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sukirichi · 4 years

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acquainted

You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.

REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place

WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex

WC. 5.4k+

NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑

There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.

So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.

“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.

The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.

“I believe you’re in my seat.”

You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”

Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”

“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”

“You little — who do you think you are?”

“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”

His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”

“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”

“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”

“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.

That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”

“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”

“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson. “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”

It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.

You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.

No wonder that name was so familiar.

The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.

Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.

You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.

It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?

For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.

You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.

The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more. Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.

You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”

Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.

He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.

You were beyond appalled.

“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”

“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”

“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”

Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”

“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”

“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”

You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”

Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.

From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.

“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”

“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”

You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?

Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?

If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.

God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.

Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.

“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”

For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”

“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”

“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”

You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”

“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”

“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”

“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”

A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.

“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”

Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.

It was a blurry mess from there.

Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.

It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.

Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.

Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?

Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?

Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.

“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”

“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”

Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress. “Get on your knees. Now suck.”

He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.

Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.

Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.

You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.

While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.

A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.

You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.

“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”

“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”

Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”

Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.

Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”

“Go faster. This is unfair!”

Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.

“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”

You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.

The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.

You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.

Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.

“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop — and by then Naoya was losing his mind.

Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”

You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.

“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.

“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.

Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”

Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.

You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.

The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.

Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”

“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.

Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.

“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”

“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”

“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”

Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.

“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”

“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”

All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.

Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”

Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.

You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”

“You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.

“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.

As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.

Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”

“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.

Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.

It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.

“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”

There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.

“Be ready for me, Zenin.”

“I always am.”

All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?

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dreamcatcherrs · 3 years

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what catches their eyes/attracts them?; mcyt x reader

+ this is in no way factual information, only my very weird and specific opinions :)

dream:

free-spirited people

someone who isn't afraid to speak their mind

confidence, to a certain extent

someone he can be loud with

someone who will wake up in the middle of the night with him to go on a car drive to nowhere

the colour blue (dnf👀)

clean and fresh-looking clothes

satin fabric

big height difference

the smell of citrus fruits

large smiles

silver jewellery

small hands

smart people who aren't afraid to show it

george:

calm, laid back people

someone quiet, but still able to have a laugh

very friendly vibes - even when first meeting them

the colour blue (literally the only interesting colour he's able to see lol)

bright eyes

lip gloss

flower print

slightly shy people who are actually easy to interact with once you start a conversation with them

pastel-coloured nails, not too long

pink-tinted lips

ponytails

the smell of vanilla

puppy eyes

sapnap:

energetic people

someone who can hype up their friends no matter the situation

the colour red

like, a bloody red

soft skin

full lips

loose shirts over skin-tight tops

when shoelaces have a different colour on each shoe

corsets

a very subtle scent of perfume

thigh highs

someone who just wants to enjoy life with the people they're surrounded by

badboyhalo:

large, bright smiles that spread up to your eyes

freckles

button noses

rose-gold jewellery

french manicures

bangs

slightly shy people

genuinely sweet people

not the fake type that talks shit about people behind their backs and then will compliment them a few seconds after

someone who when they enter a room feels like a breath of fresh air to everyone else

someone completely selfless

the smell of lavender

shiny hair

technoblade:

people who aren't afraid to take the lead

glasses

intellectual people

like, for example people who know a lot of random stuff from a bunch of different things that they're interested in

or also just book smart people

slightly clumsy people (finds it cute)

gold jewellery

someone with some mystery to them

refreshing scents, like clean laundry or shampoo

cat eyes (eyeliner)

wilbur soot:

long legs

chokers

shy people

someone who gets flustered easily

glasses + thin bangs

the colours brown and beige together

baggy, comfy clothes

the smell of newly baked cookies

beanies

the kind of person that makes him feel like he can always talk to them - someone he can feel safe with

birth marks

accents

jschlatt:

smart people

the way they speak is just so clean without even noticing

fox eyes

people who aren't afraid to wear sweatpants in public

generally just someone who isn't afraid to do, say and wear whatever they want

someone who stands for what they think and have the balls to say it when needed

nose rings

simple yet flattering pieces of jewellery

long nails

someone who he can stay up all night with and never get tired of them

high heels

hip dips

corpse husband:

fishnets, of course

someone who give 0 fucks about what everyone else thinks of them

unique people

wether that be physical features or straight up the personality, it draws him in

chokers

chunky, black sneakers or boots

someone who can make him happy without even trying

a positive aura for the most part

as in he doesn't want to be surrounded by someone who’s negative or dragging everyone else down with them

