his chin thoughtfully. “She did have a certain… je ne sais quoi.”

San avoided his leader’s gaze, suddenly finding the pattern on the rug intensely interesting.

“Just ask her out already, Romeo,” Hongjoong added, his voice laced with playful teasing.

San’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Hyung! What? No! I just… I was curious about her music.”

The other members exchanged knowing glances, a chorus of suppressed chuckles filling the room. San knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. The image of you on stage, bathed in that single spotlight, the raw sound of your guitar echoing in his ears, was firmly imprinted in his mind. The quiet hum of curiosity had morphed into something far more insistent, a burgeoning fascination that felt dangerously close to… obsession. And he had a feeling this was just the beginning.

The fluorescent lights of the music show backstage buzzed with a familiar, almost sterile energy. A few days had passed since the Gayo Daejun, and the memory of your performance still lingered in San’s mind like a favorite song he couldn’t stop humming. He’d tried to play it cool around his members, deflecting their teasing with awkward jokes and feigned disinterest. But the truth was, he’d spent a significant amount of his downtime rewatching your stage and scrolling through any new information he could find about you. He even found a few fan-made compilation videos of your live guitar moments, each one further solidifying his initial captivated impression.

Fate, or perhaps his own carefully orchestrated movements, had brought them both to the same music show today. Ateez had an early performance slot, and San had been surprisingly subdued throughout their pre-show preparations, his usual playful energy noticeably absent. His mind was elsewhere, a nervous anticipation thrumming beneath his skin. He kept replaying Hongjoong’s teasing words – “Just ask her out already, Romeo” – and a ridiculous scenario where he tripped over his own feet while trying to introduce himself.

He’d subtly inquired about your schedule from one of the staff members he knew, feigning general interest in the lineup. When he learned your dressing room was on the same floor, a few doors down from Ateez’s, a plan began to form – a flimsy, transparent excuse to be in your vicinity. He’d even rehearsed a few potential opening lines in his head, ranging from a simple “Hello” to a more elaborate (and probably disastrous) compliment about your guitar tone.

Now, his heart hammered against his ribs as he stood outside your dressing room, a half-empty water bottle clutched in his hand. He’d “coincidentally” run out of water just as Ateez’s segment wrapped up, and this hallway, he’d reasoned, was the most logical place to find a water dispenser. He leaned against the cool wall, trying to project an air of casual nonchalance, taking slow, deliberate sips. Every distant footstep echoing down the corridor sent a jolt of nervous energy through him. He silently berated himself for his lack of composure. He was Choi San, for crying out loud. He commanded stages filled with roaring fans. Why was this one potential interaction turning him into a stammering mess?

Then, the door to your dressing room opened.

San’s breath hitched. You stepped out, your manager, a slightly harried-looking man in a crisp suit, a few paces behind you, both seemingly engrossed in a quiet conversation. You were dressed in a stylishly understated outfit for your post-performance interviews – dark wash jeans, a slightly oversized band tee, and a delicate silver necklace peeking out from beneath the collar. Your dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that accentuated the sharp angles of your jawline and the delicate curve of your neck. San’s gaze lingered for a fraction too long.

For a split second, your eyes met his. Your expression was neutral, a polite acknowledgment of a familiar face in the industry. But for San, it felt like a spotlight had suddenly illuminated him. He froze, his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance crumbling into a jumbled mess of nerves and a sudden, intense awareness of his own slightly sweaty post-performance state.

He hadn’t planned what to say, hadn’t rehearsed any smooth lines that could possibly convey the impact your performance had had on him. All the witty remarks and carefully crafted compliments he’d mentally conjured vanished from his brain, leaving him with a single, overwhelming thought: it’s really her. Up close, the intensity he’d witnessed on stage was somehow both amplified and softened.

As you drew closer, his throat suddenly felt incredibly dry. He pushed himself off the wall, his legs feeling strangely unsteady, like he’d just finished a particularly grueling choreography session. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but all that came out was a strangled, almost bird-like sound. He winced internally.

“You were…” he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, the sound echoing awkwardly in the relatively quiet hallway, and tried again, his gaze fixed somewhere around your shoulder, unable to meet your eyes directly. “You were… amazing. At the Gayo… the guitar part? Insane.” He cringed internally at his utterly inadequate delivery. Insane? Really, San? That’s the best you could come up with?

You stopped walking, a genuine hint of surprise flickering in your dark eyes. You shyly tucked a loose strand of hair that had escaped your ponytail behind your ear, a delicate, almost unconscious gesture that San found inexplicably endearing. A faint blush, barely perceptible, dusted your cheeks. You lowered your gaze slightly.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, your voice even more melodic and nuanced than he’d expected from your powerful yet soft singing voice. “I… I didn’t think anyone noticed. It felt a little… out of place, maybe, amidst all the other amazing performances.” You offered a small, self-deprecating smile.

San’s internal monologue was a chaotic scream of flailing limbs and incoherent noises. She doesn’t think anyone noticed?! It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen! Tell her! Tell her how it made you feel! Tell her you haven’t stopped thinking about it!

But outwardly, he could only manage a slightly wider, albeit still awkward, smile and a more emphatic nod. “Noticed? Are you kidding? It was… captivating. The way you played, the energy… it was completely different. In a really, really good way.” He finally managed to meet your eyes, and the intensity he felt seemed to momentarily surprise you. He quickly looked away again, suddenly feeling like he was staring.

He wanted to say so much more – to tell you how the rawness of your sound had cut through the usual polished perfection, how your confidence with the guitar had been incredibly inspiring, how he’d rewatched your solo countless times. But the words seemed trapped in his throat, choked by a sudden wave of self-consciousness and the unexpected reality of you standing right in front of him.

He offered another small, slightly less awkward smile, hoping it conveyed at least a fraction of the genuine admiration and burgeoning fascination he felt. You returned the smile, a brief, shy curve of your lips that sent another unexpected jolt through him, settling somewhere warm and unfamiliar in his chest.

Then, your manager, who had been patiently observing the exchange, gently placed a hand on your arm. “We should probably get going, Y/N-ah. The interview with Star News is starting soon, and they’re waiting.”

“Right,” you said, nodding apologetically. You offered San another quick, polite nod, your eyes briefly meeting his again with a hint of something he couldn’t quite decipher before continuing down the hallway with your manager.

San watched you walk away, your ponytail swaying gently with each step, his mind still reeling from the brief but impactful interaction. He’d actually spoken to you. He’d sounded like a complete idiot, but he’d spoken to you. He replayed the exchange in his head, dissecting every word, every glance, the shy tuck of your hair, the soft melody of your voice.

He took a long, shaky gulp of water, the coolness doing little to quell the heat rising in his cheeks. He leaned back against the wall again, a goofy, starstruck grin slowly spreading across his face. Choi San, the charismatic performer known for his powerful stage presence and confident charm, was officially a flustered mess. And he had a distinct feeling that this brief backstage run-in was just the beginning of a much more complicated – and potentially exhilarating – chapter.

The weeks that followed the music show took on a surreal quality for both you and San. For you, the unexpected compliment from a senior idol, especially one as charismatic as San of Ateez, had been a pleasant surprise. You’d replayed the brief interaction in your mind a few times, a faint warmth spreading through you at the memory of his earnest, if slightly stammering, praise. You’d even found yourself looking up Ateez’s performances afterwards, a newfound curiosity piqued by his intense stage presence and the powerful dynamic of his group.

Then, the “bump-ins” began.

It started subtly. At the company cafeteria, you’d be mid-bite into your kimbap when you’d glance up to find Ateez at a nearby table, their usual boisterous energy filling the space. More often than not, your eyes would meet San’s, and he’d offer a quick, friendly smile, sometimes accompanied by a small wave. You’d offer a shy nod in return, a blush creeping up your neck.

At music show waiting rooms, their paths seemed to intersect with increasing frequency. He’d always find a reason to approach – a casual “Hey, Y/N-ssi, your performance today was great,” or a lighthearted comment about the chaos backstage. Once, he’d even complimented the unique design on your guitar strap, sparking a brief, slightly awkward but undeniably pleasant conversation about your musical influences.

You tried to rationalize it as coincidence, the inevitable overlap of schedules in the relatively small and interconnected idol world. But a persistent feeling, a delicate dance of anticipation and nervousness, began to bloom in your chest. Every time his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at you, a little spark ignited within you.

You found yourself paying more attention to your appearance on days you knew Ateez would be at the same events, and a nervous flutter would erupt in your stomach whenever you heard their distinct laughter echoing down the hallway.

San, on his end, was far from relying on mere chance. He’d become a surprisingly adept strategist, his internal radar constantly pinging for any sign of your presence. He’d casually inquire about your schedule from friendly staff members, linger a little longer near common areas he knew you sometimes frequented, like the practice room hallways or the studio lounges, and even subtly enlist the help of Wooyoung and Seonghwa to “casually” scout ahead.

His members, initially amused by his sudden, laser-like focus, were now exchanging knowing glances and offering increasingly unsubtle teases. “Looking for your sunshine again, San-ah?” Hongjoong had quipped one afternoon, earning him a playful shove.

Then came the official announcement that sent a genuine tremor of excitement through the industry: a special collaboration stage for the upcoming Golden Disc Awards. And your name was listed alongside Ateez. Specifically, the press release detailed a duet and a joint performance piece that would culminate in a powerful instrumental break featuring your guitar playing alongside Ateez’s signature dynamic energy. And the duet partner? Choi San.

A wave of surprise, quickly followed by a surge of nervous excitement that made your palms sweat, washed over you when your manager relayed the news. A collaboration with a group as globally recognized and incredibly talented as Ateez was a monumental opportunity, a chance to reach a wider audience. But the thought of working so intimately with San, the idol who had sparked this unexpected and rather persistent flutter in your heart, sent a different kind of thrill, a more personal and slightly dizzying sensation, through you.

Rehearsals began a week later, a whirlwind of choreography practices with Ateez’s formidable dance line, vocal run-throughs where your voices surprisingly blended with a unique harmony, and meticulous stage blocking sessions. The song was a powerful, emotionally charged ballad that built to an explosive instrumental bridge, perfectly designed to showcase both Ateez’s dramatic performance skills and your raw, emotive guitar prowess.

During these rehearsals, San’s attention was often, though not always overtly, fixed on you. It wasn’t the intense, unwavering gaze from the Gayo stage, but a softer, more curious observation. When you were carefully tuning Shadow before a run-through, the delicate movements of your fingers across the fretboard seemed to captivate him.

He’d lean against the wall, his usual playful banter momentarily silenced, his eyes following your every adjustment. Once, he’d even asked, his voice genuinely curious, “What tuning are you using for this song? It sounds… different.” You’d explained the drop-D tuning and how it lent a heavier feel to the lower register, and he’d listened intently, nodding thoughtfully.

Between takes, as you’d often hum the melody to yourself, lost in the intricacies of the arrangement, his gaze would linger on you, a soft, almost fond smile playing on his lips. Sometimes, he’d even hum along quietly, and you’d catch his eye, a shared moment of musical connection passing between you.

From his perspective, every small detail about you seemed to be etching itself into his memory. The way your brow would furrow in intense concentration as you worked out a particularly complex chord progression, the way you’d tap your foot rhythmically even when you weren’t playing, the small, almost imperceptible sigh you’d let out after a particularly demanding vocal section.

Even the subtle scent that seemed to perpetually surround you – a delicate blend of warm vanilla and a bright, refreshing citrus – became a comforting and uniquely yours sensory detail that he’d subconsciously started to associate with moments of quiet focus and unexpected smiles.

He started calling you “sunshine.” It began innocently enough, a casual remark during a particularly grueling rehearsal when you’d offered a quiet but encouraging word to a visibly tired Wooyoung. “You’re like sunshine, Y/N -ssi,” he’d said with a genuine smile, and the nickname had stuck.

He used it sparingly, mostly during lighter moments or when he wanted to offer encouragement. But the way your cheeks would instantly flush a delicate pink every time the nickname escaped his lips, the way your gaze would momentarily soften and then quickly dart away, told him it had a deeper, more personal impact.

You tried your best to maintain your professional composure, focusing intently on the intricate vocal harmonies you shared with San and the precise timing required for your guitar solo within Ateez’s powerful choreography. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the warmth that spread through you every time San’s gaze lingered a little too long, or the way your heart did a little flip-flop whenever he offered you a genuine, encouraging smile, often accompanied by that endearing nickname.

His presence was a constant, gentle distraction, a warm current that made it harder to maintain your focus but also made the often-stressful rehearsal process feel surprisingly lighter, filled with stolen glances and unspoken understandings.

The tension between you was building, an invisible thread stretching taut with each shared rehearsal and fleeting interaction. It wasn’t just the pressure of the highly anticipated Golden Disc performance; it was the undeniable pull of mutual attraction, a silent conversation conducted through lingering glances, shy smiles, and the shared language of music.

You both knew something was subtly shifting, a delicate connection forming beneath the surface of polite professional interactions. The Golden Disc stage was looming, and with it, the tantalizing promise of a closer collaboration, and perhaps, something significantly more.

The exchange of phone numbers had been a purely practical affair, orchestrated with the efficiency of a military operation by your respective managers under the guise of “seamless rehearsal coordination” for the Golden Disc collaboration. Your contact list now held a new, somewhat official-sounding entry: “San (Ateez) 🎤.” You’d sent a polite introductory text confirming your number, a brief “Hi San-ssi, it’s Y/N. Got your number,” and he’d replied with a simple but friendly, “Got it! Looking forward to working with you, Y/N-ssi :)”. The initial exchange felt formal, almost anticlimactic, leaving you wondering if that would be the extent of your direct communication outside of rehearsals.

However, as the intense rehearsal schedule for the Golden Disc Awards kicked into high gear, the need for direct communication occasionally and organically arose. A last-minute change in the choreography blocking that affected your stage positioning, a question from San about the specific tone you were aiming for during the instrumental break, a quick confirmation needed on shared wardrobe elements to ensure visual harmony on stage.

These exchanges were usually brief and strictly professional, yet each notification that popped up on your screen displaying San’s name still elicited a subtle, almost involuntary quickening of your pulse, a tiny flutter of anticipation that you tried to suppress.

Then came the night after a particularly grueling full dress rehearsal that had stretched late into the evening. You were finally back in the quiet solitude of your dorm room, the distant hum of the city lights painting faint, blurry streaks across your ceiling.

Your body ached in places you didn’t even know existed, your mind still buzzing with the complex choreography, the intricate vocal harmonies you shared with San, and the soaring melody of the collaboration song that had been looping in your head for hours. You’d changed into comfortable pajamas and were mindlessly scrolling through social media on your phone, a familiar and usually effective way to unwind before sleep claimed you, when your phone vibrated with a new message.

The contact name displayed brightly on your screen read “San (Ateez) 🎤.” Your thumb hovered over the notification for a long moment, a strange and unfamiliar mix of anticipation, nervousness, and a touch of something akin to excitement swirling within you. It was late; you hadn’t expected to hear from him.

San (1:03 am): Were you nervous that night? At the Gayo. You didn’t look it at all. Like you owned that stage from the moment you stepped on it.

A small, genuine smile touched your lips. He was thinking about your debut stage again. It felt like a lifetime ago in the whirlwind of the past few months, yet the memory of the intense spotlight, the roar of the crowd, and the raw, unfiltered energy of your music was still incredibly vivid. You hesitated for a moment before replying, carefully considering your words, unsure of how much vulnerability to reveal.

You (1:04 am): Terrified. Honestly. My palms were sweating so much I thought I might drop Shadow. I just didn’t want to screw up on such a big stage, especially as a relatively new face.

Your reply felt honest, stripped of the cool, composed confidence you consciously projected on stage. You wondered if he’d find it surprising, perhaps even disappointing, that the seemingly fearless guitarist had been battling a storm of nerves underneath.

His response came almost immediately, the speed of it making you smile again.

San (1:04 am): Seriously? You were incredible. You commanded that stage like it was your own. The way you moved, the way you connected with the music… and that guitar solo… still gives me chills every time I watch it. You have such a unique energy.

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through your chest at his words. It was different from the polite, often generic compliments you usually received from industry colleagues. There was a genuine enthusiasm and a keen observation in his message that felt… real and deeply validating.

San (1:05 am): Next time you’re on a big stage like that, I’m cheering for you from the front row. Promise. I’ll even bring a giant banner with your name on it!! :}

Your heart did a little unexpected flutter at that playful promise. A promise from Choi San, delivered in the quiet intimacy of a late-night text message. You typed out a simple “Thank you :]” but deleted it, feeling it was far too inadequate to express the warmth that was blossoming within you.

You (1:06 am): That means a lot, San-ssi. Really. It’s… reassuring to hear that.

The late-night texts slowly but surely became a more regular, almost anticipated occurrence. They were often initiated by San, usually after both of your demanding schedules had finally wound down for the day, when the rest of the bustling idol world seemed to have finally fallen silent.

They talked about everything and nothing – the unique pressures and unexpected joys of being an idol, their individual musical tastes and surprising shared interests in obscure indie artists, funny and sometimes slightly embarrassing anecdotes from their respective days.

You found yourself genuinely looking forward to these digital exchanges, the quiet intimacy of sharing your thoughts and feelings with someone who seemed to genuinely understand the unique and often isolating pressures you faced in the industry.

San was surprisingly easy to talk to, his digital persona mirroring the warm and playful energy he exuded in person, but with an added layer of thoughtful curiosity. His texts were often punctuated with a liberal use of playful emojis and genuine, insightful questions.

He’d delve into your songwriting process, asking about your lyrical inspirations and the emotions you aimed to convey through your music. He even remembered the name of your guitar, Shadow, and would occasionally ask about it, curious about its history and your connection to it.

You found yourself opening up to him in a way you hadn’t with many others in the industry, the relative anonymity and unspoken understanding of the late-night messages creating a safe and comfortable space for vulnerability.

One particularly hectic afternoon, in the midst of a chaotic day of back-to-back schedules that included a radio interview and a photoshoot, your phone buzzed with a picture message from San. Your initial thought was that it was probably another funny meme his members had sent him.

But when you opened it, your breath hitched slightly. It was a selfie of him, looking slightly tired but grinning broadly, his dark hair a little tousled, holding up a piece of slightly crumpled white paper. Scrawled on it in playful, slightly uneven lettering, adorned with a few charmingly crooked doodles, were the words: “Team Y/N”. He’d even drawn a little stick figure playing a guitar next to your name, its shape endearingly lopsided.

A genuine, unguarded smile bloomed on your face, chasing away some of the day’s accumulated stress. You quickly saved the picture to a private album in your gallery, tucking it away amongst your personal photos, a secret little treasure.

Every now and then, when the relentless pressures of the industry felt particularly overwhelming or isolating, you’d find yourself subconsciously scrolling through your gallery and stumbling upon that silly, heartfelt selfie, and a wave of unexpected warmth and quiet support would wash over you, a tangible reminder of the connection you were slowly building. The late-night whispers in the digital darkness were undeniably weaving a delicate but strengthening thread of something special and undeniably personal between you and Choi San.

The Golden Disc Awards ceremony was a blur of flashing lights, roaring applause, and the nervous energy that permeated every corner of the massive venue. Your collaboration stage with Ateez had been a resounding success.

The ballad, initially a gentle blend of your vocals and San’s, had built in intensity, culminating in the powerful instrumental break where your guitar solo intertwined seamlessly with Ateez’s dynamic performance. The crowd had been captivated, a sea of glowing lightsticks swaying in unison.

Backstage, the atmosphere was electric with post-performance adrenaline. You exchanged exhausted but exhilarated smiles with the Ateez members, a sense of shared accomplishment hanging in the air. San’s eyes had met yours a few times amidst the congratulatory chaos, a soft, knowing smile passing between you that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

As the evening progressed, and the awards ceremony moved onto other performances and announcements, the opportunity for a private moment felt increasingly elusive. Yet, a silent understanding seemed to exist between you and San, a shared desire to acknowledge the unspoken feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface of rehearsals and late-night texts.

Finally, during a brief intermission, amidst the flurry of idols heading to the refreshment areas or making quick phone calls, San caught your eye from across the bustling backstage corridor. He offered a subtle nod towards a less-trafficked hallway leading towards the emergency exits, a silent invitation.

Your heart skipped a beat. You made a quick excuse to your manager about needing some fresh air and followed him, your steps light with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement.

The hallway was dimly lit and blessedly quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos you’d just escaped. San was leaning against the cool wall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his stylish stage jacket. He looked up as you approached, his usual playful energy replaced by a soft, almost vulnerable expression.

A comfortable silence settled between you for a moment, the unspoken tension thick in the air. You fiddled with the hem of your dress, your gaze fixed on the patterned carpet.

“That was… incredible,” you murmured, breaking the silence, the adrenaline of the performance still coursing through you. “Thank you for… for everything during rehearsals. It was amazing working with you all.”

San pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer. His gaze was intense, focused solely on you. “The pleasure was all ours, Y/N-ah. Your playing… it added a whole other dimension to the song.” He paused, then his voice softened. “But you know… tonight… when we were performing…”

You finally lifted your gaze to meet his, a question in your eyes.

You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling both inevitable and terrifying to voice, “You weren’t looking at the audience tonight, San-ssi. Not really. You were looking at me.”

A soft, almost shy smile spread across his face, a smile that reached his eyes and made your heart do that familiar little flip. He took another step closer, closing the remaining distance between you.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and husky, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah, I was. And you’re right.” He took a deep breath, as if gathering his courage. “That’s… that’s when I knew I was in trouble.”

He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your hand, sending a jolt of electricity through you. He didn’t take your hand fully, but the light touch was enough.

“From the moment I saw you on that Gayo stage,” he continued, his voice earnest and sincere, “there was something… I don’t know. Something about your passion, your talent… it just… it hit me. Hard.” He chuckled softly, a nervous sound. “And then getting to know you during rehearsals, those late-night texts… it just confirmed what I was already starting to feel.”

He finally met your gaze fully, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. “I… I really like you, [Your Stage Name]-ah. A lot. And I know this is probably crazy, especially with our careers and everything… but I wanted to be honest with you. I want to give this a real shot. If… if you’re okay with it.”

The sincerity in his voice, the gentle touch of his fingers, the vulnerability in his eyes – it all washed over you, confirming the feelings that had been quietly blossoming in your own heart. The late-night conversations, the stolen glances during rehearsals, the unexpected warmth of his attention – it had all pointed to this moment.

A soft smile bloomed on your own lips, mirroring his. You finally laced your fingers through his, your touch tentative but firm.

“San-ssi,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, “I… I like you too. A lot more than I probably should.” You took a deep breath, your gaze locked with his. “I was… I was falling too.”

A wave of relief washed over his face, his grip on your hand tightening gently. The quiet hallway suddenly felt like the only place in the world, the hushed silence amplifying the unspoken emotions that hung between you. In that dimly lit space, amidst the whirlwind of the idol world, a new chapter had quietly begun.

The initial secrecy of your relationship with San was a fragile, precious thing. It thrived in the quiet moments, in the stolen glances across crowded rooms, and the coded language of late-night texts. Small, tangible tokens of affection became your secret communication.

Notes, folded into impossibly small squares, would appear nestled amongst the strings of Shadow, San’s playful handwriting a stark contrast to the serious intent of his sweet messages. Bubble teas, delivered with a knowing smile by a staff member who’d clearly been briefed, were a small, sweet rebellion against the demands of your schedules. You, in turn, would leave little gifts in Ateez’s studio, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that was growing stronger with each passing day.

But the digital world offered no true sanctuary. The leaked photo, blurry and taken from a distance, was enough to shatter the illusion of privacy. Two figures, walking hand-in-hand under the dim glow of a streetlamp – San’s unmistakable silhouette, your smaller frame – were all it took to ignite the internet.

The explosion was immediate and brutal. Comment sections became battlegrounds, initial curiosity quickly morphing into a torrent of negativity. Accusations of using San for fame were rampant, your talent dismissed, your worth questioned. “She’s just a leech!” one comment screamed. “Riding on Ateez’s success!”

The rigid expectations of idol life fueled the fire. “A rookie dating? Unbelievable!” another user fumed. “She should be focused on her career, not boys!” The attacks grew increasingly personal, descending into cruel insults about your appearance and unfounded rumors about your character. “She’s so plain,” one anonymous commenter sneered. “No wonder she has to cling to someone famous.”

Yet, in the face of this online onslaught, your fans stood firm. They defended your talent, your hard work, your right to a private life. “Leave her alone! She’s an amazing artist!” their voices echoed across the digital space. Surprisingly, a significant number of ATINYs joined their ranks, their support for San extending to his personal happiness. “If San is happy, we should be happy for him,” one ATINY wrote, a sentiment that resonated with many.

Despite this unwavering support, the sheer volume of hate was overwhelming. The negativity seeped into the real world. Your company’s social media was flooded with abusive messages. Your manager’s phone rang non-stop with angry calls.

Then came the chilling delivery. A stark white box. Inside, funeral flowers – white chrysanthemums. A typed note, its words a venomous threat, a stark warning to stay away from San.

The sight of those flowers, a tangible manifestation of such intense hatred, sent a cold wave of fear through you. The joy of your new relationship was instantly poisoned.

San, who had been watching the online storm with growing fury, finally snapped when he learned about the funeral flowers. The image of those stark white blooms, the direct threat against you, ignited a protective rage. He couldn't stand by while you were subjected to such vicious malice.

The playful, loving man you were falling for was momentarily consumed by a fierce, unwavering determination to shield you from the darkness that had descended upon you.

The notification popped up on countless screens simultaneously: “ATEEZ San is live.” Within seconds, the number of viewers skyrocketed. Fans, still reeling from the leaked photo and the ensuing chaos, flooded the chat with questions and worried emojis. San’s lives were usually energetic, filled with playful banter and updates on Ateez’s activities. This felt different.

The camera focused on San’s face, his expression uncharacteristically serious, his eyes holding a raw intensity that made viewers instantly fall silent. He was in what looked like a quiet corner of their dorm, the usual playful clutter noticeably absent. He took a deep breath, his gaze steady and direct.

