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aseaofyoongi · 2 years

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confessions of not so estranged hearts | pjm

park jimin x reader (f)

genre: angst; smut; crush culture

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: you and jimin used to talk your senior year of highschool but after a lengthy falling out the two of you finally get a chance to reignite what was there.

warnings: pretty vanilla; reader is kind of shy; mentions of emotional constipation and miscommunication; set in the spring because warm weather makes me happy; tae is the readers step bro (this is not pseudo incėst); jk/jm are also brothers; teasing; penetrative sex; fingering/clitorial stimulation; praise; nipple play; foul language.

word count: 8,9 thousand words

posted: March 18, 2023

Vibrant fields of lilac were stretched out in front of you. The little knowledge that you had retained about plants geared you to believe you were prancing around lavender beds. All of them were so narrow and ran numerous miles, seemingly endless. It almost seemed to meet the cool tones of the evening blue skies somewhere at the end of its path deep into the horizon. But you could not tell if it really did.

Instead, you stood snapping mental photographs of the beauty around you. It was a sight you wanted to store in your memories forever. To keep under lock and key in a tiny wooden box within the walls of your heart.

You grew a bit startled when a stranger’s slender fingers became intertwined with yours.

You thought you were alone. . Steadily, you turned around reading up the person standing behind you. They wore khakis; a white button up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and were outlined by a luminescent sparkle outshining the burning star above.

Jimin? You questioned, thoughts becoming a scribbled nonsense and quite frankly you were unsure how the two of you ended up here. But you did not care nor did you question it.

You just rode the wave of tingles migrating through your body. The way his lips were sculpted into a tender smile; his cheeks adorned by dimples so deep the ocean would be put to shame. And his palm felt so warm against yours. God knows you have wondered how that would feel from the moment you first laid eyes on him.

“Jimin.” he didn’t speak; just nodded, “how are we here? Where are we?”

“Your thoughts brought me here.”

“My thoughts?” you scratched the back of your head, “it’s that simple?”

“It’s that simple,” his voice began to fade and his touch became phantom.

You were being shaken out of your scenic haven, and while you tried to focus on Jimin the chants of your name became too great to ignore. Opening your eyes felt blinding but after rubbing the sleep off of them you realized it had only been a dream.

Figures. Only in the fabrications of your dreams would you ever grow the tits to speak to someone like him again. . breathing in the same vicinity as Jimin was an overstep, looking in his direction was ambitious, another chance at speaking to him was impossible and you were fully aware of that but how do you tell your heart to move on when he possesses everything your dreams are made of.

“Jimin again?” Your step-brother, Taehyung asked.

“Jimin?” you must have been uttering his name in your sleep again—like an idiot, “as in the guy who manages the flower stand?”

He hummed.

“No, not that Jimin.”

“So within the last twenty four hours you developed a stupid crush on another Jimin?”

“Yes. .” that could be believable, right?

“He’s the only Jimin you and I know,” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“He’s the only Jimin you know,” you tried averting as much as a stutter in your words, wanting to sound as convincing as possible, “I know many other Jimins’”

“Do I need to remind you, your best friend is a stuffed animal?” The most annoying thing about Tae was having him as a brother, living with him twenty-four seven; not being able to shield any details about your personal life from him.

“Actually, Yeontan is my best friend as well. How about you just keep your eyes on the fucking road.”

“You just proved my point but whatever,” he mumbled but you ignored him allowing his words to be carried away in the mild wind. Instead you became focused on the perfect attributes of that afternoon. The way the viridescent leaves emitted their melody as they swayed on the branches they would be calling home for the duration of spring and summer.

You raised your legs up on the dashboard after rolling down the window immersed by the sounds of nature, everything so perfectly in tune much like a lullaby nearly sending you off into a deep slumber once more.

Perhaps, that’s what your heart truly called for, urging for even the remaining ten minutes of the ride to fabricate dreams of him like you just had. Snippets of his features flashed in your mind with recollections of his tawny skin sparkling under the sunlight; cherry lips which he usually glossed accentuating their plumpness; and russet eyes he usually hid behind his eyelids when he smiled and laughed.

Jimin was the definition of perfection through and through.

But despite your shy glances and sneaky pleads for him to see you one more time, he never did. Even during the market festival season where he began helping his mom’s stand in front of yours two years ago you were invisible to him yet he was all you ever laid eyes on.

“We’re here loser,” he knocked your legs off the dashboard scrubbing the sleeve of his hoodie on the scuffs that were already there, “Look at all this. I’m gonna make you clean my whole fucking car.”

“Your truck has been shit way before I even set foot in it.”

“The fuck you say about Darla?”

“Darla, is literally the only woman in your life,” you pointed at his truck, “and she's a chunk of metal on wheels. Complete shit.”

He gasped audibly, slamming the car door before following behind you in a trot, “if Darla’s such a piece of shit you can use your little chicken legs to walk home.”

“I was going to do so anyway.”

“Good because I wasn’t providing you with a choice to begin with.”

You rolled your eyes, “fuck you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung and his father steered into the avenue of your life ten years ago on your twelfth birthday. Your mother threw a big party with promises of a grand surprise. Like any other adolescent girl you had hopes of a pleasant gift like a new phone; clothes; or maybe even a puppy. . But no. You couldn’t have been any more wrong. In the blink of an eye you were condemned with a brother you never asked for and a father figure you didn’t need. As she introduced them to you the vibrant walls residing in your mind, the same ones you had grown so accustomed to began closing in—trapping you in the narrowed space. Your whole world had been crushed entirely, metaphorically and literally as you were completely blind sided by betrayal and fueled by rage. For an entire year you gave your mother the cold shoulder, resenting her for not deeming you the sole purpose of her life. For needing to find happiness elsewhere and for not thinking you were enough. Even thinking about it now you realize how selfish it was. How you were tainting their experiences at the expense of your ridiculous outbursts. Thankfully, things were different now and the two of them have settled in your heart forever. Even though you and Taehyung would probably be buried six feet under still bickering in the afterlife.

Saturday mornings were finally alive again, bustling with social bodies strolling through the sidewalk between the red brick wall and the canal, stopping by all of the kiosks and stands featured in the annual market festival. Overhead there were string lights hung between the trees and the canal railing simulating the twinkling stars glimmering even during the brightest bits of the day.

Jung-hee, your step-father and your mother set-up the white tent enclosed with rectangular tables on three sides, all of them covered in white tablecloths and an abundance of upcycled and environmentally friendly jewelry. Of course, it only made so much sense to sell them here at the very place refusing to turn their lights off during the day.

“Did I hear the two of you arguing just now?” your mother shot the two of you a stern stare, her hand remained on her hip.

“Arguing?” you let out a derisive laugh.

“I may be old but my hearing still works.”

“No offense mama, but you might wanna clean your ears out cause there was absolutely no arguing here,” technically speaking you could tell the truth but she always made it her mission to punish the two of you if she caught you bickering in any way. And the last thing you felt like doing was cleaning up the stand after the market festival was over, “right, Tae?”

“Right,” he confirmed, “I’m as passive as the waves,” he flailed his arms mimicking the motion of the ocean, “I don’t even know what arguing is.”

“Not too much, Tae.” you smacked his arms down forcing them down to rest at his side.

“You know what? I don’t have time for this,” she brushed off the two of you and walked off in the direction of the parking lot, likely fetching something they’d previously forgotten.

“The two of you are gonna give your mother an aneurysm,” Jung-hee laughed while taking a seat on the stool by the register, “We all heard your bickering all the way here.”

What did he mean by all of us? You turned around reading the statue in Jimin figure as he leaned along the black railing, his attention entirely diverted to the phone sitting in his palm. As disappointing as it may be this was the extent of your interactions with Jimin, or the lack thereof rather. He was always right there. Right in front of you giving a new meaning to the word breathtaking and you were always willing to devote your undivided attention to him.

“Jimin, you are so fine. Please have my babies,” His voice was laced with mock and you just knew this was his attempt at working your remaining nerve. Surprise surprise, it worked.

“Jun sophomore year of college is going great thanks for asking,” you beamed, “Tae, how are you adapting to your classes?”

Deep; deeeep; deeeeeeeep down you knew it was kind of fucked to put Tae on the spot when you knew crystal clear he had been neglecting his classes for dance club but honestly you couldn’t say you were entirely sorry.

“Fuck you.” Taehyung mouthed quietly in your direction and your automatic response was to stick your tongue out at him.

“Right. Taehyung, how are classes going?”

“Well, they—they’re fine. .” Taehyung mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Why do you not sound convinced?” Jun crossed his arms at his chest. He furrowed his eyebrows in a tight knit and squinted his eyes.

“It’s as convincing as it's gonna get,” he shrugged.

Jun swiped his hands down his features resting them right under his chin. “Taehyung, you need to get your shit together or I will tell your mother. Besides college is expensive and if you’re gonna dick around just save me the money and drop out already,” As a father figure Jun wasn’t much of a scoulder. . But the disappointment in his words was as sharp as a bee’s stylet and his tone felt like the acidic painful venom the insect punctured through the skin.

“When it gets to that point, I’ll phone the neighborhood snitch to let you know.”

In case it wasn’t evident; you were the ‘neighborhood snitch’. When the two of you were smaller you had a habit of babbling redundant shit you swore to the grave. As it seems you weren’t much different as an adult either. It’s what resulted in you scoring the nickname indefinitely.

“Don’t blame me. I simply asked a question.”

“No,” Taehyung slouched back on the chair and pulled his phone out of his pocket, “you asked the wrong fucking question. You always do.”

“You could have just answered differently.”

“You know I crack under his disappointed tone,” Taehyung whined.

“In that case, it is not my fault you’re a weak little bitch.” Actually, it kind of—No, it definitely was.

“You better sleep with one eye open.”

If this was anyone else you would have been trembling with fear but empty threats were Taehyung’s forte. In the third grade you accidently broke his Spider-Man lunch box and after threatening to chop off one of your ponytails yet all had been forgiven by the time school was dismissed and the two of you skipped home happily, hand in hand. Fast forward to middle school the two of you got in trouble after you tripped and broke a vase in your parents room after wanting to sneak an early peek at your Christmas gifts. Again, he threatened to never speak to you again but a few hours the two of you were sipping hot cocoa while binging a holiday movie marathon.

Just baseless threats. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Can you two be quiet before your mom comes back?” Jun shook his head, “I should’ve gotten a vasectomy.”

“That only affects me, you ass,” Taehyung exclaimed.

“I would’ve given her up for adoption. Happy now?”

“Very.”

Jun pulled the cellphone from his back pocket reading his lit up screen, “your mother needs help, I’ll be right back. Behave please.”

“You got this right?” Taehyung scrambled up from his chair nearly sprinting away from the tent, not even sparing you a brief second to protest at his lack of assistance, “I need to, uh, go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Although, there was a steep vibrancy of livelihood that trotted through the festival you couldn’t help but be underwhelmed by the lack of tints missing within the blurred lines tracing the eyes, nose and lips of those around you. You convinced yourself that in the darkest of night, a thief had broken into the neighborhood homes with a mission to drain everyone of their glow—the spark that shone brightly, exuding your desire to live.

Everyone was missing it but Jimin wasn’t.

His luminance was everlasting and while all of those around him in the canal were bland; boring; in black and white. . His honeyed skin radiated a blinding radiance. One that snagged your attention and refused to let it go. His eyes were as dark and as bottomless as the deepest depths of the sea. And while you dove in them long ago. You remained floating on the surface hoping one day he would finally notice. The curves of his plump lips were filled in with a shade of rubicund, while a layer of gloss accentuated them. He was blanketed in the synonyms of impeccability.

Anatomy states there are over six hundred muscles in the human body. One hundred of those would be geared to speak to him. To approach him two hundred muscles would be required per step. While you were dazed in love-filled daydreams, your ideal boy began walking up to the jewelry stand. You attempted to use the seventeen muscles needed to smile in his direction but instead you froze in place.

“Hey,” his voice was flourishing like the emerging flower petals in the dawn of spring, “do you have any bead necklaces?”

Copious assumptions ran through your mind. Who did he want? No, who did he need a necklace for? Was he taken? Maybe someone who he deemed a potential interest.

If only he could hear the palpitations of your beating heart. Only if he knew how much you still liked him.

“Necklaces?” you muttered in a stupefied tone.

“Bead necklaces,” he repeated.

“Right. .” In the back of your mind you continuously kicked the incompetence away or at least tried to. Working against your glacialized muscles you pulled out two white trays from behind the table and laid them out in front of you. One was composed of gold and silver pieces while the other were some your mother made with more vibrant colors, “we have these available right now.”

“Which ones do you like?” he hummed, kneeling down in front of the table.

“As the sales attendant of this tent,” you shrugged, “I think I’m forced to say I like all of them.”

He emitted a chuckle so airy and light it felt like a crisp breeze sweeping by even on that scorching spring day, the sweat beads streaming down your temples were congealed, “I suppose that's how things are wired, huh?”

“That is what I’m here for,” you smiled slightly. There was a pinch in your heart as you formed your next words, “I might be able to form better assistance if I knew who this could be for.”

“My youngest brother,” he huffed, “his birthday’s in a couple of days.”

“Jungkook?” you asked.

“Yes. . You know him?”

“Only in passing,” you shrugged, “he’s best friends with my step brother, Taehyung.”

He snickered, “Oh. .Taehyung.”

“That is the only accurate response to the whirlwind individual that is Taehyung,” you shook your head, chuckling in the process.

“Funny, cause I would describe Jungkook the exact same way,” he brushes his dark locs away from his moistened forehead.

“They are soulmates after all.”

“What about you?” he began.

“What about me?”

“Is there anyone who holds such a title in your life?” his eyes turned to gold under the beams of the radiant sun. Spell written with poems about the beauty of the summer season featuring sonnets of love and fondness.

“Like a best friend?”

“I suppose,” there was a stammer in his words, “more like a soulmate bond at all.”

“Uh, I suppose not,” truly narrowing it down the stem of the current relationships in your life came root to sole acquaintances. Friends of friends or friendships you made in passing.

“Well we’re still young right?” Jimin reassured, “we have a lifetime of relationships to build.”

Less than an eternity, all you wanted was a single minute to peel back everything you felt for Park Jimin. Like a love struck idiot unable to form coherent sentences you nodded with your tongue caught in the back of your throat.

You didn’t desire a lifetime, you wanted to shout. All you needed was him.

“For Jungkook,” you cleared your throat, “I noticed he’s quite fond of the color black. Perhaps, something like this might suit him best.” You picked out a black spinel necklace composed of black beads with a silver chain in between each one.

“You have a keen sense for good taste,” the pads of his fingertips fluttered over the piece. His sensible touch traced over your fingers sending a chill racing through all ten of your fingers.

“It's the reason I was appointed employee of the month,” surely the wide grin sitting on your face was unsettling so you tried to tone it down as best you could, “should I pack this up for you?”

“Please,” he followed you over to the register, “thank you so much for all of your help.”

Grabbing the black square jewelry box you placed the necklace in it, before placing it in the small gift bag and handing it off to Jimin after he paid for it.

In your mind, the extent of your interaction was cherished but you couldn’t help the way your head raced through hundreds of scenarios to call him back. To scramble and make something up just to be able to see him again. It was a fervent feeling like a fire being fed more lighter fluid, unable to be extinguished.

But his back was all your eyes could meet and his strides were aimed towards his family’s rose stand on the other side of the sidewalk.

Everything played in slow motion, perhaps that is why you missed how sweet your name tasted being pushed past his lips. Lingers of daydreams trailed behind as you failed to separate fiction from reality.

To be fair, what had taken place for the past fifteen minutes seemed to be fabricated from the sweetest of dreams to visit you in the late hours of the night—then, you heard your name once again.

“Yes?” you finally snapped out of it.

“Will I see you at Jungkook’s birthday party?”

“I don’t know,” you weren’t really sure why you said that when in reality you wanted to go and spend more time with him.

“Come on,” he fidgeted with the silk string on the gift bag, “I promise I’ll keep you company.”

“Yeah, yeah. .” you nodded, “I’ll go.”

“Tomorrow at 6:30 at the beach spot behind our house,” he offered.

“See you there.”

When the market festival ended that day you were drained, entirely washed out by the lack of assistance provided from your family in managing the jewelry stand. Taehyung never showed up again from his trip to the bathroom and Jun and your mother left to look after the store a few blocks away.

The night has emerged and all you wanted was to sink into the comfort of your mattress.

“Are you gonna wait for me to get all of this down?” Jun continued storing away the few pieces you weren’t able to sell.

“Our apartment is just two blocks away. I’m too tired to wait, I’ll just walk it,” the slanting rays of the setting sun painted a warm orange tinge to the sky. It wasn’t too dark for an evening stroll and besides many stans were open and the sidewalks were still being occupied by dozens of people.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you taking the tent down too?”

“Are you and Taehyung still going to Jungkook’s birthday party?”

The thought of missing it couldn’t even cross your mind, “Yes.”

“Then, yes,” he pointed at the phone sitting beside him, “just please text me when you get home so I know you made it there safely.”

“I always do,” you kissed his forehead, “good night Jun.”

“Good night sweetie.”

Walking was its own form of therapy and while you had just worked on your feet all day, there was something about the way the cool wind swept against your body. Seeming as if just a few hours prior it hadn’t been the hottest day the spring season has had to offer thus far.

“As employees of the month I would have guessed your work hours would extend past 6pm,” Jimin pulled up next to you on his bright mint green bicycle.

“I was deserving of it when my lazy baby brother decided to ditch me hours ago,” you slowed down your power walk allowing him to also ride swiftly.

“You know, Jungkook did the same exact thing at the flower stand,” he hummed as if to raise suspicion. . rightfully so.

“Tae and Kookie are two peas in a pod,” you sighed, “God, knows what kind of trouble they’re stirring up.”

“I can only hope to be as far away as possible from the eruption whenever that trouble may explode.”

“Seriously.”

If a color palette could be assigned to each person in the world, Jimin would be composed of pastels. More specifically he would be portrayed in the delicate hues of yellow vivifying calmness, peacefulness, happiness.

“No cars out in the town today?” He pedaled slowly, still following your pace.

“You’re the one with the fancy cars here.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “they’re barely fancy.”

“You’re such a liar,” you giggled, “but to answer your question I keep my car in the garage a lot of the time. Everything is at a walking distance and besides Taehyung is the one to drive us back from on the weekends.”

“Sounds like the makings of a passenger princess to me.”

“I wear the title proudly,” you smiled.

“In that case, hop on.” Jimin came to a halt in front of you.

“Like on the pegs?”

“You can always hop on the handlebars if you prefer that. .” he offered, patting the metal bar in front of him.

“I’ll take the pegs,” after securing your backpack to prevent it from falling, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders before climbing onto the wheel attachments, “where are we heading?”

“How do you feel about milkshakes?”

“Love them.”

“Then, we’re headed for milkshakes.”

On the back of Jimin’s bike you felt like the world glimmered in stardust, guzzled with the purest beauty you had ever witnessed. There was something about the golden tones of the sunset painted over the land while the wind continued brushing so tenderly against your face. And in that moment, you realized just how divine life truly was.

“I was not aware you had such an affinity for chocolate,” Jimin chuckled lightly, eyeing the chocolate milkshake and nutella waffles laid out in front of you.

“I guess I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“A bit,” he laughed, “is putting it lightly.”

“Would it be categorized as an obsession in that case?”

“An obsession is the right label,” he took a bite from a single french fry.

Nightfall had finally fallen amongst the small town and while the sky was basking in utter blackness and twinkling of stars, you sat across from Jimin enamored by his mere presence.

The two of you decided on a booth by a large window—overlooking the lively atmosphere of the night life taking its course on college hill.

“Can I ask you something?” you played around with the straw sitting in your milkshake to ease the nervousness.

“Of course,” he sat up, russet eyes sternly casted on you, contributing further to your ecstatic nerves.

You cleared your throat, an attempt at trying to rid yourself of the lump residing in your throat, “Why did we ever stop talking?”

“I guess back then, I got in my own head,” he moved around in his seat continuously. Perhaps, scavenging for the right words, “after we began speaking on Hinge we never talked in school. Didn’t even spare each other a glance. After some time our conversations on the app also became scarce so I assumed you had found someone else.”

You shook your head quickly. Astounded that your lack of words had once pushed Jimin away, “There was never anyone else.”

“There was never anyone for me either,” his smile was tender, illuminating your night like the beams of moonlight, “but we were so much younger then. . and communication was not our strongest suit I suppose.”

“That’s definitely true.”

“The good thing about maturing is learning to communicate and I think we’ve both grown to overcome our limitations,” he offered, “and besides there’s always a chance for a fresh start.”

“Second chances are esteemed to vitality,” you chuckled, “and I think we owe each other at least one.”

“Yeah, I would say we’re due for one,” his lips stretched out into a wide grin, “although, can I apologize for the assumptions I made back then?”

The diner was still buzzing with conversations birthed from patrons who were still out enjoying the hours of the evening much like you and Jimin. With dimmed lights and the red leather covering the seats the set up was slightly romantic and you weren’t sure if he had brought you here on purpose (realistically this was the only milkshake spot near campus but you feed into your own delusions).

“In that case I’d have to apologize as well.”

“You know,” he fidgeted with the rings on his fingers, rotating the silver band against his honeyed skin, “I only walked up to your mothers tent for one reason.”

“What was the reason?”

“I wanted to be sure you still remembered me.”

“I could never forget you, Jimin.”

As time slowed you’d still felt it insufficient for the amount of hours you actually wanted to spend with Jimin. Talking each other’s ears off about anything that could be a topic of conversation. You just wanted to be embraced by his blanket of comforting words—the lusciousness of his voice. That is all you desired.

The real highlight of the night came when the two of you walked side by side under the starry night, though, his bike remained wedged between the two of you; while you were engaged in conversations, your hands met on the metal bars of his bicycle’ handle bars when you offered to help him push it.

Shocks of electrical currents waved through you as your palms met his hand. A feeling so addictive you wanted nothing more than to be consumed by it.

“Hey.” Taehyung leaned against the frame of your doorway, “how did your night end up?”

“Well even after you stranded me at the jewelry stand for the day, I still managed to salvage my night,” you threw one of plush cushions at him—clearly intending no damage but he caught it anyway.

Just like the numerous birds migrate during the autumn season; just as they did as soon as the leaves turned auburn, amber and mahony and you and Taehyung were eighteen year old high school graduates, the two of you left home for the city. Away from the soundtrack composed of the waves crashing against the golden shores; away from the ranch style homes and the peacefulness of the suburb style community. Realistically, an apartment downtown was more convenient for commuting college students than having to drive thirty minutes back and forth every single day.

“I’m sorry,” he laid down next to you on the bed, though his legs were still hanging off for the most part, “but that was my payback for what you pulled earlier. I still have dad blowing up my phone about my grades.”

“I’m sorry about that,” you began working random braids into his messy strands.

“Apology accepted,” he cleared his throat, “but on a more interesting note, Jungkook and I saw you and Jimin riding on his bike earlier tonight.”

“Oh yeah,” you tried to mask the excitement in your tone—keeping a steady monotone, “he came to talk to me while I worked the stand, then invited me out for milkshakes and to Jungkook’s birthday party.”

“Do I smell a crush to lovers trope finally taking its course here?” he sat up a bit still resting back on his elbows.

Your palms grew sweaty at the thought of seeing Jimin again at the end of the week, “I hope so. . I never thought he and I would speak again but here we are.”

“You know he’s never stopped talking about you once,” his boxy smile was synonymous to the warm embrace you wanted to cry out for at that very moment, “Jungkook told me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. That boy is always talking about you,” He got rid of his sweatshirt and laid back down on your bed, invading nearly all of your pillows. So laid back. As if he hadn’t just revealed that Jimin still likes you, “what are we watching tonight?”

You felt your body levitating right off the mattress but somehow your hand still managed to pass him the TV remote, “you pick something tonight.” Reaffirmations of Jimin’s unspoken sentiments tickled your stomach and stole your attention from whichever horror movie Taehyung decided on. Instead you were shaken with anticipation to see Jimin again, it’s all you could think about.

For the first time since moving into the city the drive back home felt different. Your timorous state attributed to your moistened palms, the incessant bouncing of your leg and the fact that you couldn’t maintain a single stature in the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Taehyung placed his hand on your shoulder while maintaining eye contact on the road, “are you doing okay over there?”

You nodded slowly, then remembered he couldn’t actually see you, “I’m fine.”

“You seem. . queasy,” he suggested.

“I’m not queasy,” you argued, “besides aren’t you a bit nervous about all this?”

“About having the house to ourselves and partying tomorrow?” You hummed but he replied: “No, I don’t. I’m actually a normal person.”

“It’s not about being normal, you asshole.”

“No, it’s about Jimin. Right?” The octave in his voice rose, likely to mimic yours. Kissing noises came from his side of the car as he puckered his lips in a taunting manner.

“It’s not. .” But it was. Your brain felt as it had been liquified and where excitement became puddled its remnants drew dangerously close to doubt. Causing you to overthink Jimin’s intentions behind his invitation. Did he just feel obligated to invite you after you sold him that necklace?

Taehyung pulled into your parents’ driveway taking the key out of the ignition, “come one, spit it out. What are you thinking about?”

“I just-” you sighed, “I just want things to go well this weekend.”

“Listen, it is just a party. OK?” He slouched back in the driver’s seat, “If you need to leave at any point we’ll bounce no questions asked.” You nodded, reaching for the door handle but he called your name drawing your attention back towards him.