the colour yellow

rings - lots of them

karl jacobs:

a walking ray of sunshine, basically

tbh, karl has a couple of things in common with what corpse is attracted to;

positive energy, uniqueness and rings

a palette filled with bright colours

like, almost rave style colours

that could be clothes, makeup, hair, nails, accessories

chunky, white shoes

selfless people

someone who as each day goes by becomes more charming to him

he likes the smell of candles from bath and body works, as we all know

the colour purple

skeppy:

big eyes

someone who’s able to make him laugh without even trying

tooth gaps

someone who has very playful, innocent vibes to them

and someone who can take jokes and pranks

people who walk confidently

the smell of strawberries

long eyelashes

someone who collects things others usually wouldn’t

someone who is very respectful to others

a mix between really comfy clothes and really feminine clothes

fundy:

someone who comes across as “different” than others

and don't you dare think of ✨I’m not like other girls✨ (I know you did -_-)

he just thinks people who think and act very different than others are very interesting

beauty marks

nicely shaped eyebrows

someone who finds mystical things interesting

fox eyeliner (yes, I put this in here because: furry)

someone who has unusual, yet surprisingly good taste in music

people who are constantly warm

red lips

the colour light brown, almost beige-like

quackity:

someone who gets his humour

someone like him, but more quiet and slightly shy

especially when on screen in front of an audience

sliver necklaces

the smell of flowers

dark, extreme eyeliner

loose clothes

freckles

piercings

someone who teases others and who can handle to be teased by others

the colour dark blue

punz:

the colour grey

a fresh fashion sense

yet still very comfortable fits

messy buns

someone who he just knows will be a cool person before he even talks to them

someone who just has that kinda vibe, y’know?

glossy lips

independent people

someone responsible and caring to others

tattoos

navel piercings

awesamdude:

cropped jackets

the colour neon green

hair put up in a bun

someone with a free nature

someone who is a complete wild card

like, someone who will jump over a fence just to get closer to a bunny they think they saw on the other side of it

loose strands of hair

clear nail polish

cargo pants

the smell of chocolate

slimecicle:

people who have comfort items

someone who knows random facts that no one else usually knows

people who have a unique way of thinking

passionate people

and when they talk about what they’re passionate about, they talk for hours

shorter hair

sweet and nutty scents

natural beauty

fluffy hair

honest people

but not brutally honest

the smell of coconut

eret:

eye glitter/shimmer

silky clothes that shine in the moonlight

platform boots/heels

long, flowy dresses

someone who does whatever they want

and who doesn't like being told what to do by others

the colours pink and dark purple

the smell of the ocean

someone who already knows how to live their life

stretch marks

foolish:

low-cut jeans

someone very silly who knows how to have a good laugh

someone very supportive of their friends

curtain bangs

long-sleeved sweatshirts

someone who loves food

puppy eyes

straight, white teeth

someone who is willing to help others in need

someone who doesn't talk badly about others behind their back

someone who knows what they want

jack manifold:

confidence

white, wide-legged pants

the colour light blue or just pure white

people who are very easy-going and fun to be around

someone who can fit into and understand anyones humour

an open-minded person who likes to hear from other people’s point of views when they have a different opinion than them

butterfly patterns

crop tops

oversized t-shirts

hair beads

tommy:

people who are just as loud as him

and at the same time knows when to be serious

the colours yellow and grey

people who are kind to everyone

creative eyeliner

fluffy hair

people who can get so lost in their own world, they almost forget about their surroundings

colourful accessories

someone who isn't afraid to be who they are

someone who has many passions and loves to talk about them

oversized hoodies

tubbo:

hoodies layered over skirts or dresses

frilly socks

people who are very adventurous, and wants to make their life as interesting as possible!

someone who can help him overcome some of his fears

charm bracelets

cute habits

the colours yellow and orange

dimples

the smell of almond milk and honey

people who twirl their hair unknowingly when bored or unfocused

ranboo:

someone who looks intimidating at first (he thinks people like that are cool as fuck)

but then is, like, the sweetest person he’s ever met

loves someone who can speak fluent sarcasm, just like him

he likes sass

glassy skin

fingerless gloves

people who act cocky for the fun of it

but actually don’t care about winning or losing or proving anything

simplistic earring placements

people who have hidden talents, and the more you get to know them, the more talents are revealed