“Atinys,” he began, his voice lower than usual, carrying a weight that commanded attention. “And… everyone else who is watching.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the unseen viewers. “Over the past few days, there has been a lot of… speculation and negativity online. Regarding the recent photos that were circulated.”

He didn’t name you directly, but everyone knew who he was talking about. The chat, which had been a torrent of messages moments before, slowed to a crawl, a collective holding of breath.

“I usually try to keep my personal life private,” San continued, his voice firm. “But the level of hate and maliciousness that has been directed towards… someone I care deeply about… it cannot be ignored.”

His jaw tightened. “So, I want to be clear about a few things. Firstly, the hateful comments, the personal attacks, the threats… they have gone too far. My company, KQ Entertainment, is already collecting evidence, and if this does not stop immediately, we will be taking strict legal action against those responsible. This is not a request; it is a warning.”

A hush fell over the internet. The mention of legal action, especially from a company known for its protective stance towards its artists, was a serious deterrent.

San’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “Secondly,” he continued, his voice dropping a notch, becoming more personal. “I have seen a lot of unfair accusations being thrown around. Especially towards… her.”

He paused again, taking another deep breath. “So, let me be absolutely clear on this. She did not pursue me. She did not initiate anything. If anyone is to blame for… for us… it is me. I was the one who was captivated from the moment I saw her on stage. I was the one who sought her out. She didn’t confess; I did.”

The impact of his words was palpable. The narrative that had been so viciously constructed online, painting you as an opportunistic rookie, crumbled in an instant.

San’s expression hardened again, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness. “Finally,” he said, his voice ringing with conviction. “The person you are all attacking… she is not some fantasy you have created in your minds. She is not some character in a story. She is a real person. She has feelings, she has dreams, she has worked incredibly hard to get where she is.”

He looked directly into the camera, his gaze unwavering. “And yes,” he stated, his voice firm and resolute, each word carrying weight. “She is mine.”

The internet seemed to hold its breath. The usual rapid-fire commentary in the live chat was replaced by a stunned silence. San’s raw honesty, his direct address of the hate, and his unequivocal declaration had landed like a shockwave.

Slowly, tentatively, the tide began to turn. The sheer force of his statement, coupled with the explicit threat of legal action, had a chilling effect. The most vicious hate comments began to subside, replaced by more cautious and uncertain messages. The fear of facing legal repercussions started to outweigh the anonymity and perceived impunity of online hate.

The narrative had shifted, propelled by San’s unwavering defense of the person he loved. The silence on the internet was heavy, pregnant with the aftermath of his words, and the dawning realization that they had crossed a line they might now have to answer for.

The moment San ended the live stream, the adrenaline that had coursed through him began to recede, leaving behind a raw ache of anxiety. Had he said too much? Had he made things worse for you? The uncertainty gnawed at him as he practically sprinted out of the dorm, his members watching with a mixture of concern and understanding. He didn't offer any explanations, his only focus was getting to you.

The drive to your dorm felt like an eternity. Every red light, every slow-moving car, amplified his fear. He imagined you alone, facing the fallout of the scandal, the weight of the hate, and now, the potential repercussions of his public declaration. He cursed himself for not being there sooner, for not being able to shield you from any of it.

Finally, he reached your building, his heart pounding in his chest. He practically flew up the stairs to your floor, his knuckles rapping urgently against your door. Every second felt like a lifetime.

The door creaked open, and there you stood. Your eyes were red-rimmed, and your face was pale, but the sight of him seemed to bring a flicker of relief. Before either of you could speak, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a fierce protectiveness. He held you so close he could feel the tremor that ran through your body.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry for all of this.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne a small anchor in the storm of your emotions. Your own voice was muffled against his jacket as you finally spoke.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, San-ah,” you whispered, your words catching on a sob. “You… you didn’t cause this.”

The dam of your carefully held emotions finally broke. Tears streamed down your face, hot and heavy against his shirt. The fear, the anger, the exhaustion of the past few days – it all poured out in a torrent of silent weeping.

He held you tighter, his hand stroking your hair soothingly. He didn’t try to stop your tears; he simply held you, offering a silent reassurance, a solid presence in your moment of vulnerability. He knew words were inadequate. What you needed was comfort, understanding, and the knowledge that you weren't alone.

He held you like that for a long time, until your sobs gradually subsided, leaving behind a quiet hiccuping. He gently pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own filled with a deep tenderness. He brushed a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Are you… are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

You managed a small, shaky nod. “Just… scared.”

“I know,” he whispered, pulling you back into his embrace. “I know. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He stayed with you that night. You didn’t talk much, the silence filled with a comfortable understanding, a shared exhaustion. He held you close on your small couch, his presence a warm and reassuring weight. Sleep eventually claimed you both, a fragile peace found in each other’s arms amidst the wreckage of the scandal.

The aftermath of San’s live stream was a strange mix of relief and lingering tension. The most vitriolic hate comments online did indeed slow down, replaced by a hesitant uncertainty. The fear of legal action had cast a pall over the most aggressive antis. However, the underlying prejudice and negativity hadn’t vanished entirely.

In the days and weeks that followed, healing became a slow, deliberate process. You leaned on each other, finding strength in your shared experience. San was a constant source of support, his presence a quiet reassurance that helped to soothe your frayed nerves. You talked, tentatively at first, then more openly, sharing your fears and anxieties. He listened without judgment, offering comfort and unwavering support.

Your company, emboldened by San’s public stance and the threat of legal action, stepped up their efforts to protect you, increasing security and actively pursuing legal avenues against the most egregious offenders. The storm hadn't completely passed, but the intensity had lessened, a fragile calm beginning to settle in its wake. The healing had begun, nurtured by the quiet strength of your connection.

Eleven months. The memory of the scandal’s harsh glare had begun to soften around the edges, like a photograph left in the sun. In its place bloomed a quiet resilience, a steadfast focus on the music that truly defined you. The songs you’d poured your heart into during those months of healing, each note and lyric a testament to your journey, were finally seeing the light.

Your new album, a collection of melodies that whispered of romance and longing, resonated with a global audience in a way that surpassed all expectations. The vulnerability and emotions in your voice, the delicate arrangements, the raw honesty of your lyrics – they spoke a universal language of the heart. Fans, who had witnessed the subtle shifts in your music and your demeanor, intuitively understood the quiet inspiration woven into each track.

You watched, a profound sense of gratitude washing over you, as your album soared up international charts, your name now synonymous with a unique blend of idol charm and genuine musical artistry. The label of “rookie guitarist” had faded, replaced by the recognition of a rising star, your music captivating hearts across continents.

Throughout this whirlwind of success, San remained your unwavering anchor, your most enthusiastic supporter. His encouragement was a constant, a quiet strength that buoyed you through every demanding schedule and nerve-wracking performance. He’d be the first to text after a show, his messages a flurry of emojis and heartfelt praise. The Ateez dorm often echoed with your new tracks, his members offering good-natured teases while secretly humming along to the catchy melodies.

And when your solo concerts began, San made sure he was there. He’d often slip into the venue unnoticed, a face in the crowd, his gaze never leaving you as you commanded the stage. From the shadows, his phone would capture fleeting moments – the intense concentration etched on your face during a complex guitar solo, the radiant smile that bloomed when the audience sang your lyrics back to you, the sheer joy that radiated from you as you connected with your fans through your music. His phone gallery became a secret testament to your talent and the pride he felt.

One night, after an electrifying concert in Las Vegas, the energy between you and the roaring audience a tangible force, San felt an overwhelming wave of love and admiration. He wanted the world to know the depth of his feelings, the sheer luck he felt in having you in his life.

Back in his hotel room, the glittering cityscape spread out before him, he scrolled through the candid shots he’d taken that night. He selected a few that truly captured your essence – the focused intensity in your eyes as you played, the pure joy in your laughter as you interacted with the crowd, your silhouette a powerful presence against the vibrant stage lights.

He opened his public Instagram account, his thumb hovering over the share button. He wanted to express his feelings honestly, openly, for all to see. Finally, he typed a caption, his heart laid bare:

“Watching you shine so brightly tonight, Y/N, fills me with a happiness I can barely describe. Your talent is breathtaking, your passion is infectious, and the way you connect with everyone who hears your music is truly magical. I feel incredibly lucky, every single day, to have you in my life. You inspire me endlessly. ❤️🎸”

He attached the soft, candid photos, a public declaration of his love and admiration. The post went live, and the internet responded with an outpouring of warmth and support. Fans, who had long sensed the depth of your connection, were touched by his heartfelt words and the genuine pride that shone through.

The image of the charismatic idol so openly celebrating his partner resonated deeply, solidifying their perception of your relationship as a source of strength and inspiration. The rise of your star was no longer just your own triumph; it was a shared journey, a testament to the enduring power of love that had weathered the storm and now shone brightly for the world to witness.

The relentless pace of idol life often blurred into a continuous cycle of performances, recordings, and travel. But tucked away in the quiet corners of their shared apartment, a haven carved out amidst the chaos, existed a different reality – a space where the bright lights faded and the masks came off.

Tonight was one of those nights. You were curled up on the plush couch, a worn paperback novel open in your lap, bathed in the soft glow of a nearby lamp. San’s oversized hoodie swallowed your small frame, the sleeves pulled down over your hands. Your hair was piled messily on top of your head, secured with a stray hair tie, and your glasses rested on the bridge of your nose, your makeup-free skin looking soft and natural. You were completely absorbed in your book, oblivious to the world outside and the adoring gaze fixed upon you.

San, who had been quietly tinkering with some music equipment across the room, paused, his eyes drawn to the picture of domestic bliss you presented. A soft smile touched his lips. He reached for his phone, snapping a quick, candid photo of you, your brow furrowed in concentration as you turned a page.

Without a word, he opened his phone settings and set the photo as his wallpaper, a private reminder of the quiet joy you brought to his life. You remained engrossed in your book, completely unaware of his silent adoration and the new image gracing his phone screen.

A mischievous glint suddenly sparked in San’s eyes. He moved silently towards the couch, a playful grin spreading across his face. In one swift motion, he scooped you up in his arms, lifting you with surprising ease.

“San!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening in surprise as you were suddenly airborne. The book tumbled to the floor, landing with a soft thud.

He carried you the few steps to the bedroom, his grin widening with each flustered protest you made. “Operation: Relocate the Bookworm!” he declared in a mock-heroic voice. With a playful grunt, he gently tossed you onto the soft mattress.

You landed with a soft bounce, your glasses askew, your heart hammering in your chest. You stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathless. “Oh my god, San, I’m a virgin I don’t think you’ll fit—”

San froze mid-chuckle, his playful expression instantly morphing into one of utter shock. He stood there, a statue of bewildered surprise, his mouth slightly agape, his eyebrows practically reaching his hairline.

A beat of stunned silence hung in the air, broken only by your slightly panicked breathing. Then, a slow dawning of realization crossed San’s face, followed by a flicker of something akin to amusement struggling to break through the surprise.

“…I was trying to cuddle?” he finally managed, his voice a hesitant whisper, a bewildered question mark hanging in the air. He even gestured vaguely with his hands, as if demonstrating the concept of a platonic embrace.

Another beat of silence. Your eyes widened further, the color rising in your cheeks as the full implication of your utterly mortifying statement hit you. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

San’s eyebrows shot up even higher. “…Wait,” he said slowly, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of disbelief and dawning understanding. “You’ve never—?” He trailed off, a slow, knowing smile starting to play on his lips.

Your face flushed a deep, uncontrollable crimson. You became a flustered mess of tangled limbs and stammered denials. “NO! I mean… I’m waiting… I—ugh! This is so unbelievably embarrassing! Can we just… can we just forget I said anything?” You buried your face in the pillows, mortified beyond words.

A soft chuckle rumbled in San’s chest, a sound that held genuine amusement but also a surprising tenderness. He gently sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to carefully pull you into his arms. You kept your face hidden, your cheeks burning like twin embers.

“Hey, sunshine,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “It’s okay. Really. There’s absolutely no pressure, no expectations. You take all the time you need, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” He held you close, his arms a comforting and reassuring embrace. He kissed your temple again, a lingering, tender gesture.

A playful smirk tugged at his lips, and a mischievous glint returned to his eyes. “But,” he whispered, his voice laced with amusement, “I am definitely teasing you about this forever. You know that, right? Like, for the rest of our lives.”

You groaned into his chest, but a small, reluctant smile finally broke through your embarrassment. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare,” you mumbled, though the lack of conviction in your voice betrayed you.

“Oh, I would dare,” he said, his chuckle deepening. “In fact, I’m already planning the anniversary celebrations for ‘The Night Sunshine Thought I Wouldn’t Fit.’” He punctuated his words with a playful squeeze.

You swatted playfully at his arm, your face still buried in his chest. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” he countered, his voice full of mirth. “Especially the look on your face. Priceless. I should have taken a picture.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I still can? For posterity?” He made a mock attempt to reach for his phone.

You tightened your grip on his hoodie. “Don’t you even think about it, Choi San.”

He laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the room. “Alright, alright. My lips are sealed… for now. But just so you know, the next time we’re cuddling, and you look even remotely tense…” He trailed off suggestively, raising a playful eyebrow.

You playfully punched his arm again, a giggle escaping despite your lingering embarrassment. “You are the worst.”

“The worst… but you love me,” he finished, nuzzling his face into your hair.

You sighed contentedly, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the last vestiges of your mortification. “Unfortunately,” you mumbled into his chest.

“See? Admitted it,” he teased triumphantly. “Now, about that book you were reading… maybe we can cuddle and just read?” He emphasized the word “just” with a playful wink that you couldn’t see but could definitely feel in his tone.

You finally lifted your head, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “Maybe,” you said, leaning into him. “But if you even think about bringing up the ‘fitting’ thing again…”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t dream of it… for at least five minutes.”

You rolled your eyes, but the laughter bubbling in your chest was a testament to the comfortable, playful love that defined your quiet moments together, even the hilariously awkward ones. In the safe haven of their shared home, amidst the endless teasing and the deep, unwavering affection, their unique and tender story continued to unfold, one laugh, one cuddle, and one mortifyingly iconic misunderstanding at a time.

-- The end <33

1K notes · View notes

miyukisu · 9 months ago

Text

On Camera .ᐟ

❤︎ | You just love teasing your best friend—even better now that he's frustrated and can only see you through a screen (2.1k wc) ╰ feat. narumi gen (kn8) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 1 | kinktober masterlist

tags - best friend! narumi, virgin! narumi, reader also works in the force, cybersex, mutual masturbation, so much dirty talk, flashing, nipple play (kinda), swearing

minors do not interact

You and Narumi Gen go way back to your trainee days. Much to everyone's surprise, you two became quick friends—really good friends at that. I mean, who would've thought?

There's you—a fiery little thing, loves to poke fun and tease her friends. Then, there's Narumi Gen—bit of an oddball. Truth be told, you two had almost nothing in common, except for the fact that you were both strong.

You, Narumi, and Mina led your trainee batch; everyone looked up to you. Mina respected the two of you. Narumi, of course, couldn't accept that there was someone tailgating him at his position at the top. And you—who admired Narumi quite a lot. Although, that admiration came in the form of endless teasing. It wasn't just Narumi who was annoyed, but the rest of your fellow trainees as well. They were forced to be a witness of your 'disgusting and coy display of affection.'

Narumi said he hated it. He hated how strong you were and how you were always up in his business. Yet, you two were attached at the hip. It was a paradox, but neither of you addressed it. That was until you both graduated and got assigned at different bases which were hours apart.

Your feelings for each other were thrown into disarray. But that didn't mean you lost all correspondence.

────────────

"You look like shit."

Narumi groans from the other end of your video call. You were teasing him, but it was partially true—his eyes were sunken and a deep frown persisted on his face.

He glares intensely at you. "You wouldn't understand the burdens of the strongest kaiju killer, would you?"

His arrogance was only met by a laugh. That same laugh was one he despised, but sought after because... it just felt right. There were many things in his head that made no sense and the common denominator was you. "Why do you have to mess up my mind?" he'd often think, especially on his sleepless nights.

Narumi leans back in his chair, a pensive sigh escaping his dried lips. "But y'know... I've really been frustrated lately..." he admits.

It was a rare show of vulnerability. Most of the time, he's too prideful to admit his true feelings, but after knowing you for so long, he has learned to let his walls down sometimes. At the very least—you were nice enough to pause the teasing when it gets serious.

"Overworked huh?" you ask.

He turns his chair to face you again, tilting his head and letting out another fatigued breath. "That and life is just so BORING," he exclaims. You raise an eyebrow, anticipating a hissy fit which wasn't uncommon for this guy.

"I feel like all I do is work and work... and work. God, even the younger members of this base have more fun than I do."

A smirk crosses your lips, amused that you predicted his impending meltdown. "What? Like they don't deserve it?"

"Duh! I'm out here busting my ass off—killing kaiju left and right—and these kids are the ones having a social life?"

"When did you care about being social, Mr. Shut-in?"

He clicks his tongue. "Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second, I don't care about social relations. I am WAY above that, okay? I don't care about what they do. They can fuck like rabbits in the dorms for all I care but—"

Narumi was cut off by the sound of your boisterous laughter. As much as you tried to keep the serious facade, it was impossible... especially after figuring out his true cause of distress.

"Oh my God... don't tell me you're mad because the younger soldiers are getting more action than you?"

His face felt warm all over. Narumi didn't mean to blurt that out, but envy had been consuming him for the past few days after he had heard some younger members of the base... getting dirty in one of the dorms.

Narumi was the strongest soldier—admired and idolized by many. Yet, here he was—a raging virgin with a seemingly unreciprocated crush on you. Yes, you, but he'd rather die than admit it to your face.

He turned to look away, stunned into silence by his own actions. He was unsure of how to salvage his reputation at the moment. "That's not what I meant..."

All the arrogance had faded from his voice—replaced by a uncharacteristic softness as a result of embarrassing himself.

"Oh c'mon. There's nothing embarrassing about that. We're only human; we can feel those things, y'know?"

"Even you?" he counters.

An uneasy smile spreads across your face. "Yeah... even me."

But the look on his face says that he isn't convinced. In his head he's thinking about how impossible that is considering how attractive you are. You had to be lying about being in the same boat as him.

Though you weren't sure why you wanted him to believe you.

"I'm serious. Look, I'm in a base far away from all the people I know and the guy here aren't exactly my... cup of tea," you added.

With that, your best friend's face seemed to lighten up a bit. Part of him was glad that even someone as hot as you was in the same predicament as him, but mostly because the person he likes isn't being taken by anyone else.

As high and mighty he sees himself, he always thought himself unworthy of you. The simple fact that you were unclaimed gave him a sliver of hope.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The poor guy was confused and it was clear as day. You felt mostly responsible for it. As you prepared to say something, you crossed your arms—pushing your boobs up in the process. Wearing a tank top suddenly made you conscious of your body.

An intrusive thought invaded your brain. It was perhaps the result of you wanting to tease him, his frustration, and you being secretly pent up as well. It was a futile attempt to shake off that thought as it kept bombarding you.

You were able to hold it in, until you couldn't.

"Hey... Gen?"

"What?" he says, sounding a bit dejected by his circumstances.

You stifled a smile, knowing that he'd be thrown off by it. "Can you turn around? I wanna show you a surprise."

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical of whatever you have up your sleeve. Throughout your years together, he has learned to take your so-called sincerity with a grain of salt. But his affection towards you makes him abandon all rational thought.

"Okay?" he says, turning around in his swivel chair.

You let out a breath—giving yourself a quick mental pep talk. You quickly lifted your top, thrilled and anxious of the risk at the same time.

It was now or never. "Okay, you can look now."

Narumi quickly turns in his seat, eyes widening upon seeing a pair of tits—your tits—on his screen. He frantically looked away, covering his eyes with his hands—though he wasn't doing a good job at it.

"H-hey! What the fuck? Put those away!"

His words betrayed his actions; you could see him peeking through his fingers. You figured you were at a point of no return, so you did the only appropriate thing: squishing your boobs together for him.

Seeing your boldness, he let his hand fall—finally admiring what you displayed for him. "Seriously... what are you doing?"

"We're both frustrated, aren't we?" you ask as if your situation was ordinary.

"So what? I stare at your tits?"

"Dumbass. Is that all you do when you're frustrated? Stare at shit?"

He rolls his eyes, trying to act blasé, but there was a growing tent in his pants. "No... well, I guess I... jack off... sometimes..."

As if saying 'sometimes' softens the blow of his words.

You let go of your tits and lean back into your chair. It was entertaining—how his eyes never seem to leave your chest. Almost as if he were entranced by it.

His body moved on its own, palming the growing erection under his sweats. It ached; it was painful and it wanted relief.

With the angle of the camera, you couldn't really see him pull his cock out from under the desk, but you just knew. The momentary o-face he made presumably when the cold air of his room hit the warm and sensitive skin of his cock was a dead giveaway.

All shame was thrown out the window as he started to slowly fist his cock at the sight he could only dream of. It almost felt unreal to him that all of this was happening—you willingly showing off your tits while he jacked off and you watched.

It was exhilarating in all the best ways.

But he wasn't the only one excited. This all started because you were frustrated too. Your eyes were fixed on his face. Unlike him—who had visuals—all you could go off on was the fact that you were doing something so dirty.

A hand slipped under your shorts and beneath your panties. It was damp, of course it was. You slowly rubbed the pad of your finger against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Narumi must've noticed your own movements as well because he let out a low groan. "Fuck... that's hot."

You huff your chest out with a smirk. "Bet you're so hard right now huh?"

"Like you're not a fucking waterfall down there," he retorts.

The back and forth goes on while the two of you played with yourselves.

Eventually, the stimulation wasn't enough for you. Quickly, you pulled your hand out and popped your fingers into your mouth. He watched intently, mesmerized by you.

After sufficiently lubricating your digits, you snuck them back in and plunged two fingers into you. The pleasant intrusion had you throwing your head back against your chair and letting out a soft moan.

He rubbed himself faster than before. Narumi was desperately reaching his high, wanting to quell the ache in his cock.

"Play with your tits," he demanded.

You had heard him well enough before you got lost in the sensation. Your other hand made its way up to cup one of your breasts, slowly massaging it in a teasing manner. His jaw went slack at how easily you obeyed his orders.

The ego boost that he got while ordering around his subordinates isn't even on par with this at all.

Every time you flicked or tugged your nipple—he swore that his dick twitched. "Yeah... keep going. Are you rubbing your clit huh?"

"No..."

"Oh," he breathes, "Fucking yourself on your fingers then?"

"Y-yeah, but I can't reach deep enough," you whine.

He sucks in through his teeth. Narumi had never seen you so desperate before and awakened something primal in him.

"If that were me... you would've came minutes ago, wouldn't you?"

You nod, now wishing that it was his fingers making a mess out of you. But this was all you could get for now.

"Yeah... you're the strongest after all. You can do anything, right?"

"You fucking know it," he says almost breathlessly. Seeing that fucked out look on your face while praising him almost made him cum. But he wanted to last longer—to savor this moment which he wasn't sure if it would happen again.

"You gonna cum with me?" he asked.

He was close. Oh so painfully close. But he was a bit of a romantic in that he wanted the both of you to cum together.

You peel your back off your chair, shifting angles to coax out an orgasm and after a few moments, you do. The sensation flooded your senses, spreading warmth all throughout your body. You weren't sure if you came this hard because of having 0 action for so long or if it was because of how lewd you were with your best friend.

And as you moaned sweetly through your microphone, he let out hot ropes of cum and a breathless moan to match. He felt his abdomen cramping after unconsciously being stiff and on edge for so long.

Both of you let out labored breaths, trying to calm your racing heartbeats. It was only then your eyes met again. Though it seems like post nut clarity hit him too soon as he looked away with a bashful expression.

"Still frustrated, captain?" you teased.

He was glad you didn't call him that earlier, otherwise he would've came right on the spot. "Shut the fuck up... I am though."

"Greedy. That wasn't enough for you?"

"You mean seeing you play with yourself through a fucking monitor? Go figure."

You laugh once more and it was now mostly music to his ears. "Say—how about I visit you some time? Let me show you the real thing?"

"...Sure."

"For someone who was speaking so dirty earlier—you sure do get shy huh?"

"Don't you ever shut the fuck up?" he quips to which you laugh again.

The prospect of getting to hold you and feel you around his member was tantalizing. But for now, he'll have to deal with his cock hardening again.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note a short one... with no p in v... to start of the month

#kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 smut #narumi x reader #gen narumi #gen narumi x reader #kn8 #narumi smut #gen narumi smut #kinktober #mksu.works #mksu.ktober 24 #kinktober 2024 #kn8 x reader #kn8 smut

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ozzgin · 1 year ago

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The Mean Girl Bully Reader x Nerd Loser Yandere story sparked another red flag reader idea I had 😈

Imagine a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere. Unlike our favorite monster whore gal, and two-faced bully, this new reader insert is super vocal about her distaste in just about everything. Hardly anything is up to her “standards.” She not only complains, but whines too! 🥳

Then her poor beau weirdly loves her despite her horrid personality. I don’t know how, I’ll leave that part of imagining up to you, but there’s my request 🥺

I just like morally grey or blatant antagonistic readers. A lot of times, it’s more fun if the reader is attractive this way to a yandere, than having stereotypical good traits, like being compassionate or respectful 😔

So please, a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere?

-👘

Yandere!Politician x Bratty!Reader

Mr. Politician is a true rarity in his field of work: well-mannered, articulate, and most importantly, genuine in his dedication. He works tirelessly for change and improvement, earning the adoration of the people. There's only one exception to his loyalty: no country ever comes before his Darling. And what a demanding Darling you are... Content: female reader, older yandere, NSFW, some exhibitionism

Many would describe their interactions with Mr. Politician as follows: he's disciplined, confident and resourceful. A natural born leader, you can tell within seconds of meeting him that he is a man to rely on. He's spent many years in the game, and nothing can shake him out of his signature calmness. He keeps everything in pristine order, and nothing escapes his scrutiny.