“He likes you,” he reassured, likely to ease your nerves—he was your brother after all, and he knew exactly what you were anxious about, “but if tomorrow you happen to find out he is not the one for you, don't let your vibrance diminish. Jimin is amazing but only you can ignite your spark and maintain it alight. Not him.”

“Thank you, Taehyung,” it’s hard to pinpoint the exact day when your younger brother grew to be so wise. If there was one thing you were certain of though, it was that despite all the bickering you were glad Taehyung walked into your life. You didn’t know where you’d be without him, “Love you.”

“Love you, loser.”

The rest of the night came at a steady pace and was composed of pizza and yet another scary movie marathon you were left to finish on your own as Taehyung snored away beside you on the couch. You placed a pillow underneath his head and tucked him in with the blanket he brought down for the two of you. Suddenly, there was a light knock at the door, startling you entirely. Looking out the peephole you noticed Jungkook and Jimin standing on the other side of the door.

“Hey,” you opened and stood, allowing them to come in, “I didn’t know you guys were coming over.”

“I texted Tae,” Jungkook said walking towards the living room entrance disappearing into the room shortly after, “let me guess he’s already sleeping?”

“He’s an early bird. You already know.”

“Two nights ago,” Jimin began following behind you as you walked into the kitchen, “ I forgot to ask you a very important question.”

“There were more questions?” You asked jokingly, setting out two shot glasses and pouring some of the clear alcohol into both of them. You weren’t quite sure why your automatic response to having Jimin in your vicinity was to consume alcohol. Perhaps, it was your pregamed liquid courage in anticipation for the boost of confidence you were likely to need. The back of your throat was set ablaze under an earnest fire as a result of the vodka. Feeling like your body lost its touch with gravity and you were slowly ascending into space. Across from you, and after the second shot the two of you have chugged Jimin’s eyes crinkled up interpreting the delicate nature of his very endearing smile. But it didn’t stop there. Your drunken gaze examined him thoroughly while he succeeded in personifying the meaning of alluring in a just black t-shirt and sweats which he paired with messy dark strands still a bit damp, likely from a recent shower. Surely, a million songs could be written around Jimin easily.

“Yeah, I forgot the most important question actually,” he leaned back against the counter tops.

“What did you forget?”

“Your number. I never asked for it,” he said in a slight stutter. “Stupid I know, but once I made it home I realized I had no way of talking to you.”

“You could have had Jungkook ask Taehyung or something.”

“I thought about that but then I realized it’d be better if I was the one asking as opposed to having my younger brother ask yours,” he shrugged.

“Well,” you hopped on the counter taking a seat right by where he stood. Your shoulders rubbed against each other, “you can always ask now.”

“I don’t know. I feel like being an angsty teenager,” he giggled, “I like the feeling of the butterflies in my stomach when I think of you. And staying up late replaying every second of any instant we happen to cross paths.”

“I wasn’t aware you were such a hopeless romantic,” You kept your eyes glued to his magnetic gaze softened by a deep shade of brown. The same shade of behind by the sun’s kisses, exuding warmth, fondness and compassion drawing you in slowly.

“I’ve always been all about romance darling,” He turned his head towards you closing the little gap which once separated the two of you. Jimin’s aura was intoxicating like the drinks you had downed and you became hazed by the close proximity; growing even more tipsy off his fragrance of lavender with hints of vanilla.

“You’ve yet to sweep me off my feet,” that was a big fat lie. A mere fabrication in your attempt at teasing him just as he was.

“Gimme an hour and I guarantee you will be head over heels for me,” he murmured jokingly with a smile painted delicately on his features.

“Sixty minutes is simply too much,” you placed your palm to the nape of his neck, not really guiding him anywhere but still hoping he’d read it as a signal in your urgency to have him close that little gap that still existed between the two of you, “when it could only take a second for you to finally kiss me.”

Jimin froze as he processed the nature of your words. “Kiss me, Jimin,” you repeated, the bitter taste of the vodka remained tainting your tongue—pulling things out of you which you would never say out loud. Damn liquid courage.

Jimin placed both of his velvet palms to your cheeks leading you towards his lips at an agonizing pace. The closer the two of you became the more your stomach twisted in anticipation—honestly the knot in the pit of your stomach grew a bit painful but you found pleasure in the way his touch felt against your skin. It was even warmer than his gaze, sweeter than his words, you were drunk-dazed and his lips hadn’t even met yours yet.

“I’ve been dreaming about feeling your lips against mine for a long time. You know.” The pads of his thumbs brush against your chin sweetly as his pillowy lips left their phantom touch against yours. Your eyes were shut tightly but you could feel the way he placed soft kisses on the peaks of your mouth.

“Jimin. .” you whined practically begging him to give you what you craved for. “Please.”

“Darling, please say my name like that more often.”

Behind his alluring words there was little intent to supply your requests—he was not going to kiss you. Not because he didn’t want to but simply because he treasured the way you responded to him. He enjoyed the way your skin became covered in goosebumps at the utters of his words and the way your requests became insistancies to have him near. He was evil, a demon reincarnated and while you wanted to continue playing along you knew that the scenario would carry on for too long and your brothers’ still sat waiting for the two of you to join them in the next room.

You placed your hands on top of his before peeling them off your face softly before stumbling off the counter. You moved closer to his right cheek and gave him a tender peck before whispering, “I will. Maybe.”

“Wait!” He called out, mumbling a few curses the farther away you got from him. You chuckled lightly feeling victorious in game of teasing the two of you had initiated.

Taehyung and Jungkook sat side by side on the couch despite it being big enough to sit six comfortably. The two of them stared directly at you while you took a seat on the other end of the couch.

“What are you so smug about?” Taehyung asked, pausing the movie and redirecting their attention to you.

“I’m not.”

“Where’s Jimin?” Jungkook asked.

“Ho-How should I know he’s your brother?” the bit of alcohol in your system loosened up your tongue.

“I’m right here,” Jimin entered the living room hurriedly, taking a seat beside you. The lack of space between the two of you caused the temperature to rise allowing the room to grow unbearably hot, “sorry, I was in the bathroom.”

“Hm,” Taehyung hummed suspiciously.

“Could it really be a coincidence that the two of you came in from your little escape at the same exact time?” Jungkook added.

“Totally,” you nodded repeatedly, “it is absolutely a coincidence.”

“Definitely,” Jimin agreed, “now play the movie before the hours keep on rolling by.”

You were not trying to be difficult but parties were really not your scene. In the past, Taehyung would drag you along to these things as a plus one while he flourished in his extroverted nature. Usually you found yourself glued to the nearest corner, mounted to the wall like an old painting invisible to the wandering eye.

“Hey,” Jimin sat on the white kalicki chair beside you. Above the white sand and just inches away from the crashing of the cerulean waves the two of you became wrapped in each other’s presence. “Here, all I could find was a ginger ale. I hope you don’t mind.”

In the passing of time you realized social settings drained you rather quickly. There was just something so distasteful about having to buzz around initiating casual conversations which often led nowhere with people you’d probably never interact with again. You just hoped Jimin hadn’t gotten the wrong impression when he found you making a break for a clear escape.

“I’m sorry I kind of left you back there,” you swiped your finger around the metal rim of the can, “it just gets overwhelming sometimes.”

“I get it,” he took a sip of his drink, “party’s aren’t usually your thing” He didn’t wait for your response before adding, “I’ve noticed.”

“You’ve noticed?” You turned to your side on the chair now facing him as he nodded, smirking all while averting eye contact.

“I have.” He began, “you’re laid back—quiet. Not like one of those girls who try too hard to be mysterious, you just are. You’re very observant and you drink people’s every move. Oh, and you tend to keep to yourself a lot.”

“You make me sound so bland.”

“From my perspective, it just makes me want to get to know you even more,” he corrected himself, “-even more than the last time,” back then your heart beat so hard for Jimin and today it still thumped at your chest even harder, “I just can’t seem to figure out one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Well parties aren’t your thing right?”

You nodded, “right.”

“And you just accepted my invitation?”

“I almost didn’t,” you confessed, “but. .”

“But. .” he repeated almost in the form of a question. Your stomach began to churn as a result of your nervousness and you could feel the burning sensation of the regurgitation burning the back of your throat. Although, you desperately scavenged for the right words and sentence structure, all of it just launched itself out of your system. Suddenly, you were left in the chair across from Jimin looking nothing short of a jest.

His patience was reassuring but you knew you were being selfish, “because having you stand across from me for the past two springs at the market festival without having the wit to be able to speak to you killed me agonizingly slowly.”

“Jimin. .” you muttered.

“But I lost every once of my sanity this past weekend. I saw you and. .” he paused almost in a halt like he was taking himself back to relive that very day, “You can call it over confidence but my basis for going up to you was that I’d caught you staring at me from the jewelry stand.”

Suddenly, the heat became scorching even for the early-ish spring season. Although the sun wasn’t as punishing as it would be in a couple of months you could feel its rays burning up your skin.

“Please tell me that I didn’t just imagine all of it.”

“I know we were kind of tipsy but I was practically throwing myself at you last night, Jimin. Of course, I like you.”

Jungkook’s party turned to an event of the past the minute Jimin interlaced his fingers with yours. He led you through the Millennia property, Jungkook’s extravagant black and gold decor and up the stairs to his room, realistically you couldn’t even attest to the maneuvering of your own two feet. Feeling entirely stupefied by the sensation of his velvet palms in yours.

The clicking sound of the door shutting was your wake-up call and finally you were aware of the predicament you’d walked into.

You and Jimin were entirely alone in his room unbeknownst to how you managed to travel through the four digit acres making up the estate plus the scattered party goers and the beds of the multi-colored Floribunda Roses that were now in season.

“Go on enlighten me,” he took a seat on the gaming chair across the room while you remained at your awkward stature by the door, “you enjoy looking at my face?”

“I never put it like that.”

He shrugged, slouching down in his seat. His wide spread legs were aimed in your direction, “it’s how I heard it.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” you crossed your arms on your chest, “I’ve decided to stop feeding your ego.”

“That’s OK.” He whispered, “I have your confession ingrained into my head. Looping over and over and over again.”

You shook your head still maintaining a safe distance between the two of you, “Don’t.”

“What? Can I not replay your love-tuned words? The shadows of your lips still lurking on mine?”

“Just—”you fidgeted with the silver band on your thumb. Twisting it softly as a distraction from Jimin’s words.

“You do that a lot, you know.”

“What?”

“You always say or do something so endearing and so grand,” Jimin sighed, “And then you—you just hold back. What are you so afraid of?”

“There are many things to fear.”

“I like you and you like me. . There is nothing to be apprehensive about.”

“You like me?” you asked almost stunned although in the back of your mind you were sort of certain of his intentions.

“I have never masked my feelings for you.”

“You have certainly not been entirely transparent,” you huffed, “this is the first time you actually spell it out for me.”

“I like you. .” he stammered, standing up from his seat on the chair and walking towards you, “I like you. I fucking like you so much. Do you want me to actually spell it out?”

His hands found their nook on your waist and he began guiding you backwards until your back met the frigid. Even though your eyes were closed you could sense the desperation in his touch as his caresses moved to explore every inch of your neck and face.

“I-L-I-K-E-Y-O-U,” he spelled out, holding your hand up against his chest. “Come here. Feel how fast my heart beats just having you so near.”

“Jimin,” you breathed out, “Jimin.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. You nodded.

Finally, the long anticipation bubbling in the pit of your stomach ceased and your lips were cushioned in the embrace of his sweet kisses. And in that moment the world ceased to exist, all that paraded around in your head were thoughts of Jimin and Jimin only.

In your perception of time the kiss was short lived but quickly the two of you became engulfed in the gloomy waves of his bed and as you swam around you began drowning in his aroma left behind tainting his sheets.

“Jimin, I want you.” A burning desire trickled on every inch of your skin; the only thing to cease the aching feeling was his soothing touch. “Please.”

“Are you sure? There’s a party just outside—”

“I’m sure,” you interrupted.

Even though you were lulled in the softness of his lips on your neck you could still feel the way his right hand dipped under the neckline of your dress, meeting your breast once and for all. He caressed it softly, slightly pinching your nipple every once in a while.

It remained in that course for a while until you finally grew exasperated by his laggard pace.

“Can I?” you asked, pointing at his hand. After his reassuring nod you began guiding his hand down the valley of your breasts and over the route of your stomach leading him right to the hemline of your panties.

“I just want to. .” he looked between your face and where his hand rested, “want to make sure that this is what you actually want.”

“I led you where I need you, Jimin. I want this, believe me,” you left a soft peck on his rose lips.

“Don’t be afraid to speak up with me. Ok?”

You chanted a string of slurred ok’s before Jimin dipped his hand under the cotton material of your underwear. Immediately, his digits began tracing long strides between your lips, spreading the pool of slickness building up at your entrance, “tell me what you like.”

You hummed, unable to form coherent words, divulged in the feeling of his quickening strokes on your clit, “Tell me.”

“Just. .” you breathed out, “just don’t stop.”

“Is this as far as you wanna go today darling?” he asked, “because I could cum just watching you crumble at the mercy of my fingers.”

“All.” You moaned, “I want—want it all.”

His fingers were laced with spells of pleasure, Jimin was ready to cast them all upon you without as much as a second thought and you loved every second of it. Especially, when you felt him push past your entrance slowly, pumping those blessed fingers of his in and out of you.

Looking down you saw the floral pattern of your dress hiked up above your belly button and his hand moving forward and backward in-between your legs. Though, you couldn’t visually see his fingers disappear inside if you, you could feel the way your walls clenched around his slender fingers.

“Oh my God. . Jimin,” you couldn’t help but shout through the waves of pleasure taking their course all throughout your body.

He quickly hushed you, “I need you to keep it down. Yeah?” You nodded. It was the only response your body could muster up as he continued. Jimin’s uneven breathing and your suppressed moans bounced off the eggshell walls. A medley which serenaded your ears in the best way.

“I’m so close, Jimin.”

“Let go, darling,” he continued, “cum for me.”

His pleads of encouragement had you squirming under his touch. Entirely consumed in the feeling traveling through your body when you finally let go. And just as before there you were standing amongst the endless field of lilac lavenders swaying in the direction of the wind. If this is what dreams were made of, you never wanted to waste another second awake.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Jimin plopped down beside you.

“You still seem to be in need of some extra attention,” you looked down at the perfectly structured pyramid composed of his jeans.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Jimin,” your voice was barely above a whisper, “fuck me.”

Words were scarce in the presence of passion and desire and you’d admit there wasn’t an outcome in the events of the day where your body wasn’t calling out for Jimin desperately.

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

Though your experience pertaining to sexual endeavors was scarce, you had to admit sex was a beautiful thing although your perception of the act could have certainly been biased towards the man whom you currently laid under.

There was something addicting in the way his toned arms cemented you in the center of his bed, sweat beads adorning his temples, his sculpted figure hovered over you as he worked to mold your insides with his cock.

“Don’t—stop—please,” you puffed in between each word.

His grunts echoed through the room. Jimin’s concern for the party going on just outside the door was no longer a priority. All you managed was jumbled gibberish while he continued sinking deep in your insides and slowly pulling back out.

A perfect addition to all of the combinations which existed in the world. Your pussy and Jimin’s cock.

So fucking perfect.

“Fuck!” you balled a hand of his sheets in your fists.

His mission to find your push to insanity has been accomplished and his head repeated its attack on your g-spot until once again your moans were too loud to suppress and until your voice became hoarse as a result.

“You’ve been so good, darling,” he fell on top of you, visibly exhausted—the two of you were half clothed and obviously too tired to do much of anything. Jimin’s head rested on your chest and while you played with his dark hair, he drew mindless shapes onto your bicep, “can I officially call you my girlfriend after tonight?”

“I’ll be yours if you promise to be mine.”

“Always.”

“Always,” you grinned.

AN: this is semi-ok ?? i don’t even know but let me know what you think. also don’t you just love the spring time?

reblogs, likes, comments, replies are always appreciated 🫶🏽

#bts #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #park jimin #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin drabble #bangtan sonyeondan #jimin x you #bts jimin smut #mentions of jungkook and taehyung

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tatertotsafterdark · 1 year

Text

Confined - Nightmare x Reader

18+ MDNI. READ “CONTAINS” SECTION BEFORE READING.

|| Exchanging your body for a chance to escape.

CONTAINS: -> DUB-CON <-(Sex in exchange for safety, though verbal consent is given), AFAB READER, P IN V, PUBLIC SEX/VOYEURISM (briefly mentioned), NO AFTERCARE, MONSTER/MUTANT FUCKING, NOT CONSISTENT WITH LORE

1.2k words

As your fingers pound incessantly on the keys of the cipher machine, your back aches. Staying your days bent over a typewriter isn’t good for you, and your body protests against your current lifestyle. It isn’t really your fault, of course, because you didn’t really know what you were getting yourself into when you accepted the invitation to Oletus Manor. A colleague from an event you didn’t remember was so kind as to invite you to participate in a game in his lavish mansion, so you couldn’t decline. Thinking back to your happy, almost greedy, past self, makes you cringe. You’d much prefer to be at home in your favorite chair at the end of a long day, humming along to a tune you used to love. Your longing memories have lost so much detail since you’d come to the manor. You couldn’t remember the rhythm to your favorite show tunes or the faces of your favorite people.

It doesn’t matter anymore, though. This is your life, and this is probably where you’ll die. Deep in thought, you finally crack the cipher you were working on decoding. The machine makes a loud popping noise, and a small light above it fizzles to life. The sound makes a shiver run up your spine, despite hearing it countless times before.

You knew you were lucky - hearing that sound so many times meant that you’d survived through so many of these twisted “games.” As you briskly jog to the next cipher, your mind starts to swim with negativity. Why haven’t you died yet? Why did this cruel world let you live, time after time? You’d outlived allies and enemies, and you didn’t let your mind take note of their faces or names. It’s best not to linger, especially at times like these.

You approach the next cipher, cracking your knuckles. It’s too late by the time that you notice the crow flying in circles above you. Shit. You’d been marked by the hunter, a mutated man with a bird mask. You’d taken to calling him the same name that a woman you’d befriended had called him - Nightmare. He truly was one, a beastly creature that defied standards of natural sciences. Bulging muscles, a pen that appeared to be part of his hand, and extremely top heavy… you didn’t think he was human, frankly. But if he wasn’t human, what else would he be?

You’re broken out of your philosophical thinking by your heart starting to beat, breaking away from the machine you’d just arrived at. Your head swivels, looking in every direction to see where that… thing… was approaching from. You huff, breaking into a run as you dash towards the nearest wall. Around the corner, you find one of multiple bronze lockers scattered around the area. They served as perfect hiding spots, though they were definitely a tight squeeze.

You take a deep breath in, swinging the doors open and slipping yourself inside of the locker. You take shallow, quiet breaths as your heart begins to pound. The beastly man was nearby now, and you knew it. Your kneecaps press into each other as you try to stand despite wanting to crawl up into a ball, thinking that Nightmare wouldn’t be able to find you if you were as small as possible. Your heart nearly stops as you hear a crow’s call outside, and you’re certain it does as you hear the clicking of a bird landing on top of the locker. Seconds later, the doors to the locker flings open and you try to scream. Despite your best efforts, not a sound escapes your lips. You stand there, looking pathetic, with your mouth agape. Your eyes look at the purple goggles resting on Nightmare’s face, and your knees buckle again. You fall to your knees, and your voice box decides to start work.

“Please- please don’t hurt me.” You whine out, feeling the hard metal below you. You uncomfortably adjust, putting on the facade of a poor beggar for the monster in front of you.

“I can provide you with any kind of service you desire, I’m a jack of all trades, and in exchange you can let me go.”

Your words are met with a huff, and you’re quickly lifted up. This monster only needed one hand to grab you by the shoulder and lift you to your feet. You know you should be scared, but you can’t help but feel somewhat aroused. You hadn’t so much as touched yourself since you arrived at the manor, unless it was to clean yourself. Your legs quiver a bit, and your cunt throbs at the thought of what taking this monster inside of you would be like.

Clearly, you’d broken your begging facade, as you’re quickly turned around. Your cheek presses against the cold metal, and your pants are haphazardly ripped off. It happens so fast, but you have time to say two words: “Yes please.”

If you were going to die, might as well go out with a bang.

The locker doors close slightly, trapping you between Nightmare and the back of the locker. Your lack of touch must’ve driven you crazy, because you slowly move your ass side to side, welcoming in this monster that’d mercilessly slaughtered at least one of your teammates. You're not disappointed, though, as he suddenly thrusts into you. You almost scream, feeling stretched out. His cock is so thick that it almost hurts to take it, but you ignore the stinging of what’s surely a torn hymen. It felt so good to be so full.

Your pussy quickly adjusts to his size, slowly pushing yourself back into him, moaning desperately as you start fucking yourself on Nightmare’s cock. You were enjoying yourself, despite being scared out of your mind moments before. Claws on your hips signal you to stop, and Nightmare takes full control. His hips slam into you, filling you to the brim with his thick endowment. Moans of pleasure fill up the locker, feeling louder due to the small area.

Your cunt tightens around his length, already prepared to reach your peak with such little stimulation. Your back arches and you shake a bit as you start to cum on his cock, but he doesn’t slow down. Without hesitation, this monster that you should be terrified of continues to slam his hips against your ass, fucking you mercilessly.

Another grunt escapes Nightmare, and his claws dig deep into your hips, causing you to whimper. He cums, and you swear that your stomach started to bloat due to the sheer amount of his seed he’d pumped into you. A few sloppy thrusts later, he pulls out of you, leaving you sore and empty.

You turn around to face him, feeling his cum starting to drip out of you and down your thighs, but he’s already walking away, set on one of your teammates who had been watching. You pull your shirt down, trying your best to cover your ass and bruised hips. With a sigh, you fall back into your cycle, walking over to a cipher machine.

#Identity v #idv #nightmare idv #nightmare identity v #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober2023 #kinktober 2023 #x reader #afab reader #amab readers i promise you guys will get something this month

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daliyla · 1 year

Text

Meeting the father (Jegulus os)

Trigger warnings: mild references so child abuse, sex and someone dying of a disease

Someone is knocking on the door. James groans.

"If I have to open that damn door" Regulus murmurs "I'll kill who the hell is knocking without even checking who they are"

James thinks it's fair- and would like to let his boyfriend do it- but it could be Sirius, so he sighs and says "alright, I'll go"

He kisses Regulus' bare shoulder, take his own arms off his waist and stands up. He check he time and groans. Who could possibly be knocking their door at seven am on fucking sunday.

He looks at Regulus, who seems to be sleeping again among the sheets, and then forces himself to go opening.

Quite frankly, their house is a bit of a mess, but James loves it. In their little cottage there're Regulus' books, annotated and colored, James' plants, their cups, so many photos, various black hair elastics Sirius' left, and various other details that made their little place unique.

That morning though James is focused on only one thing: I want to go back sleeping.

And he likes it, the fact that he's so used to be happy with his boyfriend that he forgets there was a time in which he wasn't. But again, at the moment he's only thinking of his bed, warm and with the partially naked body of the most beautiful boy he's ever seen on it.

He opens the door and sees a man he's never seen before. He's quite old, or maybe just aged badly, the few hair he still has more grey than black. He's wrinkled and crooked, but he's wearing fine clothes that looks expensive.

"Uhm... May I ask who are you, sir?"

The man hesitates, then he nods a little, like he just thought "yeah, this man deserves the honor to know my name"

"I'm... I'm Orion. Orion Black. My son, Regulus, lives here, doesn't he?"

James blinks. Then he blinks again.

His sleeping brain needs a moment to catch up the man's words, and maybe that's the reason he doesn't get angry like he would have in any other circustance. Still, he's not pleased to meet Regulus' father. At all.

"He's sleeping" he says, his voice cold "do you want me to call him?"

Orion hesitates again, then he shakes his head. James would really, really like to punch him, but then Regulus would be mad, and Sirius would be delighted, so they would fight, and he doesn't want to cause an argument. This man doesn't deserve to throw tares amont them, he already ruined his sons' lives too much.

"I actually... I actually hoped to talk to you"

James blinks. Him? Why would Orion want to talk to him?

"Okay, I guess" he looks down and in that moment he notices he wears no shirt. He would really, really like to slam the door in his stupid face, but he's quite curious to know what he wants "give me a moment to tell Regulus I'm going out. And to dress a bit, I guess. I'll be here in a moment"

Orion nods, so James closes the door (he won't allow that man to further look into their home, thank you very much) and goes back to the bedroom, sadly not to sleep.

Regulus looks asleep, but he must be still a bit awake, because he asks "who was it?" the moment he hears James' steps.

"Someone who wants to talk to me" James kisses his boyfriend forehead "I'll be back soon, love. Go back sleeping"

Regulus mumbles something, hugging the pillow. James has never wanted to go back in his bed so much in his life, but he puts a shirt on and goes outside.

Orion is still there when James opens the door. Awesome.

"Let's walk" James says "I don't want Reg to see you, in case he wakes up and decides to look for me"

Orion says nothing and follows him on the back of their cottage, where there's a quite big garden where they grow plants. Regulus grows flowers and James vegetables, but they help each other a lot, so it's like they're growing them together. James loves the place. The scent of the flowers reminds him of Regulus' smile.

Orion struggles to walk- he uses a cane- but James doesn't offer to help him. He normally would help an old man, but Orion? No thanks.

"You don't like me" Orion starts when James stops at the edge of the garden, near a bench they put there for Moony (he and Reg like to sit in the garden to talk about books, while James and Sirius run and do chaos), because he's not that evil and his mother raised a boy who respects the eldest enough to let them sit if they want, even if the eldest he's talking to is a fucking asshole.