people who don't gossip

____________________________________

tag list✰

@zayenz @terribletoothbat @0t0n1n @0125cm @yukiuheh @shinee-is-5-forever @regularnoceur @b01nk-b0w@christhebish@nutritious-emo-crackkk@bookishreid@giavanna-707 @reddiesmcdonalds@cosmins@vixxzial@autumnpleaves@paradigmax@meaganjm@shiningsunrises@moralofwalls@username1212131@gxldentaestuff@innitdream @televisionpresent38 @bubblyanis@zurami @highoffhockey @popinjaytaylor@196os@livsbaby@doubts-of-gold@bunlina@retrav @mcyt-is-my-life@aleaisntcreative @my-shitpost-of-writing @my-shitpost-of-writing @clownsdrowning @pissbabywastaken@shiningsunrises @tie-dyed-dumbass @death-by-rats@simpfordraco @bippity-boppity-boopa@neongreendaydreams @vibin-by-myself@littlepotatos0w0@christhebish @pipp-poppz@btsiguess-kpop@prettysmallfries@hiyoko-kos@kenmxskitten@fudrudy@weepingartanimespy@rhino-zucchini@goldenstarofthunderclan@melonmarz@ubeicecreamisthebest@polaroidinurroom @ady-yoo@isimpforeveryone@edenhollandd@ineedtogetoutofhere@glitter-night @hamilsandersfam@mothheart-witch @wrong-exit@trashcanfullofdork @hellfirepheonixx @marshmallow-babe@isimpforeveryone @ky50621 @randomcloud@wormie4k@dinonuggies50 @p4rty-t4ttoos@aspenthegremlin@book-of-anarchy @jeyacore @thetattooink@gogywasfound@millavalntyne@junob1ade@ubeicecreamisthebest@karida @i-have-paws-love@drvgonraja@eatasslikegrass@creamofweep@venusomega@lunarfedora@rowe-n @wreny24 @vincent-stargogh @floatingplanets @vernon-dursley @childhoodgrunge @fivxss @hexagonclash @crazyjuls12 @littlebabysandboxburritos @shifted-dreams@lenamarie666 @reinyrei @sozvuchiy @weaslvy-mxlfoy @aiofheavenandhell @honeyglaazed @carisle-mikealson @ineedtogetoutofhere @twist3dtinkerbell@cracraforfandoms@angel-dazey @leia-starly @smiithys @squiddyyyy @c0wc0ww @animeweeb019284 @m00-bl00m-k0le @stqrs-thoughts @jenlouvre @uhhhguiltypleasures @trappedchest @punzrights @trashgremlin36 @cyberrsoot @elebeleb @k3nn3dis-crap @karlshoodies @rascal-in-banishment @heartbroken-writer @bartok-the-magnificent @ihavenoideashelp @goldiefox1 @bethybop @helluhru @venuzblr @pha5ed5tar50 @cscooop @bethybop @lunareclipse-13 @http-strawberryy @mahitophobic @ahmya-4 @dracoscumwh0re @darkdaria1 @jiminifiess @orchardangel @shyorchider @cupcake54492 @natsueyama @honeyconnie @notacardigan @maybeshroom

1K notes · View notes

falling-pages · 3 years

Note

Okay how about first cuddles with Bakugou? Like he is almost feral about being held and having reader snuggle into them. And then....then he realizes the powers of a good cuddle. His body relaxes and accepts the cuddles. You know, just Bakugou leaning how to be a soft boy. 🥰🥰🥰 Hope this helps!! Happy Writing!!

This T_T my heart absolutely melted. This was absolutely self-indulgent on my end and I’m so happy you requested it!!!!

I decided to make it a part 2 of this one shot since so many people asked for a part 2 🥰🥰🥰 Lol also it’s long so I’m sorry

Friday Night pt. 2:

Third-Year Bakugou Katsuki x Third-Year gender-neutral Reader

Genre: Fluff, pining, cuddles, first kiss, just Bakugou going feral when he finally gets cuddles

Bakugou didn’t sleep like you thought he would.

Even with the fever ripping through his body, he laid there so peacefully. On his back, eyes scrunched shut, mouth in a thin line, the first time you had ever seen him not scowling, actually. It was like sneaking back into school after hours and watching the teachers work silently, in their natural habitats.

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to look like unconscious. Snarling snores, maybe. Resting on his stomach, gripping the sheets in his fists hard enough to rip. Probably thrashing, screaming and cursing at his dreams. Imploding smokey holes into the mattress.

But not...this. Not so peaceful, not the way he turned and slightly smiled at whatever his brain came up with. Not the way he would gently breathe in and out of his nose. Not the way his right hand sat limply at his side, his left crossed protectively over his worst wound near his stomach. Not the way his hair stuck out on the pillow gently cushioning his bruised face.