There is, however, one quirk only few select people know about. A detail no one dares to discuss. It is common knowledge that Mr. Politician has a partner, yet the particularities of it are kept private. His beloved is a much younger girl, rotten to the core. It is unclear how this pairing came to be; the day Mr. Politician won his place in his prestigious office, he showed up with the mysterious feminine figure at his side.

What's certain and obvious to all witnesses is that his vocabulary quickly discards any meaning of refusal whenever he's dealing with you. It almost feels like the man worships you. He's never alluded to being religious, most likely because that role's been taken already. His eyes soften whenever directed at you, gleaming with raw adoration.

Splurging on expensive things is a given. Money has never been an issue for someone of his status. In fact, it's a handy and convenient tool he frequently uses to dampen the damage of your tantrums.

"Disgusting", you spit between your teeth, pushing the plate away and crossing your arms. The renowned chef of the Michelin star restaurant can only stare in horror before Mr. Politician intervenes with a chuckle. "Not feeling it today, huh?", he coos at you with loving strokes. "May I ask that you bring everything else from the menu?" he says in a sterner voice to the employee. "E-everything, Sir?" the waitstaff questions. "Well, naturally. I can't let my Darling starve."

"I'm bored. Let's leave now", you mention bluntly, standing in front of the heavily ornate table with a huff. "Are you sure, Darling? It's an important meeting for the country", Mr. Politician tries to plead. Around him, the other men sit baffled, observing the outrageous exchange. "Now!" you conclude louder. Before anyone can protest, your boyfriend stands up obediently and reaches out for your hand. "Then allow me to guide you, love."

A paradox. His earnest work is put to a halt if you require anything from him. Somehow, he has until now managed to juggle the two with little effort, and to his credit, there have been many instances requiring nerves of steel. Such as you paying him an unannounced visit to the office, and disliking the fact he was unavailable due to a meeting. So, you marched over to the window and promptly flashed your chest against the glass. Everyone else was focused on the opposing whiteboard; he was the only one who immediately noticed your arrival. "As you can see, the expected result is irresistible", he continued with a professional smile, tapping the graph with a marker.

Everyone knows Mr. Politician is fervently devoted to his principles. Take his last public speech, for example. Knuckles white from gripping the podium, he'd nearly choked during an eloquent -but passionate - conclusion. His face was red, his jaw tightened. He needed a moment to recollect himself, and the public waited with bated breaths, visibly emotional. Of course, they couldn't tell the outrageous truth: that you were shamelessly kneeling at his feet, pumping and teasing his erection until, at last, he let go all over your face.

"I wanted to see if you'd stumble on your words", you explain afterwards, wiping the sticky liquid off with a damp cloth. "That would've been unpleasant", he responds with a shiver. "It was live on national television."

He does not seem too bothered by the potential risk of being caught. Truly, his nonchalance knows no bounds when it comes to you. Or perhaps it is part of the charm. There's something quite depraved yet tempting about this perpetual contrast.

To return your daring favor, he gently places you onto his desk and spreads your legs, leaving trails of kisses along the inner surface of your thigh. A quick glance down confirms his suspicions: your bare bottom lays on top of confidential, rather important documents he dutifully signed hours ago. How thrilling of a feeling! He already smiles in anticipation, picturing himself as he hands over the folder to the oblivious party. He's not breaking any rules, now, is he? Nowhere in the book of etiquette does it state you mustn't fuck your beloved on top of official papers.

You gaze at the disheveled face underneath you. "One day I'll get you in trouble", you blurt out between whines. "Me? Oh, Darling. You know I always have everything under control." He lifts himself up and gives you a quick, desperate kiss. "Including you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #male yandere x reader #yandere politician #yandere smut #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere #older yandere

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gldrushh · 2 months ago

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GUILTY AS SIN? | MASTERPOST

"You are both haunted things. Mistakes you didn’t mean to make and aching you didn’t know how to hold. Dolour, guilt, love; they all braid themselves into something relentless. And yet, even in the ruin, you keep finding your way to each other."

⟶ PAIRING: brother in law!jungkook x widowed fem!reader

⟶ GENRE: childhood friends to lovers, forbidden love au, angst, smut, fluff

⟶ W.C: 54.5k

⟶ RATING: 18+ MINORS DNI

⟶ STATUS: finished

⟶ WARNINGS: unrequited love (at first), minor character death, mention of cancer, hospitals,deals with grief and healing, angst, so much angst, complex family relationships, childhood love, tension, pining, yearning (mostly from Mr I can not, not look at you), pathetic man in love, lovesick!jk, buisness guy!jk, emotionally constipated, college professor!oc, rich people not being casual with get togethers, namjin, yoongi mention, everybody knows but her, protective!jk, jealous!jk, smut, comes with body worship, know more in chapter inclusive ones

⟶ A/N: Hi loves! My finals have officially ended (freedom tastes so sweet), and now that I have way too much time on my hands, I decided to finally sit down and put together this little Guilty As Sin masterpost for you all! I am unbelievably thankful for all the love this fic has received. I know I've said it before but it really means so much, especially since I never imagined it. The final part is on its way very, very soon. Can't wait to share it with you 🫶💗 also requests are open for the drabbles for this couple drop in my inbox if you have any love you so much!!

MASTERLIST | WATTPAD | AO3

⤹ CHAPTER INDEX .ᐟ.ᐟ

⤹ PART 𝐈: Drowning in the Blue Nile. He sent me 'Downtown Lights'. I hadn't heard it in a while.

"You are stuck in time, and Jungkook doesn't stop running from it until he eventually does, and you learn that grief doesn’t wait for death, that love isn't all that dignifying."

W.C: 17.33K

⤹ PART 𝐈𝐈: Crashing into him tonight. He's a paradox. I'm seeing visions, am I bad?

"He remembered how to stay—and you learned that some things are worth the mess, that love sometimes comes too late, but longing never does."

W.C: 17.8k

⤹ PART 𝐈𝐈𝐈: They don't know how you've haunted me. So stunningly. I choose you and me Religiously.

"After all lessons are learned. There's only one to live out in practicality. You're not sure how good you're at it."

W.C: 20k

⤹ DRABBLES .ᐟ.ᐟ

⤹ DRABBLE #1

⤹ EXTRAS .ᐟ.ᐟ

⤹ PLAYLIST

⤹ REQUEST FOR DRABBLES

⤹ OLD EDIT & NEW

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rosepinks-world · 10 months ago

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WHEN SHE SQUEEZED ME TIGHT, SHE NEARLY BROKE MY SPINE!

logan howlett x fem reader

logan meets wades friend in the void and to his surprise and dismay she’s stronger than he is.

a/n: powers are basically my girl queen maeves

After Wade had got beaten up by every Wolverine variant he encountered he decided to call in the big guns.

“Y/n I need your help jumping into different multiverses to find a new Wolverine.”

“…Well I ain’t got nothing better to do.”

You were not a hero. You knew from a young age the world was poisoned with corruption and evil so naturally you decided to take matters into your own hands. You were unwillingly experimented on and as a result gained intensified strength and healing factors the perfect combination to become an infamous assassin- which is how you met Wade.

After a while of searching, you met the best Wolverine you could possibly find. Although hope began to fade when you and Wade watched in horror as he chugged a whole bottle of whiskey and passed out on the floor.

You easily hoisted the unconscious man onto your shoulders and carried him out of the bar letting Wade transport you back to the building that you learned was called the ‘TVA’ You threw Wolverine down harshly as Wade presented him to the man who reminded you of someone from pride and prejudice.

Mr Darcy Paradox was not happy. Was it because you had plucked the so called ‘worst’ Wolverine from a different timeline? That Wade had broken his nose? Or because you were now suddenly involved when you really shouldn’t be? Ultimately, he immediately transported the three of you to the void.

You sat criss crossed on the floor, drawing random patterns in the sand as you waited for the two men infront of you to gain consciousness.

Logan jolted up looking around erratically. He made eye contact with you and looked you up and down before he yelled a rather polite: “Who the fuck are you?”

You went to answer but Wade finally woke up.

“That’s Y/n she’s basically an off brand Wonder Woman.”

You gave Wolverine a bright innocent smile and Logan brushed off Wade’s reference with a confused look on his face. Now realising Wade was awake, he immediately stood up and attacked him, jamming his claws into his chest and hoisting him in the air. “Where the hell are we?”

“I don’t know!” Wade yelled defensively.

You sat there entertained as you let the two grown men throw each other around for a bit when Wade said something that seemed to have struck a nerve.

“Is that what you said when your world went to shit?

Your eyes widened in surprise. If this was the worst Wolverine (according to paradox) you wondered what had happened to him to make him so bad. Logan retaliated by throwing Wade through a concrete wall. He looked pretty proud of himself and you just couldn’t help yourself. You rose from your spot kicking away the sand where you had created a very artistic depiction of their fight. You cracked your knuckles and snuck up behind him reaching up to tap his shoulder. He turned around confused and sighed dissatisfied when he saw you.

“Listen bub. Just leave this between me and red I don’t want to hurt a powerless girl-“

Just as he finished his sentence, you punched him square in the face and sent him flying through the same wall that he’d sent Wade into.

Logan threw his body up in shock for what seemed to be hundredth time today. He was getting sick of these surprises. The injuries you’d caused to his body began to heal as Wade cackled at the man from his spot on the floor.

“Told ya she’s like Wonder Woman.”

Logan growled at Wade but was also in disbelief.

You had just caught him off guard. Yep, that was it.

He charged towards you with his claws ready to attack but you countered. You grabbed his claws drawing blood from your hands and threw him to the ground. He groaned and watched as the cuts you inflicted on yourself began to heal the same way his had done. You stood above him a stern look on your face.

“I’m not doing this with you Logan. Just listen to us.”

He wasn’t giving in. He grabbed your calf and pulled you to the ground, flipping you onto your back caging you in with his muscular arms.

He won.

You groaned in anger as you shoved him off of you sending him flying once again. He fell next to you on his stomach, face first into the dirt. You stood up quick before he could and placed a foot on his back and crouched down so you were closer to his face. This was how he realised the intensity of your strength. He could feel the weight of your foot and he was built of fucking adamantium.

“You gonna stop being a little bitch and listen to me or do I have to toss you around some more?”

Logan growled in a mix of anger and embarrassment. Wade had returned, finally healed, and decided to make a comment. “I’ll listen if it means you’ll toss me around.”

You rolled your eyes at Wades comment and picked up a stone throwing it at his face with your intensified strength which knocked him back onto the floor.

Still not getting an answer from the Wolverine you flipped him onto his back pinning his splayed arms to the ground as you straddled his waist. He writhed underneath you- still trying to prove his strength- but you had him, he couldn’t move.

You won.

You tilted your head at Logan and he angrily answered your question.

“I’ll listen.”

You patted the side of his face condescendingly.

“Good boy.”

You graciously unpinned him and he shoved you off, moving away from you rapidly.

He was humiliated.

You looked so ordinary. No indication of your strength and you were half his size. And here you were, tossing the big bad, made of goddamn metal Wolverine around like a fucking rag doll. He’d never met anyone that could do the things you had done to him. Wade had matched his strength when they had their little fight but you didn’t just match his strength you were exceeding it. He didn’t hold back once. He was using his full ability and it didn’t even effect you. He felt a whirlwind of emotions but one stuck out the most to him.

Lust.

He would be lying if he said this whole situation didn’t turn him on. Which didn’t go unnoticed by Wade

“You kinky son of a bitch you into a bit of masochism?” Wade asked getting dangerously close to Logan’s face.

Logan snapped out of his thoughts (unfortunately) and growled at Wade as a warning, “Shut the fuck up.”

You couldn’t help but smirk as Logan started to walk away from you two. It was kinda flattering to beat up Wolverine and also turn him on within the span of five minutes. Wade looked at you, eyes still somehow expressive through his mask.

“Oh! That was definitely a yes!”

#fem reader #x reader #hugh jackman #logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #james logan howlett #mutant reader #deadpool and wolverine #girls get it done

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cassidyconner · 11 months ago

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Deadpool and Wolverine(and the Phoenix?) 1/?

Wolverine x black!reader

(Slight spoilers)

Having a hard time finding Logan, Wade sneaks back into the TVA to get a Jean Grey variant because the Wolverine always got a thing for Jean Grey.

Except this variant unintentionally caused the destruction of several timelines.

“I know you’re probably wondering why the fuck did I come back here?” Deadpool jokes with Mr. Paradox.

She stares at the chatty red suit mercenary and she questions why did he decided to release her from her confinement. Mr Paradox didn’t say anything, merely letting the man speak his ramblings.

“Turns out finding a Wolverine is wee bit harder than I thought, so I remember ‘Hey! What attracts a Wolverine? Jean Grey!’

Mr Paradox raises his eyebrow. “And you decided this variant is the one, Mr Wilson?”

Deadpool looks from Mr Wilson to her for a moment and back to Mr Paradox. “This variant is a beautiful black queen, you racist fuck! Plus she got the red hair. Wolverine loves red hair!”

“This variant has little control of her powers. She is a destroyer of worlds.”

Deadpool throws his hands in the air. “Well duh shit for brains it’s apart of Jean Grey lore. She dies, she comes back, she dies again, she comes back-“

She watches as the TVA agent begins to surround them as Deadpool continues to ramble on.

“Hey I get you like to talk but I think we should-“

“Oops my bad. Here I am going on like a villain monologuing.”

Deadpool opens a portal and pulls her into whatever universe they entered.

#deadpool & wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverinexblackreader #black reader #hugh jackman #deadpool x reader #dark phoenix

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fandomfics · 10 months ago

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Enemies to lovers

A Tumblr Made Me Do It fic

Pairing: Wolverine/ Logan Howlett x gn reader, Deadpool/Wade Wilson x gn reader (platonic?)

Description: Wade is determined to make a real life enemies to lovers fanfic between his roommate and you.

Masterlist

⚠️Warnings⚠️

Wade being God's perfect idiot, italics are 4th wall breaks, fluff, language, Implied smut, maybe some angst.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You sit in the laundry room in the basement of your building scrolling your phone when two men enter. One is gruff, a defeated look on his face ready to turn into a scowl at a moments notice, the other is talking circles around the guy .

"And that's why we're basically like Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. I bet Paradox would agree."

"You know, half the time I have no fucking clue what you're on about Wilson."

"Well Peanut, if you'd spend more time listening to what I have to say, maybe-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there bub, you know damn well that after 20 minutes of non stop talking, my brain tunes you out. Maybe it's brain death, maybe it's-"

"Maybelline!" The man you now know as Wilson sings

"No. You know what, you can do all the laundry yourself. I think you've drained my social battery completely, and it's 9am."

"I'm proud of you for emotionally regulating and telling me how you feel!" He turns to you pointing a thumb over his shoulder as the other man leaves, a serious look shading his pepperoni speckled features "He's a social outcast, but we're working on it."

You raise your eyebrows and nod to him with tightened lips.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of your underwear, extending them out to you, "Here, I found these in his room."

Your face turns to disgust just as the buzz of the timer on the dryer goes off. You don't make further eye contact as you grab your underwear and hastily gather your clothes.

"Bye!" He wiggles his fingers at you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A week later you're at a Superbowl party one of the other residents is hosting, you sit on the couch beer in hand as you laugh at the commercials. You feel the couch sink beside you when Peanut sits down, unable to hide your look of disgust you immediately vacate your spot to stand with a friend.

"Save me." You whisper keeping an eye on Peanut. "He's a fucking creep." His face turns to a scowl, he can't hear you right?

Your gaze shifts and you see Wilson on the other side of the room seemingly talking to a wall. You can't hear what he's saying, but he's very animated. What a weird god damn couple.

At some point in the evening you learn their names are actually Wade and Logan.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Operation enemies to lovers is on track, phase one is complete. Phase two: nurture the hatred."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Eight months pass and in this time there's an ever building tension. A scowl, an insult muttered under your breath, rumors. Incident after incident inspiring further hatred in one another manages to take place in this time.

It all finally comes to a head when Logan is walking up the stairs with Wade and his laundry in tow and you are on the way down with yours. His shoulder collides with yours, sending your dirty clothes tumbling down and scattering across the steps.

"What the fuck is your problem?" An exasperated scream streams from your mouth directly at the massive man.

"My problem? You're the fucking problem here!" His retort is sharp.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Phase two complete. All going according to plan, now to give them something they can bond over. Phase three is a go.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"No, it's me! Hi, I'm the problem, it's me! I have spent months getting you to hate each other!" He mimics the most stereotypical evil villain laugh as he holds his hands out, palms up with his fingers bent to resemble claws. "You guys literally did nothing to each other and now you have a common goal probably."

"Murder?" You and Logan say in unison.

You look to him before a cackle erupts from your throat, "Sorry, I can't do this anymore Logan" You turn and jump into his arms with a smile and plant a sloppy kiss on his lips.

"No. No, no, no. This isn't how it's supposed to go!" Wade yells, "It's supposed to be a slow burn, you have to build a relationship based on your new found commonalities. We need plot development, sexual tension! We need a Honda Odyssey!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I bet you're wondering how you got here... Well, me....I'll take you back to the beginning. After-

Whoa, hold on a god damn second buttercup. First you fuck up my fanfic, now you're breaking the fourth wall? Not gonna lie, I'm kinda pumped that someone else can talk to their audience, cause boy it it lonely, but this is my thing right n-

Do you ever fucking shut up? Do you wanna see the flashback or are you just gonna keep running your mouth? Don't test me, Logan and I are great at keeping secrets. You'd never know what happened.

Okay! Shit...proceed.

A few days after the Superbowl party Logan and I ran into each other.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You stand in line at the coffee shop just down the street, staring down at your phone when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. You turn and see Logan there, immediately turning back to avoid him, scooting forward to get further away from him.

"Hey," he taps you on the shoulder, "don't I know you from somewhere?"

"What? No!"

"Yeah!" He moves until he's in your sight again, "You're the one that thinks I'm creepy." His face is unreadable.

"Okay, yeah. It is creepy to steal someone's underwear though."

"Ah, I knew it- wait, what?"

"Wade found my underwear in your room. He gave em back to me. So maybe stop being a creep and leave me alone, thanks." You move forward as the line shifts.

"Whoa," he holds his hands up in surrender, "I didn't do anything, I swear! That idiot is probably up to something."

"Look, it's fine, leave me alone and I'll forget it ever happened. Really. Just don't steal my shit again."

"Next!"

You place your order trying to ignore Logan's closeness, when you've finished and are about to get your total Logan adds his order and hands over enough cash for both.

"Least I can do. I'm sorry about my friend."

. . .

The following day you are sitting on the fire escape, people watching, when you hear a familiar voice.

"It's called an enemies to lovers trope. The name really says it all. I just have to intervene here and there, give back stolen underwear and say they're from him, start some rumors. Get em to really hate each other. Then, I'll reveal my devious plot and they'll have no choice but to join forces and turn against me. Through the power of working towards a common goal over time they'll fall in love and I'll have the perfect fanfic."

"I thought you said we couldn't build a snowman you lying motherfucker. I'm outta here." You hear the other voice trail off in a string of curses.

You sit there dumbfounded, Logan wasn't lying. His idiot roommate was plotting...a fanfic?

. . .

The following week you are in the laundry room again and Logan appears, "oh, sorry. I'll come back later." He turns to leave.

"Wait!" He faces you again with a puzzled expression, "I heard Wade talking the other day from the fire escape. You were right. He's up to something." You relay the conversation and have to stop yourself from laughing as Logan's eyes roll so hard you think they might disappear into his skull.

"I have an idea though." The mischief is clear in your eyes, "I say we play along, then when the time comes, we ruin the end of the story. Do something totally different than what he's going for."

Logan smiles, something you haven't seen before, it's disarming how gorgeous it is. "Oh, that's perfect, he'll fucking hate that." He laughs and your stomach flutters a bit. Now that you're really seeing him, you want to get to know the real him.

"We should meet up often, make plans on how we're gonna do this." You say, hoping you're not too obvious.

"I know the perfect place."

. . .

The library is small, the only few tables occupied by studying youth. you and Logan find a spot in the deserted self help corner and sit on the floor across from one another, backs leaning up against the shelves.

"So," He whispers with a smile, "what's the plan?"

"We play along. He's obviously gonna try desperately to make us hate each other, so we go along with it."

The two of you whisper back and forth for a while about different ways you can pretend to hate each other and things you could do. After a time the conversation turns.

"You're pretty new to the building right?" His eyes meet yours across the isle.

"Yeah, I moved in last month. Not the worst so far." You shrug your shoulders and he chuckles.

"You from around here?"

"No, I needed a change of scenery. My friend lives in the building and told me about an opening. Took a chance to get away from my hometown. You?"

"No," a bit of pain briefly crosses his features, quick enough that you almost miss it. "Wade brought me here, gave me a home when I didn't really have one."

"Oh, I wouldn't have expected that..." You trail off.

"Yeah, he's a batshit crazy motor mouth, but he's a good friend. Mostly."

. . .

Every week you and Logan meet at the library, occupying the same spot across from each other, briefly go over plans before managing to drift to other conversations. Sometimes it's random stories from your pasts, other times it's deeper, sometimes it's just talking about your week. You grow closer, building a friendship in this time.

"Come watch this!" You say as you hold your phone in front of you. He scoots to sit next to you, his hand brushing yours as you hand him an ear bud. He leans into you slightly as you watch a video of Deadpool Fails. He's revealed his and Wades abilities long before this and you know he'll love watching the man fail over and over.

He tries his best to keep quiet, but one clip in particular causes a snort laugh to erupt from him and you quickly slap your hand over his mouth as you giggle yourself.

"You're gonna get us kicked out!" He continues to laugh, his face going red, it's infectious and you're sent into a fit of laughter until you're grabbing your stomach.

A shadow suddenly eclipses the two of you and when your eyes raise to see the librarian, you quiet immediately. A slap to Logan's arm jolts him out of his laughter and he finally looks up to the stern woman

"Sorry." You mumble with a look of shame.

"Don't let it happen again." For some reason this sends you into another fit of laughter and Logan follows suit. You're kicked out of the library and find yourselves sitting on a bench until the laughter dies down.

"Sorry sweetheart. Guess we'll have to find a new place to meet." He says with a chuckle. Your heart leaps a bit at the nickname, you've certainly developed a crush on him over the last five months since this all started, but you've done your best to keep it in check.

Blush rises in your cheeks and you look away, "Guess so. I uh...gotta get home, text me if you can think of another place!" You give a quick smile without meeting his eyes before you rush away.

. . .

Logan: found a place, I'll send the address, 7pm tomorrow. Wear something nice.

Me: What? Why?

Logan: Trust me, it's a place he'd never go near. It's ducking perfect.

Logan: ducking

Logan: DUCKING

Logan: Damn it. F U C K I N G.

Me: 😂

. . .

You take your time getting yourself ready, you look damn good and you know it. You arrive at the address and find a cozy restaurant, Somewhere between a diner and fine dining. Candles on every table, soft lighting, wine being poured, definitely not what you expected from Logan. As you scan the place you see him, he stands and smiles with a shy wave.

You've never seen him dressed like this, slacks, white buttondown with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, top two buttons undone. You pause for a moment until you realize you're staring and move towards him sheepishly.

"You look amazing." He says with a soft smile and a gentle kiss on your cheek.

"You look awfully handsome yourself."

He pulls your chair out for you and as soon as you sit he starts to speak. "I hope this is okay. If it's too weird we can find somewhere else-"

"No, this is nice. Is this..." You trail off trying to find a tactful way to figure out what's going on here. "Is this a date?"

His eyes widen and his cheeks flush, "Well, I...uh," he rubs the back of his neck. "I just thought you deserved something nice. Do you... want it to be a date?"

You waver a bit, unsure what will happen if you answer truthfully, so you take caution with your approach, "I wouldn't mind if it was, but only if that's what you want."

He smiles brightly, "Yeah Sweetheart, that's what I want."

The conversation flows freely as it always does with him, you don't talk about Wade or his crazy shit, you don't talk about your plans, you just talk about your own lives. The conversation is deeper than those you've had before, you're getting to know each other on a more intimate level, opening up. Before you know it the restaurant is empty with the exception of the wait staff.

"I don't want this to end," you say unintentionally quiet in your confession, "not yet."

He cups your face in his hand and brushes his thumb over your cheek, searching your eyes. "It doesn't have to."

. . .

A bench on a rooftop overlooking the nighttime city skyline beckons you as you emerge from the stairwell. You sit close to Logan deep in thought, watching the city pass beneath you. A chill runs down your spine and he opens his arms up, offering his warmth. You lean into his side deeply inhaling his musky scent as he rests his arm over your shoulder.

"Whacha thinking about?" He breaks the comfortable silence.

"Just how nice this is," you reply looking up into his eyes from where your head rests on his shoulder, "thank you."

He gives you a warm smile, "Of course." He rests his head against yours and squeezes you a bit tighter.

. . .

The next day a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a box of your favorite candy is delivered to your apartment, your heart leaps as you read the note, "Thinking of you -Logan"

You swoon like the main character of a romcom walking on cloud nine after a wonderful interaction with their love interest.

. . .

Logan: Wade's away this week on a mission... Can I come see you?

Me: I would like that 😊

. . .

The text had come a few days later and you were overjoyed at the prospect of spending time with him without having to sneak around. A knock on the door brought you out of your daydream and you rush to open it, smiling widely.

"Come in," you gesture for him to enter, "would you like something to drink?"

"Actually," he pulls a bag from behind his back, "I brought us drinks, candy, and popcorn. I thought we could have a movie night."

"Yes! There's a new movie on Netflix I've been dying to watch!" You take him to the kitchen and prepare the popcorn and cups of ice before sitting on the couch and starting the movie.

When you sit a little further away than he'd like he wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer, "This okay?"

All you can manage is a nod as you snuggle into him.

You wake up with your head in his lap, he's gently stroking your hair, the screen of the TV is black, and he's scrolling through his phone.

"Hey sleepyhead." He says gently smiling down at you as he puts his phone down.

"Fuck. I missed the whole movie didn't I? I'm sorry..."