James snorts.

"I don't"

"Good. I would like you less if you liked me"

"I don't want you to like me"

"I know. That's not..." Orion sits down and sighs "I know I'm a terrible father and I don't deserve my children's love. I just... I wanted to be sure they're alright"

James rolls his eyes.

"Why now? Reg's been out for, like, five years. Sirius even longer. Why have you decided to care now?"

"I'm dying"

James says nothing, so Orion continues.

"I got the diagnosis two days ago. I have a couple of months at most. This kind of things makes you think"

"So what? You want to give them some love just before dying, so you can think you did something good for them when you die? You want to give them other pain just to have someone mourning you? Is this what you want? To give them a little bit of attention in the very end, just to destroy them even more?"

Orion jolts, maybe surprised by James' anger.

"No, no, I don't... I didn't mean to..."

"Then what the fuck do you want?"

"I just want to know if they're alright. You can... You shouldn't tell them I was here, if you think it would cause them pain. I want... I want to die knowing if my children are fine despite all my mistakes, and since you're a friend of both of them..."

James snorts "I'm not Regulus' friend"

"Oh. I thought... Since you live together..."

"I'm his boyfriend. We've been together for almost seven years. I was sleeping with him when you knocked. I mean sleeping sleeping, even if we fuck too, just not at seven am of sundays, usually"

Orion blushes a little.

"Oh. So Regulus is..."

"Gay? Yeah"

"I... Honestly, I kind of suspected it"

"I don't care. I don't care if you approve us of not, so don't bother"

"Is he... Is he alright?"

"He's better than he was when he lived with you, that's for sure. I make him happy. I make them both happy, even if in different ways. They're both loved by many people. Friends, best friends, lovers. My parents are to them what you've never been"

Orion nods a little. His voice is frail when he whispers.

"Thank you"

James didn't tell him those things to help him, honestly. He just wanted to throw in his face how successful his sons are, despite them; how happy they are, despite what their mother did to them, and their father never stopped.

Before he can say it, he notices someone getting out of the house and he instinctively smiles and goes straight to Regulus.

"Hi, love" he says, hugging him and kissing him. Regulus hums quietly, satisfied and at ease in his arms. He looks a bit like a cat.

"Hi. Who was it?"

"Oh, just..." James turns to look at Orion, but the old man is not there anymore. Well, honestly, who cares? Who cares when he's here, in the sunlight, surrounded by flowers, with his lover's arms around his waist? "A neighbour. They asked me advise for their tomatoes. They had some problems with growing them"

Regulus nods, but he looks over James' shoulder with a bit of sadness in his eyes. Does he know?, James wonders.

"Hope they found what they were looking for" Regulus says, leaning his head on James' shoulder.

I'll tell him, James thinks. He and Sirius deserves to know. Just not now. Give us other five minutes of peace.

"Shall we go to have breakfast?" James asks, smiling and kissing his boyfriend again "I really need a coffee"

#marauders #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #sunseeker #starchaser

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franciskirkland · 1 year

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so i have finally had it this time. not posting for attention but screaming into the void bc its all i can do. please don't click read more unless you're willing to hear some deeply gnarly/personal stuff. and please don't unfollow just bc you didn't heed my warning. this is a personal blog and there's a real live human woman behind the deranged hetaliaposting.

i now know for sure that i intend on ending my marriage. i can't leave yet, but i need to start planning for it. im done. its not worth it.

our first wedding anniversary is in a few days. i have always had thoughts in the back of my mind about us not lasting, but i didnt think it'd end like this, so soon. im embarrassed frankly.

we have had our share of problems both major and minor. but the final straw is that my husband has more or less assaulted me.

so there are more details below but i've been pretty sex repulsed (by irl sex) for the past... 10 months or so? we are not completely sexless but it's usually coercive, with my husband guilt tripping and pestering me for sex. usually i manage to get out of it, even if i do wake up to him rubbing up against me - that doesn't bother me too much.

but yesterday he was being particularly forceful and threatening me if i didn't start having sex with him again whenever he wanted. so he initiated the act. i kept saying no. no i cant. please stop. i dont want this. im gay. and he said no you're not. and he forced me to give him head while also grabbing my breasts and making me undress. i hate being naked. i nearly vomited. i feel disgusting and violated.

the thing is, that part about me being gay wasn't a joke or an excuse/defense. that was me refusing him. i have told him that i am attracted to women so many times and he doesnt even believe that's possible. like, that bisexuality is real. yeah. that hardly scratches the surface of his terrible beliefs and opinions. but i digress.

i don't know if i'm only sex-repulsed due to him getting me pregnant and the subsequent loss, (ruptured ectopic, almost died) which affected me permanently in a physical way and im undeniably also psychologically but i have yet to process that in its entirity.

i am definitely at least bisexual, if not gay. and possibly asexual/gray-ace or whatever. the only men i really feel attraction towards are fictional/purely ideas. seriously. i'm deeply affected by comphet. growing up i knew i was queer but i was also abused by many men as a teen so i guess i internalized it. somewhere down the road i also became really attracted to the idea of settling down and having a family. (i still am, but my priorities have changed the more i see older moms. im only 24, my friend didn't have her first until 34.)

anyway, regardless of my sexuality or lack thereof, aside from our numerous other problems (incompatible personalities, different ambitions, lack of common interests, him being an abusive controlling manbaby, overbearing MIL, living situation, etc.) i am repulsed by him and i cant be around him anymore. i hate him.

the mistakes i have made for/because of this relationship are of a devastating magnitude. i've burned a lotttt of bridges (not my mom, thank god) but with other family, friends and previous employers.

i'm a dummy. yeah. i'm not going to lie. i have invested almost 3 years and over $10k of hard-earned wages into moving to australia for a man who doesn't respect me. i have no income, no privacy, little irl support, because he's isolated me to the point where i'm not me anymore. the most i can hope for is to get a full time job, and/or write some more original stories and possibly get a book deal or self publish. it'll all go into a divorce fund. it'll likely take over a year before the prospect of leaving is financially viable. but i'm not even sure where to go from there. the economy is a disaster in america too.

i would really appreciate some company, i don't necessarily want to discuss what happened but it'd be nice to have someone to talk to as i navigate this. i love you all my friends and followers and readers <3

#biancacore #vent post #tw sa #tw rape #tw marital rape #tw pregnancy loss #questioning #homophobia #tw trauma

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semper-legens · 6 months

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23. Mansions of Misery, by Jerry White

Owned: No, library Page count: 296 My summary: The Marshalsea debtor's prison: a place of misery, where those already at rock bottom were extorted out of their last few pennies, where people were killed by the conditions they were kept in, where bodies were dumped in pauper's graves. This is the story of a prison. My rating: 3/5 My commentary:

The non-fiction books I read really tell you a lot about me as a person, huh? Medieval sex, debtor's prisons…yet, it's those microcosms of social history that truly fascinate me. And debtor's prisons, just as a concept, seem completely bizarre. If you can't pay your debts, and your creditors file a case, you are sent to prison. In prison, you will need to pay for your bed and board, pay to have your chains taken off, pay for any furniture or entertainments you get - and if you can't pay, then you will likely starve or die of exposure. So we take someone in debt…and put them in a place where they have to pay more money to survive. Sure. Makes sense. But it was the reality for the many people who passed through the Marshalsea in its years of operation. Frankly, I'm surprised that anyone made it out of that place - but apparently the average stay was not that long, debtors being bailed out or helped by people on the outside. Still, with torturing jailers and greed in every corner, the Marshalsea was still a hellish place to be.

Unfortunately, this book wasn't quite what I was looking for in a history of the Marshalsea. While it did track the lives of some of the Marshalsea's residents over the years, the focus was a bit too scattershot for my liking, never quite zeroing in on one particular person for long enough. The book would sometimes ramble off down tangents and disappear away from interesting points, meaning that I was often disappointed in it not following up something that could have been exactly what I was looking for. I don't quite lay the blame there at the book's feet - it was, after all, not written for me specifically - but other than my own expectations, I just found it a bit lackluster? The details when they emerged were interesting enough, but the book never quite felt focused enough on its subject. We raced through the eras of the Marshalsea's existence, barely taking a breath. The case studies were small and the details were brief. It was fine, but…I don't think I can blame myself for wanting more.

Next, witches walk the streets of York, as the calls to the goblin market echo in the air…

#Mansions of Misery #Jerry White #bookblr #book blog #book blogger #3

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denimbex1986 · 1 year

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'Florence Pugh stars in Christopher Nolan's latest film Oppenheimer as Jean, a young, brilliant student who begins an affair with Cillian Murphy's J. Robert Oppenheimer. Pugh, surprising no one, portrays the cameo role with her usual emotional nuance and sophistication of thought. But that's not what many people on the internet seem to care about.

Instead, social media is filled with comments about — sigh — Florence Pugh's body. In the film, Pugh and Murphy have a sex scene which features several nude shots. "I think they were vital in this in this movie," Murphy told GQ of the scenes. "I think the relationship that he has with [Pugh's character] Jean Tatlock is one of the most crucial emotional parts of the film. I think if they're key to the story then they're worthwhile."

It turns out, some men have opinions about Pugh's appearance in the nude scenes. Should we really be surprised?

In one TikTok video, a man called Charles Peralo goes into detail about Pugh's body, describing her alleged measurements, her previous comments about her weight, and claiming that many viewers thought “she had too much belly fat when filming the role.” While Peralo goes on to stand up for Pugh, the video is, quite frankly, a little creepy.

On Twitter, there is more of the same. Numerous people have taken Pugh's nude scenes as an opportunity to comment on her appearance, saying she has a ‘mid body’, and hurling deeply offensive and triggering insults which we won't be repeating in this article. (If you want proof, they're sadly not difficult to find, but we advise against it).

Like us, many fans of Pugh have, quite simply, had enough of all of this discussion about Pugh's body.

“I'm so tired,” commented one woman on Peralao's TikTok video. “Honestly y'all… I'm so tired of being a human,” wrote another. A third wrote, "Why are we still talking about women's bodies? Let women live, Jesus." On Twitter, one woman wrote, “This is getting ridiculous guys.”

The fact that Pugh's turn in this film is being largely reduced to discourse surrounding her body is, frankly, exhausting. Pugh is a respected actor with one Oscar nomination already under her belt. It's in stark contrast to the reaction to Murphy's role in the film, with his performance being praised as ‘enigmatic’ and ‘searingly good’. The only comments about his appearance in Oppenheimer have been gushing about his character's style – despite being the man who invented the atomic bomb – and how much weight he lost for the role. Comments about the latter are inextricably tied to his craftsmanship and dedication to his work; not how ‘attractive’ he is to the opposite sex, as is the case with Pugh.

So why are so many people still fixated on the shape of her body rather than the quality of her performance?

As this latest round of body shaming discourse makes the rounds on social media, I can't help but feel — well — a little fed up. Pugh is not plus size. She is, one would normally assume, the ‘beauty standard’. But no matter her size, her body is not up on screen for your enjoyment. It's there to be a part of a larger story. If your take away from Oppenheimer is that Pugh doesn't look the way you wanted her to look, then you are the problem.

Pugh said it best herself last year when, surprise, yet another round of body shaming discourse took off thanks to her sheer Valentino dress. “What's been interesting to watch and witness is just how easy it is for men to totally destroy a woman's body, publicly, proudly, for everyone to see,” she wrote on Instagram, later adding, “Grow up. Respect people. Respect bodies. Respect all women. Respect humans. Life will get a whole lot easier, I promise.”

As this latest slew of body shaming comments reminds us, men will always have something stupid to say about women's bodies. To echo many of the Pugh defenders, I am also very, very tired.'

#Florence Pugh #Oppenheimer #Christopher Nolan #Cillian Murphy #Jean Tatlock

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unofficialarchives · 4 months

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Hey! If you haven't read Sam's origin story, or the follow up(s) please click these links to catch up and not be confused. Thanks so much, and enjoy this neat little AU statement for late Season one.

Statement one: Bound by Fate

Statement two: Regarding Sam Robinson

Supplemental: By Martin

[We open in the staff break room, with Sam's voices becoming more audible as we walk in, Tim's also audible. As their voices become clear, we hear the following]

T: Alright well, Good seeing you as always, A nice little treat to have you stop in and see me at work, But uh, I'd better get back to it before the big boss comes down and tells me to. I'll see you later Babe, enjoy the coffee for me!

[We hear tims footsteps, and the sound of someone sipping on coffee, and then abruptly Elias and Tim Collide.]

T: Whoa, Sorry there Elias, don't worry I'm not slacking off on the job. Just taking my break, as scheduled.

E: I'm not concerned about your work ethic, Tim. I just.. wanted a cup of coffee. That's all.

T: Well, alright then. I'm off. Don't be too mean to Sam, yeah? They've had a rough go of it.

E: I'm sure they have. No, don't worry. I'm just paying a visit for coffee and a little conversation, and then it's back to my paperwork. Lots of paperwork when you're the boss, you know.

[We hear tim's footsteps getting gradually quieter as Elias talks about the details of his job. He enter the room with Sam Robinson, and their voices desynchronize for a moment, showing clearly the three seperate tones.]

S: *laughs softly* Well, well, Well! I was wondering when you'd show. I don't find myself to be the patient type these days, you know.

E: Oh yes, I'm very well aware.. [sounds of a coffee being made, just a spoon hitting the cup for example] of your.. situation. I'm sure you're aware of that already, though. You're probably wondering why I'm here, in the first place.

S: Not really, I mean, I know what you do to those you deem a threat to your precious institute, So why wouldn't you -

[Elias laughs heartily]

E: You? A threat to my insitute? Hardly. You've sent many our way, and I.. thank you for it. No. You see, in this particular case I'm just taking an interest in my employee's lives. When I noticed Tim's.. Concentration had shifted at work, I decided to.. look into it a bit closer.

S: So that's what this is about? Hawaiian shirt? He's a good lay, but I fail to see what our relationship has to do with your job?

E: You changed your tattoos, and the best you could come up with to hide the fact was that they'd never been different in the first place? I mean really. Someone with your talents should surely have an intellect to back them.. It's causing his thoughts to be fuzzy. Making it harder to read him.

S: Ah. Now it all makes sense. So then, do you watch even when we're in the sack? [Their voice teasing, almost taunting but not quite crossing the line. Thoroughly amused. Elias sighs deeply]

E: Regrettably, on a few occassions I've caught a glimpse of what you two get up to. Frankly, I wish I could purge it from my mind, but seeing as I cannot, I've come to ask you, politely, to break things off with Tim. That particular problem has interefered with my own work on numerous occassions.

S: Sorry, but no.

E: Surely I misheard you, Could you -

S: I said, No, Elias, I will not end things with Tim. I recognize it's creating some.. obstacles for you, but believe me I've tried. The man is persistant, and persuasive, no doubt that's part of the reason you hired him - And that's precisely why I can't and won't break things off with Tim. I'm happy. He's happy. Just leave us be, and your precious institute will function the same as it always has. I'll stop making work visits and keep it more.. professional. Does that arrangement work for you?

E: As long as the two of you stop having sex in the supply closet, I don't really care if you stop in or not. What I care about is the discrepencies in your tattoos. Should you change them again, at least have the decency to inform me first, so I can remove the footage of the old ones & attempt to corrupt any old images.

S: The older images have been replaced with photoshopped copies, the only things needing a change would be your archives, Elias. Any and all video feeds of me have been removed, I do know a thing or two, you know. You should treat a fellow collegue with more respect.

E: Collegue? You do have a sense of humor about you, don't you. More like underling I don't have to pay.

[At this, Sam chuckles.]

S: Too right. Then I think I understand perfectly clear, and you shouldn't have to worry about good old Timothy any longer.

E: Good, I'm glad that's settled then. As a reward for your cooperation, have this. [We hear a cup being put down] I don't care for this particular blend. But I happen to know you'll like it. Take it as a token of good faith, and don't disappoint me.

[Sam begins to protest as written below, and Elias walks out briskly]

S: Or what, hmm? We both know you can't hurt me.. Not like you usually do. Oi, don't you walk away from me! Elias! [It goes quiet for a moment] ah well.. [sam takes a sip of the coffee] Damn, he really did make it just right.. not even I can do that. Maybe I should've shagged that one instead. No. Too much baggage with that old man.

[Recording ends]

#the magnus archives oc #the magnus archives #The magnus archives Sam Robinson #Magnus archives #magnus archives oc #Sam robinson #sam robinson magnus archives #Statement 3: Continuity Error #yes I know Elias would probably just annihilate them but let me habe my fun #That comes later when they make it clear they ARE a threat actually #also canonically from this point on Sam makes a point to be a dick if Elias is rude & draw his attention during the act #Drives Elias up a wall. Tim doesn't really know but when we get to the bit about Tim wanting to quit and not being allowed to -#- He uses this new found knowledge against Elias.

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sgt-mark-smith · 1 year

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I actually want to begin by rambling about Awa Kokiri, because I love her so much. Let’s get right into the spoilers!

I’m making an effort to actually start a fandom around this show, and the character I’m most protective of at the moment is Awa.

Wait, hang on, you need to feast your eyes on Awa in red for a sec.

Serve us that Gibson Girl realness, queen.

Beyond question the sharpest, toughest, and most capable character in the cast, Awa has decided to navigate the sexism and racism of her world by working men to her will, pitting them against each other when need be - the would-be financier, Alonso the director, Richard Smith, even her own baby brother.

She also has no problem using her body as currency.

For those reasons I’m afraid that if a fandom pops up, people will call her a ‘gold digging slut’ or something. You know, the same insult that both Alonso and Manaaki threw at her.

She genuinely enjoys sex, and the fame and glitz of acting, and the finer things in life. But what I hope people will also pick up about Awa is that her incredible resourcefulness was born out of necessity, as she reminds Manaaki: “You think I haven’t done worse to put food in our mouths?”

But her scheming has a concrete goal: her own ambition, yes, but also the provision for and protection of those she cares about. Primarily Manaaki, of course.

But she eventually extends that part of herself to Cissy Smith too.

And what she is at the core is the parentified older sister who had to step up when her father disappeared and her mother died, leaving her with a toddling brother to raise.

Now it’s here that I’m gonna get into some backstory speculation, based on what we know.

We know that the Kokiri siblings are from a Maori background somewhere under the Christendom umbrella. I assumed originally that they were Mormon, but as my friend @vintonharper pointed out to me, it’s not like the late eighteenth and early twentieth centuries didn’t have all kinds of sects, and ‘missionary efforts’ to indigenous peoples were hardly standardized. We know there’s a charismatic leader, who clearly sees himself as entitled to as many women as he wants to bed, and she clearly wanted no part of wifehood. She left wherever the tribe was settled at some point to get away from the Prophet, and has clearly gone to some trouble to not be found; as vintonharper said, “if she’s going to put out for gross men, might as well be paid.”

So what I think happened is that the Prophet started perving on her young, and so at some point she basically ‘ran away to the circus,’ leaving Manaaki behind, to escape him. Now we don’t have concrete ages for either Awa or Manaaki, and we have no timeline, so I don’t know at what point in their lives she went from Manaaki’s caregiver to awol; I’m assuming that she provided for the two of them up until she ran away, but I don’t know if he was grown when she left - my guess is probably not, but I have no idea.

(There’s also the frankly very funny detail that she can’t cook ... so did Manaaki just suffer for years, or did he figure out food? She clearly provided the money, but how were the two of them actually, you know, fed?)

It’s also strongly implied that she’s done, not just film acting (a profession people associated with promiscuity at the time), but also sex work. The way she interacts with the would-be financier indicates that she has practice with wealthy clients, which implies that she is/was probably more call girl than streetworker.

(Which does raise the question: did she ever get pregnant, or catch an STI?? I know there were condoms at the time - thanks, Bea - but would she have been able to get her clients to use them? And would they have been that effective? Abortions were dangerous ... did she ever have one?)

(Or has she just been lucky this whole time?)

And anyway, that’s Awa! Pragmatic and competent, independent, proudly promiscuous, materialistic, protective, and nurturing.

#elvella rambles #wwgtw meta #wwgtw spoilers #when we go to war miniseries #when we go to war 2015 #awa kokiri #fully parentified #and generally adultified #the big awa meta #shavaughn ruakere

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falinscloaca · 3 years

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finding out (very light) spoilers about the [Big Game] and feeling weird as I fucking always do when that happens

#spoilers-induced-dysphoria????#I WAS JUST WANTING TO FIND OUT WHO THE LESBO WAS IN DISCO ELYSIUM USING TVTROPES #AND NOW I NOT ONLY KNOW HOW SLASH WHEN SOMEONE CAN DIE #AN *EXTREMELY* GRISLY BIT OF DIALOGUE I NEVER GOT #A SUPRISE MECHANIC #THE OVERALL FUCKING ~THEMES~ OF THE GAME (not *exactly* spoilers but like... man)#SOMETHING THAT CAN HAPPEN TO A *PLACE*#HISTORICAL FIGURE DETAILS I HADNT ALREADY HEARD #DETAILS ABOUT THE FRIGGIN ASSAULT CHARGES AGAINST THE DECEASED #DETAILS OF *FRANKLY TOO MANY* SEX LIVES #and also who the lesbo was. i havent met her yet.#i trivia'd and visual calculus'd too close to the sun. this is just like that time i autopsied the poop jacket #ALSO I GOT SPOIULERS *ABOUT* THE HOMIE SECK SUE ALL. LIKE FML KDLSFLKJFDSJLKSDF???#TVTROPESES EXTREMELY LAX SPOILER STANDARDS AND MY CURIOSITY MY BELOATHED

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honeyhotteoks · 2 years

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Thought on being a tease/challenging/being a brat to yunho and he puts you in your place 👀👀👀

i wasn't all aboard the yunho brat taming express until i saw these photos and now i can literally never go back. i am planning a whole fic because of these two pictures alone, but for now here you go. detailed thoughts under the cut.

the thing about yunho is that he's patient. he's not someone who gets ruffled or upset easily, so you can count on one hand the times that you've seen him angry, pissed off even. but yunho is also protective, leaning a little jealous at times, and there's nothing more important to him than you. so when you're out late with friends from work and you promised you'd text him to let him know you got the bar safely, and then again when you got into your cab to come home, and then forgot completely, he just about loses his mind.

he's not the type of guy to text you incessantly, and frankly he doesn't need to know where you are all the time - you're your own person, but when you're out drinking he wants to know that you're being safe. are you with your friends or did you get separated? are you sober still or did you have one too many and drop your phone? his anxiety runs a little rampant when he hasn't heard from you in hours.

when you stumble in at two thirty in the morning, tipsy still from your night of drinking, kareoke, and dancing, he's waiting up. his phone is on the table in front of him, ringer on high, and his head is resting in his hands. he's worried. and his head snaps up when he hears the sound of the door opening. he looks desperately relieved at first to see you in one piece, it had been eight hours since your last text and he's been sick thinking about where you might be. when he sees you grinning, stumbling a little in your heels though, his expression hardens. he's angry, and he's never really been angry with you before.

he leaves you alone in the living room, shutting himself up in the bedroom and going to sleep immediately, tension in his shoulders. he can barely look at you let alone talk to you, he knows he'll say something he'll regret and you're too drunk for that to be fair. in the morning you know you've fucked up, the silent treatment too much to bear, so when you finally get him to talk to you all bets are off. what starts off as rough, desperate sex turns into yunho teaching you a lesson, his hand clapping a hand print on your ass, your face pressed into the sheets.

#anyways good lord this is def going to be a longer fic #ateez hard hours #yunho hard hours #jeong yunho #yunho #ateez smut #yunho smut

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chateautae · 4 years

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maybe i do | kth. I

➵ summary : maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳ part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre : arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 11k

➵ warnings : swearing, alcohol consumption, anxiety, lots of feels about marriage, a stupid ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (there’s consent, just bad sex that makes the reader feel shitty), does ceo tae count as a warning?

➵ a/n: hello my first fic of my favourite trope arranged marriage, AND with kim taehyung?? yes pls !! this will be a series and I’ll be actively working on it so you don’t have to wait too long for chapters, i hope you can follow this series with me <33

chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”

prev. ↞ || ↠ next || masterlist

“Another one, Father? I thought I told you my secretary would be handling marriage profiles from now on. Stop concerning yourself with who I marry.”

“But I do, son. Trust me, I know this girl, she’s the daughter of a trusted friend and I think she’s a good match.”

“Father, everyone you choose for me I dislike and it’s distracting me from my work. I don’t need this right now.”

“She’s different, Taehyung. I personally know her and I’m certain you won’t say no.”

“And why is that?”

“There’s something about her you won’t refuse, son, you’ll notice it when you meet her.”

“I don’t want to meet her, Father. Like I said, I need to work.”

“I just knew you’d act this way. Want to know something, son? I’ve made her part of a business deal, you can’t back out of this.”

“What? You made her part of a business deal?! Why would you-”

“Because you wouldn’t have given her a chance otherwise, you haven’t been giving anyone a chance since I’ve been setting up potential partners for you and I’m sick of it. You said you were open to an arranged marriage, where’s that attitude now?”

“Because, Father, I have a company to run and that’s-”

“No. I will not allow you to reduce your life to just this company. There are far more enjoyable things in life than a business.”

“But Father-”

“No, Taehyung. One thing you need to learn is balance. If you don’t give anyone or anything a chance you will live a lonely life behind your desk. Even in this cutthroat world of business where you can lose money or be betrayed by anyone at any moment, the most painful thing to suffer is loneliness, and I won’t let you live in this world alone.”