Neither Bakugou nor Aizawa would tell you how he got hurt, raising your suspicions. With graduation looming and the hero license exam nearing, you had figured your teacher had taken some of the top third-year students out for extra training. Bakugou had garnered more control over his quirk, granted, but he still needed the extra training. He liked to push himself too hard, take too many missions. Your outburst earlier in the evening sunk that into his thick skull.

Some part of watching him felt wrong, knowing he would blast you into outer space if he caught you looking. But this was your job tonight, to sit by his side and watch over him as he healed.

He suddenly gasped in his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as he clutched his deepest wound. The air rushed out of his now-open mouth, accompanying the slightest whimper. You lurched forward and activated your quirk, falling to your knees to look within him.

It staked your heart to see him in so much pain, but nothing was wrong, just some blood rushing to his wound. Not too heavy to come through the bandage, though, so you blinked and let it be.

And then you took a calculated risk. Maybe it was foolish, maybe it was wrong, maybe you thought “to hell with it” about his malicious tendencies. You knew it wouldn’t cure him, and you knew he would probably disintegrate you into a pile of ash and smoke, but you wanted to try. That tugging feeling in your stomach wouldn’t leave you alone, so...

You kissed him.

Well, his forehead. It was hot and dripping with sweat, and you knew it was dangerous, you knew his power was stored in his sweat, but you did it anyway. You had to. You had to try something to ease his pain.

He shifted beneath your touch, and you dove back into your chair and tried to act nonchalant.

Like that would work. Nothing escaped Bakugou, even when he slept.

His eyes peeled open, eyebrows quirked as he took in his surroundings. A brief whiff of smoke aired from his palms until he realized where he was. In “some extra’s dorm.”

“Hey--” his voice crackled like his bombs as his eyes fully adjusted to the dim lamplight. His peaceful facade remained.

“Hey,” you whispered back. Even injured and half-asleep, he still intimidated you.

“What happened?”

You breathed, relief flooding your core. He hadn’t noticed. “The pain woke you up. But you’re alright. Go back to sleep.”

His eyes trailed lazily across the room, until they met yours. Those crimson red irises could strike fear into the hearts of friend and foe, but when they looked at you, they were soft, confused, trusting. Sleepy.

“That’s not all.”

You settled back in your chair, fiddling with the wicker arms. “That’s what happened.”

“You kissed me.”

You suddenly prayed to every god that you would die. Shiiiiiiiiit, he felt that?

Panic covered your hands, making you lose feeling in your fingers. A buzzer sounded in your head, like an evacuation alarm. You cleared your throat. You wracked your brain for an excuse, but came up empty. Lying to him was a surefire way of getting blasted through the nearest wall. And, if the way he looked at you was any indication, you’d better tell the truth. “Only on the forehead.”

Bakugou studied you. Now his eyes were calculating, cunning. Now you couldn’t tell if he were looking at you as friend or foe. “You know my sweat could blast your face off.”

It would be a mercy compared to what you were about to go through. “You...just looked like you were in pain. I wanted to help.”

He stared at you for a few more painful seconds. His gaze pierced your sternum like a knife. Then, as if Heaven itself opened, he smiled.

He smiled.

“I wouldn’t mind another,” he murmured, turning his head back to the ceiling. Try as he might, you saw that grin, joining the blush running across his cheeks. As much as your crush feelings were hyped, you couldn’t help but feel more relieved at the fact that you were still in one piece.

You crept forward, hesitant to do as he suggested. He was a bucking horse, a wildfire that changed direction with the wind. It was all you could do to avoid getting burned.

As you leaned over him again, your size dwarfed by him, that calculating sheen stayed put. Was he going to burn you as you were defenseless? Was he going to blast you? He wouldn’t. He had better instincts than to hurt the very person taking care of his injuries as he laid helpless in bed.

But if he was being vulnerable with you, then maybe you should be vulnerable with him.

When you were just a few inches away, Bakugou’s eyes still open, he suddenly reached up and yanked your head down, interlocking his lips with yours. You sputtered, jerking to pull off, but his hand kept you there, eyes fluttering shut as soon as you made contact. After a moment, when you felt your soul reenter your body, you shifted to support yourself better, kneeling half-way on the bed, crossing your chest just above his.