"Hey, don't worry about it... and I turned it off as soon as you fell asleep."

"How are you so fucking thoughtful and considerate?" You blurt out as you sit up.

"It's easy with you. I just...want you to be happy, always."

You stare into his eyes, the air between you crackles with the electricity of your desire. He pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, still keeping your gaze.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nod and close the distance, a tender kiss that sends waves of butterflies through you, you want to stay here forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, desperately keeping him close as though he might disappear completely if you aren't there to anchor him.

When you finally pull away he cups your face in his, "Wade is an absolute idiot, but he has made me a better man. A man who would do anything to protect the people he loves. I'm lucky to add you to that list."

"You...?"

"Yeah sweetheart, I love you." He smiles softly, "you don't have to say it back, I just wanted-"

"I love you too." You press your lips to his again, he deepens the kiss and before either of you know it you're in a frenzy. You stand and grab his hand leading him to the bedroom.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

And fade to black.

WAIT, you can't just stop before you get to the juicy stuff. You ruined my fanfic! I spent eight months on this, I demand porn with a plot! This is Tumblr, the people are gonna demand a part two at least, and when the writer inevitably gives the people what they want, I'll be there!

You haven't heard the last of user xXxBigDaddyDeadpoolxXx!

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margotw10bis · 9 months ago

Text

The Place Before the Darkness.JJK [m] Part 1

husband!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: angst; fluff; smut; attempt of a thriller

Words: 18.4k

Synopsis: It was love at first sight with your husband but when you find a secret phone in Jungkook's office, everything shatters as you suspect him to have an affair. However, maybe he has deeper secrets...

Warnings: (a lot of) crying (infidelity doubts, lies); violence; unprotected sex; shower sex; oral sex (f. receiving); fingering; inspired by Mr. & Mrs. Smith and Killers

4 Years Ago

You can’t believe Mi-yeon is getting married! You want to laugh when you remember how many times she told you that marriage wasn’t for her. But there she is. And you would have never guessed that she was this romantic — or maybe it’s because of Hoseok, her soon-to-be-husband.

As they wanted to do something special, they have invited their closest friends to Bali. The wedding will take place tomorrow in front of a beautiful beach, as perfect as the numerous romcom you’ve watched. It’s really romantic and you can’t wait to get married too because, even if you don’t really want to admit it, your hopelessly romantic weak heart is all about love and weddings and cheesy things couples can do. Well, you have to find a man first, which is not easy.

After all, you only had one boyfriend, during college. You don’t know much about love despite the hundreds of romance books you have read. But even you know that Prince Charming doesn’t exist… With that thought in mind you sigh and sip on your — delicious — cocktail, hoping at least one day you’ll meet someone kind enough. You don’t need someone extraordinary who has lived a hundred lives before. Just someone who is honest with you, that would be more than enough for you.

But for now, the bar of the hotel is great, just like the rest of the facilities, especially to forget how awfully lonely you are while your friend is getting married. You look around and you try to spot your friends, before you remember that they wanted to scuba dive. Too dangerous for you, you rather much enjoy tanning on the beach. Maybe you’re boring, but it’s a too stupid way to die in your opinion. And what about the sharks? The jellyfishes? The sea urchins? No thanks. A good book is funnier — and safer.

Yet, the relaxing time you were expecting is fading away when a man takes the seat next to yours at the bar. Your breath hitches because damn! He looks good. You are not sure you’ve ever seen a man this handsome. He is tall and his black hair is shining. He looks casual with his Hawaiian shirt and his shorts. Okay, he must be very muscular because you can see how the fabric of his bottom held his thighs. And what is it on his right arm? Tattoos? It’s the first time you get to see so much ink in real life. It’s scary but… sexy. All of the stranger seems sexy. Especially his charming smile.

You’re having a hard time not staring at him but what can you say? It’s not easy taking your eyes off of him. He is attractive, too attractive. It’s in moments like that you wish you had more confidence so you could talk to him but at the same time, would someone like him be interested in you? You have no doubts he just has to clap his fingers for a dozen of women to be naked in front of him. And yet…

"No scuba diving?" He asks you

You are surprised — it’s an understatement — because how the hell does he know that?! But you can’t say anything when you meet his eyes. They are so black, it’s intimidating but there is a sparkle of playfulness in them. This man is a paradox: all seems mysterious and comfortable at the same time; cold and warm; distant and kind. However, a weird feeling embraces you, just like you’ve known him all your life. Is it… love at first sight? You’ve read about it, you’ve seen it in movies but experiencing it… Wow, it’s an all other level.

"I saw you and your group of friends yesterday at the restaurant, and this morning, I spotted them heading to the boats" He explains — your shock must have been well visible

"You have a great memory to remember so much about strangers" You joke

“Selective memory in fact” He corrects with a oh-so-charming smile and you literally feel your heart melt and your cheeks burn “And I’m particularly attentive to beautiful women"

This sentence could make you ill-at-ease, it’s such a playboy thing. But the way he is sipping on his fresh beer so casually and his eyes… So honest. You must be crazy because you feel like he hasn’t said those words to anyone else but you which it’s impossible. Like you said before: dozens of women must be at his feet.

"I—It’s—"

Okay, it’s so embarrassing to stutter in front of him, especially when he seems to be confident — but could he not when he looks this good. You can’t do otherwise and it doesn’t help that you are blushing.

"I’m Jungkook" He introduces himself, holding his hand to you

You take it, and gosh… How can holding someone’s hand feel so right? If those stupid books are right, maybe it’s what love at first sight is.

"Y/N" You gulp

Sweet smiles are exchanged, someway conveying silent promises and confessions. A weird sensation. A good sensation. Jungkook seems to be everything you’re looking for in a man and it’s quite overwhelming. Unfortunately for you, when you’re stressed, you talk nonsense and you don’t have time to shut your mouth.

“I’m afraid of being strangled by an octopus” You say out of the blunt to get back to his first words and you watch in horror surprise lightens up his face “That’s why I didn’t go scuba diving. But I’m okay, I read. Maybe it doesn’t look too exciting to read while you’re in Bali but I really enjoy it, especially this book about a princess who escapes the castle to live with the squire but it turns out that he lied to her and he is actually the last son of the foe kingdom and he had a mission of kidnapping the princess. It’s not as stupid as it sounds. I know that my friend Mi-yeon (she is getting married tomorrow) says that I should stop reading those novels but I think dreaming a little is not that bad, right? Do you dream?” You know how stupid you sound and you want to slap you in the face

Jungkook eases you with his sweet smile and you fall even more for him.

"Can I invite you for diner?" He asks and you have to pinch your arm to make sure you are not dreaming

Is this handsome guy seriously asking you out? You? You have seen beautiful women since you arrived, way more beautiful than you so why? Maybe it’s a mistake but this mistake might be your only chance to spend time with Jungkook. You just can’t take your eyes off of him and you don’t care if it lasts one night, one week or only one second. You know it deep down, he already has all of your heart and it only took him one minute.

Later that day, you took extra care on your makeup and you choose one of your favorite dresses, a satin white dress with thin straps — thanks to your light tan, the color fits better than usual. You even had to call Mi-yeon for advice about your hair: letting it loose or tightening it into a bun? Your friend choose the bun — the argument about avoiding hair in your mouth during diner convinced you.

You really, really hope that your makeup conceals your blushed cheeks — it can’t do anything for your pounding heart. It’s actually strange because you do feel stressed about this date — you can’t believe it’s a date! — but you also feel like it’s the most natural thing ever to meet Jungkook.

A wave of comfort wraps around you when you spot Jungkook at one of the tables of the walls-free restaurant. The setting is really romantic. The only lighting comes from a multitude of candles, warmly licking the wooden columns. The structure is framed with light and white curtains flying around with the light breeze coming from the near beach.

Yes, it’s gorgeous but you can’t enjoy it. All you can see is him. Just him with his black hair styled backwards, but it’s natural since a lock of hair falls on his forehead. He is perfect in his white shirt that holds his brawn chest. And his damn smile… It could kill. The way Jungkook is looking at you and is smiling at you, it makes your heart stops — or pounds at a crazy pace, you don’t know.

On the other hand, Jungkook’s heart is not better. You look stunning. The most beautiful woman he has ever seen. You are breathtaking in your dress and he wonders why he is feeling like that. Fuck, he even doesn’t know what love is and yet, it can’t be anything else than that. One look, it’s all it took for him to love you. All he has believed in, all he has thought was the truth, all he has planned for his future, it’s all shattered. Maybe it should scare him but it doesn’t. He can’t be scared when he has met you, when you exist and you are in front of him. He swears that, if you are crazy enough to want him, you will wear a white dress soon, on your wedding day with him.

"You are beautiful" He whispers, more for himself and for you, as he stands up to welcome you

"You look great too" You reply with blushed cheeks

You sit down and talk. All night long and it feels like ten minutes. You never get out of topics and the more he talks, the more you love him. He tells you that he is an architect, that he is actually here for work and that he is quite lonely — but he realized it only recently. You also learn that he lives in Seoul, like you, which makes you think that you could see each other when you both come back to South Korea.

Despite the night going well, you can’t help but blathering on stupid and weird things like your neighbor’s dog that ate a pigeon once or the time the cashier wanted to sell you marijuana in the supermarket because you ‘looked miserable’ — to be fair it was just after your breakup but you left that part aside for Jungkook. Rather than looking at you like you were crazy, Jungkook seems charmed by your rambling. Maybe because he knows that it’s caused by your attraction to him.

"Well" You say as Jungkook is walking you to your room "It was very nice"

Your hands brush from time to time and even if it’s a light touch, it electrifies you. You wish you can touch him more but you are too shy to do the first move. Jungkook has been sweet but he is so perfect that you wonder if you are good enough for him — funny when he wonders if he is good enough for you.

You are disappointed when you reach your door. You should have lied and said that your room was on the other side of the hotel complex. You sigh and grab the magnetic card unlocking the door. The night is over and you are sad. You wish it could never end because you don’t want to let him go. You want to stay with him tonight, all nights actually. You have known him for a few hours but you don’t know how life is without him anymore. It’s crazy.

"It was" Jungkook says softly

Should you go? Yes, you should but you don’t want to. You ask your brain to look for anything to keep talking to him. Nothing comes to your mind so you stare at him, eyes locked into his beautiful, shining doe eyes.

"I want to kiss you, if you allow me to"

You can’t believe that he says that so casually while your hearts is jumping in your chest. Is he used to this? Because you are certainly not. But who are you to deny him?

So you nod and your pounding heart echoes in your ears when Jungkook steps closer. He gently cups your face and ever so slowly, presses his lips on yours. It’s sweet and kind and romantic and perfect. The best kiss ever, so you naturally want to feel him more. You wrap your arms around his neck and invite him to kiss you deeper.

Despite being glued to each other, Jungkook doesn’t want to push too much. Especially because he doesn’t want it to be the only time he kisses you. He wants to do it everyday, for the rest of his life. If he didn’t know it before, your mouth on his assures it.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours while you are catching your breath. Both the kiss and the explosion of emotions that it brings left you breathless. You are in trouble: you are irreparably in love with him.

"Y/N" God, your name has never sounded so good "Can I take you on a date? When we are in Korea?"

—————

“Can I call you back?” You ask through the phone but actually don’t wait for any answer and just hang up

You were searching some documents for the assurance in your husband’s office when you found it. A phone. At first, you tried to look for some rational explanations of why your husband would hide a phone in his desk. It could be an old devise but you have never seen it before. Moreover, it’s quite a recent phone. So, your next thought was that it could be a professional phone. And you wished it was. But it wasn’t.

The latest text, from yesterday, was an address. A hotel address. It was an appointment for tomorrow. Your heart sunk as you went through the convo: over and over again, the same hotel room with different dates and hours. For four months.

So this is it. Your husband is cheating on you. You can’t stop your crying because the pain in your chest is just unbearable. You have to open the window because you can’t breathe, your lungs seem too small all of the sudden. You thought that Jungkook was the love of your life when you married him three years ago. And even now, with your broken heart, you still believe he is. You haven’t thought about living without him, it can’t be possible.

When you hear the front door and your husband asking if you’re home, your sobbing gets lourder and you have to put your hand on your mouth to mutter it. The steps you know so well — just like you thought you knew your husband so well — are getting closer and closer. Jungkook calls you again but doesn’t receive any answer. He heads to your bedroom but finds it empty. He frowns, growing worried because he knows you should be home. Then, he hears some fainted noises coming from the corridor. He concentrates and spots that the noises are located in his office. When he pushed the door, he didn’t think he would find you crying in his leather chair. The biggest tears he has seen since he knows you.

“What’s going on”’ He hastily asks you, panicked that you might be hurt

And you are indeed. You are feeling so much pain that you wonder how your heart hasn’t stop beating of how squeezed it has become.

“I can’t believe it…” You whisper, more to yourself than to him

Once again, your husband frowns but only a second. Because his big does eyes widen at the sight of his secret device in your shaky hand. All his blood is drained from his face, making his skin look pale. He gulps but his throat feels as dry as a desert.

“I can explain” He starts but his voice is already broken

Why do his words hurt even more? They sound so much like what you have witnessed in movies. You close your eyes in a ridiculous attempt to prevent the hurricane from happening but it’s already too late. It’s four months too late.

“Y/N, I swear, it’s not what you think” Jungkook beseeches as he steps closer but you hold your hand up to stop him

“So you don’t go to those rendezvous in that hotel?” You ask

Your voice has some hope in it, like you still think there is a tiny chance that your husband is not cheating on you. But a single glance at him and at his guilty face is enough to definitely break this hope. How can you know him this much and not at all at the same time?

Your crying breaks the heavy silence around you. Every single tear is killing Jungkook. He doesn’t know what to do but he absolutely hates seeing you suffer. And he hates even more being the reason of it. He feels all your pain like his own. He feels your heart breaking in his own chest. Three years ago, at your wedding, he promised you to punish all the persons who would hurt you. Today, he might have to punish himself.

“Please, believe me, I’m not cheating on you” He begs

He wishes you’d look him in the eyes so you could see how much he loves you but you can’t. You can’t look at him without feeling like dying. Your soul is being torn apart so roughly — mainly because you haven’t imagined that Jungkook would ever do that. Your husband is perfect. When you talk with your friends and tell them about the flowers he bought you, or the restaurant he took you just because you said that you saw an ad on social medias, they always envy you to have such a caring and loving husband. When your friends cry about being cheated on, you always tell yourself that you’re lucky that you won’t ever live that.

And here you are.

“So what are those messages, Jungkook? Who asks you to meet at the hotel?!” You ask and yell and cry at the same time

You are confused, angry and sad. You don’t know what to think and Jungkook either. He doesn’t say anything that it’s driving you crazy. Why doesn’t he deny? Why doesn’t he say that all those texts are a misdial? Why doesn’t he tell you he loves you?

Every second of silence takes away a piece of your broken heart.

"I’m sorry…” Jungkook finally says

It’s the worst thing he could say. Because now it’s real. It’s too much real. Someway, you wish he has lied, denied anything and told you that you misread the situation. Maybe you could have gone on with your life. But he said he’s sorry. So everything is true. Now, you can’t hold on an irrational explanation because it’s fucking true!

You run pass though him and it hurts a little more that Jungkook doesn’t even try to stop you. You leave your house like you wish you could leave the pain behind.

You spend the night at your friend’s. You try to cry yourself to sleep but you can’t. The pain in your chest keeps you up all night and it gets worse every time you imagine your husband and an unknown woman in this hotel room. Aren’t you enough? Did you change? Did you get boring? You didn’t even see the signs, Jungkook seemed as happy as ever. Your sex life didn’t decrease so you wonder if it has ever been enough for your husband. You try to look at the past four months and spot out the little changes but everything was the same! Maybe even better. Jungkook is such a great actor because you would have never imagined he would have a double life.

—————

You stare at the ceiling of your friend’s guest room. You want to empty your mind but your heart is too painful to ignore and it reminds you of Jungkook. Ever since you have met him, he has filled your soul, brain and heart. It’s just impossible not to. But right now, you wish you could just forget everything, especially the day you saw him for the first time, four years ago.

You did spend the night crying but you also thought. Maybe your marriage is not over. Maybe there is still hope. You could forgive Jungkook. You could if it means you’ll get to be with him. You’ll talk about it, he’ll promise to not see her ever again and you’ll push this painful episode aside so you can follow up with your life together as before.

But before that, you have to make sure that Jungkook won’t attend his date today. You saw on the phone yesterday that he was expected at six pm in the same hotel. He is not stupid enough to go after that his wife found out about his affair, right? If he loves you, and he does, he won’t go. Right?

But if he does go, then it means there is no hope left. It’s all over. And you’re not sure you’ll survive it.

So you don’t really know why you’re in the hotel lobby. You keep telling yourself that Jungkook loves you and that you trust him but you’re still here. You have never been more stressed in all your 28 year-old life. You look at your watch every ten seconds. You almost sigh in relief when 6:01 is written on your wrist, like you find yourself so damn stupid to have thought that Jungkook would show up.

But he does. As he walks toward the elevator, looking as good as ever in his black suit, he tramples on your poor heart at each step. He enters the elevator and disappears behind the metallic doors. It’s all over. Jungkook is flying away with your heart, your love, your soul and pretty much your whole life. It’s so painful that you feel empty. It’s a dull ache in your whole body and there is nothing you can do about it. Your husband didn’t chose you while you would have chosen him a hundred times.

Your body moves automatically as you are heading to the bar of the hotel. You hate that he has chosen such a luxury hotel to cheat on you. Does she deserve all this? You hate her. You hate him. You hate how he hurt you. But mostly, you hate that you don’t hate him. Even after breaking your heart, you still love him.

When the bartender hands you your order, you scoff. You didn’t even realized that you ordered a wapplesky, a apple and whiskey cocktail, your husband’s favorite. Your eyes water when you take your first sip and you wish you could blame it on the bitterness of the alcohol.

You feel the presence of a man next to you. At first, you thought it was Jungkook because of the black suit the man is wearing. But it’s not him. However, the man is really, really handsome. His brown hair matches his brown eyes. His nose is straight and flawless. And you can tell he is muscular underneath his clothes. Yes, he looks really good but you can’t help comparing him with Jungkook and he doesn’t stand a chance. Will you think that about all the men you’ll meet? If so, maybe you won’t ever be able to love again.

You swallow the rest of your glass and the stranger takes the opportunity to talk to you, or to flirt with you actually.

“Can I get you another one?" His voice is charming, soft and deep

You do appreciate how soothing it is. But should you accept the offer? Well, Jungkook is probably fucking another woman right now so…

“Yes, thank you” You try to sound cheerful

“Jackson, by the way” The man introduces himself and you do the same

You both start talking and oddly enough, you don’t feel as bad as before. Maybe your pride gets a little restored at the thought of flirting with the another man when your husband has been cheating on you for four months.

“So, you’re visiting Seoul?” Jackson asks at some point

“No, actually I live here”

“So, what are you doing in a hotel?” His question is nothing but curiosity but it brings a huge weight into your chest that makes you wince

Should you tell him? Won’t you be embarrassed? Maybe but your whole life is already upside down so it can’t be worse.

"Actually, my husband is here” Instinctively, Jackson’s eyes land on your ring that he hasn’t noticed before, way too distract by your beautiful yet sad eyes “With another woman”

Jackson is taken aback, not sure what to say but you help him by asking:

“What am I doing here when he obviously doesn’t care about me?”

Your voice breaks at the end of your sentence. Your tears escape your eyes. You honestly don’t believe that the pain will ever go away, it’s just too much.

“It’s never stupid to do things out of love”

You look up at Jackson, surprised by his comforting words. He truly looks like a good man. His warm hand gently squeezes yours on the desk bar and he gives you a soft smile. He does look cute like that, completely at the opposite of the sexy and charismatic man he is when his handsome face is neutral.

You squeeze his hand back to silently thank him and his thumb caresses the back of your hand. You almost moan when it takes off the unbearable weight off of your chest for a second. For all the people around you, your interaction seems intimate. You are indeed pretty close to each other and the tenderness in your both eyes could be interpreted as a heavy flirting. Your touching hands are puzzling.

Especially for Jungkook. As he walked through the lobby, he spotted you in the open bar. He can’t be wrong, he‘d recognize you in a thousand-people crowd. But what the hell are you doing with this man? Who is he? And why is he fucking holding your hand? Jungkook feels his jaws and fists clench as he walks to you with a dark and dangerous aura around him. He swears, he could kill the man touching his wife.

Jungkook moves quickly and precisely as he grabs Jackson’s arm and twists it against his back in an professional armlock. Jackson hisses in pain and you gasp in shock.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Jungkook barks

“Jungkook, stop! Are you crazy?!” You shout as you try to push him

Your strength is nothing compared to your husband’s but as he feels your hands on his tensed forearms, he releases his hold and frees the man.

“Oh my god, Jackson, are you okay?” You ask, worried, which only makes Jungkook angrier — why do you care about that guy in the first place?

“Yeah, don’t worry” Jackson reassures you while massaging his sore arm and shoulder

“What is wrong with you?” You yell at your husband

“Am I supposed to let another man touch and flirt with my wife?” Jungkook talks back, clearly upset

You can’t believe his audacity! He has been cheating on you for four months and even after you found out, he went to see his mistress! You scoff, not even caring to respond. He is pathetic. You grab your bag and Jackson’s hand before heading towards the elevators. Both men follow you, completely flabbergasted by your actions.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jungkook asks but you ignore him

“You have a room right?” You talk to Jackson and he nods “Then, we’re going to have sex”

The doors of the elevators open and you push Jackson inside but your husband gets in too.

“What the fuck?!” He yells and you ignore him once again “You’re not doing that!”

“Why not? Didn’t you do it just now?” You reply

“No, I didn’t! I told you I didn’t cheat on you"

“So why are you here ?!” You yell

“I can’t tell you but I swear, I’m not cheating on—“

Jungkook stops talking as he perceives a movement at his peripheral vision. Jackson has pulled a shiv out of his inside suit pocket and Jungkook blocks it only a inch away from his stomach. However, he receives a punch in his ribs that makes him wince but he doesn’t have time to think and roughly pushes Jackson again the wall. The impact is so violent that the elevator shakes a little and that Jackson drops his knife. Jungkook’s body immediately tensed in the small room and his eyes darken, just like he was ready to kill someone.

Jackson fights back and punches Jungkook in the face while your husband crushes Jackson’s ankle with his foot. The brown haired man falls down with a growl, which allows Jungkook to take the avantage. He throws numerous punches in Jackson’s face until his nose and lips bleed, mixing with his own cut knuckles. The last remained forces abandon Jackson who faints.

Jungkook is panting and you’re just shocked about what just happened. Everything was so fast and you’ve never seen your husband like that. He is sweet and he doesn’t even want to kill a spider! And now he is punching strangers?! What the hell is going on?!

You’re pressed against a corner and your husband immediately walks to you, his eyes already softer when they land on you.

“Are you hurt, baby?” He asks, quite panicked

“Is-is he dead?” Your voice, just like your whole body, is shaky

"No, just unconscious” Jungkook says nonchalantly, he doesn’t give a shit about Jackson, he only cares about you “Did he hurt you? Tell me, I swear I’ll kill him”

When you shake your head, unable to make any sound, your husband hugs you. Fuck, he was so afraid to hurt you during the fight. He acted by instinct but his mind was worried sick about you. He actually hates that you have witnessed this side of him. Jungkook’s dark part is, in fact, really dark and violent but it’s not the real him. The real him is the one he is with you: a loving husband.

When he is sure you’re okay, physically at least, he knees down to rummage in Jackson’s pockets. He almost shouts of joy when he finds his key room. At that exact moment, the elevator doors opens and he grabs your hand to guide you towards the room. He presses the magnetic card on the knob and carefully enters. He makes sure it’s empty before pulling you in.

“Can you explain what’s going on?”

“Not right now, but I promise” Jungkook kisses your forehead and starts searching the room. He checks the desk, the wardrobe, the bed, the bathroom but, as he expected, no clue. He sighs and runs his bruised inked hand in his raven hair.

“What are you looking for?” You ask

“A phone. Or computer, something electronic” He answers as he turns around to think about where it could be

“Did you check the headboard?”

Your husband looks at you with awe eyes and he swears he loves you even more. He listens to you and, as always, you were right. A phone was indeed hidden behind the headboard. He makes sure to turn it off and you leave the room.

—————

"Can you explain now?" You grow frustrated in Jungkook’s car

Your husband sighs and makes his raven hair messier with his hand. You know it means he is deeply in thoughts. Several reasons explain why Jungkook has secrets: first, it’s the normal protocol. Second, he loves you and he is afraid you’ll see him differently. He is afraid you’ll run away. However, since you found out his phone and believed he was cheating on you, he has already begun to loose you. The night you spent at your friend’s almost killed him.

"I can’t tell you much" He finally says

"Why did you punch Jackson? And where did you learn to fight like that? Did you take boxing classes?" Your questions are as confused as you are

Your husband was a completely different person in this elevator and you’re not sure you liked who he was. You fell in love with an ever so sweet man who told you that he didn’t like conflict and who always stops people from fighting when they’re angry. And now he is throwing punches at strangers?

"Didn’t you see he was trying to kill me? What was I supposed to do?"

"But why would he do that?! It doesn’t make any sense, you’re a good husband, a good neighbor and a good architect"

You watch Jungkook’s fists tighten on the wheel, the knuckles turning white despite their bruises. His gaze is desperately on the road and you know he is avoiding your eyes. Something’s off…

"You’re… an architect, right?" Your voice is low and unsure, almost a whisper

Jungkook’s silence is a confession.

"Oh my god! You lied to me"

"I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell you the truth" He tries to take your hand but you resist

"Stop the car"

"No, listen to me—"

"Stop the freaking car!" You yell

"We’re on the fucking freeway, I can’t stop the car!"

You can’t believe that Jungkook lied to you about his job! For four years you’ve known him! How could he do that? He goes to work every morning and you ask about his day and he tells you lies every single day!