“Dad-”

“You will meet this girl, Taehyung, end of discussion.”

“Dad! I told you I want nothing to do with your company, how could you let me get dragged into this?!”

“Y/N-ie, I know you value the life you have without any of my help, but let me help just this once, especially with finding a husband. I’m being offered the deal of a lifetime and I can’t refuse, he just happens to be part of it. I need this for the company, please.”

“But Dad, I don’t even know him. And if he’s the CEO of some rich company he’s probably an asshole, I’m not doing this.”

“Y/N-ie, trust me, I know his son. He’s a sincere, hard-working man, I promise.”

“Yeah, right. Even if that’s the case, I still don’t know him, let alone love him, Dad. How can you make me marry someone I don’t love?”

“Because you can learn to love him. There are no rules concerning the way two people should fall in love, love doesn’t always need to come first.”

“But Dad-”

“My daughter, I have not asked you for many things in my life, but this is one thing I must ask of you. Please, just meet him, don’t say no without even trying.”

“Dad, I don’t know-”

“Please, Y.N, do it for me. If not for the company or money, please do it for me.”

And here you were, fidgeting with the tips of your nails, tuning in and out of the present world and overthinking every aspect of your life that somehow lead you to this moment. Sitting on a Leather Italia couch in what was described to be Mr. Kim’s study; listening to your father’s incessant, albeit wholesome chatter next to you with your future in-laws across.

And next to them was their suave, unreadable son sitting in a relaxed manner, flipping his attention between your fathers’ conversation and anything else in the room.

You on the other hand, were utterly high strung due to the fact that your father failed to mention your future fiancé’s identity until 30 minutes before arriving here, having done a quick search in the car to unveil who he exactly was.

And that’s when it hit you. You weren’t marrying just anyone, you were getting married to Kim Taehyung. The infamous CEO of Kim Enterprises—Korea’s largest software development and manufacturing company, rivaling to be one of the largest in the world. He was part of Seoul’s most prestigious circle of businessmen, having made multiple Forbes international lists of Most Successful, Youngest, Richest, and is even one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors, not just Seoul.

If this wasn’t already taking you out, then it was definitely the fact that his photos through a measly Google search did him absolutely, utterly and completely no justice. They simply could never capture the truth of just how handsome Kim Taehyung was in real life. You couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t just good-looking, he was stunning, gorgeous, seemed as though God had created the universe, heaven and hell in 6 days and left the 7th just to create him.

He was like a work of art, worthy of being placed in the finest of museums and left untouched, unsodden by the ugliness of humanity. It made you feel extremely inferior to him in an instant. It was sickening, he was sickening, intoxicating, and quite frankly, intimidating.

It was his look, his undivided stare when he eventually settled his sight on you. It didn’t matter his dark hair that landed and perfectly curled above his eyes, the way he occasionally licked his plush lips or how his long, tall legs spread out before him, it was his look that made you want to turn tail and run.

It seemed to reach into your soul, peer straight through whatever façade, walls or defense mechanisms you could spend years building only to have his simple look tear it down in minutes. He was alluring, captivating, left you wanting to cower into whatever hole you could dig yourself into or discover all the secrets he hid behind those enchanting eyes.

Kim Taehyung was many things you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, though you assessed your priorities and decided they didn’t just include him, but mainly the significance of the current meeting taking place right now.

It wasn’t a mere one-time business deal to discuss a project, it was a meeting that entailed the partnership of both your family companies and would define the next however many years of your life. More specifically, spending it with the exact same man that looked at you without a single readable expression on his face.

You distracted yourself by trying to observe as many useless things as you could, flitting around the room many times before suddenly glancing at Taehyung’s index finger coming up to rest against his lips.

You zeroed your vision in more.

Is that a cut on his finger?

“Jae-in, of course! This is just as important to me as it is to you, your son is a remarkable CEO, and I’m sure he’ll make an amazing husband.”

“Aish, Namhyun, you flatter me too much. My son may be handsome, though your daughter is even more beautiful. I’m very sure she will make a wonderful wife.”

“Yes, Namhyun, your daughter is absolutely gorgeous! Just as gorgeous as her mother. I know she wasn’t able to make it, though may I ask where your wife is tonight?”

“Ah, unfortunately, she’s out of the country. Though I was hoping my presence would be enough to fill in for her, am I doing a bad job?”

Laughter erupted from the parents in the room, meanwhile, Taehyung couldn’t help but notice the way you immediately winced at the mention of your mother. Something he definitely wouldn’t miss with the way he found himself examining your every move.

It was habitual to him, something born out of his roots in business, only for the purpose of calculating and reading people like an open book.

He knew you’d also become victim to that habit, though oddly enough, he found himself quite interested in observing you. He had already figured you out; you hated business, there was a clear disconnection between yourself and your father’s company and you reeked of a sense of independence that funnily contradicted the antsy way you bounced your leg.

Your way of speech, however, mannerisms, gestures, your look; it was all professional enough you clearly have some sort of background in business. You seemed like an heiress to Taehyung, which you were, though you oddly had no interest in business?

All these details piqued his interest, curious of just who you exactly were, but he was mainly intrigued by the mysterious claim his father made upon mentioning you for the first time.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

That had raked Taehyung’s brain consistently for the past hour now, crossing his legs loosely and his arms folded over his chest, contemplating over and over again as he looked at you, what’s so damn special about her?

‘You’ll notice it when you meet her,’ the words rang in his ears.

That was the driving force behind his calculation, observation, near inability to take his eyes off of you as he learned new things nearly every minute and led him closer to understanding his father.

He could tell you were an anxious person, though hid it behind a persona of false confidence. You had a tendency to stick close to your father despite observing you don’t rely on him for much of anything, even less your mother. The softness behind your every movement despite being from a business background where you should be harsh, rigid, rough around the edges, and yet you seemed entirely different.

Taehyung then realized how inherently dissimilar you were to many of the other women he met. They were all relatively of the same cut and look. Cold, sharp, cunning. All women of pure business; daughters, granddaughters or straight CEOs of wealthy companies, simply interested in marriage as a deal or an advantage rather than a commitment.

And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Taehyung was a man of business himself, married to his work, his home behind a desk and the company the only thought occupying his mind 24/7.

But with you, you were interesting, unlike the others and it made him curious.

Taehyung also couldn’t help but notice you were...pretty. You weren’t too overly sexy nor too innocent, you were pretty. There was an elegance to your looks, features like your hair and eyes complementing you as a whole, and he couldn’t miss that you felt oddly...warm.

Taehyung found himself beginning to understand his father’s original viewpoint, considering the possibility he could’ve been correct.

You just seemed different.

“Ah, that seems to be everything. Exact details about the wedding have already been put in place by us.”

“Yes! We’ve been waiting for our TaeTae to get married for so long. We’ve had plans for months now and we can finally move forward with them! You and Y/N don’t need to worry about anything!”

“Mom, did you really just call me that in front of my future fiancé?”

“Oh, let it go, son. It won't be long before she calls you that, too!”

Taehyung could only playfully roll his eyes at his overly excited mother, you scrunching your nose at the embarrassment.

“That’s incredibly generous of you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, though my conscience is not one to let such things go. My family should contribute to the wedding in some way. Y/N and I would be happy to do so.”

“Why don’t we discuss that outside? I believe we should give the future couple some time alone, shall we?”

You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before standing up and respectively addressing either’s parents, Taehyung shutting the door behind them once they exited and having turned to look at you, an awkward silence piercing the air.

There it was again, his look. It was irrefutably the one reason you avoided eye contact with him, you felt he would swallow you up if you shared even 5 seconds between each other.

“So...” Taehyung suddenly broke the ice, eyeing you.

“So...”

“Marriage, huh?”

“Yeah, marriage. Never done that one before.” If there wasn’t a time you vehemently hated yourself, then it was undoubtedly now. You internally facepalmed at your dumb comment, adding a laugh at the end in embarrassment only to look away.

“Uh..yeah.” Taehyung laughed awkwardly. “Me neither, if you didn’t already know.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away, you fidgeting by the couches everyone previously occupied.

A beat of silence passed as you both exchanged looks between objects in the room and each other, either of you pursing your lips or blowing light raspberries to cut the awkwardness.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Hm?” You turned towards him, lips just a pout as your doe-eyes awaited him.

Taehyung didn’t miss that at all.

“Um, your mother. I apologize if this is intrusive of me, though I couldn’t help but notice I’ve never actually met her. May I ask where she is?”

You let out a dry chuckle before answering, another detail that didn’t slip Taehyung’s attention. “Trust me, Taehyung, one thing you’ll never have to worry about during this entire ordeal is my mother. She should be the last thing on your mind.” You assured him with what he could tell was your fakest smile, distracting him from the realization you’d said his name for the first time.

“Are you sure? I’ll be meeting her at the wedding so-”

“You won’t. I don’t think you will. Even if she does make it, it takes very little to impress her, just be yourself and she’ll love you.” You stated with a sense of finality, as though the topic should be dropped.

“Be myself? I’m one of the best businessmen in Korea. It’s my job to get people to like me, easy stuff.” He casually gloated.

“You don’t only have to be a businessman to do that,” you paused and looked at him, “you can just be Kim Taehyung, too.” You spoke nonchalantly, eyes lingering with his for longer than 5 seconds and he, in fact, had not swallowed you yet.

Taehyung instantly furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback as if your suggestion was something outlandish, absurd, maybe even offending.

Nobody has ever said such a thing to him, not throughout the entirety of his life.

Taehyung tried his best to recover, searching for another topic of conversation before he was cut off by your rather soft voice, he noticed.

“Oh, I wanted to give you this.” You stepped towards him, reaching into your purse and retrieving something Taehyung couldn’t quite see. You strided over and extended your hand, Taehyung finding himself even more confused.

“A bandage?”

“Mhm. For the cut on your finger. You should probably clean it and apply something before putting this on.” You stated nonchalantly once again, offering him a small smile whilst holding out the bandage.

“Uh...” Taehyung started but couldn’t complete his sentence, lost on how you even observed something as small as his cut and spoke of treating it like it was an actual injury.

After his struggle to form a sentence, you grew bold enough to gently remove his hand from his pocket and place the bandage in his palm, looking back up at him. You shared a momentary look with his chocolate eyes, instantly scrambling after realizing your hand was still in his.

He has really big hands.

“We should um...probably go.” You avoided his eyes, stepping aside quickly to pull the door open.

Taehyung’s mind felt displaced, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the fact that someone had actually left him with nothing to say, an extremely rare occurrence in his book.

He was even more displaced looking at the measly wrapper in his hand, then at the cut on the side of his finger, playing through the last 5 minutes of what just happened.

He scoffed to himself.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

It had been 3 weeks since that meeting, not having seen Taehyung once as you wasted your time enjoying single life luxuries before you prepared for one of marriage.

It still felt odd to say such a thing, marriage, because it didn’t even feel like one, or a real one at that. It was forced, fake, a pressured one out of convenience. It felt more like a deal, something Taehyung and yourself had to settle for in order to keep your parents’ minds at ease.

That thought racked your brain all those 3 weeks; Taehyung had to settle for you, he didn’t choose you, just as much as you settled for him and didn’t choose him either. You both had ultimately agreed to the marriage only in an effort to optimize your parents’ happiness, not your own.

You had no clue how he felt, a mystery as much as the Bermuda Triangle, knowing he most certainly had a grand pick of women to choose from and you were most definitely his worst option.

You knew you were suddenly dumped on him, leaving him no choice in the matter as you learned your marriage entailed a beneficial business deal between your fathers’ companies, and Taehyung couldn’t really refuse you with so much on the line.

You had already felt inferior to Taehyung since the moment you met him, though your insecurities seeped further into the crevices of your doubtful mind the more you thought over that sad fact, contemplating a married life with him. In your opinion you were pretty much undesirable to him, Taehyung probably kicking himself knowing he had to unwillingly call you his wife for the rest of his life.

You just knew you weren’t good enough for him, you would never measure up no matter how hard you’d try and that utterly terrified you. You were confident and independent when it came to yourself, though wedding a near perfect being regarded as one of Seoul’s finest in terms of a CEO and a man?

Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating.

These were the feelings that swarmed your head as you sulked at your over-the-top engagement party, set up in a prestigious buildings’ gorgeous 37th floor riddled with baroque styling and embellishments, classical music gracing some of Seoul’s wealthiest patrons as their flutes clinked and snobby chatter filled the hall.

It was all extremely high-status, reeking of upper class supremacy and quite frankly, it made you want to throw up.

You distracted yourself by bringing any and all types of alcohol to your lips, trying to focus on anything but your daunting thoughts.

The entire night you hadn’t talked to Taehyung, both of you having been too occupied with the numerous amounts of people meeting and congratulating you. This became a genuine nuisance as you’d mentioned before, this marriage was of convenience, one that brought families and companies together merrily and constituted hundreds of people attending your engagement party you didn’t really know.

Your friends were excited, over-the-moon you bagged a man like Taehyung and chastised you for not having told them about your engagement to him earlier. Your relatives similarly scolded you, pinching your cheeks and praising Taehyung like he was a God while they scrunched their noses at you for concealing him.

How could I tell you when I didn’t even know myself?, you thought.

It was funny they praised your ‘choice’ of a fiancé, positive nobody was saying the same to Taehyung without at least lying. The public only knew of you as your father’s daughter, never having seen you due to your vehement absence from anything remotely related to his company, and much of the business world in general.

You weren’t part of that world, a world of greed and money-driven lunatics. It just wasn't you. It never suited you, left you with a bad taste in your mouth you constantly grimaced at and thought maybe you were the insane one for not understanding its flavour. As you grew older, however, you came to realize it simply wasn’t the path meant for you, someone who valued the independence and achievement of earning something for yourself, by yourself.

Ever since the inception of that principal, your young teenage self resolved you didn’t want to rely on your father’s wealth, especially not his influence or power to achieve your own place in life.

Your father had worked determinedly hard for years in order to stand as high he does now, warranting your acute admiration for your role model of a father, his now successful architecture business landing him a few buildings part of the Seoul skyline.

And after finally achieving his dream, it suddenly morphed into your own aspiration. His hard work drove you to want your own design part of Seoul’s breathtaking scenery as well, by means of your own effort, your own hard work. You didn’t want your father’s help. It felt wrong, like you were cheating if you used him to gain your place and so you condemned your life to one that separated yours and his.

So you lived, worked and earned money without any of his influence.

You worked for an average architecture company where you felt comfortable, happy that you were away from the suffocating high-status business of your family. And although your detachment left your identity a mystery to many, your situation on the other hand was an extremely infamous one.

‘The-runaway-heiress’, was your staple trademark. The judgmental comments about your choice of life and the insults it warranted were never-ending, subjected to that criticism all your life.

There was no doubt Taehyung was hearing all of that, people probably warning him to step out of the marriage before it was too late. You weren’t like Taehyung, who was perfect, desirable, someone everyone either wanted or wanted to be. It left you glad and quite frankly, proud to be wedding a man of such caliber and incredibility, though left you wondering why in God’s name he would ever agree to marry someone like you; average, average and well, average.

“That’s your 5th shot, Y/N, slow the fuck down.” Your best friend Hana’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, snatching the shot glass from your grasp. “It wouldn’t be cool if you were trashed at your own party, dummy.”

Her sudden appearance brought a smile to your face. “I know, I just don’t feel well.” You sighed by the counter of the bar, seated atop a stool as you circled an empty shot glass mindlessly.

“I get you, there’s like, hundreds of people here and you’re probably hearing a lot of different shit.” Hana appealed to you, having read your emotions like an open book. “Speaking of people, I wanted to ask, what’s up with Taehyung and his stare?”

You stifled a snort, looking at Hana’s incredulous face. “It’s just a habit of his. He stares at everyone.”

“Okay... sure, but I didn’t mean everyone, I meant you.” Hana emphasized, comically pointing.

You furrowed your eyebrows at her, arm leaning against the bar’s counter as you questioned, “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really stop staring at you, which is kinda weird. Unless you like that, I don’t judge people’s kinks.” Hana mockingly held her hands up in surrender, gauging a reaction out of you.

You instantly grimaced, “It’s not a kink, Hana. Nice joke by the way, wanna sign up for SNL with that one?”

“I’m serious! I’ve been catching him just looking at you and I don’t know if it’s weird or hot.” Hana informed as you became more puzzled, her becoming oddly excited, “Awh, maybe he’s concerned with how much you keep drinking! That’s so romantic.” She chimed, looking off into the distance dreamily.

“Shut the fuck up, he wouldn’t do that.” You smacked her arm, snatching your shot glass back from her. “Besides, you’re one of the rare people who knows this marriage is fake, you know he doesn’t care.”

“Jheez, way to kill romance?” Hana rolled her eyes, smacking your arm in rebuttal before continuing. “I’m serious, though. This may be fake but he really does keep looking at you, and I don’t know what it means.” Hana speculated, contorting her lips as if in thought.

“It means nothing, Hana. You’re just seeing things.”

“Then why has he been staring at you depressed by the bar for the last half an hour?”

You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”

“Are you clueless or just dumb? He’s been talking to someone for 30 minutes but most of the time he’s been looking at you, and he still is, how haven’t you noticed?”

You creased your eyebrows in surprise as you slowly lowered your shot glass. You turned away from Hana to scan the small crowds of people mingling, eating, drinking in the hall.

You searched the room, drink still in hand until your eyes caught tall, dark and handsome in his finely pressed suit, casually standing with a drink in his hand by a table speaking to someone. You nearly jumped when your eyes locked with Taehyung’s, every cell in your body caught off guard.

What made your heart specifically race was the way he didn’t even look away from you. He held your gaze, casually conversing with the person in front of him, eyeing you until he finally cracked a small smirk before turning back to his companion.

Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.

“See, weird or hot? Am I even allowed to say hot?” Hana blurted as she reveled in your reaction. “And you really thought I was joking. You don’t believe anything I say, I could tell you the world’s ending and you wouldn’t believe me. I could tell you aliens finally invaded the planet and you wouldn’t believe me until the green motherfuckers knocked on your door themselves and-”

“Hana, shut the fuck up.” You cut her off abruptly and made a face at her. “Why did you even come here?”

“Grumpy, aren’t we?” She flashed you a sarcastic look before sighing. “Your dad wanted me to find you. You and Taehyung have to meet someone important, so you should stop drinking like an alcoholic, dumbass.” Hana informed hastily as she grabbed the shot glass from you and downed it herself.

“Your dad’s by the entrance, go before he gets mad!” She shooed you away, pushing you up until you whisper-yelled and smacked at her to let you go.

You began stepping towards the entrance, smoothing over your dress and this was the moment you realized you may have drank a little too much. You were quick to reprimand yourself, cursing your unprofessional behavior as your inner equilibrium became slightly woozy, senses drowning out a bit, every sound hazed over with a buzz in your veins.

You sucked in a breath to pull yourself together, knowing your dad valued this person enough you and Taehyung had to meet them together.

Taehyung.

You decided to glance in his direction, lips pursing seeing he wasn’t in his previous spot. You chose to ignore it, walking along until you felt a looming presence behind you, almost having time to acknowledge it before a hand suddenly touched the small of your back.

“Looking for me?”

You nearly squealed, jumping with a hand ready to punish before calming down at the sight of Taehyung, sighing with relief. “Jheez, could you use my name? I thought you were a stranger.”

“Well, hello to you too.” Taehyung quipped sarcastically. “And why would a stranger touch your back? Of course it’d be the only man in this room marrying you.” Taehyung narrowly eyed you, scrutinizing your reaction with his hand still pressed to you.

“People do a lot of whatever the hell they want, Taehyung.” You responded turning away from him, heels clacking as you continued to pace towards where your father stood. “W-why’d you do that, anyway?”

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows. “Because we’re engaged?”

“It’s not real, though.”

“It’s as real as it gets.” Taehyung finalized, making it a statement to smile at everyone you passed, to which you realized just how many pairs of eyes glued themselves to you. “This may not feel like a real marriage to us, but to the rest of the world it is.”

He then suddenly leaned himself down to your height and lowered his tone, breath just ghosting your ear. “Y/N, we have to make this seem real, it’s the only way we’ll survive.” Taehyung was the closest he’s ever been to you, and the deep baritone of his voice as he called your name did absolutely nothing but manifest butterflies in your chest.

Why was his voice so deep?

You shook the thought out of your head, ultimately choosing not to say anything because he was in fact, correct. You grinned widely continuing to mask the truth of your arrangements, leaning into him more as you settled for his hand on your back.

You’d noticed it before, but his hand felt particularly large against you now that he was so close. You glanced at his other hand resting by his side, impressed by how masculine they appeared; long fingers with running veins and a roughness to them, sculpted so well you were sure they deserved to be referred to as art. It tickled your giddy side for a second when they seemed to perfectly contrast your more feminine and smaller hands.

It was kinda cute.

You neglected your thoughts once you neared your father, warm-heartedly conversing with a well-dressed man you just about recognized.

“Ah, there you both are!” Your father cheered, reaching out his arm so he could envelop you in a side-hug, returning Taehyung’s bow and addressment.

“Dad, I heard you wanted us to meet someone?” You perked up in a superficial tone, at least attempting to act as though everything was fine and dandy in your life; maybe owing it to the alcohol to endure all the falsehoods.

“Yes, Y/N-ie, I wanted you to meet Mr. Won. Chang-in, my lovely daughter and whom I guess you already know, her fiancé and CEO of Kim Enterprises, Kim Taehyung.” Your father proudly presented you both.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Won, Kim Taehyung.” Taehyung was the first to address the man, extending his hand and bowing as he greeted him. You were almost taken aback by how polite he could be, the way his charming smile graced his features and attractively displayed his perfect teeth. His manner of speech and etiquette were all refined with a high degree of professionalism as well, internally gawking at his duality.

Wasn’t he acting all entitled with you just now?

“Nice to meet you as well!” You collected yourself and cheered, a little baffled as to why Taehyung still rested his hand against your back. “I’m hoping my father has only said good things.” You earned a laugh from the group, Mr. Won responding by receiving your hand with a firm shake.

“Ah, Namhyun, you forgot to mention how beautiful your daughter has grown, and your future son-in-law has me jealous! What a handsome and accomplished young man, the perfect match, the two of them.” Mr. Won praised you both kindly.

You and Taehyung both smiled and thanked him humbly, feeling some heat collect in your cheeks upon Mr. Won’s words. You two? The perfect match? Unless he believes a rock and a Greek statue belong together, then he’s absolutely correct.

Other than that, you chest swarms with butterflies thinking you’re now referred to as ‘two’.

Taehyung for some odd reason encircles the curve of your waist suddenly, pulling you closer to him. You last minute sputter at the intimate action before leaning into him, one arm nervously encasing his torso as the other rests against his chest.

You feel him tense underneath you.

“Aish, you’re such a flatterer. Y/N-ie, do you remember Mr. Won? My friend from university? You haven’t seen him in a while.” Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, trying to jog your memory.

“Oh, you mean Mr. Won from SNU?” You suddenly remembered, looking to your father for confirmation.

“Yes, so you do remember!”

“Of course I do, how could I forget!” You smiled brightly and returned your gaze to the familiar man. “Mr. Won used to sneak me ice cream when you wouldn’t let me have any, Dad.” You scolded him with a playful jab to his arm, inviting more laughter. “I apologize for not recognizing you right away, it’s been a long time, Mr. Won, forgive me.” You solemnly apologized, Mr. Won giving you a look of understanding.

“Ah, forget it, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, although since it’s been a long time I hope you remember my son? He should be here somewhere..” Mr. Won trailed as his eyes fished over the grand hall, scanning around.

“Your son..” You repeated to yourself, realizing there was a familiar connection itching at your mind, he was your age actually-

Wait.

Oh God, not him.

Anything but him.

You felt raw panic seep into the spaces between your ribs, your chest filling with a constricting feeling of anxiety you couldn't shake off. Your heart picked up speed and the alcohol coursing through your veins didn’t help your judgement or memory at all, mind fogged over with the poison we dare call alcohol.

You felt stupid, so utterly stupid. How could you forget Mr. Won and who his Godforsaken son was?

You felt an anxiety attack riddling you, shifting your weight on your feet as you tried to bite back your uneven breathing. You just couldn’t see this man, especially in a situation where you were standing next to your husband-to-be.

Taehyung wasn’t so invested in the conversation before him, mindlessly nodding along before he felt you physically freeze next to him, his glance to the side confirming your pale look, watching as your panicked eyes faltered to the floor and revealed... fear?

He registered your odd shifting and your failed attempts at plastering a smile, confused if you knew this guy and if you did, why were you freaking out so much?

Were you in love with him or something?

The thought minutely bugged him until he watched you turn straight up uncomfortable, horrified when Mr. Won called out his son’s name.

“Kiseok-ah! Come here!”

You stopped breathing when you heard the name, eyes going wide as you avoided eye contact with anyone in the group, but caught Taehyung’s undivided attention. He grew curious when Kiseok sauntered over to the group, your hand on his chest suddenly squeezing his suit as the mysterious man greeted everyone respectfully.

Taehyung watched as his intrigued eyes locked on you, eyebrows perking up amusedly as his lips curved into a smile Taehyung honestly couldn’t admit to liking.

“Y/N? Wow, long time no see. It’s been what, a year?” The man Kiseok called out happily, like there was absolutely no problem occurring here but as Taehyung felt your hand clutch onto his suit, lips just about quivering before you forced a smile, he knew there was most certainly a problem.

“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, small, and Taehyung found himself wondering how a courageous person like you was all of a sudden cowering.

He’d heard it all night, all the accounts of your other life away from the business world. He wasn’t going to lie, he heard a multitude of opinions concerning you, many of which including either looking down on you or telling Taehyung there’s many other, more powerful women in business he could’ve been marrying instead.

But Taehyung didn’t care for their opinions, he found you the most powerful woman he could ever marry, and agreed to do so because of that very prospect. Sure, you were estranged from the business scene and practically abandoned any role you’d play in your father’s company in order to pursue your own personal aspirations, but if anything, Taehyung found it highly commendable.

Taehyung knew it took guts to do what you did, a bold and daring act that no other heir or future heir of a wealthy company could ever think of doing, including himself.

What he found to appreciate most was your unwillingness to give in, where you had to have heard all the back-handed and snobby comments, yet you still held your head up high, remained rooted and adamant in keeping your current way of life. It instantly signaled to him you were courageous, fearless, unable to be stopped in your tracks.

So when he watched you become smaller and smaller the more you stood in the vicinity of this Kiseok, he knew something was sincerely wrong.

“Ah yes, it’s been quite some time. Why don’t we step away from you three? You could do some catching up.” Your father urged as he motioned Mr. Won to step away with him. You lightly addressed them only to have your hands neglect Taehyung entirely and start fidgeting, attempting to calm your nerves as the alcohol inebriated your system and magnified your anxiety by tenfold.

“Ah, yes, Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Enterprises. I’ve been meaning to meet you.” Kiseok extended his hand as his voice irked you with every syllable, trying your best to seem like absolutely nothing was wrong.

Taehyung reached out his hand in response uneagerly, giving a small shake while wondering why you let him go. “That’s news to me, nice to meet you.” Taehyung responded, already feeling an intense aura of discomfort and tension between you both, sensing he was missing out on something that seemed 6 ft deep.

“Likewise. Y/N..” Kiseok suddenly turned towards you, making you wince. You painted on your smile as you lifted your vision. “Kiseok.”

“How’ve you been?”

“Better than ever. You?”

“Marvelous, just wondering what your life’s looked like since I haven’t been in it.”

“I believe I said better than ever, didn’t I?”

Kiseok scoffed unamused, “So a year, huh? In all that time you suddenly found yourself a fiancé, and Kim Taehyung at that?” Kiseok seemed to be making light-hearted conversation to anyone outside of your group, though you knew deep down the hostility behind his words.

“Yeah, I did. It just happened.” You shrugged, gaining the confidence to counter him. “And you? Plan on putting a ring on any of your girls? Maybe the 5th or 7th one you liked?” You sarcastically questioned, furrowing your brows in mock contemplation.

“No, you know I’ve always had my eye on one girl when it came to marriage.” Kiseok eyed you knowingly, purposefully, like he was trying to make it obvious.

You snorted and glared at him, “If I remember correctly, your attitude said otherwise.” hatred began boiling under your skin. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second, memories between you two coming back in flashes. You didn’t even realize you were shaking until Taehyung’s hand suddenly entangled with yours, pulling you towards him almost defensively.

You were surprised, looking at your connected hands and back up at Taehyung. He returned your look, peering down at you as he smiled warmly, affectionately.

“I’m sorry, Kisook? Was it? My future wife and I have plans for tonight. May you excuse us?” Taehyung didn’t even let Kiseok respond before he was pulling you away, in complete shock at his first lack of manners you’d ever seen. You were only left to watch Taehyung as he lead you along, gaining the timely opportunity to realize he was taller than Kiseok, and in fact significantly taller than you.

Taehyung was a large man in general, you noticed. His shoulders looked broad from behind, accentuated by the fit of his suit which also emphasized the expanse of his chest, tastefully exposing his sculpted neck. His legs were long, proportioned perfectly in accordance with the rest of his model-like figure, which was ideally fit and contained just the right amount of muscle.

Dear God, you took your time with this one.

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had pulled you into a secluded hallway or that you were ogling him when he suddenly stopped, turning in your direction and snapping you out of a near fever dream.

Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight.

“Who the fuck was that?”

“What?”

“That douche, who was that?” Taehyung inquired slightly pissed, in need of the asshole’s identity after watching whatever shitshow he didn’t pay for.

“Nobody, Taehyung, he shouldn’t concern you.” You looked away from him, pouting in a way that made Taehyung momentarily notice the plush of your lips.

Again?, was all he could think, first, your mother, and now this guy? Just how many people did you have bad connections with and he needed to ignore?

Why were there so many intricate pieces to you?

“Are you kidding me? He concerns me now, your mother I can understand but this guy? Nothing to me. I could step on him.” Taehyung proclaimed confidently and stood up broader, conviction written all over his face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his remark, resembling the thought you had earlier. “I was just thinking, you’re a lot taller than him.”

Taehyung couldn’t help but bite back a smile, watching you giggle like a shy high schooler and his ears gladly welcomed the soft sound. “Damn straight I am.” He adjusted the jacket of his suit suavely. It was then he remembered what his other hand was doing; still holding yours.

His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief.

He squeezed your hand a little tighter and yanked you towards him, bodies just centimeters apart as you crashed into him, all up in each other’s personal space.

Your eyes widened in complete surprise.

“So you were thinking about me, huh?” Taehyung teased with a stupidly lowered tone, a smug grin decorating his face.

You ignored the electricity shooting through you, rolling your eyes and playfully sneering at him. “Shut up, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re taller.” You forced space between you two and tried snatching your hand from him, but his grip transformed into an iron lock.

“Says the one who was thinking about me.”

“Taehyung, shut-” You almost huffed out but as soon as you stepped away, your copious consumption of alcohol suddenly attacked you all at once, vertigo making you lose your balance until Taehyung reached out to steady you.

“Jheez, did you have to drink tonight?” Taehyung chastised you as you fell into him, head spinning with disorientation and growing flimsier by the second. “You’re probably a lightweight at your size.”

“I am not a lightweight. You don’t even know how much I drank, it was a lot.” You bit back in rebuttal, hooking onto his taut forearms as he supported you.

“But I did see.” He voiced barely above a whisper, causing you to snap your vision up at him incredulously. “What?”

“Nothing, it shouldn’t concern you.” Taehyung mocked, though still tried to fix you onto your own footing.

You didn’t even get to scrutinize him further when you felt another round of dizziness plague you, balance faltering again. Taehyung huffed out and finally flanked you on his side, arm encasing your shoulders as he adjusted you. “Okay Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, you should eat something.” He fit you beside him, beginning to walk you towards the main hall.

Taehyung in this moment didn’t understand what he was doing, utterly clueless as to what was fueling his actions. He was uncertain why he found himself.. caring? He didn’t even know you, yet he couldn’t help but become a little concerned when he watched you down drinks like it was New Year’s Eve.

How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?

What was he even thinking when he dragged you away from that Kisuk guy? Why did he feel like protecting you all of a sudden? A near sense of possessiveness? He wasn’t even your real husband.

It started giving Taehyung a headache. This was all strange, a foreign concept he wasn’t familiar with and he didn’t know if it was the result of his considerate personality or only manifested solely because of you.

The same way Taehyung dealt with his inner turmoil, you dealt with yours; you were always so adamant on independence though ironically found yourself leaning on Taehyung.

Oddly, you let him carefully guide you back into the hall with no protests.

It was the day of the wedding.

You wish you could recall your emotions throughout the day, certain there would be at least a sliver of a positive one. Though as you remained unmoving, nearly catatonic, unresponsive to your surroundings, you knew there wouldn’t be a single happy memory in the tsunami of sorrow that attacked you today.

Emotions of grief plagued consistently as you realized the loss of everything you valued most in your life. Your happiness, your freedom, your ability to choose. The stripping of all those bundled into an stifling wad in your chest that left you in a perpetual state of wanting to cry.

The sting in your heart when you realized your mother didn’t bother to come, the excruciating smile you forced onto your features when Taehyung’s mother delicately placed the veil atop your head, the secret tears you shed after adorning your body with a wedding dress you didn’t even choose; it all left you internalizing feelings of utter agony.

And none of it was your real choice.

Even the flowers at the wedding weren’t your favourite.

This day was horrifying. You couldn’t believe you prided yourself on your independence, refusing to give in despite numerous challenges and never taking a word of what anyone said to you. Even when someone begged you to change or come back to your old life, you always chose for yourself. You never allowed someone to push you around, seldom coerced into anything solely based on the wishes of another.

Yet here you were, standing just before the grand doors of a wedding you never asked for, having easily followed every word of your father’s and sacrificed your deepest principles in order to make him happy, to appease and live up to his expectations that weren’t your own.

It was utterly frightening, appalling. As if you had lost the one true commendable feature of the intricate character you were, suddenly lost the acclamation of others even if they didn’t know the true nature of your marriage.

But what disgusted you the most was truly, that you had lost respect for yourself.

These grim thoughts were the ones that attached themselves to you as you hesitantly hooked your arm with your father’s. You used every ounce of strength to not flee, to remain here, to still walk down that isle with your head held high like you always have despite abandoning every foundation of the character you’d spent years working on.

You didn’t care that your eyes watered, masking them with the facade of happy tears from the blushing bride. You didn’t care when your father looked incredibly concerned and wondered what was so wrong, you didn’t care how sorrowful you may have appeared to anyone at this ironically glamorous event.

Though what you did care for was that you couldn’t hold your head up as you walked down the isle, vision fixated on the ground as your tears betrayed you, spilling out at the traumatizing feeling of not being able to stand tall like you always did, something stripping you of your self-reassurance, your strength, your confidence.

It all spelled the requiem of your soul as you reached the end, dwelling in the impossibility this was happening to you until you felt the touch of Taehyung’s fingertips, guiding you up the stairs. It was then confirmed to you this was in fact real, part of your new reality you had no choice but to accept.

You suddenly felt eternal gratitude for the veil that now covered your face, hiding the tears you cried at mourning the loss of everything you worked for.

While the priest’s words were read, you didn’t exchange a single look with Taehyung, knowing you’d only want to evaporate into the air, to run away at light speed or have someone in a turn-of-events suddenly take your life, just so you didn't have to face the humility of giving up the life you’d spent blood, sweat and tears building if you looked him in the eye.

You felt the weight of your unknown future crushing you, pushing you towards the precipice as you gripped Taehyung’s hands harder to ground yourself.

You were to rely on Taehyung, to share a bond with him you had never spent time cultivating, expected to live a life next to him while never being able to truly understand him, know him, love him. The natural process of falling in love now tainted with the coercion of a pressurized marriage, losing the opportunity to achieve any true sense of love. You’d never experience finding the one anymore, your soulmate, the other end of your red string of fate.

That realization made your tears spill harder, disconnecting your hand from Taehyung’s to prevent your choked sobs becoming audible, holding your palm against your quivering lips.

To anyone beyond you and Taehyung, it would look as though you were crying tears of happiness, joyously weeping at your matrimony with the love of your life, though as Taehyung felt the shaking of your hands, your refusal to meet his gaze as you reluctantly walked down the isle, the agonizing pain he could see through the sheer of your veil, he knew you were far from happy.

He couldn’t help but purse his lips together tightly, knowing you were probably swallowing insurmountable torment down your throat because of this marriage, and tears pricked at his own eyes finding himself able to relate.

He wasn’t just upset for you or himself, it was the entire situation, quite frankly the fucking world. The fact that the universe planned this as your destiny, his destiny, that the happiness of your parents and two companies came at the expense of both yours and his.

He knew you didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t the reason just as much as you weren’t the reason either, it was the arbitrary nature of the arrangement. That whatever version of true love and happily ever after you and Taehyung had separately dreamed of, it could never come to life.

Even if the company meant everything to Taehyung, his CEO position more important than whatever position he’d play as some husband, seldom having time to consider love and relationships, he still harboured the same wants and desires any human would. A partner, a companion he truly loved with whom he’d start a family eventually, create a life for them and himself defined by love and comfort.

Though Taehyung only knew now you would both die with your decision-making capabilities robbed of you, bound to each other forcibly without the ardor of real love.

Taehyung’s every thought was proven correct when the two of you exchanged your vows in near strangled chokes and shaky tones, appearing as happy emotions to the guests of the wedding though only you two knowledgeable of each other’s suffering.

Your vision finally met Taehyung’s once you heard the rawness in his voice, your miserable emotions doubling when you registered he was just in the same pain as you. It was in that moment the priest’s words became audible and rang loud in both your ears, suddenly grounding you two to earth and reminding you of your reality.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Both of your eyes grievously locked for a moment of horrified realization; that you were seconds away from going through with this, throwing each other’s lives away for the utilitarian benefit, abandoning any sense of choice in whom you both would spend a lifetime with.

Taehyung swallowed thickly as he removed your veil, feeling his eyes fill with tears again when he laid them upon your utterly devastated, tear-stained face. You were using every nerve in your body to stop yourself from sobbing and caving into the ominous thought of fleeing the ceremony.

Taehyung’s sight wondered to your lips as they still quivered, nearly swollen red at the intensity in which you bit them, awaiting the kiss you were certain would be filled with frustration and hatred, hatred for the mud you were dragging him through, hatred for pressuring him into suddenly valuing something more than his work and his company, to suddenly become a husband to you.

Though as he watched the terror flashing through your eyes, tears watering your lash line, he knew he could never feel anything so ardently negative towards you, remembering exactly what he was stripping you of.

The life you built on your own, defying any and everyone’s expectations of yourself, cursing your heir status to hell, your strength, your independence. Now? Your life was bound to his, bound to one where you were obliged to sacrifice yourself for your father’s company and the upper class cesspool you’d spent so long trying to run away from.

So as Taehyung began closing the gap between you two, nearing your shaking figure, he resolved he wouldn’t make this hard. He would try, try to accept that his life now entailed you, would try to work towards the balance his father insisted he needed, try to understand that you were now part of his priorities and could never simply ignore you.

He glided his thumbs against the back of your hands that held his pacifyingly, leaning down until he was just inches from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. He unexpectedly spoke quietly, meaningfully, seconds away from sealing the deal of an uncertain future, though, remained certain of this one thing.

“I’ll take care of you, Y/N, I promise.” And he kissed you in a single breath, no haste, no pressure, only the gentle touch of his lips as they met yours, soft and light.

Maybe Taehyung didn’t know the exact feelings behind his promise, but he knew the meaning; that no matter the arrangement, the non-existent feelings, the loss of choice, he would at least take care of you like any husband would, a good husband.

He at least owed you that.

You were left shocked at the nature of his kiss, Taehyung’s warm lips connecting with yours tenderly. You were convinced the tears you saw in his eyes were enough to assert he hated this, frustrated he had to sell his soul, wishing to only rush the kiss so he could call it a day and ignore you for the rest of his life.

Though what you never expected was the promise he made, or the way he kissed you with such intimacy you found yourself melting into his touch, reciprocating. He kissed you like you were fragile, locking your lips in a way that solidified his promise, as if out of all the empty vows you spoke today, this was the one, true vow he would keep. His lips felt plush against yours, catching his mouth just a little more before the bittersweet disconnection.

You and Taehyung exchanged a poignant look, small smiles decorating both your faces with a mutual understanding swimming in your eyes as you gripped each other’s hands. You let his promise permeate the air between you two, finding solace in his words as the applause of everyone attending the ceremony filled the hall.

Maybe it was the warm way Taehyung always pressed his hand to the small of your back when you spoke to others the whole night, maybe the way he veered you away from excessive amounts of alcohol with a light-hearted scolding considering that last time you drank, or maybe even the way he gently held you during your first dance..

Maybe it was all these considerate, kinds act that made you view Taehyung in a less negative light and rather a favourable one, that maybe he wouldn’t be the asshole CEO you’d first accused him of being.

You would also be an idiot to not mention how completely and utterly handsome he was, looks carved by the Greeks themselves, quite possibly the hottest, most attractive man you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

And maybe all that accumulated into your assured opinion that when it came to consummating your marriage with Taehyung, you’d have no qualms or worries whatsoever. You would be absolutely willing, ready to take the night on and maybe even have some fun for yourself with whom you could tell was a really, really nice guy.

Though as Taehyung walked calmly in front of you towards your hotel suite, reaching into his suit pocket for the card key he’d retrieved at the front desk to swipe against the lock, your chest clogged with a crushing feeling of anxiety you couldn’t subdue.

These weren’t the same nerves of maybe being not pretty enough, body insecurities or fear of what to expect from Taehyung, no, these nerves came from the utter panic of having to experience sex with another man.

Especially since your last partner.

It always started with your permission, that wasn’t the issue, Though what left you afraid, so utterly frightened with the thought of spending a night with a man like this came from the treatment you received from that partner.

Safe to say, you weren’t treated kindly. Far from that, actually, you were treated as though you had no needs or were a means of simple use. Your last partner was the opposite of giving, he was selfish, self-absorbed and only concerned himself with his own pleasure, going on and on only until he was satisfied and neglected you in every sense of the word, sometimes even refusing to listen to you if you protested.

To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful.

You knew he slept around, a lot, it was the number one reason you never agreed to actually date him, never make things official.

But the reason you would end up sleeping with him was because of the most perfectly imperfect concept among the human race; love. You believed every time with him was a new chance to make that love real, that it was the genuine manifestation of your feelings for one another, thinking maybe he wasn’t the asshole he always portrayed himself as and could man up enough to love you unconditionally.

And he completely reeled you in, made you fall in love too quickly and made you believe he was capable of love. This grew exponentially when you were often described as ‘the different one’, the one he always came back to, that you were special. You clung onto those words as much as you could, convinced each time you were in fact the one for him, that maybe one day, he’d wake up and abandon his fuckboy lifestyle and mature.

But everyday that went by, every promise that was never fulfilled, every word that wasn’t met with an action, and especially after every hook up that resulted in nothing new, you began to understand you were everyone’s favourite role in a Shakespearean play.

The fool.

You were a joke to believe anything he said, the most naive person on earth to think you were any different from the others, when every night simply ended in rough fucks, virtually no orgasm and miniscule aftercare.

It left you essentially scarred, traumatized that every man in the world was built like this. It didn’t help that whenever you look back, many of your ex partners were of the same cut, the same trope of assholes that don’t seem as bad but end up being exactly so.

It was what made you swallow thickly as Taehyung opened the door to the suite, holding it open as he moved aside to let you enter first. You walked forward and unintentionally brushed against him, realizing how much smaller you were in comparison to him all over again.

He towered over you, and it made you more nervous.

You looked up at him momentarily and quietly thanked him as you stepped inside, setting your sights on the large, king sized bed situated on one side of the room, a lounging area with couches to the other side which lead to a bathroom. Seoul’s breathtaking skyline was visible in the dark of the night through wall-to-ceiling windows opposite to you, covered by flowy, sheer curtains.

You took a deep breath, trying to remind yourself Taehyung was not the same. Not all men are the same, you can’t inflict the mistakes and wrongdoings of one man onto another, categorize them into one kind. You wanted to think this way, and you knew it was the humane way to think.

But as the memories of those heart-aching nights filled your head, the empty words, the lack of care or concern, the neglect, the feelings of pure abandonment and use only caused your heart to beat profusely in your chest, clutching onto the neckline of your dress to breathe.

What if Taehyung really was no different?

It then suddenly hit you you didn’t know him. All you knew of Taehyung was that he was a fiercely successful business man, sitting atop Seoul’s most prestigious with Godly looks and a stare that could kill a man. You remembered your initial feelings about him; his stare in fact intimidated you, quite frankly all of him intimidated you, he was the epitome of perfection and you were far from that very notion. It left you thinking you didn’t measure up, and that he could view you in a dissimilar light than you viewed him; an unfavorable one.

He could simply not want you, but is forced to.

You’d observed his kind behavior and actions over the odd two days you met him, though that was exactly the inculpatory factor; you had only met him twice. You didn’t know what he would be like alone, when it was just the two of you, when there weren’t eyes scrutinizing him and cameras snapping shots of his every move.

You didn’t know how he would be like in the bedroom, either.

Your mind raced as you conflicted with yourself, trying to understand that Taehyung could be different, though apprehensive with the miniscule knowledge you actually had of him.

You discerned after that last asshole of a partner you needed the love and care of a real partner, someone who would tend to your needs, adore you in the midst of their actions, be a giver and not just a receiver.

And you didn’t know if Taehyung would be that partner.

“Y/N...” Taehyung called out to you rather softly as he removed his suit jacket, the rustling of the cloth signaling he had indeed done so. His footsteps were hard to miss, the soles of his shoes sounding against the hardwood floor as he neared your lonesome figure standing in the middle of the room.

Your breathing quickened with nearly every step he took, attempting to resolve the civil war you were battling within. You were trying to convince yourself Taehyung would be a nice man, a nice husband; though couldn’t help but feel deflated by the fact it was all mainly coerced out of him.

Your thoughts overwhelmed you as Taehyung finally stood behind you, mere inches from your back as he watched you from behind, unbeknownst of any feelings or thoughts currently riddling you.

He hesitated, though gently placed his hand against your bare arm, the sudden warmth of his hand against your skin causing you to flinch. He peered down at your smaller self squarely focusing in front of you, anticipating your response. He grew slightly soft when you tentatively looked over your shoulders, clearly teary-eyed.

Taehyung couldn’t miss how scared you seemed, and he his heart inexplicably stung at the thought you were afraid of him.

“We don’t have to do this.” Taehyung’s voice was low and resembled warm honey, reverberating in a way that made you ease up.

You worked towards a stable voice. “W-we don’t?”

“No, we don’t” His voice held no disappointment, only the intention of seemingly wanting to assure you, firm and oddly comforting.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry.” It was hard to keep your tone leveled, clutching your hand over your mouth as you swallowed your emotions.

“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

You strangely felt the desire to hold his hand that rested against you, though you ignored the urge and simply stepped out of his touch, clutching your chest tightly in an effort to cower away from him. But it was here you suddenly remembered that he kissed you, and the way he did so.

It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush.

“Do you mean that?” You’d finally turned to meet his eyes, his face only visible by the moonlight illuminating the room. He seemed to have retracted his hand and stood with both tucked in his pockets, relaxed.

This became the first time you noticed just how ravishing he looked tonight.

His dark hair was slicked back loosely and left enough pieces to fall as a comma, graciously exposing his forehead, his Tom Ford suit attractively hugged his model-like body, watch and accessories accentuating his expensive look.

His features were casted over by soft lighting, somehow adding to his beauty as the glow made him appear... less intimidating, dare you say warm or inviting.

His expression was funnily enough, one that you could actually read. He held no contempt, no impatience or anger, only a hint of consideration as his calm eyes looked at you. His face may have been predominantly blank, void of a smile, though certainty held a form of reassurance.

“Of course I do, why would I do anything with an unwilling person?”

You scoffed lightly, “Not a lot of people would say that.” Your eyes faltered from Taehyung’s and clutched yourself tighter, expression completely telling of trauma.

Taehyung instantly picked up on it, eyebrows slightly furrowing at your words though softening once registering their weight. He felt an overwhelming sense of apology take him, thinking of his next sentence before his mind oddly flashed back to the night of the engagement party.

“Y/N, did Kiseok..?” Taehyung trailed hesitantly.

You winced at his line of thinking, “No, no...not what you’re thinking,” you immediately denied. “Just, shitty experiences.”

“Shitty, as in...?”

“As in only seeking self-satisfaction, neglect, lies, infidelity. Can we go to sleep?” You deflected with a heavy sigh and a hand at your temple, the day’s events catching up to you.

Taehyung nodded in agreement, “Yeah, sleep. We both need that.” His eyes then landed on the bed, registering even if it were large enough you two could sleep apart, he still opted for caution.

“Um.. you can take the bed, by the way. I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“No, don’t do that.” You replied quickly. “I can’t sleep on a king-sized bed all by myself, it’s huge.” You side-eyed the massive mattress and laughed a little, lightening the heavy aura casted over the room.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Don’t worry, Taehyung. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” You smiled at him lightly and received a small one from him, both your eyes mirroring the same sense of understanding you exchanged at the altar.

“I’ll let you wash up first, your overnight bag should be in the bathroom closet.” Taehyung informed, pointing towards the direction of your things.

“Thank you.” You voiced with an amount of warmth that made Taehyung want to genuinely smile, though crushed the weird urge and nodded agreeably instead.

You began walking away from him until a nuisance suddenly occurred to you, cursing yourself as you came to a full stop. “Um, Taehyung.. I forgot but could you..?” You angled your back towards him to call out to the ribbons tying the back of your dress, knowing you would’ve taken 20 years just to untie your bodice yourself.

The fact that you weren’t looking directly at Taehyung made him feel relieved, glad he wouldn’t embarrass himself with the his eyes slightly widened. He was quick to reprimand himself, it’s just a woman’s dress, why the hell are you shocked?

Taehyung swallowed dryly before replying, “Uh, yeah I’ll--I’ll do that.” He walked towards you sparingly and positioned himself behind you.

He’d noticed it before, but you were relatively small compared to him in size and it continued to poke at his brain, maybe even momentarily think it was cute.

Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?

Taehyung exhaled before his hands carefully made for the silk ribbons, his tentative fingers fiddling with the ties until he eventually began loosening each one. He started unlooping your bodice, breathing out considerably when each loop began exposing your back inch by inch.

Taehyung’s sweet, hot breath fanned your skin, tensing each time as your every nerve went haywire feeling just how close he was. His slender fingers brushed against your bare skin here and there, making heat collect in your face.