"So, what’s your job?" You question, arms crossed on your chest which makes your husband’s heart squeeze because you only do that when you’re deeply disappointed

"I can’t tell you" He looks at you but you don’t so he continues with his usual soft voice that you would like to hate right now "I’m not an architect, my job is… a little more physical"

"Do you have other lies? Please tell me because I’m not sure I can handle other secrets later"

Your eyes are full of tears now. Your life is a whole mess and it only took 24 hours to become one. You’re tired, you’re sad, you’re scared and the adrenaline rush has disappeared, leaving you in a very fragile mindset. Honestly, you’re close to a mental breakdown.

Jungkook winces, he has a lot of secrets. But he knows that you need to know, maybe not all of them but some parts.

"I lost my parents when I was 10" He drops the bomb

"But, they were at our wedding…" You respond, completely shocked

"I hired actors" He confesses, leaving your mouth open in astonishment

Well, it was suspicious that you got so well with your mother-in-law and that she didn’t insist to spend Christmas with you…

"What else?" You ask after a few silent seconds but you’re not sure you can take it, it’s like your whole life is lie or more exactly your husband’s life is a lie

"I have guns"

"What?!’ You look at him, baffled ‘In our house?"

Jungkook nods. What the hell? You don’t even know what you say anymore. This is insane. It must be some kind of joke or prank or something.

"Are we married? Like legally married or this is just another big lie?"

"What? Of course we’re married! I didn’t lie when I asked you to marry me and I don’t lie when I say I love you, baby" You hate that you love how his voice gets more gentle when he says that

In this hurricane, your husband’s words soothe everything. It’s like if he loves you, then nothing else matters. He grabs your hand and this time, you don’t take it away. Jungkook leads your left hand to his face and kisses your wedding ring, maybe the only true thing in his life. Two days ago, you were dead certain you knew everything about your husband but right now, he looks like a complete stranger.

Jungkook parks the car in your house’s alley. You don’t leave the car just yet and look at your home. It’s the perfect one: three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a huge kitchen, an office for your husband — but you don’t know why now — and a cute garden with a lot of flowers. Everything is perfect, your life with your husband in it is perfect. But it’s a big lie. There are freaking guns hidden in your own home and you didn’t even know! Oh my god, what if you had children and they found them and get hurt?

"I have to do some stuff in my office but I promise that you can ask all of the questions you want after that, okay baby?" Jungkook says in your entryway that usually make your friends jealous

Jungkook is looking straight into your eyes and you can’t help loving his doe eyes, even though they’re a little more worried than normally. You nod and your husband kisses your forehead. It’s not like usual, it’s longer and deeper, like he was afraid it was the last time. To be true, Jungkook is terrified that he’ll loose you. You’re the only good thing in his life and he loves you more than anything. It was love at first sight, and the way your stress made you do and say embarrassing things — as much as you thought he’ll just run away in the middle of your first date — made him in fall in love with you. Ever since then, he has been down on his knees for you and he won’t ever be able to stand up.

He heads to his office and grabs the phone that started all this mess. He dials a number he knows well before an electronic voice asks him to identify himself.

"Osmium 1-3-0-6"

Some ring tone echoes his Jungkook’s ear as he is waiting for someone to take the call. A familiar female voice starts speaking.

"Osmium 1-3-0-6, your mission has just begun, I doubt it’s already over"

"I had a problem" Jungkook winces when he remembers Jackson holding your hand, anger boiling in his veins

"What kind of problem?" The operator asks quite unfazed, it’s not like she didn’t know Jungkook and he has the tendency to have, or create himself, problems

"An agent, not ours. I took his phone, I send you his electronic chip, possibly encrypted and dangerous" Jungkook pursues as he grabs his computer and inserts the chip in his devise

"I took control over your computer to check"

After a few minutes, the operator speaks again.

"Well, looks like someone wanted to end you"

If the female takes it as a joke because Jackson was obviously a rookie agent, Jungkook is not laughing at all. He doesn’t really care about being a target, it’s not the first time and definitely not the last either, but you… it’s different. And there are photos of you in the field. You’re his wife but he has made sure to erase all the informations regarding you so only people he knows personally would know he’s married. So why are you in the fucking field? The field that makes him a target and puts you in danger!

His fists are clenching so much that his knuckles crack again and bleed. Wrath makes him shake and he is afraid he’d crushed the phone in his hand.

"Why are there photos of my wife?" He asks with gritted teeth

"It doesn’t look like she was the target. Maybe the other agency wanted to have as many as informations they could get"

"Find them" He orders before hanging up

He needs to calm down because he could kill someone. You were with a fucking agent who knew you, who could have hurt you just to get to him. Jungkook promised you to protect you and he wasn’t lying because God knows he has the abilities for that but now… Things are different. He is the one who makes you in danger. He is angry toward life, toward his job and toward himself. When he told his agency he was getting married, they did ask him to think about it, that it was not very smart, that someday you could be a target. But he was cautious and made sure that no one would ever know you exist.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was too selfish because he knew that he was putting you in danger and he still married you because he loved you. You should have married another man, a boring yet normal man who would never had your photo in a fucking agent’s target field.

When Jungkook is about to break down, he walks to your ensuite bathroom. He storms in, takes off his clothes so fast and abruptly that he almost rips off the fabric and enters the shower. He lets the cold water running off down his tensed body. He feels so much anger that the blood in his veins is boiling despite the coldness of the water. He closes his eyes and pushes his head under the water stream. His palms are laying flat against the shower wall.

You, on the other hand, have witnessed your husband’s actions. You have never seen him like that, like he is about to break. Honestly, it’s painful to watch and you’re not sure what to do. Yes, he lied to you but you love him. And one thing is sure: he loves you too. You feel it every time he kisses you, hugs you, makes love to you. You feel it every single time he is looking at you. He can’t be an as good actor.

"Jungkook?" You call him as you enter the bathroom too

You see your beautiful husband in the shower. His body is so perfect: strong thighs, defined abs, brawny chest, large shoulders and muscular arms. His tattoo sleeve only makes him more attractive. However, he looks defeated and he doesn’t even seem to notice you. Your heart squeezes in your chest but not for the same reason as before: it hurts because he is hurting. Jungkook seems so down, you don’t even know what to do.

So you take off your own clothes and join him in the shower. You gasp a little when you feel the chilly water. Your whole body shivers and goosebump grows on your skin. You step closer until you hug your husband from behind. You press your cheek against his large back and your arms are wrapped around his torso. You gently caress him with your fingertips and only then, Jungkook snaps back to reality and notices you.

"You’re gonna be cold, leave" He seems to order but his voice is just broken

"I’m staying" You simply respond as you peck his back

Jungkook grabs your left hand, the diamond ring is shining with the light and the water drops. Fuck, he loves you so much. He turns the thermostatic mixer to have some hot water. Then, he turns around and grabs your cheeks. The way he is looking at you is so overwhelming that a tear rolls down your cheek.

"Kiss me" You whisper, feeling that if he doesn’t, you might die

So he does. He kisses you like it’s your first and last kiss. It’s the most romantic, sensual, soft and deep kiss ever. It’s a kiss that has a hundred of meanings, the main one is how much Jungkook loves you.

His tongue finds its way into your mouth and your hands run through his soaked hair. Your husband’s arms secure you against his body by wrapping around your waist. His warm and large palms are rolling up and down your back and you feel his member getting harder against your lower belly. A sweet moan escapes your lips when Jungkook’s mouth dives into your neck. His kisses are as wet as the water stream and your pussy. Your own hands press him closer.

When his inked hand squeezes you ass, you gasp. Your cunt clenches around nothing and you need him. Maybe Jungkook can read your mind, or maybe he just knows you so well because his other hand makes its way to your crotch. He growls when he feels your arousal dripping from your pussy. His expert fingers slide upon your folds, collecting your wetness to rub your clit.

Your head rolls back and you moan loudly. You don’t really know what’s going on but it feels like the very first time you are being touched. Maybe all the emotions you’ve felt lately make your body more sensitive.

Jungkook enters you with two fingers but still takes care of your swollen bud with his thumb. He is way too good with his hands. He knows how to touch you, he knows how to make you feel good. His cock is now completely hard and you take it in your hand. It feels thick and heavy as you gently jerk him off. The precum dripping from its tip and the water of the shower smooth your movements. You apply the right pressure on his dick and work a little more on his sensitive tip like you know he loves. And if you didn’t know it yet, the way your husband gently bites on your shoulder to suppress a moan proves it to you.

Your husband’s digits are moving faster and deeper into your cunt, curling to hit your sweet spot. You are close and Jungkook knows it too thanks to your tightening walls. He captures your mouth with his own. Your moans are mixing with your tongues as you work on his dick and he enters you with his long, thick yet delicate fingers. Your body starts to shake and your orgasm washes over you. Your scream is directly swallowed by your husband and his arm is wrapped tighter around your waist to support you.

He slides his digits off your cunt, and you wince. You need more, you need him, even after the beautiful orgasm he gave you. Right now, you feel like everything won’t ever be enough because your love for him is taking everything around you.

Jungkook frees your lips, now red and swollen, to look into your eyes. A mix of lust and love adores your beautiful eyes and he knows he’ll keep this image in his head for the rest of his life. The way he is feeling for you right now will last forever.

He gives you a last kiss before turning you around so your chest is pressed against the tile. The cold material against your burning skin makes you shiver and wetter. Jungkook takes the time to appreciate the sight: you’re so beautiful. The most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Your back is arched, giving him a great view on your ass and glistening pussy. His dick throbs when he notices your cunt clenching around nothing, just like it was begging him to stuff it.

He caresses your asscheeks with his tattooed hand, teasing you while you’re already on the edge of loosing your mind.

"Please, honey, fuck me" You beg him

He gulps like a teenager before his first time and guides his fat cock towards your entrance. Your wetness feels divine on his tip and he has no difficulty to just slide deep into your cunt. The pornographic moan you offer him is music to his ears. He can feel your velvet walls clenching around him like a warm blanket. You were made for him and he was made for you. He pushes even deeper into you, until his pelvis is hardly pressed against your ass. You gasp as you feel him so deep. He is touching your limits and it feels so good.

When your husband starts moving, he is soft first, building up the tension. Your groans are like pleas to fuck you harder.

"You’re are so beautiful, so perfect, you don’t even know it" He tells you as he kisses your shoulder

The way your walls clench makes him know that the compliments touch you, but he said it because it’s true. You can’t imagine how beautiful you are for him. So he wants to make you feel it. His pace enhances and soon, skin flapping sounds fill the air. His hands are deep into the flesh of your hips to keep you still while he is fucking you hard and fast. Your own fists clench on the shower wall and you’re loosing your mind. Your tits are bouncing fast due to his harsh humping.

"Oh my god!" You scream at a specially rough dick stroke that makes your eyes roll

Jungkook’s strong inked arm snakes around your frame to press you against his chest, squeezing your jolting boobs at the same time. His cock is now directly hitting your g-spot and it feels so good you’re not sure you’re still alive. His other forearm secures your lower belly and his digits find your already sensitive clit. Your delicate body, completely hugged by him, while he is deep inside you is the most beautiful moment of his life.

"I love you so much, Y/N" He groans in your ear

One of your hand holds onto his right tattooed arm — the contrast between your two skins is striking because you look so pure compared to him — while the other is still supporting you on the tile. Your husband is providing you so much pleasure that you might be in heaven. Messy moans that look like his name escape your open mouth. You feel him everywhere on and in you. His big dick is stretching you perfectly and his fingers rubbing your clit are delightful. Your legs start shaking and you know you’ll cum soon.

"I love you too, more than anything" You moan

Jungkook fucks you even harder as he feels your pussy tighten around him. He won’t last long either but he just wants to make you cum. He fucks you like it was the last time. He kisses your throat, marking you to leave a memory for later. His hand grabs your left tit, pinching your sensitive nipple before taking it entirely in his large palm. He can feel your erratic heartbeat and his own chest is filled with pride that it’s beating for him. He is so damn lucky to be loved by you.

"Cum for me baby" His voice is weak, almost begging you

Your husband’s name leaves your mouth in a broken scream as you cream his dick. Jungkook’s arms tighten around you to support your shaking body. The wave of pleasure is so high that white dots paints your vision. Your head rolls back to rest on his strong shoulder. His thick cock is still pounding into your throbbing cunt and the overstimulation almost kills you with pleasure.

"Please, fill me up" You ask Jungkook

It’s what he needed to release himself deep inside you. You feel his dick palpitating and his hot cum in your pussy. The way he growls you name as he reaches his high looks like a love confession.

You are both panting but you don’t want to move. You want to stay like that forever. This moment is perfect because the air is full of love, protecting you from whatever is happening outside your bubble.

But the bubble busts when your husband pulls off of you, leaving you empty in more than one way. You panic when you turn around and don’t witness his usual soft features. His face is tensed and his jaws clenched. You grow worried when you can’t read his dark eyes.

He steps out of the shower without warning and the air immediately freezes around you. What is going on? You basically run after him, not caring about being naked or dripping wet. Your throat turns dry when you see him throwing some clothes into a travel bag.

"What are you doing?" You manage to ask

Jungkook doesn’t answer and pursues his mission. Your body refuses to move when all you want to do is to throw away his stupid bag through the window.

"Are-are you leaving me?" Your voice sounds so hurt and broken that Jungkook has to fight everything in him not to hug you and promise you that he will always love you

He still doesn’t say anything but the travel bag is now full and your husband has put some clothes on. The worst thing is that he is not looking at you. Why is he not looking at you? Why is he not saying that you’re insane to ever think he would leave you? Your heart is pounding in your chest so loud that it mutters all the other sounds around you.

It’s when Jungkook takes his first step towards your bedroom door that you force your body to move. You grab on his forearm like a lifeline. Well, it pretty is: your life without him doesn’t make any sense.

"Please, don’t" You’re sobbing even louder than when you found his secret phone "Please, Jungkook"

The way you beg him is killing him. He doesn’t trust his mouth — sometimes it’s way too connected to his heart. So he just frees his arm from your holding and he can see your heart breaking.

"We can talk, or not" You say between your crying

It’s not a pretty cry. Your tears are so big that they deform your beautiful face. And your throat is so tight that it hurts, even more with your hiccups.

"I promise I won’t ask any question, I won’t say anything" You speak so fast that you don’t have time to think but you just don’t want him to leave "We can start again, we can move out. I love you, I love you so much. My whole heart is for you, I already gave it to you so I need you close to live! Please, I’m begging you, don’t leave me"

Jungkook’s jaws clench and his holding tightens on his bag. He doesn’t want to see you broken, your voice is enough, but he knows he needs to. He holds on the thought that it’s the right thing to do, that it’s the only solution because with him, you’re in danger. He won’t survive if something happens to you.

"Then, I give your heart back so you won’t need me. Take care, Y/N" His tone is so cold yet broken and it leaves you breathless

Jungkook leaves the room at the same time he is leaving you. You fall on the floor, the sound almost makes him look back to check on you but he doesn’t. He knows that if he does, he won’t be able to leave you to protect you. Your cryings are like agonizing screams and it’s the last thing Jungkook hears when he closes the front door.

—————

It’s been three days and Jungkook hasn’t slept yet. He can’t. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees your face twisted by incommensurable pain. The bags under his eyes are almost as dark as his irises. He keeps telling himself that it was the right thing to do but he misses you like crazy.

He takes a sip on his fourth or fifth cup of coffee — he didn’t count. The waitress of the coffee shop steps closer once again to ask if he wants anything to eat but Jungkook declines. The poor girl gives up on her flirting. Jungkook doesn’t even notice that she is attracted by him — to be true, he never notices other women than you — and he doesn’t understand why the waitress would try to flirt with him when he looks like a mess. He hasn’t washed his messy hair, he hasn’t shaved and the hood of his black oversized hoodie covers pretty much all of his face.

When his phone finally rings, he picks up immediately.

“Hello?”

“Okay, I’ve got some infos” The operator speaks up “It looks like the agency has contacted a man named Kim Seokjin. Do you know him?”

Jungkook’s blood seems to freeze in his veins. He almost jumps on his feet and runs to his car. He doesn’t really understand what’s going on but if the woman on the phone speaks the truth, then you’re in danger. He can’t believe that he left you to protect you but put you in a greater danger instead. He has never driven this fast before but he doesn’t give a shit about the ticket. The pace of his heartbeats is insane and all he has in his mind is you.

Your bed looks like an ocean of tissues. You have spent the last three days crying and crying and crying. Honestly, you don’t know how you still have some water left in your body. Your bed is too big and too cold without Jungkook but you couldn’t leave it because it still smells like him. You miss him so much that you could die. You’ve tried to repeat the last scene over and over again but you still don’t understand how you could have switched from such an intimate moment with your husband to the worst breakup in history in two minutes.

Jungkook loves you, you know it. You don’t understand why he would leave you. Did you do something wrong? You shouldn’t have questioned him about his job or whatever. You should have kept your mouth shut. And you shouldn’t have looked for those stupid assurance documents in the first place. You’re so broken that you had almost called them to withdraw your contract.

However, today, you have decided that something would change. You would wake up, shower, put some clothes on and act like nothing happened. You have to least pretend because you only have denial left to keep breathing.

You’re in your kitchen — has it ever been so huge? —, cooking some random recipe. You picked the most time consuming one in the cooking book not to think about anything and you have to say that it is working pretty well. Until someone knocks on your door. You swipe your dirty hands on your apron before taking it off and open the door. As an automatism, you draw a welcoming smile on your face for your neighbor.

“Hi, Seokjin! How can I help you?”

“I wanted to talk about the fence. You know, it’s getting out of control and my wife can’t stop talking about how your hedge is stepping on our garden” Your neighbor explains, visibly embarrassed

“I’m sorry but you should discuss that with Jungkook, I don’t know anything about that”

“Oh, is he here?”

You wince at the pain in your chest but it’s now time to put out your best acting skills. A little lie for your neighbor can’t hurt, especially if you don’t want to be completely humiliated in your neighborhood.

“No, he is on a work trip, I’m sorry” You lie “But, please, come in. I’ve made some fresh blueberries cupcakes. I’ll give you some for Aecha”

You step aside to welcome Seokjin in your home with your pretty smile.

Jungkook arrives just in time to witness it. He jumps out of his car and runs to the backyard. He jumps upon your favorite flowers to join the backdoor. He needs to enter the house as quickly as possible. Just as he is stepping inside the kitchen, he hears your voices getting closer. He sneaks upstairs without making any noise. His heart is beating hard in his chest while he takes off five books of his bookshelf and reveals a vault. He wishes he had time to laugh at the irony of the code being your wedding date. He quickly grabs a gun and ammunitions.

Your husband tries to get eyes on you but he only hears your voices. Seokjin is a damn good actor when Jungkook thinks you two have known him for two years now. Your husband can’t deny how stressed he is feeling at the idea of someone hurting you.

“So, you’re all alone?” Seokjin asks you while you’re putting cupcakes in a big Tupperware box

You’re quite surprised by his question that is a little too personal. You don’t know him very well but maybe he is just trying to do the talking.

“Yes but Jungkook will be back soon”

You and Seokjin are at each side of your kitchen island, you facing the entrance hall and staircase that Seokjin has in his back. As you’re looking up to smile at him, your eyes are attracted by your husband making signs at you. He is pointing upstairs and his finger is against his mouth to tell you to keep the secret. You don’t try to understand him, you don’t even seem to know him at all lately. He left you and now he is back and acts crazy…

“Uhm… Aecha lent me one of her books, let me grab it” You lie once again but you’re not sure to be such a good actress

You leave your neighbor and head to the staircase. Your husband immediately grabs your waist when you’re out of Seokjin’s sight and makes you go on the second floor.

“What are you doing here?" You whisper-yell

You hate to be happy to see him while he left you heartbroken. He doesn’t look good with his tired face and it makes you want to kiss him.

“Listen, I think Seokjin is not who we think he is”

“What are you talking about?”

Is your husband going crazy? Seokjin and Aecha are a very cute couple. They’ve invited you at all their parties.

But it’s at this moment that you notice what Jungkook has in his hand: a freaking gun! It’s huge, way more impressive than in movies. Why does he have a gun? Is he going to kill someone?

“What the hell is that?!” You yell and your husband immediately puts his hand on your mouth

“Baby, listen to me. Go to your car, don’t make any noise and drive to the hotel where we got married. I’ll join you there when I’m done. Can you do that for me?” Jungkook speaks low but clearly

You nod but you’re still completely lost. Your husband frees your mouth and leads you to one of your bedroom windows. He opens it and tells you:

“Grab the gutter”

“Are you insane?”

“Please, listen to me, I know you can do it”

“I’m not going down by holding the freaking gutter! I’m not a freaking ninja or something!”

“Y/N, we don’t have time, please” Jungkook is growing frustrated and he is doing this thing with his mouth he knows you hate

“Oh, don’t smack your lips on me” You scold him with a pointing finger

“I’m not smacking my lips” He almost cries out of frustration, you’re so stubborn sometimes and now is definitely not the right time

“Yes, you—“

You’re cut off by a deafening sound that makes you scream and crash your hands onto your ears. Jungkook pushes you on the side so you’re hidden by the bed. His eyes are fixed on Seokjin who has just tried to shoot you for fuck’s sake! His anger is boiling and he aims his neighbor too. The numerous years of training gave him precision and he manages to hit Seokjin’s arm. The man growls in pain but he won’t give up. He changes his spot to have a visual on you.

Your husband’s heart stops when he understands what’s going on. He jumps on the side, grabs your hand and protects you with his own body while he is running away. The bullet lands just a few inches away from your leg. He shoots at Seokjin, not really targeting him but preventing him from shooting you. Are you the target now?

“Jungkook! What is going on?!” You shout

“Later, babe” He replies with gritted teeth as he leads you down the stairs

The bullets are damaging the beautiful cream color you’ve put on your walls just one mouth ago but you don’t really care when you’re running for you life. Seokjin is still behind you and he is not bad of a shooter, even with one wounded arm.

You and your husband manage to head to the backdoor and are running like crazy. You feel more than you hear the bottom hem of your dress getting ripped by a branch of your once beautiful flowerbed. Jungkook keeps shooting behind you until the magazine of his gun needs to be loaded. He always makes sure his body is protecting you. He pushes you into his car and another scream leaves your mouth when a bullet burst Jungkook’s car windshield. It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to get behind the wheel. But when you think he is going to drive down the alley, he goes straight at an insane speed.

“The hydrangeas!” You yell like he was going to stop “Jungkook!” You shout as the car hits Seokjin and completely destroys your flowers

“Sorry, babe”

The man disappears underneath the vehicle and only then, your husband reverses, making the car bounce when the wheels roll over what you think is your neighbor. You’re in complete shock and Jungkook is driving way too fast for your sanity. You grab the seatbelt in a ridiculous attempt to feel safe. Oh my god, you can’t believe what just happened! Someone shot you, your freaking neighbor! And then, your husband shot back to finally freaking hit him with his car! Okay, maybe this is just a nightmare. Maybe you’re delusional and you have imagined everything.

Your body is shaking so much that your teeth chatter. Jungkook glances at you with worried eyes.

“Baby, are you okay?” He asks gently

“No, I’m not okay, Jungkook! Explain now! Our neighbor almost killed me so start talking!” You yell at him

—————

Your husband insisted to wait until you reach the hotel where you got married in Geoje. The view of the ocean and the delicate rocks shaped into lace by the water and the wind is stunning. The contrast between the turquoise color of the sea and the oranges palette of the sunset sky is breathtaking. The scene is completed by the soft iodized smell of the air. The place is magical and romantic, the very reason why you chose to get married here. Maybe he hopes it’ll help you to relax or to remember that he loves you. The sound of the ocean waves is nice but you can’t appreciate it when your life is so messed up. You sit on the bed of your luxurious room and you can’t stare at your husband who looks like a complete stranger.

"Please, explain"

"I can’t tell you much, Y/N, the more you know, the more you’re in danger" He sighs

"It’s true that I’ve been real safe so far" You snap

"This only thing I can tell you is that my job is secret"

"Are you working for the CIA?"

"Baby, I’m Korean, I can’t work for the CIA"

"Are you working for the Korean CIA then?"

"No I’m not" Jungkook gets closer to you and caresses the back of your hand with his thumb "I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know what’s going on. Someone made some research about me and found out of about you. I swear I’ve been very careful to protect you, I don’t even know how they’ve got those informations"

The way your husband’s voice choke makes you anxious. You trust him, you would put your life in his hand without any doubt but you’re scared. This whole situation is crazy. You’re a normal woman with a boring life. And now, your husband is like James Bond or something and people are trying to kill you. You won’t ever regret married Jungkook but maybe you regret his secrets. But if he had told you, would you have married him? You’re not sure…

"Am I going to die?" You ask low and your question makes Jungkook’s heart squeeze painfully at the simple thought of it

"No, baby, look at me" He grabs your cheeks and your watery eyes meet his beautiful dark ones, dead serious "I’ll protect you. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you"

You nod and a tear escapes your eyelids. Jungkook gently kisses you and your arms wrap around his torso. The contact immediately makes him hiss. Your eyes widen in panic. You scan his body and spot a dark red stain.

"Oh my god! You’re hurt!"

"I’m fine, the bullet only grazed"

"Lift up your hoodie" You order

Jungkook knows that fighting is useless and he takes off his hoodie. You gasp at the sight: his left flank is bleeding but he was right, the bullet didn’t pierced him. Your heart is squeezing so much in your chest because Jungkook got hurt to protect you. Your fingers gently brush his bruise and you see his abs flexing by pain but he doesn’t say anything.

"We should ask a first-aid kit to the reception" You tell him, your throat chocked

Your husband only nods and grabs the phone next to the bed. He knows you so well, he knows you feel guilty while you shouldn’t. He is the one who’s guilty. He put you in danger. But you’re so caring that you won’t ever believe it. And right now, you need to do something for him, in this case, lick his wounds.

Quickly enough, some staff knocks on your door and brings you what you’ve asked for. You tell Jungkook to seat on the bed and start to disinfect. The fact that he doesn’t even hiss is a pound in your heart because it means he is used to it. How many times did he get hurt without you even knowing? Did he have to heal his wounds alone? That’s the saddest thing ever, to know your husband was hurt and alone.