You grew even hotter when your kiss with him suddenly crept back into your mind, unknowing of the reason why excitement and electricity shot throughout your body because of it. The way his soft, full lips met yours, mouthed at you tastefully repeated in your head, making you extremely nervous at how much a measly kiss from him was occupying your mind; it was just a kiss.

Taehyung found himself tensing by the intimacy of the moment, remembering the way he so boldly kissed you. He found that he liked the plush of your lips, the way he had to bend down to your smaller height to lock lips; and it made him feel strange.

How the hell was he taking interest in something other than his work? No, this isn’t interest, Taehyung thought, and would spend however long denying it.

He’d finished the task throughout all his thinking, unrealizing of how proximal he was to you. He oddly hated that the moment was over, coming back down to Earth.

“There you go.” He cleared his voice and stepped away from you.

You held your bodice up against your chest, realizing Taehyung had a full-access view of your back and you grew 10x hotter. You gulped at the thought before hastily turning around to thank him, quickly disappearing into the bathroom for a moment of reprieve.

You shut the door and instantly breathed out a breath you didn’t remember holding, looking at your hot mess of a face in the mirror trying to cool down, reliving the last 10 minutes of what just happened.

You took a deep breath.

Maybe Taehyung is different after all.

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

Harry Holland - Polaroids

A/N & WC - I do not know Harry or the other people mentioned in this fic, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction. 3.9k.

Warnings - Swearing, mention of food, smut: depictions of oral (m+f rec), penetrative sex, use of toys, bondage & bdsm, photos being taken in the act, mild exhibitionism and definite voyeurism (not Harry or reader) 18+.

Summary - You and Harry have an exciting intimate life to say the least, and he rather enjoys taking photos of the two of you in compromising positions. However, in his sex-addled mind, one vital fact is let slip when he allows Sam into his room unsupervised.

“BUD, WHERE ARE THOSE PHOTOS you took of my food the other day?” Sam asks.

The sizzling of pancakes overlaps the conversation, and you mussing up Harry’s hair distracts him, his attention drawn to more important matters than his brother. Harry barely swallows his giant mouthful of food before speaking.

“By my bed there’s a huge pile, they’ll be somewhere,” he answers flippantly.

Flippantly.

Usually so cautious and so organised Harry lets one thing slip his mind for five seconds, and his life is going to fall through the cracks. His reputation will be utterly destroyed. Just with his brother, but it still stands. Sam is… more innocent than Harry has ever been. And Sam will also tell the others, and likely their friends…

“Remembered something, baby?” you muse sardonically from beside him, your hand halting its movements as you cup his jaw, turning him to face you.

The second his green eyes meet yours, you watch the world crumble in his eyes. You’ve never seen him scramble up from his seat so quickly. His bare feet slap on the tiled floor violently, thudding sounds echoing through the house as he blunders around, swinging around the banister with the force and elegance of an elephant.

“Sam! FUCK— Wait!”

“Don’t look in that pile of photos,” you add in a feeble shout.

It’s not like what Sam’ll find there is any secret. You’ve been together a long time, you and Harry, and everyone knows full well that you’re shagging, but that doesn’t mean you necessarily want them to know exactly what happens in the bedroom, in your most intimate, secret moments together. That’s sacred, even if it seems like sacrilege to so many.

No matter how quickly you hear Harry legging it upstairs, his lean legs carrying him up the stairs perhaps three at a time, his curly hair even more unruly than before from the exertion, you know he won’t be fast enough, and that Sam is an insolent bastard when he wants to be. You’ve lived with them all long enough and have had more than your fair share of near misses: no chance will you not be found out, this time you’ll be caught. Better than the alternative and the other times, you suppose, as you cram one more syrup-drizzled and strawberry-covered pancake into your gob, reluctantly trudging your way upstairs to the hive of fun.

It’s chaos by the time you get there. Dozens of artfully-taken photos spilled out onto your duvet, Harry’s freckled face paler than you’ve ever seen it, his hands tugging at his pyjama shirt convulsively while Sam stands on the other side of the room, his dark eyes wide, his expression agog, his jaw unhinged, staring blankly and pointing at whatever the most incriminating thing is he sees next. You just hope he doesn’t go ferreting through your drawers, because then you’ll really be in trouble.

“What… the fuck.”

You come up to Harry’s side, and wrap an arm around his slim waist, lending a weak, “Surprise?”

It’s their fault if they haven’t guessed, frankly.

You can’t draw your eyes away from the pictures, so many of them, all displaying different aspects of your sex life at varying degrees of explicitness. You can even recount the minutes and hours of pleasure that led to the photos, each occasion etched into your mind. Sure, you and Harry go at it a lot, but you don’t always go the extra mile, hence why these commemorative photos of your special nights are so treasured. And private. Or, were.

The first one… oh boy, that takes you back to the most far-out, extreme experiment you tried—the most recent, as well: just this past weekend. You’re still covered in rope burn from it, though that could’ve been prevented if you hadn’t writhed or wriggled about so much while in those bonds. The amount of attempts it took, the sheer number of YouTube tutorials you had to watch, but it was definitely worth it. The intricate patterns the ropes formed all across your body, creating braids down your back, suspending you prone with little movement in your arms or legs. It was heaven to have Harry tugging on the ropes, contorting you into new and wonderful positions for his own delightful access to all of you. Perhaps it’s not something you’ll gravitate towards again, but it was fun while it lasted, and it’s another thing to tick off your list of fun, kinky bedroom experiments to try. To be fair, even though the swathes of soft, rose-coloured rope, intricately woven around you were a lot, you certainly wouldn’t be averse to trying something else with rope. Less shibari, perhaps just normal levels of bondage. You can feel the skin on your arms prickling with heat: Harry feels it too, winding his fingers into yours, holding on tight as he struggles to suppress a smirk.

The next set is interesting, and rather common. Harry’s freckled, ring-less hand is unmistakable in the dappled light as it grapples with the handle of a leather whip, or a paddle, even his belt, bringing them down harshly onto your ass cheeks, already reddened with hand prints, purple from bruises. In one of them, your skin is even glistening with his release, and another, your hands are suspended behind your back. Harry’s always been one for spanking, and the rest of them know it. Even before you were sleeping together he’d playfully smacked your bum, and he certainly hasn’t stopped even with the sexual connotations it now conveys between the two of you. As though he can read your mind, he snakes a hand down and pats you on the bum; his wink telling you it’s just for good measure. Cheeky shit.

One in the dead centre brings shivers throughout your body. Not because it wasn’t fun or pleasurable, but because of the way it made you feel afterwards. Yes, you’d talked through it in thorough details—as with everything the two of you do—how it made you feel going in, throughout, and you’d got a safe word sorted, but perhaps you hadn’t discussed all the long term risks of it. The pretty pink collar, the satin blindfold… The whole subservient thing is a big turn on for Harry, and you played into it, you always do and you naturally fall into a position of less power in your relationship because of the way you are, but being degraded in such a way isn’t for you. You can’t help but feel a sting of shame ricochet through your heart. Harry must feel it this considering how reactive he is: he leaps towards the bed and snatches it up, shredding it before your eyes, chucking it into the bin, and curling another protective arm around you.

“Look,” you whisper to Harry, turning his attention elsewhere as you point to the bottom few: your favourite photos of all.

Despite the disarray, they’re all together, and they remind you of an incredible night. Your anniversary, and what a special day it was. Butterflies swarm you at the sight of them again, but it feels strange for someone else to be looking at them. Not that you or Harry are exactly in a fit state to be proactive about preventative measures now Sam’s seen them all. His eyes bulge from his face, his mouth going dry as he swallows viciously, suddenly having to shift his already apparently tight shorts. Again.

“You’re so sexy in those, baby,” purrs Harry.

He’s damn right, you do look incredibly sexy. And though the first one in the chronological series is you mostly covered, you can remember how hard his dick was at the sight alone, salivating, clenching his fists to stop from ripping the lingerie from you piece by piece. You wanted to put on a show for him that day: who was he to deny you?

On top of your bra, panties and stockings was a nightgown, and above that, a dressing gown. Each image shows you in a further state of undress. It was a deep burgundy lace set of negligée with soft satin straps that pushed your boobs together, lifting them up, the lace hooked together with a single eyelet on your spine, whereas the panties, though half covering your cheeks with dustings of lace, hid nothing while they sat high on your hips, revealing your entire upper thigh where a matching satin garter sat with tiny lace bows. The entire thing cost a fortune. You forked out a damn arm and a leg for what you got, even with a discount included with a certain toy you bought.

First went the dressing gown, letting it fall from your shoulders, allowing it to pool around your feet as you showed off the skimpiness of the silk slip in a series of flourishing twirls, much to Harry’s delight. Next went the slip, and you honestly wish you’d taken a picture of his face utterly agog—as you stood there in stockings held up by garters, barely there panties and a push up bra. There’s one shot of his rough fingertips playing with the trim of the stockings delightedly, like a kid in a candy shop. Next went the feeble scrap of fabric that you dared to call a bra, barely covering your nipples, allowing your breasts free, spilling into Harry’s awaiting hand. You remember the next part vividly, because he was just about to peel the panties off when you laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” you cooed.

His twinkling eyes grew as wide as saucers, and you dared to card your fingers through his curls as you settled yourself over his lap, letting him keep his camera in one hand while leading the other down, down, a little further…

He’s never since made a sound quite like it, so visceral and animalistic, so ready to devour you, to come on sight. He’s never been as hard as he was in that instance.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he moaned, a deep groan released from him the second his fingers slipped through your folds to find dripping arousal all ready for him. “Just—wait a minute…”

You followed his every instruction for the next few moments, finding yourself standing up in a good lighting position, Harry strategically beneath you as he snapped a particularly incriminating (yet oh so sexy shot) of your bare pussy in crotchless panties. Harry’s never recovered. He’s already openly admitted that he uses those particular photos more than any others to get himself off whenever you’re away from him. However, the creases and folded corners of one particular photo can’t be blamed on him, since that’s the one you use when you're away, two of his fingers plunged knuckle-deep inside you in those exact panties, from that exact angle, desperately trying to replicate the irreplaceably pleasurable feeling of him within you. He took a good few more than had to be thrown away. Spillages are awfully unfortunate… He fucked you that night with the panties, stockings and garters still on. Twice. Then without the panties, then without the stockings, then nude at last at some ungodly hour of the morning when he took you at last as the sun rose. You didn’t sleep a wink.

There are more of you with lingerie on, nightgowns and matching sets, scraps of silk and strange one pieces that took you hours to get on, but they’re bound to make a sort of book, stowed away neatly (mercifully) beneath his bed.

Sam still hasn’t moved from his state of paralysed shock, and though you should probably clear the photos up from where they’re dumped, you feel a filthy swelling pride within your chest, a glean of risk as you watch Sam rove his eyes over some more, these all involving toys. If only he knew where you hid them. One his eyes focus on is you with a thick purple rubber dildo deep inside you, a rabbit vibrator stuck to your clit. Your body is but a blur, writhing around for Harry, your hands cuffed before you and not released no matter how much you moved. Harry wouldn’t let you stop coming for what felt like hours: it was the first time you squirted for him as a cry tore from your heaving chest, drenching the bed with your fifth orgasm of the night. Harry vowed he’d be the only one to make you squirt after that, no toys involved, and he’s stayed true to his word.

There’s a few more, and Sam seems to be furrowing his thick brows at the sight of the Polaroids. Glass wands, spreader bars, clit suctions (that admittedly look like they’d be used in a spa for a facial). Poor boy is being corrupted...

Good God, you need to get those toys out again.

With his twin's attention diverted, you snake your hand down the front of Baz’s shorts, wrapping your fingers around his already hard member through his boxers: he seems to be enjoying this as much as you are.

You point out one of your favourite pictures, a debauched mess that shouldn’t be viewed by anyone else, frankly. Harry was reluctant about hurting you or pushing you too far, but you begged to be gagged. You meant just by a tie, maybe his bandana—which features in many images in many different manners: as a bind for your hands, tying you to the bed, keeping your ankles together, even wrapped lightly around your neck, but never as a gag—but he went all out. When you got home, he was waiting in his room with a leather-bound ball gag.

“You begged, baby,” he said, and you couldn’t refute. You had begged, but this was above and beyond. You complied with his every wish that night, and though you’d do it again in a heartbeat, Harry wasn’t a fan of not being able to shove his fingers or cock down your throat at any given moment. He liked hearing your whines and moans and hushed curses, prayers of his name. He also liked hearing your bratty, belligerent rebuttals when he took on a dominant role. You enjoyed it more than a little, but only now can you see how much of a mess you were, messy hair and tears spouting from your eyes, drool down your chin...

Given the chance of the slightest spark of stimulation, you’ll be coming on the spot.

There’s a scattered pile of the two of you in just about every position under the sun, every shape in the karma sutra, fucking both inside and out, al fresco sex beneath the big oak in the garden, anyhow, anywhere and everywhere you could fuck safely and privately, you would, and you didn’t even realise Harry had snapped some of these shots after consenting to him taking them at any time. Your eyes squeezed shut as you peaked, Baz’s palm kneading your chest, your skirt hiked up around your stomach while your jaw was agape, your pussy exposed and glistening slick in the mirror, penetrated by Harry’s cock. That was a good day, mirror sex, and definitely something you’ll try again. This time with your own mirror... There are a few snapshots of oral, perfect Polaroids of Harry’s nose nuzzled into your pussy, his tongue deep in your core, his lips on your labia, all of them for your sake whenever he goes away.

“Gonna recreate that one tonight,” Harry husks, pointing towards one image in particular of you sucking him off.

His huge member down your throat, you’d trained yourself to breathe solely through your nose, but the neatly trimmed patch of hair there tickled your nostrils. Harry’s talent for photography reveals your doe eyes were red rimmed, saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth matching the mascara tracks down your cheeks. You’ve never looked so fucked out, and Harry couldn’t believe you remained in that innocent façade, rosy cheeks and a coy expression even with his dick rammed down your throat, making you gag.

However, the one you’d like to recreate is one he picks up on, surreptitiously moving a hand to your chest, his fingers hovering over your peaked nipple.

“Reckon we can go again the second Sam fucks off?”

“Yes,” he eagerly exhales.

You don’t blame him, especially not when both twins are staring at the same image of your tits, pushed together with Harry’s dick between them, fucking your chest despite the fact his come already painted your chest in hot white strips, a beautiful painting you’d always wish to frame. He certainly has an obsession with your boobs so there are a couple like that, his hands all over them, the tip of his member tapping them, but the debauched one is by far your favourite. Similarly, there’s one of you tied to the bed, completely spread eagle, his dick resting on your stomach while your belly is coated in his come once again.

It seems, however, that’s what snagged Sam’s attention and has his face a ghastly shade of grey because it's so pale, is the one photo Harry never wanted anyone to see. You leap and snatch it up in one fell swoop, and Harry draws you into a bear hug within his arms, kissing your temple affectionately in thanks as you stow it away for safekeeping. Though Harry naturally carries the more dominant title in your relationship, you always like to shake things up, hence why this photo (and a series of others he already has hidden) depict Harry as your submissive. You walked around as the picture perfect dominatrix in stilettos, carrying a whip while Harry lay there with his hands bound, a blindfold on in some photos (you took them so they’re not as great, but he still looks damn sexy) with a vibrating cock ring wrapped snugly around his girth. He’s never come so hard or so much after you finally removed it and cuffed his hands to the bedpost and began to ride him. You can still feel the warmth of him climaxing within you if you close your eyes and clench your thighs.

“I promise I’ll touch you later,” boy do you hope he sticks to that promise he whispers while nibbling on your earlobe, “but Sam’s coming out of his daze in 3... 2... 1...”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Okay, I didn’t see that coming,” he remarks breathily, hazel eyes wide as he pivots, met with two incredulous stares. Tom’s cry wakes Sam up right on cue.

“Harry! What the fuck?!” Sam demands, his voice a bellow, horror and disgust and... something unattainable just emanates from him. “Why do you have three porn mags worth of your girlfriend down here? That’s fucked, mate.”

“No it’s not. We just like to have photographic reminders of all our... sexcapades.”

Sam is, unsurprisingly, retching, now finally turning his head away from the pile without even bothering to pick up.

“This was cool until you called them sexcapades,” Tom chimes, smacking Harry upside the head as he swaggers over to the bed, fishing a few photos up before tossing them back down.

Sam's horrified attitude doesn’t seem to be spreading thankfully, but you and Harry are understandably rooted to the spot, stuck to the carpet, just biding your time until this is over. Then again, you can’t really tell, since no one is saying anything. You nor Harry want to be the ones to break the silence, though, and you can tell with the furtive and expressive stares you’re sharing that his anxiety is increasing the more people are seeing this.

Momentarily, you think someone may remark about your silent communication, your fixed glances and speechless conversation, but instead, Harrison comes up to you both, a sly smirk etched onto his pretty model face as he clasps a hand around one shoulder of yours and one of Harry’s.

“Harry Holland, you kinky fucker,” he praises.

You definitely feel a swell of pride at that. And the fact that Tom is trying desperately hard not to look at you while also trying to hide how flustered he is, somehow still abhorred by the sight. Harrison’s intrigue is palpable, gnawing on his lower lip as his lithe fingers trace you on the polaroid's, whereas Sam? He can’t decide whether to cry or scream. Harry huddles in closer and cuddles you, ensuring you feel every part of him, just how much he wants this lot to leave to finally have you at his mercy once more.

“So you two are shagging,” Tom observes.

You and Harry nod between kisses.

“Dangerously.”

You nod again, though this time a little reluctantly.

You expect Harry to nestle down with you again, but instead he detaches himself, unravelling his arms, and shoulders past Tom and Haz. He gives Sam a death glare as he piles up all the Polaroids and shoves them deep in a drawer for him to organise later, away from prying eyes and judgemental comments.

“Really, though?” Sam bursts out, flailing his arms before grasping Harry’s collar. “I thought you’d just handcuff her and give her a smack at most, very vanilla.”

As much as he tries to fight it, Harry’s face flushes bright red, leaving no visible distinction between his forehead and hairline. “I think those photos, erm, tell a different story.”

He rocks on the balls of his feet, tugging himself out of his brother's grasp, only to fall into another, saved by Harrison’s scowl at Tom.

“Can you lot bloody get out? Please? I’d like some alone time with my girlfriend after that sodding invasion.”

“If you’re having alone time, we’re leaving the house for a while,” Tom jokes, “how long?”

You smirk, striding over to meet Harry, eyes fixed on him as you press onto your tiptoes, wrapping your fingers around his shoulder before kissing his earlobe. He wilts into your touch.

“Two hours should be enough time. Scram.”

They do, gladly, and you slam the door shut as their scurrying footsteps down the stairs recede. Harry’s grip increases around your waist, a growl escaping him as he pushes you onto the bed. You gasp when your back hits the mattress, his lips instantly attacking your jaw.

“Which of those polaroid's do you wanna recreate first, baby?”

—

It’s hours later, and you're all around for your weekly dinner at the Holland house. You and Harry, having some ‘business’ to attend to before leaving the house, are the last to arrive, and Paddy, poor unfortunate Paddy, has the delightful job of letting you into the house.

“Sam asked me to give you this,” he says barely before you’ve entered the porch.

Harry’s face pales as he unravels the small piece of paper bundled into his hand by his younger brother, but you could swear all blood drains from him the second the words sink in.

‘You took them, you lost them, you collect them. What would mum and dad say, Harold?’

“Harry, what’s happening?”

“That utter wanker stole the polaroids as revenge for scarring him. He’s hidden them around the house. We have to find them before mum and dad go looking. You in for the ride?”

“Only if Haz can join us tonight,” you tease, and after calling a hello to Harry’s parents, you follow him around the house, detaching all the pinned photos.

Harry's learnt a solid lesson today: hide his damn Polaroids better from now on, away from the prying eyes of his bloody brothers. But, he thinks with a smirk, by no means will the two of you stop taking them.

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labomi · 4 years

Text

selfish | two (18+)

Summary: You’re a former coworker of Kento Nanami back when he was just an office worker. You accidentally run into him at a bakery many years later which gives you a second chance at getting to know the man who had always caught your eye.

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Words: 8.6k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+ only), vaginal sex, creampie, explicit language, alcohol

Notes: I’m so happy to get this out finally ajsfdsld thank you for all the lovely comments on the first part! I’m so glad people enjoyed it enough to convince me to write more! This will definitely be the last part for this fic, but I do have plans for more Nanami things in the future. Thanks for reading! It’s also up on my ao3 if you prefer to read it there!

Index: [Part One] [Part Two]

You were moving boxes in the storage room when you heard the chime of the front door opening. With a sudden jolt, you realized you had forgotten to change the sign from “open” to “closed” before cleaning up. Cursing at yourself for the careless mistake, you hoped the customer wouldn’t be too upset that the shop was actually shut down for the night.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed,” you politely explained, emerging from the back room. But one look at the tall figure by the door caused you to stop in your tracks. A large smile grew on your face when you saw exactly who had entered the shop.

Nanami was still in his normal work attire, but he had left behind his signature blazer and sunglasses. The top few buttons of his blue dress shirt were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. You unconsciously licked your lips.

“I can make an exception for you though,” you teased with a wink before walking around the counter to greet your boyfriend.

As you waltzed into his open arms, Nanami leaned down to give you a sweet kiss as a greeting. You sighed happily against his lips. It felt so good to be with him after a long, tiring day. His presence always made you feel safe and warm. Like nothing could ever possibly go wrong as long as you were in his embrace.

Nanami’s hands latched onto your waist as he tried to deepen the kiss, but you reluctantly pulled away with a groan of frustration.

“As much as I’d like to continue, I have to finish closing up shop,” you complained with a pout.

Nanami kissed the top of your head before releasing you. “It’s alright. I’ll wait.”

You changed the sign on the door to “closed” to prevent any unwanted guests from entering the shop. You then wiped down all the counters and properly stored the leftover ingredients. Once finished with all your tasks, you took off your apron and shoved it in your bag.

“I’m ready!” you called out to Nanami as you started to shut off all the lights. The two of you exited the now dark shop before you locked the front door.

Whenever you had a closing shift, Nanami always came to walk you home. You found it absolutely endearing. Even though you didn’t particularly mind traveling alone at night, the walk to your apartment was always more pleasant when the sorcerer was by your side.

It was almost midnight. The normally busy streets were now devoid of both cars and other pedestrians. You loved sharing these quiet moments with Nanami. Just the two of you enjoying each other’s presence with no one else around. Nanami preferred it this way too, especially because he wasn’t a particular fan of PDA.

You were holding onto Nanami’s hand as he quietly walked beside you. “How was work today?” you asked.

Nanami was a little sensitive about discussing his job as a sorcerer with you. He always refused to share the details of his missions, but he begrudgingly answered your general questions about his workday with vague responses.

“It was fine.” He squeezed your hand lightly. “I was able to get off early.”

“Lucky you! I wish I could have finished earlier,” you complained with a huff. “Closing shift is the worst.”

“Did you eat dinner at least?”

You nodded. “I got some takeout during my break.”

“Good.” He knew you had a bad habit of skipping dinner while you were working. You found it more convenient to just eat a granola bar, especially when it was busy. But Nanami always lightly chastised you when you did this, so you had been making more of an effort to eat better.

The two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Once inside, you immediately emptied out of your bag and threw your apron into the laundry hamper. Luckily, you were off of work for the next two days.

“Kento, you’re staying the night, right?” The sorcerer was still standing in your living room.

“I have to report to work early tomorrow. I don’t want to wake you.”

You rolled your eyes at him with a sigh. Nanami was too considerate of you sometimes. “You never wake me up. Plus, I have my 9 am class tomorrow, so I have to be up early anyway.”

Nanami knew you were right. Unlike him, you slept like the dead. Frankly, he was a little jealous. The sorcerer had always been a sensitive sleeper, but he found it much easier to relax in your presence. Since the two of you had started dating, the quality of his sleep remarkably improved.

“I’ll stay.” You grinned smugly. It didn’t take much to convince him to sleep over.

“Good. I’m going to shower.”

The two of you rarely spent the night apart from one another, alternating between each other’s apartments based on the convenience for the night. Nanami had his own toiletries, pajamas, and spare clothes in your apartment, and you had your own set of things at his place as well.

As you took your shower, Nanami changed into his sleepwear and sat on your couch, reading one of many books he left at your place. Once you announced you were done using the bathroom, the sorcerer placed a bookmark and set the book back down on your coffee table. You were already in the bedroom, changing into your pajamas and packing your bag for class tomorrow, knowing you would forget something if you waited until the morning.

You looked up as Nanami entered the room after washing up. You still found it relatively amusing to see him in such casual clothes: a pair of plaid pajama pants and a thin white t-shirt. But you were glad that only you got to see him like this. The man was the perfect example of prim and proper in public, but at home, he found it more appropriate to dress comfortably. And you thought he looked absolutely adorable. Especially with his unstyled hair.

After the lights were turned off, the two you snuggled in bed together and kissed each other goodnight. Within seconds, you were already fast asleep, exhausted from the long day. Nanami listened to the sound of your deep, even breathing. He felt completely at ease with you safely pressed against him. It wasn’t long before he followed you into a deep sleep.

---

Nanami’s life was simple before he met you at that bakery.

He went to work, came back home, read a book, had a glass of scotch, and made some dinner. The cycle repeated nearly every day, but Nanami didn’t particularly mind. He liked having a simple, predictable routine.

Once you reentered his life, things were a bit different. A bit more exciting. He wasn’t complaining.

Instead of only buying groceries for himself, he made sure to also buy your favorite snacks. Instead of making a reservation for one at a restaurant, he asked for a table for two. Instead of placing one set of utensils on his dining table, he always put down two.