Your shaky fingers apply some ointment as delicately as possible. You even blow on the bruise to soothe the pain away. The final step is the bandage. You grab a huge amount of compresses and secure them with a medical strip. When you’re done, your hands rest on Jungkook’s chest. You can feel his heartbeats underneath your fingertips and it’s comforting. You feel connected to him and maybe your heart settles to the same pace.

"I love you" He says, in the simplest yet most sincere way

"I love you" You reply

"Come here"

Your husband pulls you next to him on the bed to cuddle you. He whispers in your ears that everything is going to be alright and oddly enough, you believe him. You close your eyes and for the first time in three days, you get to sleep without your chest aching.

Jungkook contemplates you sleeping. You’re so beautiful. He caresses your hair and his brain is working hard to think about a plan. He has to go back to your house where he keeps passports and money. It won’t be easy, police or other agents watching the place but he doesn’t have any choice. You’ll stay here and he’ll come back as soon as he can. He won’t leave you ever again, he almost died doing it once. You’re his wife, the love of his life. Maybe he is selfish but he can’t let you go.

He delicately escapes your arms and heads to the balcony with his phone. He dials the number and the same electronic voice asks him to identify himself and he does. The night is silent despite the waves, but maybe he feels like that because of the mammoth starry sky above him.

"Osmium 1-3-0-6, where the hell have you been? Do you know that everyone is looking for you? You have a mission" The female operator scolds him

"Listen, plans’ve changed. Someone tried to kill my wife. I need to make sure she’s safe"

"You can’t, the mission comes first and you know it"

Jungkook’s fist clenches, it’s so fucking unfair. He won’t ever choose his job over your life. You’re the most important thing in his life.

"Listen, I need your help" He almost begs "Can you delay the mission? Just for one day. I’ll go to my house tomorrow and grab some stuff. When I’m sure my wife is safe, I swear I’ll get the mission done. You know me, I never fail"

He can hear the operator sighing, fighting against what’s is fair and what’s right.

"Okay…" She concedes "But you only have one day"

"Thank you. Really, you don’t know what it means to me. Good night, operator" Jungkook’s smile is clearly noticeable in his voice

"Good night, Osmium 1-3-0-6"

Jungkook steps inside the room but stops when he sees you looking at him.

"Are you going back?" You ask but your voice implores him to stay

"I need to. I have some passports and money. So you will take the first flight for Bali and I’ll join you as soon as I can"

"Please, don’t go" Your eyes are filled with tears and your husband’s heart breaks because he feels like it’s the only thing he’s seeing in them lately

"Baby, everything’s gonna be fine" He reassures you before kissing you "All I care about is you. If you’re safe, I’m safe"

"How can I be safe without you?" You ask, grabbing his hands

"I’ll show you how much I love you and then, you’ll understand why I need to go back" He whispers and kisses you again

This time, it’s deeper and more sensual. His palms cage your jaws and his tongue sneaks inside your mouth. You hands caress your husband’s naked back and he pulls you closer. He captures your lips deliciously and his fingers quickly find the hem of your dress to pull it off. Your perfect body, only covers by your undergarment, is lightened by the pale light of the moon. You look like a goddess. Are you even real? Maybe Jungkook is dreaming, he can’t believe he is this lucky.

"So gorgeous" He whispers, his hands fondling your thighs, your stomach, your arms and your breasts make you shiver in pleasure

His mouth can’t stay too long without touching yours, almost like you were his oxygen. His expert fingers undo your bra and free your boobs. Your mouth-watering mounds are calling him and he can’t resist. His tongue licks your right erected nipple before sucking on it so hard that your head rolls back with a raspy moan. Your panties get soaked in a second. Your hands are in your husband’s raven hair and the sparkle of your diamond ring in his black locks is ethereal.

Jungkook kisses your skin until he reaches your other nipple. The first one feels cold because the light breeze laps the wet spot. Jungkook loves your tits. Actually, he loves everything of you. You can feel his tongue rolling around your nipple and sweet moans form in your mouth. You tug on your husband’s hair, making him growl against your thin skin. He kisses every single inch of your breasts, manifesting how much he worships you. So much that your tits get swollen by his ministrations.

Then, he gently guides you towards the bed, his mouth glued to yours once again. He makes you lay down upon the soft and delicately-scented bedding. A wave of panic grows in your body when Jungkook’s kisses head South, placing his large body between your open legs.

"Kook, don’t, you’re hurt"

"I’m okay, baby" He reassures you while he is leaving sweet pecks in your inner thighs "Let me take care of you"

His fingers brush upon your clothed clit and you can’t think straight enough to argue. Your back arches and your fists clench on the sheets. When Jungkook is satisfied with the way your panties stick to your soaked pussy, he grabs the hem of them and slides them down purposely slow. Your skin gets so sensitive by his intense yet slow movements that you’re going insane. Your cunt clenches and is dripping by the expectation of his touch.

You can feel Jungkook’s breath on your wet pussy and it makes you shiver. Your husband is mesmerized by the beauty of your glistening sex and the way it appeals him. His mouth dives into it. Delicately at first, kissing your clit and lapping your wetness, and then, rougher. His tongue applies a delightful pressure on your clit while it’s rolling around. Your sweet whimpers paint a smirk on Jungkook’s face, he loves the sounds you make so much.

Your legs want to close because of the pleasure almost unbearable to take but Jungkook keeps them firmly open with his large and warm palms. When his tongue takes a fat strap from your entrance to your clit, you almost loose it. Your eyes shut and your hand finds his hair to press his pretty face deeper against your pussy. Your husband is literally making out with your sex and it’s really hot. He really knows how to provide you pleasure, and even more when two of his digits enter you. You gasp his name and your walls immediately tighten around his fingers.

He sets a nice rhythm and doesn’t leave your clit with his mouth. You feel overwhelmed by his touch, especially when his free hand grabs your boob. You glance at it and you feel a particularly intense emotion at the sight of the silver band around his finger. Instinctively, your other hand settles upon his, intertwining your fingers in a weird way against your flesh but you don’t really care.

When Jungkook harshly sucks on your sensitive bud and curls his fingers to caress your g-spot, your head rolls back.

"I’m gonna come" You whisper with a voice broken by the pleasure

"Please do. Come for me, baby" Your husband spurs you, pumping his digits faster into your cunt

Your walls get impossibility tight and your whole body shakes when you cum. Your mouth is wide open but it’s impossible for you to make any sound as your sexual high brings you beyond clouds.

Jungkook keeps his fingers inside you but stops moving and his mouth leaves your clit to gently kiss your inner thighs.

"You’re so pretty when you cum" He praises you and your cheeks get brightly red

His plump lips are red, swollen and juicy by a thin layer of your arousal. If sex was a person, it would be Jungkook right now. The hand that was in his hair travels down to his face to delicately caress his cheek. You can feel that his skin is rougher than usual because he hasn’t shaved but he is still the most handsome man that has ever walked on Earth. Jungkook kisses your palm while looking into your eyes. Lust and affection is clearly visible on your both faces and you can’t help bitting your lower and still swollen by your kisses lip.

The action drives Jungkook crazy and his teeth replace your own within a second. He doesn’t bite harshly because he doesn’t want to hurt you but the slight pressure he applies arouses you. Your pussy clenches around his steady fingers.

"I want you" You whisper against his soft lips

"I’m all yours" He replies like it was the most evident thing in the world

He steps back just the time to get rid off his pants and underwear and your cheeks blush a little bit more at the sight of his perfect cock. It’s big and thick but the skin is velvety. The drop of pre cum escaping his tip is glistening under the moon light and your mouth waters. Your eyes slowly go up to admire his also perfect body. You love his abs and pecs, he is so hot. Especially when his tattooed hand grabs his dick to give him a few pumps, even though he is hard as hell — he means, how could he not when his gorgeous spouse is naked in front of him?

But your heart gets punched when you see his bandage on his left side. Jungkook must notice your face getting tensed because he reaches out to grab your hand.

"I’m okay"

You simply nod because you’re afraid that your voice might be weak by your dry throat.

Jungkook places himself between your open legs and his dark eyes caress your whole body, from your swollen pussy to your so pretty face, passing by your tits. He is so damn lucky. He knows that if he had twenty other lives, he’d love you each single time.

He guides his cock to your entrance and slowly enters you. You feel your walls getting stretched and the feeling is so good that you almost cum again. When he is deep inside you and you are literally full, your husband leans down to kiss you. Your legs wrap around his tiny waist and your fingers intertwine on both sides of your head.

He presses his forehead against yours and your breaths mix when he slides his cock almost out before stuffing in deep into you again.

"More" You moan

Jungkook smiles and starts pounding you. He absolutely loves making love to you. He loves your face torn by pleasure. He loves how your back arches to feel him better. He loves how your rounded boobs bounce in rhythm. And he loves feeling your tight pussy around his fat cock.

"You’re taking me so good, baby" He praises you and he knows you love it because your cunt tightens

His hands hold yours harder when he enhances the pace. His strong thighs allows him to give you powerful and deep dick strokes. Your moans fill the room and levitate in the air through the open window. You don’t care at all if someone hears you while you’re making love with your husband.

Your legs pull Jungkook closer to you, making your chests crash into each other. It’s almost like your hearts are connected. Your husband’s face disappears in the crook of your neck to kiss your thin and sensitive skin.

"Oh my god!" You scream when he pounds roughly into you

Your eyes roll back and you’re going insane. This is so much pleasure to take.

"You’re fucking me so good" Your voice is shaky because of the way your body jolt

Jungkook smirks against your skin at your compliment and he frees one of his hands to press it against your lower belly.

"Do you feel that?" He asks and you gasp at his dick popping under your skin

Your orphan hand desperately needs to grab into something not to loose your mind and settles on the back of Jungkook’s neck. His black hair is tickling your fingers and you roll them into the end of his locks.

"I’m so close, honey" You inform him but Jungkook already knows by your clenching walls

"Fuck, you’re tight" He growls, his own head rolling back but only a second because he can’t take his eyes off of you "You’re so beautiful, Y/N. I’m so fucking lucky to have you" He says between two breaths

Your eyes water at the pleasure provided by his big cock and at his touching words. Your hand slides toward his cheek that you caress with your thumb like you can with the way your whole body rattles by his deep humping.

Your lips form the words ‘I love you’ in silence and your husband captures your lips once again. His hand on your stomach travels down and reaches your clit to draw magic circles. Your hand squeezes your husband’s next to your head. You know he is driving you towards the edge. He is fucking you so deep that you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your inner thighs.

His fingertips press harder on your sensitive bud while his dick is pounding into your dripping pussy. Your head rolls back on the soft pillow and your toes curl. You scream your husband’s name when you cum, body shaking with delightful waves of pleasure. The beauty of your face when you’re experiencing an orgasm is so perfect that that, combined to your throbbing cunt around his cock, sends Jungkook right into space. He growls your name and he frowns when he paints your walls with his white and thick cum.

He collapses on your body, heavily panting, and you caress his sweaty hair. Jungkook wraps you into his strong arms and hugs you tight while his cock is softening but still buried into you.

"My precious wife" He whispers into your ear

He gathers his last strengths and rolls on the side of the bed. His arm sneaks around your frame to pull you close. You listen to his heartbeats, echoing the soothing sounds of the waves outside. Suddenly, Jungkook’s chest wiggles as he is laughing lowly. You lift up your face to look at him with a questioning eye. Jeez, he is so handsome with his lazy fucked out smile.

"We got married here" He explains with a sweet voice that is like a melody "I was remembering how happy I was when we spent our first night as wife and husband"

"I can’t believe you hired actors to play your parents at our wedding" You say but your voice is nothing like a reproach even though Jungkook tenses

"I’m sorry"

"Don’t be. I understand that you just wanted to protect me. Honestly, I think that, if I knew the truth, I would have been so stressed and scared for you that I would already have had a heart attack"

Jungkook gives you a tender smile and caresses your cheek with his fingertips.

"I want you to promise me something" You speak up

"Sure, babe" He encourages you to pursue

"Promise me that you won’t leave me ever again" Your voice breaks a little and your eyes water to the point your vision gets blurry "You don’t know how hard it was to be in our home without you. You don’t know how empty and sad and broken I felt. I won’t survive if you leave me, Jungkook, so please, don’t do it ever again"

Jungkook’s chest tightens and he gulps with difficulty. Fuck, he didn’t know he’s hurt you this much. He was so fucking stupid to leave you, even though he thought he was protecting you.

"I promise"

He promises to you but also to himself. Whatever how fucked up the situation is, he won’t leave you. He will protect you and you’ll have the happy ending you deserve. He knows he doesn’t deserve you so he has to do everything he can to make you happy. If you ask him to die for you, he’ll do it without even hesitating. But he will stay with you as long as you are willing him to.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N. More than my own life. Remember that"

You nod and kiss your husband. Your head regains its place on Jungkook’s chest like it just simply belongs there and you both fall asleep and in love again, just like your wedding day at the very same place.

—————

The first thought that comes to Jungkook’s mind when he wakes up with your naked body still pressed against his is ‘God, my girl is hot’. Then, ‘I love her so fucking much’. His phone informs him that’s only six am but he needs to go. He kisses your forehead and covers your beautiful frame with the sheet. He dresses up with the same black hoodie and sweatpants from yesterday and leaves the room, not without glancing at you one last time.

He makes a stop at the reception.

"Hi, could you get some clothes for my wife, please?" He asks and the receptionist nods

He notes on a paper your size and the clothes you need. Maybe it’s the last domestic gesture he’ll do today.

When he reaches his car, or more like the truck he has stolen yesterday because his busted windshield was not really discrete, he makes a call to pretty much the only person he can trust.

"I need your help" He speaks with a low-pitched and serious tone

He then explains the situation and the two men agree to meet in a few hours. Driving helps him concentrate. It might be the most dangerous mission he has ever had so far and God knows how dangerous his job is. He makes a clear plan in his head: his colleague will join him and the both of them will discreetly enter your house. They’ll be quick and Jungkook will only grab the things he needs and disappears. Then, he’ll drive back to you and makes sure you leave South Korea safely. He’ll finish his job and join you to start a new life far away from all this mess. This way, you will live happy together without having to look behind you. Jungkook will settle to a new job, maybe be a mechanic since he likes cars. Maybe you could even start a family.

Yes, the plan is perfect.

He stops in front of a coffee shop to pick up his colleague. He is dressed up in all black, just like Jungkook, except that his clothes fit tighter on his tall body. He is the one who sent him the secret texts you found out. Jungkook doesn’t know his real name, neither than the man. They’re colleagues but they trust each other with their lives, job requires… Jungkook is a man of action while his colleague is kind of the brain. He gives Jungkook all the information he needs and provides him all the fake documents he needs for his cover. It’s also true that the man has to jump into action sometimes when Jungkook is into real shit so your husband knows that his colleague knows how to fight and hold a gun. And even though they don’t know much about each other except from work, Jungkook knows that the guy is just one year older than him and is a real flirt. After five years of working together, they’ve got to know each other by chatting after missions all around the world. A weird professional friendship has developed between the two.

"Hi, Osmium" The man says

"Hi, Gallium. Thank you for helping me" Jungkook replies

"Don’t worry. I’m happy to" Gallium — code name — reassures him with a genuine smile

The two men drive to your suburban neighborhood. Obviously, the whole mess Jungkook made yesterday didn’t go unnoticed. You live in the typical middle-class area where only normal families own a house. It might be boring sometimes for Jungkook — but his secret life provides him enough adrenaline to make it though it — but he’s thankful that you’re, normally, safe there. Until yesterday and a fucking hitman tried to kill you. The thought makes Jungkook tighten his grip on his wheel.

Jungkook has stopped the car a few meters away from your address. Gallium has brung some guns and ammunitions for the two of them and they prep their weapons. As usual, Jungkook feels his heart beating slow and loud in his chest. He is fully concentrate, maybe even more than normal because he knows your life is at stake.

Jungkook and Gallium sneak into Seokjin and Aecha’s garden and your husband looks through the stupid hence they were always complaining about. The rough branches are poking at his face in a unpleasant way but he doesn’t care. He winces a little when he sees that the garden is even more messed up than yesterday, which means you won’t be happy about it. Like at all. Jungkook uses his hand language to inform his colleague that two policemen are watching the backdoor.

The two men jump over the hence in a smooth and silent move. The policemen don’t even have time to react that Jungkook and Gallium get behind them and lock their arms around the policemen’s throat. The two men in uniform try to fight back but in vain: the oxygen doesn’t irrigate their brain or their muscles and they faint. Jungkook and Gallium let them fall on the ground slowly and head to the door. They have their guns in their hands now and are as discreet as cats. They are moving slowly but surely, always checking all round them to detect any enemies.

Jungkook points his hand toward the stairs and Gallium nods, taking the lead for checking the place. Your husband’s heart is loud in the absolutely silent house. He doesn’t even recognize it. Further than the bullet holes and broken glasses everywhere, it’s the atmosphere that has changed. It used to be a welcoming home, full of love. Now it looks cold and uneasy, like everything is tinted in a cold tone. That’s why Jungkook thinks that maybe his house used to be charming because of you and only you.

He goes up and takes care to avoid the sixth step because it squeaks. Someway, his heart squeezes a little in chest at the sight of your completely destroyed bedroom. The windows are busted and there are feathers pretty much everywhere on the ground.

Jungkook steps closer to your nightstand where a picture of your wedding has miraculously survived. His eyes immediately soften. He clearly remembers that his breath was cut out when you appeared in your beautiful white dress. And when you said ‘I do’, he thought that he was the luckiest man on Earth because you could have had any man you wanted and you still chose him. Your husband is in love with you like the first day, maybe even more. He feels like he loves a little more every single day you spend together and honestly, he doesn’t understand how all his love for you can fit in his body.

"Hey" Gallium whisper-yells

Jungkook jolts and regains his concentration. He walks to your spacious dressing room and uses the shelves to climb up until he reaches the bag he has hidden upon the double-door. He reaches down and opens the bag to make sure he has everything: money, passports and all the fake documents you’ll need to make a new life.

"Okay" Jungkook informs his colleagues while he is closing the bag "I have—"

His sentence fades when a harsh stroke hits the back of his head. The impact is precise, at the right place to make him pass out instantly. The darkness floods his vision and the last thought he has is you.

Something’s wrong. You can feel it by the itching filling up every inch of your body. It’s sunset and your husband hasn’t returned yet. When you woke up in an empty bed, you felt a wave of panic until your eyes landed on the sweet note Jungkook had written for you. He told you he loved you and would be back in the afternoon. So you kept yourself occupied all day, trying to think about other things to evacuate your stress. The hotel staff knocking at your door around lunch time with a full bag of new clothes kind of helped you with that. As you were putting your new underwear, jeans, long sleeve black t-shirt and Converses on, your chest went warmed up by Jungkook’s caring. Gosh, your husband is so perfect.

Except he is not here while he should be. Something is wrong. You’re walking back and forth in the hotel room, checking your phone every thirty seconds. Should you call him? What if you do and his phone rings and someone notices him? You’re afraid to make things worse. But for God’s sake, where is your husband? Your breath is shaky, just as your hands. You’re so worried about him. Your heart must have broke the record for the fastest pace now.

When you’re about to truly lose your mind, your phone rings. The sudden sound in your too quiet room makes you jump. At first, you thought it was your husband but the number is unknown.

"Hello?" You answer, unsure

"Jeon Y/N?" A female speaks

"This is she" Your voice is chocked because of your dry throat

"I work with your husband. He needs you"

What? What’s going on? The woman said she works with Jungkook, does she mean his secret job that you still don’t understand? And what does she mean by he needs you? Is he hurt? Is he in danger? If yes, what can you do? You don’t know anything about guns and secret missions and what so ever! You start to panic. Like a real big wave of anxiety that makes you breathe heavy and quick. You’re not made for that, for all that stress. You’re a normal person, just a wife leaving her life in a quiet neighborhood and who only has to care about the flowers in her garden.

"Is he okay? Is he hurt? Please, tell me he’s alright" You speak fast, your panic clearly noticeable in your voice

"He’s fine, don’t worry" The second the unknown woman tells you that, your body immediately relaxes: if Jungkook is okay, then everything else is fine "But he won’t be able to meet you at the hotel. He asked me to give you the meeting address"

"Why he didn’t call me?" You ask, both curious and quite suspicious

Jungkook didn’t tell you much about his job but he had made one thing real clear: he’s hidden you to protect you. So why would he ask someone of his job to call you while he would have done it himself? The itching in your body tenses you up. Something is not right but you don’t know what.

"He couldn’t" She replies but doesn’t give any more explanation "So, there is a disused warehouse not so far away from Geoje. Your husband is waiting for you there so you can leave the South Korean territory after that. But you need to be discreet. Don’t inform anyone where you’re going. If you can, rent a car and drive by yourself. Otherwise, someone could find your husband and hurt him. Please be quick"

The woman on the phone is telling you so much informations in such a short time period that you’re not sure to understand everything. Every time a word is leaving her mouth, you wonder ‘what the hell is going on?’. The only thing you care about is Jungkook. You just want him to be safe and you’ll do anything for that. So you don’t question her — what could you ask anyway, you’re so lost right now — and head to the reception. You ask where you can rent a car and don’t waste a second.

Your hands are shaking on the wheel and you can’t make the itching feeling disappear. You can feel it in your guts. Should you call the police? You’re not sure, the woman said that it can put Jungkook in danger… You try to call your husband but you have no response. Maybe it’s a trap but you can’t care because you can feel that Jungkook needs you.

You arrive at the address the mysterious woman gave you and you’re not relieved when you discover a creepy and far from any civilization abandoned building. It looks so much like a horror movie. What the hell are you doing here? Did you forget that this was not a movie and that you could be killed? Of course not. But you also didn’t forget that Jungkook may be in danger… You’re facing a dilemma here. Should you enter? You’re so freaking scared and the adrenaline rushing through your veins doesn’t help to think. You try to breathe deeply and slowly but it only brings some tears to your eyes because you’re terrified. How could your life have become such a mess? You want to back in time, when you didn’t know anything about the guns in your house and Jungkook’s lies about his job. Life was way easier then.

You grab your wheel, close your eyes and say out loud: ‘You can do it. You’re doing this for Jungkook. So pull yourself together and go to the freaking warehouse’. You nod to give you confidence when you clearly lack it. You don’t even have the courage to close the car door by fear to make some noise.

The place is huge and empty and cold and you’re freaking terrified. You don’t like it. Your heart is beating so fast that you’re afraid it might stop. You’re looking everywhere but you don’t see anyone. Where is Jungkook? Is he okay? Why would he ask you to meet in such a creepy place? He’d know that it would scare you.

When you’re about to run away you spot a big form on the ground. You’re not sure that it is because it’s pretty dark but your body moves by itself and steps closer. Your heartbeat echoes each of your steps. You almost faint when you recognize your husband.

"Jungkook!" You yell and run to him

He is unconscious and a big stain of dry blood is spoiling his handsome face. His hands and feet are tied. Your hands grab his face and you try to wake him up. Is he dead? The thought is too painful for you to accept it. You start crying and Jungkook is still not waking up!

"Please, wake up! Honey, wake up! Tell me what to do. I’m so scared" You sob and hug his heavy and flaccid body

You wipe your tears and try to loosen the ropes around his wrists but they’re too tight. What the hell is going on? What happened to him?

You gasp when you hear some steps behind you. You turn around and press Jungkook deeper into your embrace. You frown at the familiar frame. A frame you haven’t seen in years. But you might be wrong because that’s just crazy if he were there.

"Taehyung?" You ask in a whisper

"Y/N?"

"Oh my god!" You sigh quite relieved that it’s someone you know "Please, help me. I don’t know what’s going on! My husband is unconscious and I need to get him out of here"

Taehyung walks to you and you think he is going to help with the ties but he grabs you wrist instead. So roughly that it hurts. He pulls you hard to force you to stand up.

"What are you doing?!"

"You have to get out of here" He tells you with a deep voice that makes you shiver

"I know! But I have to help my husband"

You free your hand and go back to Jungkook, still unconscious. You don’t really know why you do what you do but you discreetly slide the photo of your husband and you that you keep in your phone case in his hoodie pocket. Call it instinct, call it adrenaline or call it craziness, you can’t explain it either.

"You don’t even know him!" Taehyung shouts, so loud that you jolt

You look at him with a mix of disbelief and scare. What is he talking about?

"You don’t know anything about him, Y/N. Do you know his job? Do you know how many people he has hurt? He has murdered? Do you think he is a good man?" He says like a snake, tongue hissing and eyes narrowing

"He is…" You can only whisper, completely taken aback

"He has lied to you. He has lied about everything! Do you think he loves you? Y/N, don’t be stupid. He is just using you not to catch attention! No one would suspect a husband living in the suburb with his perfect wife. You’re nothing but a cover"

"Stop! Jungkook is not like that!" You shout while closing your eyes but your words lack conviction

You did question yourself when you found out about his job. You did ask yourself if Jungkook was sincere and if he truly loves you. But when you look into Jungkook’s eyes, you can see that he does. Yes, he has a lot of secrets but he wouldn’t use you… Would he?

Taehyung is messing with your brain and it’s an easy thing to do when you feel so lost and terrified. You put your hands on your ears: you need silence! You need to think! It could be so much easier if Jungkook could wake up now.

"We don’t have time" Taehyung argues, grabbing your hand once again to pull you away from Jungkook "We have to go"

He wraps his arms around your frame and lift you up so your feet can’t touch the ground. You panic when he starts walking away. You wrestle but your strength is not enough to stop him.

"Get off of me!" You yell "Jungkook!" You scream louder than ever when the unconscious body of your husband disappears from your line of sight

Taehyung manages to put you in his car despite your struggle and shut the door. He gets behind the wheel and starts driving. Your heart is squeezed at every feet growing between your husband and you. Leaving him alone and hurt in this scary place breaks your heart so much. You’re worried about him and you just pray for someone to save him.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask, breaking the heavy silence

"For you" Taehyung answers, his voice way softer than before

"Please, I’m begging you, I need to go back. Jungkook needs me"

"He doesn’t, Y/N" He sighs, his hand running through his brown hair in frustration and anger "I already told you, he doesn’t care about you. Did you know that the agency told him to not get married because you could be in danger? And he still did it, because he doesn’t care about you!"

"Stop talking!" You shout

You know Taehyung is lying. You know it. But your heart hurts anyway because there is a tiny teeny chance that he might be right… The fact is that Taehyung has never lied to you while your husband did. And Taehyung has no reason to lie. But you just can’t believe that Jungkook is a complete liar! You feel so lost right now because nothing makes sense!

"I’m sorry for everything" Taehyung sighs and drives into the night

After you were gone, another car approached the warehouse. A woman jumped out of the vehicle and ran, completely panicked, inside. She did the same thing you’ve done a few minutes before: checking everywhere until she found Jungkook. Just like you, she ran to him and called out his name to wake him up. Only this time, he did.

The pain in his head is atrocious. His memories are blurry and the darkness around him doesn’t help him to dissipate his confusion. He can vaguely see and feel a woman next to him, basically hugging him in relief.

"Baby?" He asks with a raspy voice, confused

"It’s me" She answers with a voice that sounds very familiar to him while she pulls out a little knife from her pocket to cut the ropes "Are you okay?"

"Operator?" Jungkook questions again, even more lost now

"Yes"

It’s the first time Jungkook is seeing the woman behind the phone. It’s a strange feeling because she is just the voice in his ear, guiding him through the buildings he has to sneak in, or telling him what to say to the person he has to get information from. Usually, agents don’t meet their operator. It’s too dangerous, they know too much about each other.

"What happened? What are you doing here?"

"When you told me that you wanted to go back to your house, I knew you would need someone. When I checked Gallium profile, I saw he wasn’t on a mission so I knew you would ask him. But then, I found something weird: he has resigned. All of the sudden. And I had a bad feeling so I traced your phone and I found you. God, I’m so glad I did"

Jungkook tries to take a better look at his savior while trying to understand this whole messed up situation. Did Gallium betray him? Why? Was he the one asking information about you and him? Fuck, it’s insane… Jungkook winces at the pain thinking provokes to his injured head.

"Thanks" He tells the woman who only nods and helps him to stand up

She is small and fragile. Jungkook didn’t know what to expect from his operator because he hasn’t really tried to imagine her before but she is younger than he thought. Maybe his age or slightly older. Her hair is short, barely touching her shoulders, in a light brown color. Her features, that are surely cute normally, are tensed by worry.

"I have to go to the hotel, my wife is waiting for me" Jungkook informs her when they seat in the car

Your husband notices the grimace on the woman’s face and her deep sad eye.

"What? What’s going on? Is she okay?" Jungkook asks, panicked

"She’s okay but… Jungkook, I’m sorry" She says, resting her small hand on Jungkook’s big one to comfort him

"What?"

"She left. With another man" She drops the bomb

The whole world has stopped. Jungkook’s heart has stopped too. No, that’s just impossible. You love him and he loves you. We made love yesterday and you even asked him to never leave you… That doesn’t make any sense. What the fuck is going on?! The pound in Jungkook’s chest is so heavy that he can’t even breathe properly.

"Who?" He manages to ask despite the horrible lump in his throat

"I don’t know, I just saw them leaving the hotel before I came here. I wanted to check on her but she was with this man"

"Then, Y/N is in danger. We have to find her and save her. We could—"

Jungkook’s is cut off by the operator while he is already trying to make a plan in his head.

"They were holding hands and she called him by his name. They knew each other. I’m sorry" She explains, sad to witness Jungkook being so devastated

"I need to go to the hotel"

The woman nods and starts driving.

The car barely has stopped that Jungkook steps out and runs to your room. But it’s empty. You’re not here, and your few items you had with you either. Jungkook is going to die. He can feel it in his bones. He has already faced death, he knows that it looks like and he has never felt so close. The pain in his chest… There is no word to describe it.

You left him.

To be continued...

I'm so so so sorry for taking this long. As you can see, the story is very long and it's just the half of it. I still hope that you liked it (if you did, pls let me know in the comments 🩷)

Taglist @llallaaa @jjk174 @tatamicc @chimmisbae @chl0buggy @ggukieskookie @11thenightwemet11 @ttanniett @lallataegi

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6rookie-writer0110 · 2 months ago

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Monday Loop

Male reader x MCU Cast

Request - Male reader x MCU Cast. Potential spoilers, Reader played Deadpool’s son from an alternate universe and is asked to do the bye bye bye dance

Logan and Wade are in the middle of nowhere. They are trying to go back to the wasteland at the end of time ‘void’ to stop Cassandra Nova and then stop Mr Paradox. They just finished fighting and killing each other and they are completely lost.

“I’m sure it’s this way,” Wade said

“We are lost, you idiot,” Logan said angrily

“It’s not my fault we didn't ask for directions,” Wade said

Logan just glared at Wade while walking. They don't know for how long they have been walking for, until they hear someone yelling.

“Do you see him or am I drunk?” Wade said

“I see him, but why he is waving at us,” Logan said

“I don't -”

You are running fast and you are waving at them.

“Daddy!”

“Did he just yell daddy?!” Logan asked

“I think he did,” Wade said

Once you reached them, then you jumped on Wade like a kid.

“Daddy!” You yelled with joy

“What!?” Logan and Wade yelled in shock.

Wade pushed you off him and you fell to the ground.

“Who are you!?” Wade yelled

“It’s obvious, look at his suit,” Logan said

You have the same suit on like Wade, then you jumped onto your feet then take your mask.

“I’m your son and you are my dad!” You smiled

“Dad!?” Logan and Wade yelled in shock.

“This idiot is your dad!? Wow, this nightmare is getting worse” Logan said

“I am from earth-10330. My name is Y/N Wade Wilson Pool” You smiled

“Your name can't be Y/N Wade Wilson Pool. Who named you that!?” Wade yelled

“My mom and you, duh” You said and rolled your eyes

“How did he meet your mom?” Logan asked

“He traveled to my earth then banged my mom, now I’m here” You said

You turned around and then pointed at yourself.

“Prove it that you are my son,” Wade said

“How?” You asked

Wade looks at the screen, “Cue the music!”

The music starts to play Then you look at the screen. Bye Bye Bye by NSYNC.

“I love this song!”

Logan is angry and pissed off, you and your dad are doing the NSYNC signature dance for Bye Bye Bye. You are getting every step correct now your dad is going is going faster but you are faster.

“Enough!” Logan yelled

You and your dad stopped, you two are breathing very hard.

“You are my son!” Wade said breathing hard

“Don’t call him daddy it's creepy” Logan said

“I thought I would have a baby with this one over here,” Wade said

“You used to let him babysit me,” You said

You put your arms up to hug them, but Logan grabbed your wrist.

“Hug me and I will break you like a stick,” Logan said

“Watch it with our son, Logan!” Wade yelled

“He is not my son,” Logan said

Logan is definitely annoyed. You start to follow them wherever they go and Logan is ready to kill you and your dad.

✯ ✫ ✯ ✫

You, Logan, and your Wade met Gambit, Blade, Elektra, and Laura. Logan didn't care about the plan he just wanted to drink and Wade didn't understand anything that Gambit said. But you started to flirt with Laura but she doesn't flirt back.

“Why have the same suit as him?” Laura asked

“Don’t say daddy” Wade stated

“He is my father. Is that better?”

You said and looked at your dad, Logan started to drink.

“Both of them are nightmares,” Logan said

“Actually, Wade Wilson is my dad and Logan is my uncle on my earth-10330. I got trapped here” You said

“Your world probably got destroyed like ours,” Blade said

“Oh. I could live with my dad now” You said and looked at him

“You are going to have a curfew,” Wade said

“Someone shoot me” Logan mumbled

——•

You leave with your dad to go fight Cassandra. But the others did show up when the fight was about to start. Logan did show up but with his new suit and he is ready to fight. You look at the screen…

“I’m going to set the mood”

Wade looks at you

“What mood? Wait do you mean-”

“Yes!” You cheered

The song Bye Bye Bye starts to play.

“Maximum effort,” Wade said

Your dad gave you a high-five now the music starts to play. The others watched you and your dad dance and they were in disbelief. While dancing, you stabbed a guy in the head and then took out the dagger. Then you used your swords to kill them while still dancing. Then you cut a guy's leg and arm then you stabbed him in the stomach. The music stopped you are feeling super hyped.

After defeating Cassandra and Mr. Paradox, your dad lets you live with him. It’s your birthday and everyone came to celebrate even Laura with the others. You blow out the candles and Laura gives you a gift and you smiled.

“Dad, on my tenth birthday you let me hang out with Uncle Thor and he gave me his helmet. That was so much fun-”

“You know Thor personally!” Wade yelled

“Yeah. He would come visit me and mom all the time and you used to go out drinking with him for fun” You said

“Why he is special?” Laura asked

Wade starts to talk about why Thor is special to him. Then he started to ask you questions how you get into contact with him. But you just want to eat your cake and open gifts.

#deadpool x reader #deadpool imagine #deadpool x you #deadpool x male reader #x male reader #male!reader #male reader #male reader insert #male reader imagine

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extremelyblackandwhite · 2 years ago

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pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: sorry for the delay folks xx

masterlist

now i wish we’d never met ‘cause you’re too hard to forget while i’m cleaning up your mess i know he’s taking off your dress and i know that you don’t but if i ask you if you love me i hope you lie to me

Bucky Barnes was a great many things, a paradox in a single man, many opposite things to different people. For some he was an angel, charity driven and ready to sacrifice himself for everything and everyone. For others, he was a demon, someone who was power driven, filled with the need for success and stepping on anyone he needed to be the first and the best. No matter what both thought, all agreed on one thing - Bucky Barnes was one hell of a charmer. He’d gotten that from his mother - old high class British charm, his father used to say. That combined with his looks made him irresistible to most people. Everyone flocked to him, everyone except for Y/N. She’d vanished from his side a bit later into the night and he hadn’t seen her since. Each time he thought to look for her, someone would need him or catch his attention.

Even with all that, he couldn’t find her. Y/N was an eye catching woman, she was beautiful and if she were anywhere near he would’ve found her. Instead, she was nowhere to be found and he was starting to get annoyed. He wanted to spend the evening with her, or at least he had intended to spend the evening with her, introducing her to the right people who could help her. He continued listening to whoever was talking to him right now - truth was, he wasn’t even sure who that person was. He just usually smiled and kept up simple talks, that was what was required of him so he would gladly keep doing it as long as it yielded results.

As for Y/N, she had almost forgotten who she was here with. Christopher Davis was someone who she always could picture herself with. He was smart, well spoken, well mannered and seemed to have an interest on her. Besides, he had gone through the same thing as her back at Columbia.

- I’m just saying Professor Williams is a pain. - Chris laughed as Y/N explained what her supervisor had said. - If Professor Anderson likes you then you must be a bright student.

- Or maybe I’m just really daft.

- I don’t think so. - he smiled. - Sergeant Barnes doesn’t employ someone who doesn’t have promise.

- Except I don’t work for him ... I mean, not like you work for him, I’m just an au pair. I reckon the only criteria was are you a threat and are you good with children.

- How is it working with Sergeant Barnes if you don’t mind me asking?

Chris looked at her and then back at James whom he didn’t notice had been staring them down until now. He sighed, putting on his best smile, after all, he was trying to impress this girl.

- He’s uptight and a bit controlling but I guess you have to be if you want things to run smoothly. Specially when you work in advertising.

- That’s most CEOs isn’t it?

- Yes but James Barnes is .. different. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a disgruntled employee.

- That is fine. Sergeant Barnes has got me on my nerves every once and again?

- Is that so? - Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she turned around to face her boss. She wasn’t afraid of him per say, but she also knew, she just knew he would probably be pissy for the rest of the evening. - Good evening Y/N, Mr. Davis.

- I will see you tomorrow, Y/N. - Chris smiled at the au pair.

To say Y/N was over the moon was a massive understatement. He liked her, at least she thought he liked her enough to invite her out. She didn’t think she still had it within her, she was usually busy looking over Sadie or with her postgraduate studies - that didn’t give her enough time to think about her sex and love life. That being said, maybe that explained why she was having the weird dreams and fantasies about James; familiarity. Right? It had to be that.

Bucky on the other hand felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Chris was ... well, he didn’t know that much about Chris other than he came from money yet he couldn’t even blame him from that since he had come from money as well. He was just boring, Bucky found him boring. He didn’t take risks, at least not enough risks for someone who worked at advertising. He played it safe. It worked, but it wasn’t revolutionary. Still, Bucky didn’t like him. He definitely didn’t like him for Y/N either. Y/N was smart, innovative, caring and another bunch of positive adjectives which were too long to list. Chris was just boring.

- So how’s that lady? - Y/N broke the silence between the two of them, a bit tipsy on the champagne which she wasn’t used to drinking.

- What lady?

- Delilah? - she looked up through her dizzy, tipsy mind, before snapping her fingers. - Delia. Yeah, that’s her name. How is Delia?

- You would know if you weren’t busy flirting with my employees.

- Oh so you can flirt but I can’t?

- Not when you’re with me. You’re embarrassing yourself and humiliating me.

- But I’m not here with you, am I, sergeant? I am not your date, am I?

- No. - he smiled forcefully. - However if I were going to flirt with someone I would pick someone less boring.

- You work in advertising, Sergeant. Everyone is boring.

(...)

Bucky had never spent a whole night alone with Sadie, not when she was awake. Yet, here he was, left behind by his au pair so she could go and date boring Chris while he had to deal with a very hyper Sadie who was running around as if it wasn’t 8 o’clock yet. He usually had a babysitter or he had Y/N, or Steve yet right now he was by his lonesome. He thought she would’ve settled down if he played princesses, yet, she did not. Instead Bucky now had knotted hair, glitter on his face and probably some on his eye and permanent marker on his neck. He had finally given up and done the worse thing in the eyes of every parenting book - he’d given her a tablet loaded with all the Bluey seasons. Meanwhile he’d taken to watching re-runs of Mad Men.

- Bed? - he asked the curly haired ginger who looked up at him, her hair in front of her face. - I’ll give you 10 dollars?

- No. - she replied before looking back at her tablet. Bucky sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Soon the terrible twos would be done and he’d have the terrifying threes.

- 20 dollars? - he said once again but she ignored him. He sighed, how come Y/N managed to do this? - Sadie, you can either go to bed or you can be tired tomorrow and not go to the park with Y/N. Choose.

She looked at him with the death stare which she had inherited from him, but eventually got up, grabbing his hand. Bucky smiled, picking her up and walking to her bedroom. He pushed the sheets from her bed, carefully rolling her to her mattress before tucking her in, handing her a Bingo plushie.

- You want a story, babe? - he asked her, brushing her curls away from her forehead. - No?

- Light?

- I’ll turn your little moonlight on. - he kissed her forehead. - I love you, Sisi bug.

She smiled at him and it was enough for him to know she meant she loved him too. He tucked her once more before turning off the main light, leaving the room softly lit by the nightlight. Slowly and softly he went up the stairs, grabbing a wick basket and started collecting toys onto it. She had too many toys, still he wouldn’t stop buying them. As he finished it, Bucky sat back down on the couch. He was annoyed. Why did she even go out with that prick? The only thing they had in common was an alma matter and god knows Chris was a legacy student so it wasn’t like he tried as hard to get into university like Y/N had. God, he hated him. Hated how bland and boring he was.

He toyed around with the remote, trying to find something that would get his head out of the idea of goddamn Christopher Davis trying to get her out of the practically translucent dress she had been wearing. Bucky could swear she did it on purpose, just to show off to him in those strap heels and short sheer black dress like a temptress. He changed channels once more, hoping he’d find something ... maybe a pay per view porn channel or something. Yet nothing took his mind of his au pair, his employee who he should have some professionalism with, and that stupid lacy bra he could make out under that dress. Dressing up like that for goddamn Davis.

He stared at his phone, watching as hours passed yet nothing fulfilled. Eventually, Bucky made a mistake, a huge, massive mistake. A mistake which fulfilled itself as he opened the door to show Delia. He handled things badly but right now he needed his fill.

His lips attacked hers as they stumbled towards the bedroom, Bucky locking the door behind him. This was a bad habit, a terrible habit but her lips felt good, her taste was tempting and Bucky wasn’t the one to have good habits. However, today, things were ... different. Her lips leaving lipstick marks on his neck didn’t feel the same. Maybe this was a mistake. He shouldn’t really have a woman in the house when his daughter was asleep upstairs.

- Are you alright? - Delia pulled away from him.

Bucky blinked, he had to be going ... stir crazy. Maybe he’d drank a bit too much whiskey but her features morphed and he could swear that in place of the woman he usually called whenever he needed release, stood the woman he wanted to be here now. The sheer dress a vivid memory in the back of his mind. He ignored her question, moving to kiss her neck and putting his hand over her mouth. His fantasies took full front stage as his mind drew a different reality.

All he could see was her, red lips open wide with soft, high pitched moaned as he kissed down her body, doing away with her dress and her underwear. He wanted to mark her, he wanted to mark this vision of a woman he craved. His hands found the top of his joggers, pushing it down as if he were a horny mess. His cock was painfully hard, slapping against his stomach as he stood over her, this vision of Y/N. All he could think of were all the times she saw her, the outline of her breasts, her collarbones. He didn't pace himself, instead lining up with the woman's entrance before he gripped her hips and slide himself in, without much a second of though. The feeling made him grown, he was insane he reckoned, insane because he knew this wasn't her but all he could see is her. The soft moans, the contracted muscles. He fucked her hard and rough until he felt his release approach. Once he did, he slide himself off, jerking off and coming on her stomach, rolling to the side of the bed. He stared at the ceiling fan of the guest bedroom, his mind lulling him back to reality ... all he could think when that moment was once simple thing - Fuck Chris Davis.

(...)

Y/N didn’t spend the night. He noticed that in the morning as he was getting prepared from work and saw her walk in, with her dress crimped and hair barely brushed. His blood bubbled. If she wanted to fuck old money, she could’ve fucked him.

- Had your release? - he knew he was being mean now, just looking to stir the pot. - Fun night?

- Why? Need some new jerking off material? - she crossed her arms, speaking in a manner and language that almost made him spit his coffee. - Who’s taking Sadie to school?

- Well, if you can still walk I’d say he did a pretty shit job, huh?

- I guess I’m taking Sadie to school. - she rolled her eyes. - And it’s none of your business.

- Well my employee is fucking another one of my employees. Maybe you should go to HR.

- Maybe I should and tell them that the boss is acting like an ass. Are you seriously still upset at me that I flirted with someone at your weird benefit? I’m single, I’m allowed to flirt!

- Not with Chris Davis. Seriously, Y/N, get a better taste in men.

- Because you have such a great taste in women. - she poured herself a cup of coffee. - Since you’re dressed, maybe you should take Sadie to school and see your favourite ego boosting group the PTA mums.

- Maybe I will.

- Picking Sadie up from school or do you want me to?

- Steve’s picking her up.

- Steve?

Steve.

////////////////////////////////////

taglist : @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky/reader #bucky x reader #bucky/you #bucky x you #bucky/y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky smut

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violettduchess · 10 months ago

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A/N: I literally posted today that I don't have a lot of time but I did manage to finish this!

Matthias x Reader, kiss fic

WC: 500

He’s standing on the balcony, his palms resting flat against the mottled gray stone which you know from your time in Achroite must be cold to the touch. Out here, on the easternmost side of the castle, the night winds blow a little wilder as they dance in the dark along the ramparts and climb the imposing towers. They play and shriek and whistle, carrying the frigid echoes of the snow-capped mountains they have previously caressed. Matthias’s placid gaze is turned towards those mountains, but there is something paradoxically soft in the lines of his handsome face, something that counters the starkness of the jagged stone and cliffs. He looks at them and at the star-filled sky and he feels peace.

He is at home.

You break the silence by saying his name and he turns towards the sound.

Light illuminates the gray clouds of his eyes, turning them silver, and he holds open his arms in silent invitation.

As if you would ever decline.

He pulls you against him, wrapping one arm around your waist. He is warmth in the cool night. He is your beacon in the shadows. You begin to snuggle into his embrace. His other hand catches your chin before you can tuck it away and holds you still as he leans down. Your heart never fails to flutter when he draws so close, a tiny snowstorm of emotion that shoots through your veins in whorls of yearning and love. You press yourself even closer, hungry for him and the heat of his kiss.

Matthias appreciates truth and so you play no games. You do not hide how much you want him. Your kisses are eager, your hands roam across soft fur, thick wool, enticing skin. All the fire in your veins, stoked by the swift beating of your enamored heart, is palpable.

He can’t help but give in.

To the outside world he is as solid and immovable as his beloved mountains. A paragon of conviction and strength. But in your arms, he crumbles. He melts. He yields to the unwavering heat of your desire, bends to the will of your lips and tongue. Your hand slides up into the soft, pale mass of his hair, thrilling in the way it slides between your fingers like spun sunlight. You tighten your grip.

He does not growl or groan. The sound that rumbles through his chest is closer to the tremulant purr of a large feline, a satisfied roll of thunder that you can feel in the press of his hips against yours, the possessive grasp of his hand on the indentation of your waist.

The Lawman, the Defender of Justice, is a step away from falling off the cliff of reason. Logic and rational thought dissipate like morning fog in the face of your molten need for one another.

Matthias suddenly lifts you into his arms as if you are light as a snowy owl’s feather.

The sky and its multitude of stars, the dark mountains and their icy summits, are left behind.

His world has narrowed down to one singular, pulsing, fundamental need:

You.

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#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen matthias #matthias asbrink #ikepri matias #matias asbrink #kiss fic #matthias x reader #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfiction #violettwrites

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concussed-to-pieces · 2 years ago

Text

Wolves At The Door; Epilogue

Fandom: Resident Evil [Village]

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg/AFAB!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: It was a little comforting to have a nightly ritual once more, however. Before it had been you and Karl discussing anything that struck him after dinner, and the silence continued to yawn around you at mealtimes.

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to our final installment! I'd like to thank you all for reading, and for having faith in me to see this through safe and sound. Never fear, you will always have your happy ending 💚 Enjoy!

Tag List: @cookiethewriter @amneris21 @topgirl17 @vodkafolie @a-smol-witch @clockworkmidnight @calwitch @silver-quinn01 @velvet-paradox @hijackser @mrs-wolfwood @nonstop-haikyuu @mic-sunderland @somethingthatsaysbubbles @fullofmoonsandstars @stargazerofgoldenwords @imthegreenfairy86 @karlskitten @nitrogennightmare @chunnies @thirstworldproblemss @highly-unknown @tartimaar-bloggeth @thesmartbiscuit @spoopyredacted @crowtrobotx @kotall-ohh @doggydale @jackie-loves-yalls-writing @simplysolo @teeheemax

x. Prelude

1. Indebted

2. Blood On Your Hands

3. Brush With Death

4. Come To Bed

5. Smells Like Snow

6. Hot Iron

7. Turnover

8. Backslide

9. Tender Gray Light

10. Hubris’ Weight

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains mentions of blood, canon-typical violence, graphic depictions of mental and physical duress and sexual acts between two consenting adults. Stay safe!]

You hadn't been counting, but if you had, it would have been sixty-seven days. Sixty-seven days since Karl had vanished, sixty-seven days since you had heard another human's voice or even seen another person.

Sixty-seven days. You weren't counting.

Spring was fully upon the forest, buds erupting on the trees and the river swollen with runoff from the melting snow. It was one of your busiest times of the year between scavenging fallen trees, resetting the snares and sorting through your seeds to plant. You were extremely busy and you didn't think about it at all.

Not even when the Duke made his first appearance of the season.

…

“It brings me joy to see you once more, my dear! This winter was long and harsh.” The large man exclaimed, mopping his sweaty face with a handkerchief. “I'm wondering if you might assist me with a small problem. It seems someone may have suffered a bit of an incident, a turn of bad luck.”

Despite this being the thing he always said when he had found an animal for you to nurse, your heart still gave a traitorous little jump in your chest. That is, of course, until a small doe limped around the rear of the cart.

“What's wrong, my dear?” The Duke queried, and when you glanced at him his expression was strangely stoic. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“No, I…” You hesitated. “I guess not. What's happened to this little girl?”

“She claims that she got her fore left leg caught in the fork of a tree. The woods have been so peaceful as of late though that, aside from the pain, she wasn't scared,” the Duke mused thoughtfully, a swollen hand resting gently on the animal's head. “Apparently her leg would have been broken had she panicked. She had to remain still for several hours to get free.”

You were always entertained by the way the merchant acted like he could understand the woodland creatures he brought to you, but if nothing else he clearly had a way with them. The black horse that drew his cart, for instance, had never balked or shied away in all the times that the Duke had rattled his wares around behind the creature's head.

You squinted upwards at the Duke. “So I'm salving and wrapping her leg?”

“Indeed, a simple fix.” He bent down, giving you a look so intent it made you a little uncomfortable. “And I'll give something to you as a token of my appreciation.”

“Huh?”

He simply winked, then gestured at the doe.

You were burning with curiosity. What could he be granting you? And for free, no less! Ablaze with possibilities you didn't dare hope for, you nonetheless dutifully tended to the small scrape on the deer's thin leg.

“A familiar task for you, I'd wager.” The Duke finally spoke again, cigar smoke wafting around his head like a cloud. You gave him a confused look, quirking your brow, yet his face remained amicably bland.

You eventually settled back onto your haunches, wiping a few beads of sweat from your brow. While the weather had yet to truly warm up, the sunlight was beaming through the still-leafless trees.

The doe staggered to her feet, bleating at you loud enough to make you jump. The Duke laughed as if in reply, that large hand landing on the animal's head once more. “Off you get now, little hind. You know the way home.” He murmured, giving her another pat before she departed. “She said thank you, by the by.” The large man informed you almost absently, already searching through his pockets for another cigar.