Jujutsu sorcerers were a lonely group of people. They often felt isolated from the general population, born with unique abilities that allowed them to see things that most other people could not.

It was a difficult path. Sorcerers faced a life full of constant battle and death. And the only people who could relate to their hardships were the same people dying by their sides.

For this reason, sorcerers rarely interacted with people outside the jujutsu community. They saw themselves as an outsider to the rest of society. A society that was blissfully unaware of the existence of curses.

But it was different with you.

When Nanami was with you, he didn’t feel like an outsider or a jujutsu sorcerer.

He felt like a normal man.

The activities that Nanami once did alone were now the same activities he enjoyed doing together with you. He took you to his favorite bakery to pick out fresh bread every week. He escorted you to well-reviewed restaurants he had been meaning to visit. He even brought you to his beloved local bookstore, the one place he had been visiting for years as a regular customer.

The first time he took you into the shop, the owner couldn’t help but notice the way your hands were intertwined with one another. As you browsed through the shelves on your own, the old woman suggestively waggled her eyebrows at Nanami.

“So you got a lady now?” she asked curiously.

Nanami thought it was a little odd that she was somehow keeping tabs on his relationship status, but he nodded anyway.

“Ah! She’s a pretty one!”

You suddenly reappeared with a tall stack of secondhand books in your arms. “Kento! This place is amazing! I’m going to buy all of these!”

“Oh, definitely a keeper too,” the owner commented.

Nanami found himself agreeing.

He didn’t know if you could be any more perfect.

Nanami had always enjoyed cooking. He loved the process of selecting a recipe, buying fresh ingredients, and turning them into a delicious, home-cooked meal. But he learned that enjoyed cooking even more when it was for you.

The sorcerer was appalled to hear that you hardly ever cooked for yourself. He had surveyed the state of your freezer in utter disgust. It was crammed full of boxes of microwavable meals and several pints of ice cream. You defended yourself vehemently, claiming that you were too busy to cook between classes, work, and study sessions. The microwave was the easiest and quickest appliance to use after all. And sometimes you just wanted ice cream for dinner.

Nanami took it upon himself to make sure you were eating proper, nutritious meals. In his eyes, it was less of a chore and more of a hobby. He enjoyed learning what you liked. He looked forward to hearing your thoughts about a recipe. He loved the way your eyes lit up whenever he presented a new dish. The sorcerer had even subscribed to food magazines and bought some international cookbooks just to try out with you.

Every morning, Nanami packed you a healthy lunch to ensure you wouldn’t just eat a granola bar for the entire day. And whenever the two of you both had a free night, you always ate dinner together.

In particular, Friday nights had become a weekly tradition between the two of you. Nanami would prepare a special dinner with some fancy wine. The two of you would even dress up a little to celebrate the start of the weekend.

You knocked on Nanami’s door one Friday night, wearing a simple yet elegant dress with just a hint of makeup on your face. The door opened and you were instantly greeted by the mouth-watering smell of whatever the man was cooking in the kitchen. But the sight of Nanami was even more distracting. He was wearing an apron over a tight black button-up shirt with gray slacks. You bit your lip softly, eyeing him appreciatively.

While you enjoyed going out to eat in a restaurant, there was something more intimate about Nanami cooking dinner at home just for the two of you. Plus, the atmosphere was always lovely. His apartment was clean, spacious, and well-decorated. Whatever jujutsu sorcerers got paid, it was clearly more than enough.

“It smells good,” you hummed. “What are you making tonight?”

The sorcerer never revealed dinner to you in advance. For some reason, he always wanted to keep it a surprise.

“Homemade linguine with shrimp. I also got some fresh bread to go along with it.”

Your eyes lit up instantly. “Oooh, sounds delicious! I didn’t know you knew how to make pasta from scratch.”

Everything that Nanami prepared was always amazing. There was never a meal he made that you didn’t enjoy. The first time he cooked you dinner, you almost wanted to propose to him right then and there. A man with those looks and proper culinary skills? You felt like the luckiest person in the world.

You always offered to help Nanami while he was cooking but he would gently shoo you out of the kitchen every time. You weren’t sure if it was because he wanted you to sit back and relax or if it was because he thought you would mess things up.

It was probably the latter.

(Most definitely the latter.)

Due to your clear lack of culinary expertise, you were in charge of cleaning all the pots and pans and loading the dishwasher. You couldn’t complain.

Your post-dinner activities were always the same. The two of you would play a movie and then immediately proceed to ignore it for the rest of the night.

Tonight was no different.

You moaned loudly, writhing about on the couch. “Kento, fuck.”

Your dress was hiked up around your hips, underwear already discarded with Nanami’s face in between your legs. You were already shuddering through your second orgasm of the night with Nanami eagerly lapping up your fluids. His strong arms locked your thrashing legs into place as you gripped the edges of the couch, riding out the last few waves of intense pleasure.

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes as he pulled back, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “Ready?” he asked in a deep voice. His pupils were blown open in lust. You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. The man gathered you in his arms and headed to the bedroom.

He carefully set you down on unsteady legs as he pulled the zipper down your dress until the garment fell and landed in a heap on the ground. To his pleasant surprise, you were already braless. You turned around and started to slowly unbutton Nanami’s dress shirt, taking your sweet time. His gaze raked over your entire figure, causing your fingers to fumble as you flushed from the intensity of his stare. Eventually, Nanami had enough. He threw you on the bed and quickly shed the rest of his clothes on his own.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, climbing on the bed and hovering over you. His large, calloused hands roamed all over your bare skin while his mouth focused on sucking at the sensitive spots on your neck.

You relished the feel of Nanami’s touch all over you, but one glance at his painfully hard cock had your cunt begging to be filled.

“Kento,” you whined. “I can’t wait. Fuck me, please. I need you inside me, right now.”

Nanami sheathed his entire length inside you with just one sharp thrust. He proceeded to fuck you hard and fast, just the way you liked. Each snap of his hips left you a complete mess underneath him, moaning his name over and over again. It was just barely audible over the lewd, wet sounds of your desperate cunt squeezing around him.

Nanami grabbed one of your hands and interlocked his fingers with yours. A sweet gesture as he roughly pounded you into the bed. The two of you were so worked up that it didn’t take long for the both of you to quickly become undone. You arched your back and tightly gripped Nanami’s hand as uncontrollable pleasure coursed throughout your entire body. Nanami groaned your name as he sloppily thrust into you several more times before flooding your cunt with his cum.

When he finally pulled out, Nanami was satisfied to see his seed trickling out of you.

“Kento,” you called his name, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze.

The man adjusted his position so he was now laying next to you. He kissed you sweetly and whispered praises of you as you giggled breathlessly.

“Hmm, I don’t want to get out of bed and clean up yet.”

“Then don’t,” Nanami said with a devious look in his eyes.

It was then that you felt his length hardening once again against your thigh. He suddenly pulled you on top of him as he laid on his back. The movement caused your sensitive folds to inadvertently rub against his dick as you straddled his hips. You gasped at the feeling, clutching at his chest to prop you up.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growled.

---

It was a slow afternoon when a man entered the boba shop. He wore an all-black outfit and a matching beanie. Tufts of his disheveled brown hair stuck out from underneath.

“Hello!” You greeted him inside as his eyes flickered around the place nervously before walking up to the cash register.

“What would you like to order?”

Instead of browsing the menu, the man’s gaze was focused elsewhere. Specifically, your chest. You stood there uncomfortably, wondering if you should say something or just ignore him. But then you realized the man wasn’t being a creep. He was reading your name tag.

The man said your name out loud hesitantly.

“Yes? That’s me.” You tilted your head slightly, trying to figure out if you knew this man. Nothing about his appearance rang a bell. You then started to worry about whether or not you were supposed to recognize him. Was he a current classmate? A former coworker?

The man’s eyes instantly lit up. “You’re Nanami’s girlfriend, right?”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

Kento? He knows Kento?

“Oh, um, yes I am.” The question had taken you off guard. You weren’t expecting a random customer to mention your boyfriend’s name.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” The man smiled brightly at you, looking extremely excited. “Gojo always mentions how pretty and kind you are, so I couldn’t resist visiting when he told me you worked here.”

Gojo?

If this man knew both Nanami and Gojo, did this mean he was also a sorcerer?

The stranger had piqued your curiosity, and you just couldn’t give up the opportunity to sit down and chat with him. Luckily, it was a slow day and you convinced your coworker to allow you to take your break early. After preparing two drinks, you slipped into a booth in the back of the shop with the man taking a seat across from you.

“I’m Ino Takuma.” The man introduced himself to you.

“So, if you know Gojo and Kento, does that mean you’re a sorcerer?” You kept your voice hushed while asking, just in case your nosy coworkers were trying to listen in on your conversation.

Ino nodded. “Yep, I am.”

You couldn’t help but feel excited to meet another one of Nanami’s colleagues. He purposely tried to shield you from the jujutsu world, but it only made you more curious. Plus, you wanted to know more about what Nanami was like as a sorcerer. He was always so gentle and sweet with you. Well, except for in bed. But it was sometimes hard to imagine that he exorcised curses for a living.

“Do you know Kento well?” you asked curiously.

Ino nodded eagerly. “Yes! I worked with him on a mission once and since then, I’ve really respected him.” He blushed a little, rubbing the back of his head. “Nanami is my role model. I don’t see myself as a particularly smart guy, so whenever I don’t know what to do, I always ask myself what would Nanami do?”

Ino’s words were full of sincerity. In some ways, he reminded you of Itadori. Both of the boys seemed to admire Nanami in a way you would never understand as a non-sorcerer. But it made your heart full knowing that Nanami was a trusted mentor in his workplace.

“Does that mean Kento is strong?” You were a little hesitant to ask the question. As an outsider to the jujutsu world, you didn’t know what made a sorcerer strong. But if another sorcerer told you that Nanami was indeed powerful, you would feel comforted. You knew his job was dangerous, so you obviously worried about his safety, but you tried your best not to show it around him.

“Nanami is super strong!” Ino exclaimed, arms flailing around to emphasize his point. “He’s a Grade 1 sorcerer! That’s practically the best you can be!”

You bit back a sigh of relief. “That’s good to know. Thank you, Ino.”

The two of you continued to chat for the rest of your break, getting to know each other better. Ino even successfully squeezed out of you Nanami’s favorite bakery and favorite bookstore. He claimed he wanted to surprise the man with a gift he would actually appreciate. You encouraged him with a warm smile.

“Thank you for the tea and the conversation,” Ino said, sliding out of the booth. He hovered around you with a light blush dusting his cheeks again. “Um, next time you see Nanami, can you maybe ask him about my recommendation to a Grade 1 sorcerer? If you don’t mind that is!”

“Sure! Will do. It was great meeting you. Thank you for helping to keep Kento safe!”

Ino’s eyes widened at your words. He puffed out his chest proudly. “Of course!”

You waved at him as he exited the shop with a loud farewell.

After your shift, you had returned to your apartment to change and grab some things to spend the night at Nanami’s apartment. When you arrived at his place, the man was already setting the table for dinner. You hugged him from behind with a happy hum as finished his task. Nanami gently removed your arms from around him before turning around and greeting you with a kiss.

“Welcome home.”

“Dinner smells good,” you commented happily. “I’m starving!”

Nanami chuckled lightly. He pulled out a chair for you. “Sit down and I’ll serve you.”

The two of you sat at the table together, plates filled with delicious curry rice.

“How was your day today?” Nanami asked once you both started eating.

“Oh!” You swallowed your bite. “I actually met a coworker of yours. He came to the shop.”

“Who?” Nanami looked rather unhappy, gripping the spoon in his hand forcefully.

“Ino Takuma.”

Nanami sighed, rubbing his forehead in irritation. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to tell him to stay away from you. I have no idea how he found your workplace in the first place.”

“Huh? What? No, it’s fine! Ino was very kind and sweet. I enjoyed chatting with him. Also, don’t be too mad at him, Gojo was the one who told him about me.”

Nanami clenched his fist. The next time he saw that white-haired idiot, he was going to kill him.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Kento, why are you so against me meeting other jujutsu sorcerers? These people are important to you, no? I want to meet them.”

Nanami refused to meet your gaze. He still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of you interacting with the jujutsu world, sorcerers included. “I’m just trying to prote—”

“Protect me, I know.” You let out a deep sigh. “But I don’t want you to hide your life as a sorcerer from me. It’s a big part of your identity, and I want to learn more about jujutsu so I can understand you, Gojo, Itadori, and everyone better.” You lowered your voice slightly. “I care about you all, you know.”

Nanami reached out across to the table to gently hold your hand. “I know,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry.” He knew that shielding you from the jujutsu world as much as possible wasn’t doing you or him any favors. But Nanami didn’t know what else to do. He never imagined he would be dating someone while working as a sorcerer. And he especially never imagined he would be dating a non-sorcerer.

Relationships between sorcerers and non-sorcerers rarely worked out, so Nanami tried to restrict your access to the jujutsu world as much as possible. He refused to talk about his missions with you. He tried to limit the presence of other sorcerers around you. He did this to protect you, but maybe he was doing it to protect himself instead. He didn’t want to lose you or scare you away.

“I do want to share my life as a sorcerer with you.” Nanami was struggling to find the right words. “But it’s difficult for me.” He had always envisioned his personal life and his work life as two separate spheres, but you were beginning to blur those lines. “I promise I’ll do better.”

You smiled softly, appreciating his efforts. “Well, we can take it slow.”

“Thank you.”

You were cleaning the dishes in the sink when Nanami wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his face in your neck. Both of you felt so much lighter after the discussion during dinner.

“Oh!” A sudden realization popped into your mind. “I forgot to mention. Ino asked me to tell you not to forget his Grade 1 sorcerer recommendation.”

Nanami groaned in the crook of your neck. “Of course he did, that impatient kid.”

“What’s a recommendation? Are you not going to do it?”

He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Kento,” you whined.

“Alright. I’ll explain it to you after you’re done.”

---

You had just finished class when a text popped up on your phone. It was from Gojo.

Gojo: Hey! Do you want to go to dinner with me, Yuji, and Nanami tonight????

Dinner? You felt a tinge of excitement.

You: Sure! I’m free!

You didn’t know what the occasion was for, but you were grateful for the invite. Gojo often stopped by at your workplace, occasionally accompanied by Itadori, to greet you and grab a sweet drink. But you unfortunately never had the time to properly sit down with him and catch up.

Out of all sorcerers you had met so far, Gojo was the most mysterious. After all, what sort of man wore a blindfold in public? And now that you thought about it, how did he always seem to know when you were working? Especially since your work schedule differed from week to week...

Weird.

Gojo: Great! I’ll send you the time and place later~

You: Thanks! See you then!

You were about to text Nanami and tell him you were looking forward to dinner when one of your classmates called your name.

“Yes?” you asked, looking away from your phone.

“Want to join our study group? We’re heading to the library right now!”

“Yeah, sure! Coming!”

It was only after you left the library several hours later that you realized you had forgotten to text Nanami. But you figured it wasn’t a big deal since you would soon see him at dinner.

Nanami looked at his watch impatiently. It was already past 5 pm. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be back in his apartment, prepping dinner for you. “What are we doing here, Gojo? I need to get home.”

The white-haired calmly rested his arms behind his head with a suspicious smirk on his face. “Relax, Nanami. We’re waiting for a surprise.”

Itadori perked up beside him, looking up at his sensei with wide eyes. “A surprise?! What kind of surprise?”

Gojo chuckled. “The best kind.”

Nanami let out an exasperated sigh. He removed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket. The three sorcerers were standing around in the middle of a busy street filled with pedestrians. “I don’t have time for such frivolities, Gojo. Excuse me, but I’m leavi—”

“Wait!” Gojo exclaimed. He waved at someone in the crowd. “She’s here!”

“She?” Nanami repeated, trying to follow Gojo’s line of sight.

It was easy to spot Gojo, even amongst the giant, moving crowd. The tall man towered over everyone else and his bright, white hair easily stood out in the background. You could see him waving his hand at you, so you waved back.

Squeezing your way through the crowd, you joined up with the three sorcerers with an excited grin. “Hi!”

“Say hello to the surprise,” Gojo announced, waltzing over to your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

Itadori looked thrilled to see you, but as your eyes shifted to Nanami, you immediately sensed something was wrong.

“Gojo, you did tell Kento you invited me, right?” you asked cautiously, looking up at the tall man.

The sorcerer hummed to himself for several seconds before responding. “Nope!”

You blanched. Uh oh. You should have texted him.

Nanami didn’t look too visibly upset, but he was pinching the bridge of his nose with a frown. When would that idiot stop meddling with his personal life behind his back?

“Na-na-mi,” Gojo said in a singsong voice. “Are you excited to see your stunning, beautiful, and gorgeous girlfriend? Shouldn’t you be thanking me for bringing her here?” The white-haired sorcerer pulled you even closer to him. He didn’t miss the way Nanami’s eyes instantly narrowed at him.

Nanami grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of Gojo’s grasp until you were comfortably nestled against his side. He couldn’t stand seeing that man's hands on you. “Don’t let him touch you. His idiocy is contagious.”

You giggled at the comment. Gojo let out a satisfied hum, watching the two of you together. “Alright, lovebirds!” He clapped his hands together. “It’s time for dinner!”

“Dinner?!” Itadori gasped. He started salivating at the thought of food. “Gojo-sensei, what are we eating?”

The tall sorcerer patted the top of Itadori’s head affectionately. “To celebrate Yuji’s last night as a dead man, we’re going to a steakhouse!”

The kid loudly cheered as you looked to Nanami for clarification.

“Itadori is being introduced back to the school tomorrow.”

“Oh, I see.” Gojo had told you before that the Itadori was supposed to be dead and not to mention his existence to anyone. You didn’t understand why and you didn’t ask, but you kept your promise. The young sorcerer bounced around excitedly before hugging Gojo. You couldn’t help but smile at the adorable interaction.

“Let’s hurry up, so we’re not late for our reservation.” Gojo started walking quickly through the crowd with Itadori right by his side. You and Nanami were a little ways behind them as you found it hard to keep up with Gojo’s brisk pace. He pressed a warm hand against your lower back, guiding you through the large crowd.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that Gojo invited me,” you apologized. Even though Nanami said he would be more open about the jujutsu world, you knew he was still sensitive about you spending too much time around other sorcerers. “I was going to text you but then some classmates asked me if I wanted to study with them, and I said yes because you know I need all the help I can get, and then I completely forgot to message you and by the time I left the library and actually remembered I didn’t text you, I thought it wasn’t worth it since I was going to be seeing you at dinner soon, and I, uh, yeah.” You winced, realizing you were rambling yet again.

“It’s not your fault,” he assured you. “That idiot always has something up this sleeve.”

“You’re not upset, right?”

He rubbed his hand up and down your back. It sent a tingle up your spine. “I'm not upset," Nanami replied honestly. "I’m glad you’re here.”

You slid into the booth at the steakhouse. Itadori was already seated across from you. Gojo was about to take the open seat next to you, but Nanami grabbed the back of the man’s uniform and shoved him away.

“Hey!” the sorcerer loudly complained.

Nanami sat down next to you, completely unbothered. “Sit with your student, Gojo.” You tried to stifle your laughter, looking at the two men in complete amusement.

Gojo slid into the booth next to Itadori with a carefree grin. Teasing Nanami was too easy when you were around.

The four of you had a pleasant dinner together. Your only complaint was the way Nanami rubbed your thigh with his left hand the entire time while waiting for the food to arrive. You were wearing a rather short dress which rode up as you sat down, giving him perfect access to your bare skin. It was incredibly distracting.

You were a little surprised that Nanami was doing something like this in public, even though it was mostly hidden from sight. Part of you wondered if it was because Gojo was present. Nanami always acted a little differently with you when the other sorcerer was around.

For some reason, you couldn't shake the feeling that Gojo knew exactly what was happening underneath the table. Even with his blindfold on, you could tell that the sorcerer was looking right at you with a knowing smile on his face. You felt a little flustered, but Nanami seemed completely unperturbed. Perhaps it was just your imagination.

After dinner, you followed Itadori out the front door of the restaurant.

“Ah! I’m so stuffed!” he commented with a satisfied hum, rubbing his belly.

“I hope you still have room for some dessert.”

The two of you turned back to look at Gojo. Nanami was only a couple of steps behind him.

“Oh! Dessert? Don’t worry, Sensei. I always got room for that!” He gave Gojo a thumbs up.

“Great! I happen to know an amazing ice cream shop around the corner!” You blinked in surprise as the white-haired sorcerer wrapped a long arm around your shoulder again and started ushering you towards the destination. “Let’s get going!”

What you didn’t see was the way Gojo turned his head back to send a smug look to his dear friend. Nanami glared at the sorcerer but didn’t intervene. The walk to the shop was short, and you didn’t appear to be uncomfortable, happily chatting away with Itadori about the best and worst ice cream flavors.

It wasn’t until you all arrived at the shop that you pulled away from Gojo and latched onto his arm instead. “What are you going to get?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. What do you want?” he asked.

You looked at the menu, eyes squinting in concentration. “I’m stuck between Peanut Butter Cup and Mint Chocolate Chip.”

“Pick one and I’ll get the other. We can share.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? You don’t have to.”

Nanami smiled softly at that adorable look on your face. He gently tucked a hair away from your face. “I like both of those flavors anyway.”

Itadori and Gojo silently exchanged looks with one another. They were both internally squealing at the cute exchange they just witnessed between the two of you. It was rare to see such a soft side of Nanami in public.

“Nanami,” Gojo cooed, a little jealous. “Do you want to share some ice cream with me too?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Huh? Why not?” the sorcerer whined.

“Because you’ll get the most sickening ice cream flavor of them all.”

Nanami was absolutely correct.

Gojo ordered a large cone of triple chocolate ice cream with chunks of brownies, cookie dough, and fudge mixed with swirls of caramel and marshmallow.

It was a complete abomination.

The four of you sat outside, enjoying the nice weather while indulging in ice cream. You thought it was cute how Itadori’s strawberry cone almost matched the color of his hair. Once everyone finished their dessert, the group finally split up. You waved goodbye at Gojo and Itadori. “Good luck tomorrow, Itadori!” He had shared with you earlier about how excited (and a little nervous) he was to see his classmates again. You hoped the reunion went well.

It was a quiet walk home with Nanami. The two you held hands, enjoying the calm atmosphere now that Gojo and Itadori were both gone.

As soon as you entered Nanami’s apartment, you took off your shoes as Nanami removed his blazer. “I had a good time tonight,” you mused. “Itadori is such a sweetie, and Gojo—”

Your words were cut off with a gasp as Nanami roughly pushed you against the wall. He put a knee in between your legs, and one of his hands began to crawl up your exposed thigh. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, shivering as you felt the pleasant tingle of his touch. He gave you such a heated look that it left you swallowing nervously.

“I don’t want to hear another man’s name out of your mouth tonight,” he growled in your ear.

You looked back at him, both half-amused and half-aroused. “I’m only yours, Kento.”

“Good.”

Nanami whisked you away to the bedroom as you laughed breathily in his arms.

---

Nanami surveyed the numerous body bags in the morgue of Tokyo Jujutsu High.

“Three Grade 2 sorcerers. One Semi-Grade 1 sorcerer. Five Auxiliary Managers. Two storage attendants,” Ijichi listed off the number of casualties.

Nanami clenched his fists. “This is the same curse that Itadori and I fought together, correct?”

“Yes,” the manager replied, pushing up his glasses. “Shoko confirmed that the bodies were all disfigured in the same manner.”

The sorcerer grit his teeth in frustration. He blamed himself. If he had been able to exorcise the curse back then, these innocent lives might have been spared. After all, it was his fault that Mahito had escaped. He hadn’t been quick enough.

“Gojo, can I have a private word with you?”

The white-haired sorcerer had been leaning against the wall the entire time, quiet for once.

“I’ll take my leave,” Ijichi announced, exiting the room.

Nanami broke the silence first.

“If anything happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of her.”

Gojo didn’t respond right away. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked in an unusually serious tone.

“Mahito is still around. My attacks are not effective against him. He seems to have a special interest in me, so there is a high probability we will run into each other again. And I may not be lucky enough to have Itadori by my side then.”

“No.”

“What?!” Nanami whipped around to face the sorcerer. The fury in his eyes was hidden by his sunglasses, but Gojo could sense the anger all the same.

“No, I won’t promise to take care of her.”

“Gojo, you—”

“Stop acting like you’re trying to die.” Nanami stiffened. “Take care of her yourself. You’re strong.”

A tense silence hung in the air.

Nanami let out a deep breath.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

---

The next day, Nanami had just finished a mission when the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event ended. He came back to campus to see all the students in baseball uniforms. Wasn’t the second day dedicated to individual battles?

“Oh, Nanami!” Gojo called out, jogging over to him. He had forgone his blindfold for a pair of sunglasses and wore a simple button-up shirt and pants instead of his normal uniform. “Too bad you missed the game! We won!”

“The game?”

Gojo nodded with a devious look on his face. “Yup! This year, the Goodwill Event winner was determined by a baseball game!” He laughed victoriously.

Nanami shook his head. Only Gojo could successfully pull off a stunt like this in front of both school principals.

“By the way, we’re going out for some drinks tonight. Even Utahime and Mei Mei said they would join. You should come. And bring your girlfriend too.”

“Absolutely not.” There was potentially a traitor among the group, and Gojo thought it was a good idea to bring you into the mix? There was no way he was going to let that happen.

“Too bad. I already invited her.”