“Oh of course,” was your dry response, making him chuckle. “What's with all this cryptic stuff, though?”

“Ah, to business.” The Duke rubbed his hands together, his rings jangling discordantly as he did. “A favorite subject. Regrettably my gift is nothing really physical, it is instead a message.” His keen eyes felt suddenly sharp, as though he was seeing through your soul itself. “That iron horse does not forget its master so easily, especially one so gracious as you, my dear.”

You stared up at him blankly. Horse? What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

The Duke seemed entertained by your bewilderment, the man grinning and leaning back on the bench of his cart. “Perhaps it would be more apt to dub him the feral mutt you've brought to heel. After all, kindness and a warm meal are lures potent enough to drag in even the most stoic of men.”

“That's not funny.” You said in a curt tone, hating that you could feel your lower lip quivering slightly. “I…that's not funny, Mr. Duke.”

He was abruptly serious. “I don't jest lightly, my dear.”

“Then why would you say that?!” You snapped, getting to your feet and dusting off the knees of your pants. “I didn't help out just so you could sit up there and make fun of me-”

“My dear I assure you, I'm as sincere as the day is long.” The Duke insisted, knocking some ash from the end of his cigar. “Call it a…perhaps a merchant's intuition. After all, it's important to have a certain level of foresight, to be able to read the ebbs and flows of the market and adjust to demand ahead of schedule. How else would I keep my clientele?”

“You're not making any sense.” You growled, now frustrated with your corpulent visitor.

He tipped his head back, expelling another waft of smoke upwards. “Have a little faith, will you? Creature of habit that you are, have faith in the unseen, the unknown.” The Duke jabbed his cigar at you. “Or continue to wallow in your discontent, counting the days that you claim mean nothing.”

You recoiled physically as if he had struck you, taking in a deep breath to deny his words. But instead all that came out was a soft, pitiful, “I miss him.”

The Duke nodded, oddly sympathetic all of a sudden. “Have faith, my dear.” He clasped your hand between his own enormous paws, eyes sincere. “The spring is upon us, and new life grows eternal in these woods. Keep your lanterns lit.”

…

Damn, it's quiet.

It echoed in his ears, a looping nothingness like static. Abruptly his heartbeat interrupted it, thudding deafeningly in his skull. What the hell had the good-for-nothing organ been doing before that?!

The beat was slow, much slower than it ought to be. His thoughts were barely there, sluggish and disjointed.

Rain hammering what was once his face, the boom of thunder and the grinding shriek of metal–

No, no, he had dealt with that already. Where was he? It was so frustrating not being able to think, to string along a process to its conclusion.

He flexed his right hand, confused by how numb it was. Pins and needles lurched down the limb in a wave, making him shudder and grunt. That shudder dislodged…something, a huge, sharp something that, from what he could struggle to put together, was what had pinned him to the wall he was currently pressed against.

It didn't seem to matter if he opened his eyes or kept them closed, either way he was effectively sightless and plagued with vertigo. Had he gone blind?

A groan rattled dryly out of his throat. The skin on his lips cracked with the exhale, and he felt liquid begin to dampen them. His tongue flicked out on reflex, the man tasting rust and dirt. Unbidden came a warm flash as if from a dream, cinnamon and brown sugar, plum spice cake.

Standing was a challenge. More of a slow, creaking shift into what could be vaguely considered an upright position. Fingers scratching at the mud around him, the man levered himself off the ground with the help of what was left of his enormous hammer. The handle of it felt more brittle than he had expected, the scent of rust filling the air when his fingers gripped down.

How long has it been?

And then, a new thought occurred, one that seemed to fully shock him to life. Have I just been dreaming this entire time?

Had you just been some vivid hallucination? Had the Duke even scraped him off the ground and brought him to safety, or had he just crawled back into his burrow to die once the saga of he and Winters’ fracas had played out?

Was any of it real?

The ground squelched wetly beneath whatever was left of his boots as he staggered forward, but it also crunched in a grim manner. He didn't want to think too hard on that, instead focusing on sending out pulses of his power. He couldn't truly see, but at least he knew where metallic objects were in proximity to him and he could use that knowledge to keep from toppling over.

He wasn't certain how long he meandered through the sunless wreckage. Was it hours, or weeks? Slowly, painfully, one shuffling foot in front of the other, he continued on aimlessly. He wondered to himself if this was how earthworms felt, wriggling through the cold earth in search of sustenance and never deigning to see the sunlight.

He barely even noticed when it started to become brighter around him, reasoning that he must simply be imagining it when faintly from far, far above came a distant dawn chorus of birdsong. The man paused, straining his eyes to see in the dim light, and he could only just make out a faint glow in the distance. His legs, all but atrophied from disuse, protested mightily when he tried to up his pace, so he was forced to maintain the speed of a snail moving through cold molasses.

It was a long, hard trek. The rubble-laden floor angled slightly upwards to the…hole? cave in?, leaving the man to simply flounder and scrape his shins on the detritus he was too weary to lift his legs over.

As the light strengthened, he came to the sudden realization that he was all but naked. What was left of his clothing was in ribbons, caked with ichor, old blood and mold. His boots seemed to be coming apart at the seams, blooming white patches of mold eating into the remnants of the leather. He then shivered as the first bracing breeze of the outside world graced his lungs, and the coughing spasm it startled out of him seemed to dislodge more than it should have.

When he finally was able to straighten back up, his spine settled into place, releasing an earsplitting pop! as it did. Relief flooded his body, the pain dulling to a manageable throb. He took a few more tentative breaths, noting as he did how much brighter his surroundings had become. Had he been walking through the night, and just reached the entrance at dawn?

It doesn't really matter, he decided, squaring his shoulders. The only thing that matters is…

“I have to go back.” He grimaced at the rasp of his own voice, swallowing and trying again. “I have to…make sure it wasn't all in my head.”

I have to see them. And when I do, I…

His heart lurched painfully in his chest. What if it had all just been a dream? Some wild wish-fulfillment of a gentler, kinder existence while his body slowly repaired itself after his glorious defeat at the hands of Ethan Winters?

His empty stomach felt like it was caving in, fear and resignation warring in his gut, but after a moment of hesitation he shook the hair out of his eyes and stepped out into the cool yellow light of a spring morning.

The first thing he noticed was no humanoid footprints, to his absolute delight. No wolf prints, no footprints, nothing. At least he hadn't failed in that regard. Unless he had imagined it and those fucks who put up the fence had also been the ones to eradicate the lycans and their pets.

Gods, his head hurt. The sun, just barely over the horizon now, seemed like it was burning his retinas clean out of his skull. He shaded his eyes with his palm, grimacing in pain. He would go check the bulkhead he had entered through, he decided. Check the bulkhead, see if it even existed, then check for fresh tracks there. And then…and then…

He slumped against the rubble of the caved-in factory wall, running a hand over his face. His facial hair was extremely unruly and matted with grime, and he doubted the rest of him looked any better. Once he departed the village, put some distance between himself and this…malodorous valley, he would have to clean himself up. If you were real, if he hadn't imagined you in a fit of self-indulgent madness, he doubted you would be overly impressed with him showing up half-dead, reeking of stale sweat, mold and wet dog.

To say nothing of the fact that his clothing was in tatters.

It was a slow, zig-zagging walk back to where he had descended into the factory previously. At least he knew for certain that the bulkhead existed, the man reasoned with himself while he scrutinized the ground around the bulkhead that hadn't caved in. Again, nothing. No fresh marks, no scrapes, no scuffs. Not so much as a sparrow's tiny claw marks graced the ground. Seemingly the local wildlife gave the valley a wide berth, which made sense. Between Miranda's crow forms and the various nightmarish denizens of this place, it was only logical for normal creatures to avoid it.

He straightened up, squinting against the sunlight once more. He could only just make out that ridiculous fence way off by the outskirts of the valley, and if he remembered the fence…

The man gripped the remains of the haft of his hammer and began walking. It had only taken him a few hours of running to get here before, but after his…rest, it would seem that running wasn't in the cards for today. Or ever again, if the screaming in his calves was anything to go by. So walking it was, doing his best to ignore the tremor in his legs as he went.

He mainly left his attention on the ground, familiar enough with the valley that he could afford to do so. Back around the swamp he went, nearly losing the sole of one of his boots to the sucking mud that surrounded the area.

He had to get to you. He had to know whether you were real. The fear and hope cycled in his head, back and forth, round and round, and he wondered hazily if he had snapped (or snapped more).

Climbing the rise felt like an impossible task and yet eventually he stood at the top, sweating and panting but there.

Without an ounce of finesse, Karl Heisenberg gracelessly tore open a section of the fence and made his escape out into the forest, never once looking back at the village that had been his home for so many years. No, all that his thoughts could stay latched onto was the memory of plum spice cake and the way you had looked at him that night.

He had to get to you. He had to make sure that you were real. And…

He had to apologize.

He had to make this right.

If you hated him, that was fine! It was your right. He would hate him. What he had done was stupid. You made him feel something that he didn't understand, and for someone as self-assured as Karl, that was terrifying.

Cut them off at the source. More like run from a problem he didn't think he could handle, like some cowardly bitch. The man snarled at himself in discontent, his pace picking up to some sort of lumbering jog. Deer fled before him, nimble bodies flitting through the undergrowth as he did his best to retrace his steps. At least he had the river to follow, if nothing else.

Speaking of which.

Karl knelt beside the rushing water, grateful that he couldn't see his reflection. He had a decent imagination, he didn't need to confirm it.

It was cold as ice, the chill of it taking his breath away. Karl took another breath and shoved his head underwater, closing his eyes to keep…whatever was in his hair out of them. The man then flipped the soggy hair back over his head, finger-combing it away from his face.

Karl proceeded to drink greedily from the river, the frigid water a shock and blessing all in one. He hadn't realized just how thirsty he was, the man finally sloppily wiping his mouth and beard and then getting to his feet once more. The handle of his hammer remained on the ground beside the river, forgotten, as Heisenberg continued onward along the bank.

He felt like he was actually awake now, like he'd emerged from some kind of dream (or nightmare) into these woods. His footing grew more sure, atrophy fading as his muscles warmed up both from use and from the strengthening sunlight streaming through the trees.

He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry. The day was so young, the sky overhead a vibrant blue and the moss beneath his boots a lush, fluffy green. It was honestly beautiful and Karl had no idea how he had never seen it before. Had he been wandering through life with his eyes shut until now?

No, he thought firmly, he had only begun to open them when he met you. You had done that. You had been worth it, had been worth him taking actual notice of the world around him.

You had to be real. You must be. None of the other phantoms he had encountered in his life had any substance to them, but you…

Heisenberg clenched his fists, urging his body to move faster.

…

Keep your lanterns lit.

And so you did. The Duke had left you with a physical gift despite his claims to the contrary; a sturdy metal lantern with a large cutout shaped like a horse. Every night as the sun was setting, you went out to where it hung on your front gate and lit the candle inside it, which, curiously, never seemed to get any shorter. You, admittedly, didn't have much faith, you just assumed the Duke had been trying to comfort you with some platitude.

It was a little comforting to have a nightly ritual once more, however. Before it had been you and Karl discussing anything that struck him after dinner, and the silence continued to yawn around you at mealtimes. You would take what you could get. You often lingered out by the fence for a while, telling yourself you weren't really listening as you strained your ears to hear anything, anything at all. You knew it was futile and you weren't actually expecting anything to come of it, yet still you persisted in wasting time by the front gate.

With the lengthening days you were occasionally out past dusk, cutting wood or finishing house repairs. On one such day, a floorboard on the porch that had begun creaking in the winter finally annoyed you enough that you decided to attempt to fix it.

You spent most of the day carefully foraging drips of pine pitch from nearby trees, intending to make a batch of pine tar in the evening. Board couldn't creak if it couldn't move, right?

You set up your highly-technical ‘refining station’, which definitely wasn't just an old beans can nestled down into the dirt beneath your fire pit, a slightly-larger tomato can with holes poked into the bottom of it resting on top. Then, after dropping all your resin in the upper can, you carefully built the fire up, placing a rock over the top of the can to act as a lid. The melting process could take a few hours, depending on the fire, so it was after sundown when you began to cautiously sift through the charcoal. You would need a few good, clean pieces to mix in with the now-filtered resin, in order to ensure some pliability remained.

You had interrupted the task at sunset, moving in an automatic way from the firepit to the fence to light the lantern. You could see the glow of it now out of the corner of your eye, even while you pored over the char.

Maybe it does nothing but make me feel a little less alone.

You stared down at your gloved hands full of blackened wood, blinking furiously when tears began to blur your vision. You continued, albeit a bit more clumsily, to separate out the cleanest chunks of charcoal, doing your best to make a neat little pile.

A boot abruptly landed squarely in the middle of the pile and you couldn't help the terrified noise that left your mouth, scrambling to try and get to your feet. Before you could, though, the person dropped to their knees and wrapped their arms around you, trapping you in place. Wiry unkempt facial hair scuffed your cheek while you just sat there, frozen stiff with fear.

“Sugar.”

Karl.

Your breath caught in your throat. You felt his entire body shudder. “I couldn't remember if you were real.” His voice cracked. “I followed the light, but I couldn't–I'm…I'm so sorry, sugar. I'm so, so sorry, I don't know if I can ever make it up to you, I-I just-”

You silently returned his hug, sure that you were leaving charcoal stains on his clothes but not able to find it in you to care all that much. Karl stopped trying to speak after a few moments, the man sagging against you with his forehead resting on your shoulder. “Tell me in the morning, okay?” You whispered, relieved when he nodded. “Let's just get you inside.”

It wasn't much of a struggle to get him indoors, and he bedded down on his old cot without so much as a peep of complaint. He was filthy, but now wasn't the time for your hygiene regiment. He was clearly stripped for energy and worn out. Better to let this particular sleeping dog lie, at least for now.

…

Karl woke suddenly, whatever dream he had been having rapidly fading from his mind. He stared up at the ceiling, momentarily perplexed. Pine truss beams running lengthwise, the pattern of knots and wood grain achingly familiar.

Sugar.

He shoved himself into a sitting position, body still heavy from sleep, and saw you.

You weren't really doing anything all that impressive. The stove door was ajar and you were busily tending the fire. But at that moment, Karl was certain he had never seen a more beautiful sight. “Sugar,” he rasped, voice gruff and drowsy.

You turned to look at him, your eyes softening upon meeting his own. “Hey, Karl.”

Oh, he could fucking cry. Heisenberg huffed out a breath, feeling his heart twist in his chest. You lugged over the basin of water that had been sitting next to the stove (maybe to keep it warm?), toting a washcloth and the bar of soap as well. “Talk with me once you've sponged off.” You said, not unkindly. “You kinda’ smell like BO and dead animal.”

“I doubt it's a kind of level of smell.” Karl admitted wryly, making you snicker and nod. “Sorry about all this. You tend to smell like death if you're dead for a little while, after all.”

“I don't know if I would call two months and some change a ‘little while’. Also, dead?” You raised an eyebrow.

Karl stared at you. Two months. Over two months. Gods almighty.

You, seeming to register that the news was a shock to him, patted his knee. “Y'know what, worry about it later. Focus on the first thing and we can go from there. I'll make us some lunch.”

“Lunch?”

You nodded, turning your wrist so he could see your watch. It was indeed a little after one in the afternoon. “Get washed up,” you reiterated softly.

So Karl attempted to do so, flushing a little once he'd stripped and realized just how dirty he actually was. “Sugar?” He called, using the remains of his clothes to cover his groin just in case you turned around. Sure, sure you had seen him entirely naked before, but…

From the kitchen you replied, “yeah?” He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that you didn't look at him.

“I'm just going to throw myself in the river. I don't think this glorified bucket is going to cut it.” He reasoned.

“Okay, you know where the towels are. Just make sure you go downstream a ways.”

The freezing water in the river was a far cry from the lukewarm comfort that the basin had held, but Karl was a little more certain in his cleanliness once he emerged, teeth chattering and body pink from scrubbing, from the pool that swirled and eddied alongside your far fenceline. Spreading out the worn towel once he had mostly dried himself off, Heisenberg took a moment to lay back on the riverbank and examine the new scars.

The cadou had healed him, of course, but now he was riddled with scars. He'd prided himself previously on his ability to guard quickly, to be able to adjust during a fight and use his powers to shield himself. But that many lycans, vârcolaci, in essentially total darkness…

He knew he was lucky to be alive at all, and that he shouldn't be so unsettled by a few new marks. He still couldn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach. He had never worried about his looks, it had never crossed his mind. His confidence in his abilities was so all-encompassing he hadn't considered the possibility, but what if you had only been attracted to his looks? You had vocalized interest in his appearance, after all.

Karl frowned, rubbing a hand over his face and noting even more unfamiliar raised areas. Maybe he would feel better once he got his facial hair under control. Once he looked like himself again, or some sort of approximation of it. First things first though, he would need to beg some clothes off of you.

…

You tore into a thick slice of bread, slathered with a little of the precious squirrel fat you had left and a healthy sprinkle of salt. Karl had vanished into your bedroom with the haircare kit, stating that he “felt more human, but could use a shape-up”.

He looked much too good for someone you had convinced yourself to be mad at. Truthfully your confusion and anger at being…well, abandoned, in your own terms, had ebbed substantially upon his arrival. He had seemed–breakable wasn't quite the right word. Maybe fragile? He had clearly been through hell, if nothing else. At that moment, you had decided to be merciful. You would hear him out. If you didn't like his answer, you could always show him the door.

Another bite was crammed into your mouth, and you focused on chewing furiously before your thoughts could wander any further. Cool it, hotshot, you scolded yourself mentally. Try to be normal about this.

Once Karl emerged from your room he gingerly settled into the seat across from you at the table. Wearing some borrowed, slightly ill-fitting clothes and sporting some uneven edges to his facial hair, the man didn't exactly cut an imposing figure.

God, you had missed him so much.

To your surprise he entirely ignored the food in front of him, instead reaching across the table and clasping your free hand between his own. The look he leveled at you made you want to break eye contact, but stubbornly, you refused. He owed you this much, you reminded yourself with more than a touch of irritation.

“I'm sorry.” His voice was still raspy, but it seemed to be from disuse. “I…sugar I fucked up. I own that. I was scared.”

You gaped at him, thrown entirely off balance. The man who had faced down a horde of lycans, the man who could control metal with a look, a gesture–

Scared?

He wasn't done clearly, his grip on your hand tensing as he leaned in with an earnest expression. “You deserved better than what I did. You were–gods, you were so kind to me. Opened your home to me when I didn't know who I was. Opened yourself to me.”

Were you blushing?! Dammit!

“I know we didn't mean fuckall to one another, I get that it was…I guess a convenience, using each other for mutual benefit. But I-” Heisenberg paused, leaving you reeling. It was true though, wasn't it? Convenience. No emotions involved in it. “-I don't know what the hell happened.” He finally admitted, his voice soft. “I don't know when it changed for me. Whether it even changed at all, or if it was always like that and I was just ignoring it. I'm, uh, not exactly experienced here, and I guess I can blame it on that.”

“‘Experienced’ how?” You managed to ask, a hysterical giggle escaping you when he stuttered and fell silent. “Seriously?”

“This isn't how I-look, sugar, I figured me dying, me wiping out all those lycan freaks and probably dying in the process–I mean it wasn't great, but I thought I could at least be useful. I'm not…good.” His voice faded to an awkward mumble. “Good, like how you are.”

One thing at a time. You could process that later. “All the lycans?” The woods had been peaceful the last few months. You hadn't really thought…damn.

Karl nodded, his jaw set in a grim line.

“You…You really thought you were gonna’ die?” You felt a little nauseous when he nodded again. “How? You're so tough!”

“I'd never fought the horde on their turf. They holed up in my factory after-” he gestured at himself. “-everything.” The man sighed heavily, rotating his shoulder. “Brought the house down on top of them and me. Not sure how long I fought them before then.”

“You've got to be shitting me.” You planted your palms on the table, shoving your chair out behind you from the force as you stood. “You went back there and nearly got yourself killed-”

“Yes.” Heisenberg cut you off. “I did, sugar, and I'd do it again.”

“Why though?” You exclaimed, incredulous.

“You really don't know?” He asked, sounding just as incredulous. “You try coming to a realization like I did when you're fucking–balls deep in someone!” His eyes widened, the man dropping his head to thud against the table after a moment of stunned silence. “Dammit,” he snarled, his voice muffled.

“W-what realization?” You knew you should probably leave it alone. It was an invasive question and, despite the intimacy the two of you had shared, an apology was already on your lips when it was cut off by a loud groan from Karl.

“That I–that you–” the man floundered, then suddenly jerked his head up to fix you with an appropriately-intense look. “I think I love you.”

What.

What?!

Your shoulders dropped, hands slack on the tabletop. You stared at Karl, but all he did was stare back at you, his gaze one of weary resignation.

I think I love you.

“S-So–” Gods, when had your mouth become so dry?! “So you don't know?” You half-squeaked, half-choked on the words.

“I've never felt this way before,” was his blunt reply. “I can only infer from the evidence.” He didn't seem thrilled about the circumstances, but maybe that could also be chalked up to his lack of experience.

“Is it…are you okay with it?”

Karl's brow furrowed, and then he offered you a slow, firm nod. “...yeah. Had a lot of time to think during my walk back. Even if you…I mean, if you think I'm gross-looking now, that's okay. I'd understand.”

You blinked, entirely baffled. Gross? Sure, he had a few new scars on his face. They only stood out to you because the tissue was still pink, unlike the silvery lines that had littered his visage before. But that wasn't gross, not to you anyway.

Karl was still talking however, and it seemed that he was picking up speed. “Sugar, I showed up, an unknown, a starving wolf at your door and yet you showed me kindness, even if it was just a favor for that fat bastard at first. You fed me from your own damn plate, let me take comfort in you.” His words hitched momentarily when he continued, “I was just so–so twisted and broken, I didn't understand that you could offer with open hands. I didn't understand what you had given me and then I realized as I was throwing myself at the lycan hive that…I was an idiot. It wasn't that I wanted to die, I wanted to live! I'd never wanted to live so much in my damn life, so I could get back to you, so I could apologize, so I could–” Heisenberg's fists clenched, the man soldiering on doggedly, “so I could tell you how I…felt. How I think I feel.”

“So you could tell me that you love me.” You were reeling.

“Yes.” His broad shoulders caved a little, the man shrinking into himself. “And now you know. Now I know. But I don't know what to do. I've never…this hasn't happened before.”

You picked up your glass of water and drained it in one long gulp, attempting to buy time while your brain ran through a million possibilities at once. Your main takeaway, however, was simple. He loves me. A warm sensation flooded your body, tingling down to your fingertips. He loves me. “Want me to offer some input?” You asked, your steps light as you rounded the table.

Heisenberg nodded dully, his eyes fixed on the bowl of stew in front of him. You gently brought your hands up to cup his chin, tilting his face so you could meet his gaze. You found no regret in that stare, only apprehension, which was immensely heartening.

“Next time you have a realization like that, talk to me.” You said in a sweet tone, the ‘loving’ pat you gave him on the cheek not quite a smack. “Don't pull something like that again…and I'll let you stay with me.”

“You…what, seriously?” Karl demanded, his eyes widening. “You'll let me stay here? Even after-”

“Don't push your luck,” you warned, blowing a raspberry at him when he began to laugh incredulously. “This isn't a vacation, after all! You'll need to fix holes in the roof, help me with the supplies every year, check the traps-”

Karl swept you up in a hungry kiss, effectively cutting off your eternal to-do list. “That all sounds wonderful, sugar.” He murmured against your lips. “Let me finish lunch and I'll get right on it.”

Thoroughly flustered, you stammered out in protest, “i-i-it's not going to be easy, Karl! Don't agree to this unless you understand the burden of responsibility you're taking on.”

“I do.” He insisted around his first mouthful of bread. “I pr’mise.”

…

He wasn't certain where your underwear had gone, but he was immensely grateful for its absence. You leaned forward, taking his dick out of your mouth for a second to catch your breath and Karl forced your knees to slide out on either side of him with his forearms so he could draw his tongue along your cunt. His thumbs spread you open, the man rumbling when he felt your breath hitch. Then, Karl delved his tongue into you, making you moan and whimper around his dick while he slowly, slowly ate you out.

Karl could feel his heartbeat in his neck when your thighs suddenly snapped shut around his head, hips rocking back and forth as you ground yourself against his mouth. Finally, someone who could be as greedy as he was.

His own hips bucked upwards, driving his cock into your throat mercilessly while you continued to attempt to crush his skull. Your thighs were trembling, body undulating helplessly. All Karl could do was urge you onward and that's exactly what he did, his voice a low burr against your cunt as he demanded that you come for him. It didn't matter that you'd already come before, it didn't matter that you were still sloppy and fucked-out from his previous, extremely enthusiastic efforts. Karl wanted more and he knew you did too.

Your pelvis lurched abruptly, breath coming in sharp little gasps as you began to climax. The former Lord growled in satisfaction, clasping his hands up over your thighs to pin you where you were as you rode out your orgasm.

“Mmm, told you that you had one more in you,” he hummed, grinning when you whined your annoyance at him. “Shh, no complaining sugar, or I'll wring another one out of you for fun.” As if to prove his point Karl slid a finger into you, using it to massage your still-trembling walls. You whimpered but made no attempt to wriggle away from him, so Heisenberg simply carried on gently stroking his finger in and out of your entrance. “One more, sugar, c'mon, match me.” The man teased, his eyes half-lidding when you took his dick in hand once more.

“You're ridiculous-” You panted. He could hear the laughter in your words despite your evident breathlessness. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sugar.” Karl patted your leg, guiding you to turn around and slide back down to straddle his thighs. He then sat up slightly, meeting you halfway in a hungry kiss. “I love you,” he sighed, finding his eyes still searching your own for reassurance.

But then you smiled at him, knocking your forehead gently against his own. “And I love you, Karl.”

I love you.

“‘Course you do,” Karl breathed, half to himself. You rolled your eyes at him and your wry chuckle was music to his ears, as was your singsong reply.

“Of course I do.”

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