“You what?! ” Nanami fumed.

“You mad or something?”

Nanami thought about trying to strangle the white-haired sorcerer when his phone chimed. It was a message from you.

You: Gojo invited me out with you guys tonight. Is that ok?

“Is that her?” Gojo asked, trying to peek at Nanami’s phone screen.

“None of your business.”

He began typing his response.

“I know you won’t say no to her,” Gojo hummed. The other sorcerer ignored him.

Nanami: Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go together?

You: I have to stay a lil late at work :( someone called out sick so I’ll just meet you all there

Nanami: You sure? I don’t mind waiting for you.

You: Yup it’s fine! See you tonight!

Nanami locked his phone and put it away.

“So?” Gojo asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“She’s coming,” Nanami grumbled.

The white-haired sorcerer clapped his hands together excitedly like he hadn’t planned for this to happen from the start. “Great! I’m looking forward to tonight!”

Nanami glared at him in response.

“What? You still mad?”

Nanami tapped his fingers absentmindedly on the table. You still hadn’t arrived yet. Utahime was somehow already drunk, loudly laughing at something Shoko said. Gojo was bothering Ijichi who was sputtering nervously, and Mei Mei was silently sipping on a cocktail she forced Gojo to buy for her. Nanami bit back a sigh. He missed you.

“I heard from a little birdie that you have a girlfriend now, Nanami. And a non-sorcerer one at that,” Mei Mei commented with a sly smile.

Nanami looked at Gojo, knowing exactly who this “little birdie” was, but the white-haired sorcerer turned away with a whistle.

“A girlfriend?!” Utahime gasped. She grabbed Shoko’s shoulders and violently shook her. “Shoko, did you know about this?”

The doctor was completely unfazed. “Yeah. We’ve all met her before except you and Mei Mei.”

Utahime covered her face and made dramatic sobbing noises. “Out of all of us, it’s Nanami who’s dating first?!”

Nanami’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. What was that supposed to mean?

“Shoko!” Utahime whined. “Will you marry me if I’m still single at 40?”

“I’ll do it!” Gojo quipped.

The Kyoto sorcerer made a disgusted gagging noise. “Like hell I would ever agree to that!”

“I’ll do it for money. How much would you pay me?” Mei Mei asked.

“You guys are all terrible!” Utahime exclaimed. She latched onto Shoko. “Only Shoko is nice to me!”

“But I never said I would marry you,” the doctor pointed out calmly.

The entire table burst into laughter. Nanami quietly sipped on his beer.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Your bright voice finally caught the man’s attention. You waved at the group, heading over. Nanami got up to greet you but a certain white-haired man beat him to it.

Gojo called your name happily, wrapping you into an unexpected bear hug.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Nanami commanded, immediately dragging the sorcerer off of you and kicking him back into his seat.

You chuckled lightly before hugging Nanami too. Hesitating for a little bit, you decided to kiss the man on the cheek. You knew he didn’t like PDA, but you still wanted to greet him affectionately.

“I think you missed,” Gojo pointed out.

Flushing in embarrassment at Gojo's comment, you were about to pull away and take a seat, but Nanami suddenly leaned down and kissed you on the lips deeply. It was so unexpected that you couldn’t suppress the noise of surprise that left your throat. You could vaguely hear the cheering and wolf whistles from the table which only made you blush more. Nanami finally pulled away, leaving you breathless.

“Now that’s more like it,” Gojo commented with a slow clap.

Ijichi covered his face with his hands, unable to believe he witnessed Nanami in such a manner. Utahime’s jaw dropped open in complete shock. Shoko was busy rummaging through her purse for a cigarette. Mei Mei raised her eyebrows, impressed at Nanami’s boldness.

Gojo gestured to you. “Well, say hi to Nanami’s girlfriend, everyone!”

You shyly waved at them. “Hi,” you squeaked, still embarrassed.

Even though you had the day off tomorrow, you hadn’t planned on drinking a lot during the night. But Utahime challenged all the girls to a drink-off and you couldn’t resist participating to get to know the other women better. Mei Mei only agreed to partake once Gojo confirmed he would cover everyone’s tabs.

It turned out that both Shoko and Mei Mei had incredibly high tolerances. You and Utahime on the other hand, not so much.

You groaned, struggling to climb the steps up to Nanami’s apartment. After watching your pitiful attempt, the sorcerer lifted you in his arms and carried you the rest of the way.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” you mumbled. You felt bad that Nanami had to take care of you, especially because you had not intended to get this drunk.

“Don’t apologize.” He carefully set you down on your feet as he opened his apartment door. Nanami helped you wash up and get changed before joining you in bed once he was done with his own nightly routine.

You were practically laying on top of Nanami while rubbing a hand down his firm chest. When your hand started to wander lower, he gently took it and brought it up to his face to kiss it. “We should go to sleep.”

You pouted a little but mumbled in agreement, rolling off the man and nestling into his side instead. “Good night, Kento. Love you.”

Nanami stiffened, suddenly wide awake after hearing your words. He was filled with such an indescribable emotion that it left him completely speechless. Nanami was worried you would be upset that he hadn’t responded right away, but he was instead greeted by the familiar sound of your slow, deep breaths. You were asleep.

He let out a sigh. Nanami wondered if you would remember your confession in the morning, but he doubted it. Your memory was always spotty when you got this drunk.

Nanami kissed your head, stroking your hair gently.

“I love you too.”

---

“Is something wrong?”

Nanami didn’t even look up from the newspaper he was reading to address the white-haired sorcerer. “Everything is fine. Why are you asking?”

Gojo hummed, tapping a finger on his chin in thought. His sharp eyes took in his friend’s appearance. “You seem a bit tense. You didn’t have a fight with the girlfriend, did you?”

“Nothing of that sort happened. And even if it did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“So you did have a fight!” Gojo exclaimed.

Nanami turned the page. “No, we did not. And just to stop your incessant bothering, I will tell you that she has a very important exam today, so I have not seen her in several days to allow her to focus on studying.”

“Ahh, I see!” It made perfect sense to Gojo now. “You look so tense because you’re sexually frustrated!”

Nanami crumbled the edges of the newspaper in his hands. “I refuse to talk about such things with you.”

“Oh, but you’re not denying it,” Gojo pointed you. “Nanami, there is absolutely no shame in talking about our sex lives. We should be more open about sex to destigmatize it. For example, last week I—”

“I’m leaving,” Nanami suddenly announced. He folded up his newspaper and exited the lounge. He’d rather fight four Grade One curses single-handedly than hear about that man’s sex life.

---

Nanami couldn’t keep his hands off of you. As soon as you walked through his apartment door, cheering that you were finally done with your exam, he immediately pulled you into his arms and kissed you wantonly.

Your absence in the past few days was so striking. He had trouble sleeping and didn’t even feel like cooking without your familiar presence around him. It was so good to have you back again.

You giggled at his eagerness, looking up at him with a knowing smile. “Did you miss me?”

Nanami was already ushering you towards his bedroom.

“Let me show you just how much I missed you.”

The next morning, you stumbled out of Nanami’s bedroom with a loud yawn. You had no class or work for the day, so you were looking forward to lounging around Nanami’s apartment as a reward for suffering through your exam yesterday.

You perked up when you smelled something good in the air. Popping your head in the kitchen, you saw Nanami flipping pancakes.

“Good morning!” You eyed the pancakes with a hungry look.

“Good morning. Breakfast will be ready in a few,” Nanami replied, adding more batter into the pan.

“Okay!” You left to quickly get dressed for the day.

By the time you returned, Nanami was setting down a plate on the table piled high with fluffy blueberry pancakes.

“Thank you for breakfast!” you said with a wide grin, snatching two pancakes and putting them on your own plate.

After eating, Nanami looked at this watch with a small frown. “I have to go.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll clean everything up.” You headed over to the door where Nanami was slipping into his shoes and putting on his blazer. Before he opened the door, you stepped in to fix his tie that was just slightly askew.

“I’ll see you tonight, handsome?”

“Of course.”

For you, Nanami would do everything in his power to make sure he finished work on time and returned home as soon as possible. He used to look forward to the end of the workday because he hated working. But now he looked forward to the end of the workday because he got to see you.

As a jujutsu sorcerer, Nanami knew he couldn’t take anything for granted. Any amount of time spent with you was absolutely precious to him. So he wanted to make sure to maximize that amount of time as much as possible.

Nanami leaned down to kiss you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You blinked.

Huh?

Did he say…?

Wait, did you say....?

Your eyes widened in realization as you covered your mouth in shock.

Nanami said he loved you.

And you immediately said you loved him back.

The words had slipped right out of your mouth without you even realizing it.

“Enjoy your day off,” Nanami said nonchalantly before exiting the apartment. The door gently closed shut behind him.

When Nanami arrived at work, a certain white-haired sorcerer knew something was different about his friend.

“What happened with her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gojo grabbed his phone and dialed a number quickly. “You owe me money, Mei Mei! I won the bet! I told you they would confess their love to each other before the end of the month.”

Nanami clenched his jaw.

Bet?

The sorcerer menacingly stood over Gojo, sword withdrawn and cursed energy swirling around him angrily. “What bet?”

Gojo removed the phone from his ear. Mei Mei could be heard angrily yelling from the device, clearly upset about losing a large sum of money. “Now, now, Nanami. You’re only this angry at me because I’m correct, right? You two finally confessed to each other?”

Nanami took his tie off and wrapped it around his hand.

The white-haired sorcerer threw his head back with a howl of laughter. “I’ll take that as a yes! But before you try to kill me, just know that a) it’s impossible and b) I only agreed to this bet to prove Mei Mei wrong. She didn’t think you had it in you to confess so soon! But I always had faith in you because I’m such a good friend!”

Nanami took a menacing step forward towards Gojo, but the sound of his phone chiming stopped his advance. Gojo took that as a sign to escape with his loud laughter still echoing in the hallways.

With a sigh, Nanami unlocked his phone to read the text from you.

You: Wanted to say I love you ♡

You: Just in case you didn’t hear earlier

You: But I’m pretty sure you did...

You: I just want to be sure

You: Anyways I’ll see you later :)

You: Miss you already

You: I'll try not to destroy your apartment

You: Ok sorry I'll stop bothering you now

He couldn’t wait to come home to you tonight.

#nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #mine #n/sfw

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olderthannetfic · 3 years

Note

oh my god, i just found some twitter lunatic saying that "toby fox should be accountable for child sexual abuse" because he enabled undertale's protagonist to sexually flirt with monsters.

jesus fucking christ, what the fuck is gen z doing? like, they're trying to pretend that they weren't horny as 12-year-olds?

"protect the chilluns" just means "burn all discussion of teen sexuality and silly playful stuff".

in fact, it means "aggressively deny reality and burn anyone who even acknowledges human sexual development".

i hate being gen z, i hate being a teenager, and i hate moral panics. the saddest thing is that i'm literally ace, like, i'm a joyless fuck without a sex drive, yet even i can see how ridiculously sex-negative the world has become since the bullshit daycare panic.

if i ever become a proper writer, i'll totally include graphically detailed scenes of sexual assault, just to piss off the masses.

god, my sanity decreases every time my eyes are accidentally acquainted with a twitter post.

Fear and hate of one's own impulses seem to be a big motivator. So is genuinely not getting that other people were horny when oneself was not.

(I also frankly think that a lot of people are sex repulsed the way that happens from trauma and are not getting that this is different from being asexual, sex repulsed or otherwise, and they're projecting their trauma all over everything.)

I think you've hit the nail on the head regarding twitter: It's not that all of gen z genuinely has sex negative, out-of-touch-with-reality values any more than my generation was all sex positive. The difference is that the internet is an ever bigger part of our lives, the big sites are significantly more skillful in fucking us over than in the past, and we're ever worse at setting boundaries for those sites.

The biggest generation gap, IMO, is that gen Z is very bad at recognizing toxic social media usage and cutting back for one's own mental health. A lot of older people have taken various social media breaks in their lives, often for an illness, a job, grad school, children, etc. A lot of us have old friends on multiple platforms. I'm missing out on quite a bit of current fandom by refusing to go to twitter with most of the people I once knew on LJ, but 1. I have a shitton of friends elsewhere and 2. fuck twitter, life's too short.

I'm not sure including scenes just to piss off the masses is a great move though. Plenty of old dude writers already do things to torment anyone they view as a "snowflake". It's not really edgy given how common it is. You could just as well put graphic gay sex in every book to piss off "the masses", and I guarantee some other version of those masses would be very upset with you.

My advice is to hang out on reddit for a while. It can be a welcome break from tumblr-style stupid and also a good reminder of how many equally asinine but totally different attitudes exist in other segments of fandom.

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angellesword · 4 years

Text

EUPHORIA | JJK

It’s Sunday. Jeongguk was supposed to be at the gym, serving looks. You were supposed to be at the church, serving the Lord. But you two were at the mall, looking for baby toys. You guessed this was your punishment for letting him stick his dick inside of you instead of just using an adult toy.

Alternatively:

“We share the same painful views. Won’t you please stay in my dreams.”

word count: 2.6k (one-shot) PART OF INTRO SERIES

pairing: husband!Jungkook x wife!reader

genre and content warnings: established relationship, angst, fluff, married au, (forced marriage) mention of premarital sex, pregnancy, abortion, Catholic guilt, death, and mental illness.

Sunday was church day.

This was what your whole family made you believe ever since you were young. They were firm believers of God. In fact, your first word wasn't like what most babies said.

Jesus. This was your first word and your mom wasn't even complaining. She loved to brag about it to other lectors and commentators. Your father, a lay minister, also took pride sharing the same story over and over again.

Frankly speaking, you were getting tired of it.

Don't get it twisted. You loved Jesus and you believed that he was your savior. You even sang worship songs at the church every Sunday. You were the head of the choir; every church goer knew you—well, not only church goers.

Literally everyone around you knew you.

You were also popular at school. People referred to you as the good girl who had it all.

You were pretty, smart, and your boyfriend was none other than Jeon Jeongguk.

The man you were dating was a jock. He made it clear that he didn't like studying, but he still wanted to go to a university and apply for scholarship. You had no doubt that he would get what he wanted.

Jeongguk was a star football player after all.

"Babe, what do you think of this?" You showed Jeongguk a stuffed animal. It was a rabbit.

"Cute," he grinned at you. Jeongguk wasn't sure what he found cute. Was it you or was it the stuffed toy?

You and Jeongguk were currently at the mall, buying toys for Haneul, your son who was turning one this month.

"We'll buy this next time.”

The smile Jeongguk was sporting turned into a scowl when you put the toy back to the shelf.

"Next time?" He furrowed his brow, reaching for the rabbit. "Why can't we buy it now?"

"Guk," you let out a sigh. He was feigning innocence but you knew better.

You knew you couldn't afford this kind of toy. Why did you even ask him to go here? It was obvious that you didn't belong here.

Years ago, you and Jeongguk had plans. He wanted to be a famous football player while you decided to major in Marketing; however, your dreams had been shattered when you found out that you were pregnant with his baby.

You didn't know what to do that time. You just graduated high school. Actually, you were supposed to take the college entrance exam at Seoul University.

The test didn't happen because you felt sick that day. You had been vomiting non-stop and everything smelt awful.

You still took a test, though. It wasn't the kind of test you were expecting. You woke up that day to chase you dream, but instead you ended up chasing your breath as you cried and cried and cried.

You took a pregnancy test and the numbing slap of your mother was enough for you to know that you were a disgrace.

A disgrace, a disappointment, an animal, a disrespectful child, and a....

sinner.

You accepted it all. You didn't mind that your whole family was insulting you inside and out.

You didn't blame them—couldn't blame them.

How could you do that when you saw yourself the same way they saw you?

Your mind was poisoning you. You were blaming yourself. You were blaming Jeongguk. He did this to you.

He did this to you because you let him.

So basically, this was your fault.

You ruined your future and the only way to restore everything back to normal was to have an abortion.

Of course you considered abortion. You were young and so, so scared. How could you take care of a child when you couldn't even take care of yourself?

And what about Jeongguk? He didn't deserve this shit. He was young too. He deserved the world, not a punishment.

You considered your child as a punishment. Why didn't you just stick to dildo? Or a fucking vibrator?

There were so many options. Why did you have to trust that stupid condom? You knew it didn't work all the time.

Nothing worked according to your plan.

"You are going to marry Jeon Jeongguk." Your father's words screamed authority.

Everyone in your family was aware that once your father demanded something, it should be followed without any questions. He rarely spoke, but when he did, it was absolute.

"But—" despite knowing the end of this discussion, you still tried to reason out.

You were only able to utter one word before you felt another deafening slap from your mother.

Or was it your father?

You had no idea.

All you knew was that everyone was either physically hurting you or emotionally manipulating you.

"No buts! My decision is final! You are going to marry that Jeon boy!"

Ah, that Jeon boy.

Poor Jeon Jeongguk. He had no idea what was about to happen to him. God. He didn't even know that you were carrying his child.

"We won't allow you to live like a slut anymore," your auntie crossed her arms.

This was the thing about your family. Everyone had a say, even your relative could discipline you. According to them, elders should always be respected. You had to follow what they said because apparently, they knew better than you.

Maybe they did. But still, you didn't want to force Jeongguk to marry you.

Sure, you two had been dating for three years now, but that wasn't enough. What if the love he felt for you wasn't the kind of love that you and your kid needed?

Perhaps you should have thought of that before giving into lust. The tiny voice inside your head sneered at you.

You could only sob.

It seemed like crying was all you could do.

You cried when you found out that you were pregnant, you cried when your parents found out that you were pregnant, and you cried when Jeongguk found out that you were pregnant.

All of this was happening because you were pregnant.

Except one thing:

Jeongguk wanted to marry you not because you were pregnant but because he loved you.

"You don't have to force me.” Jeongguk gritted his teeth when your whole family barged in his house.

Of course the Jeons were surprised. They weren't close to your family even though you lived two houses away from one another.

Your family didn’t want to associate themselves with the Jeons. The latter didn't really believe in the Lord, or even if they did, they were still far from religious.

They raised Jeongguk to be a sinner.

Your family firmly believed that you only got pregnant because Jeongguk forced you.

It wasn't true. You both wanted it to happen. You were consenting adults. Besides, your boyfriend asked you thousands of times if you truly wanted to do it.

He didn't force you. He respected you.

"I will marry her." Jeongguk said with confidence. He was looking at your father as if he was ready to knock him down.

"Jeongguk," his mother called softly. She was crying. She was broken. She was ashamed. She was sorry.

"It's alright, mom." The look Jeongguk gave his mother was the opposite of the glare he threw at your father.

Jeongguk was a sweet boy. He loved his parents so much.

"Shall we talk about the wedding, then?" Your father raised a brow.

Everything happened fast after that. Your family and Jeongguk's parents arranged the matrimony that was about to happen.

The Jeons offered to pay for the wedding expenses. Your family agreed. They didn't really care about the details. They only demanded a church wedding. They also wanted to marry you off as soon as possible.

They said it would be a shame if your baby bump appeared before the white event.

Since the preparation was short, you didn't have a choice but to wear a simple dress. Your mother insisted that you add veil as an accessory.

It was a hypocritical move, really. Veils symbolized innocence and purity.

You were neither.

You were a sinner and guilt was consuming your whole being.

Guilt for disappointing your family.

Guilt for breaking your promise to the Lord.

And guilt for taking something away from Jeongguk.

You took his freedom away.

The small apartment where you two now lived was not enough to showcase what he got. This abode was small, suffocating and confining his talents.

It was also too small to cater your unending tears.

You felt like you were drowning.

"Babe..." Your husband whispered, yet his voice still startled you.

You didn't answer—didn't have the energy to do so. You were drowning, remember? It didn't help that you feel suffocated too. The stupid dress you were wearing was too tight.

"You okay?" Jeongguk enquired, sighing.

He was worried about you. The two of you got married today. It was supposed to be one of the happiest days for brides, but why weren't you happy?

Why did you look...dejected?

"Yeah," you tried to offer him a smile. "I just feel hot."

You weren't lying. You didn't like the ambiance of your house. It felt like a vacation place, like you were a stranger, like you didn't belong.

It was because your mother and sisters were the ones who decorated this place.

"You think you can join me outside?" Your husband rubbed circled on your palm. "Let's have some fresh air?"

You nodded in a heartbeat.

You were tired, but you didn't want to be stuck in this room. You wanted...out.

"Okay.” Jeongguk helped you get on your feet. He was acting as though you were an expensive figurine ever since he learned that you were pregnant.

Your husband led you to the small garden of your home. You didn't know that your family decided to buy a place like this.

You were grateful though. The inside of your home was suffocating, but the garden appeared...magical.

"Jeongguk," your eyes widened in shock. "W-What's all this?"

Your hand was shaking as your eyes scanned the garden. There were fairy lights wrapped around the trees. The place was also decorated with different ornaments and pretty flowers.

Your favorite flowers.

"Do you like it?" Your husband was grinning at you. His eyes were shining brighter than the lights.

"Of course," you cupped his cheeks. "This is sweet, Kookie. Thank you.”

"Anything for you," he brought your hands closer to his mouth, kissing it.

"You deserve everything, baby." And with that, Jeongguk dropped on one knee.

"W-What are you doing!?" You panicked, eyes dilating once again.

"I know everything happened so fast." He started, licking his bottom lip. "We didn't have time to process everything. Our family decided what they think is good for us and trust me, I appreciate it."

You knew he was implying that he wanted this to happen.

"But I want to do something that I want.” He fished a small box out of the pocket of his slacks.

You gasped.

"They told me to marry you." He opened the velvet box.

There was a ring.

"But they didn't give me the chance to do this," he raised the ring in the air.

"Baby," Jeongguk called, looking at your face with so much fondness. "You deserve a better proposal."

You were sobbing.

"You deserve a man dropping down on one knee. A man who will show you that he is serious about this marriage.”

He took your left hand.

"And I want to be that man. I want to be the man you deserved and not the boy your father coerced,"

You laughed, heart hammering through your chest. Jeongguk was so beautiful.

"I love you..." He confessed as he called your name. "Will you marry me?"

The yes that came out of your mouth was instant. You didn't hesitate. You didn't feel guilty. You just felt....happy.

Jeongguk put the ring on your finger. He kissed your stomach before standing up to crash his lips against yours.

Jeongguk no longer tasted like regret.

He tasted like forever.

Forever...

You swore you would stay with him forever. You felt silly for doubting him.

Jeongguk was a good man.

Your house no longer felt suffocating. It was loaded with love and laughter and it made your heart swell with joy.

Your family didn't bother your life anymore. You were on your own. They stopped supporting you. They said you made a choice—a choice to be a mother.

A mother was a provider, a natural giver.

You provided for your new family. You worked harder. You had two jobs: a waitress and elementary tutor.

Jeongguk continued studying. He was a student in the morning and a delivery boy at night.

You two worked in the same restaurant. Jeongguk tried to cover your shift as much as possible. He was basically doing your job.

He was scared. What if you overworked yourself? He didn't want you to work but you said you had to.

Raising a baby was expensive.

But you did it.

Haneul was turning one year old this month. He was a bright kid and he looked exactly like his father. They had the same brown eyes, so innocent and wide.

You knew you would do anything for your baby—well—except for one.

You wouldn't buy this stuffed toy for him. It's not like you didn't want to. It was more like you couldn't.

You couldn't afford it.

You couldn't, but Jeongguk could.

"Let's buy it...” He repeated. "I have money. I worked overtime last night.”

Your husband was still a delivery boy. You, on the other hand, quit your job so that you could look after your baby.

"Are you sure? This is expensive, Kook." You bit your lower lip.

Jeongguk smiled at you.

"But Haneul will like it.”

His reason was enough for you to just give in.

Of course.

Anything for your little Jeon. You would die for your son.

"Haneul, we're home!" You cooed loudly.

You were excited to see your baby. Jeongguk told you to give Haneul the stuffed toy while he go and express his gratitude to your neighbor for looking after baby Haneul.

Little did you know, Jeongguk was lying.

There was no neighbor to talk to.

It was only an excuse so that he could stare at you through the window as you rocked the empty crib in your room.

You were singing.

"You are the sunlight that rose again in my life..." Your voice was sweet that Jeongguk couldn't help but cry a little.

For you, Haneul was light. He shed light when you felt like giving up.

"You are the cause of my euphoria," your child was also the cause of your happiness.

Without him, you would be lost.

Jeongguk knew it.

Haneul.

This was the name you chose for your kid. It meant heaven.

For you, Haneul was God sent.

But Jeongguk was wondering.

If Haneul was God sent, then why did the Lord take him immediately?

Why did your Lord take him away from you and Jeongguk?

"Close the door now..." You continued to sing.

Jeongguk's heart clenched.

He watched you every day, so he already knew the next line of the song.

He sang with you.

"When I'm with you I'm in utopia..."

Utopia was a special place. A fantasy world. A world where everything was possible.

In Utopia, Haneul was still alive.

Jeongguk wasn't crazy.

He knew you needed help.

You were in denial. Too caught up in fantasy that you refused to believe that your son was already dead the moment he was born.

Haneul died in your womb.

He tried telling you, but you didn't want to acknowledge it.

You became hysterical when the words dead and Haneul were mentioned in the same sentence.

Jeongguk avoided using those words. It had been months now, almost a year actually.

He wondered if he could still continue pretending.

Looking at you hurt.

He guessed it was time to let go.

Not now, but soon.

For today, he just wanted to believe that utopia was real.

It should be fine, right?

more JJK FICS: Your Eyes Tell or check Masterlist

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #husband jungkook #boyfriend jungkook

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