He was warm. You could feel his warmth even while you sat feet away. Unlike Deku, whose skin was always cool and clammy, he was warm. Either by his quirk or fever or just himself, he was burning up, fiery to touch, like a cast iron brand digging into your side. That’s how he made his way in this world, torching the earth and salting the fields if he didn’t get what he wanted, setting off explosions to mold and shift reality into what he desired. He was molten lava, desperate, eager, wanting, burning and terrifying to touch, a spark set ablaze to decimate anything in its path.

Pulsating, and beating, and alive.

But when you lowered your fingertips to his shoulder, and you flinched--breaking the kiss to softly gasp--he frowned, focusing on your face, the way your eyes looked at your hand and how your sensitive fingers rubbed together.

“You okay?” he whispered, gravel voice hushed in honor of the moment.

You heard the pain laced beneath his voice and turned to look at him. Your hand fell on the mattress beside his chest. As his eyes bore into your head, you watched him, the way his muscles rippled, the way his very soul seemed enchanted by your kiss. If you activated your quirk, you were sure you could see the way his blood danced beneath his skin, the rush of chemicals to his brain, the excitement flaring in his nostrils.

He was an inferno incarnate, breathing and wild and alive, letting you touch him with all the slow calmness of an ocean breeze.

You slowly blinked, losing yourself in the imprint of his lips on yours. You unconsciously reached up to your mouth, tracing the outline of it with your fingertips.

As you make a sound of satisfaction, he smirked, trailing a hand up your calf to rest placidly on your thigh. “I said, extra, you okay?”

“Umm. Yeah.” Your eyes follow his hand, expecting it to burst like his grenades. “You’re just really hot.”

He scoffed, smacking your thigh--but gently, just feeling your skin. “Damn right I am.”

“No, not like that.” You rolled your eyes. “I mean, you are hot--attractive, I mean--but your skin...ummm, it burned me.”

“Oh,” he grunted. His eyebrows furrowed, losing that playful edge. He took away his hand, bunching around the sheets instead.

You massaged your sore fingers as he contemplated. You nearly missed his hissed out, “Sorry.”

So it was a night of firsts--the first time he heard you curse, the first time you heard him apologize, your first kiss and his, too, as far as you knew.

“It’s okay.”

Bakugou moved, waving your helping hand away in case he burned you again. Once he sat up, he leveled his eyes to yours and very lightly, gingerly, took your hand and raised it to his pouty lips. You waited for the sting, but as he kissed your fingertips, all you felt was warmth, like molten chocolate, like a woolen scarf, like the sleepy feeling of an open oven door.

He finished by rotating your hand in all angles and degrees, making sure to cover every inch of your palm, knuckles, and wrist in his love. The residual buzz traveled from your hand into your heart.

“It’s my emotions,” he murmured against your skin. “My quirk acts up when I’m emotional.”

He kept his eyes nearly shut, only focusing on pressing more adoring kisses to your skin. When you returned your other hand to his chest, he shuddered, staring back at you with wide eyes. You saw what he was about to say--“Don’t touch me, I don’t want to hurt you”--and folded your finger against his lips.

“You won’t hurt me,” you whisper. “You’re powerful, but I’m not afraid of you.”

You moved your hand down and leaned forward, returning his kiss. The hand he once possessed smoothed under his jaw, outlining it with a finger to pull him close. You tasted the hesitancy in his lips, no longer masked under the bravado of his previous kiss, and smiled. You searched for his hand and found it, bringing it to your waist, giving permission to the boy who rarely waited for others’ approval. But he waited for you. He respected you.

I know you won’t hurt me.

And that single move was when he realized he was so, so feral for your touch.

His long, powerful arms wrapped around your middle, hauling you completely onto the bed and scooting you into his lap, hugging you as close as he possibly could. There was no soft bone in his body--he devoured you, desperate for your love, your lips, you, you, you. A boy who had been scared to touch all of his life--knowing what it did to people, what he could do if he tried, the damage he even did on accident--was now clutching someone who wasn’t scared, someone who cared, whose hands knotted in his hair revealed just how desperately you needed him, as well.

You filled him with your love, and he you, and you felt a tear escape, the kind that you cry when watching a sunset, or eating ice cream, or listening to your favorite song, when you’re so happy that smiling just isn’t enough.

Bakugou felt the wetness on your cheek and paused, cradling and dipping the back of your head so he could kiss it away. “What’s wrong, Firework?”

You veins ran hot at the pet name so naturally falling from his lips. “Nothing.” You smile, biting your lip. “I’m just happy.”

He nuzzled your forehead. “Good. Now, let’s lay down. You need to sleep.”

You smoothed the bottom of your pajama shirt as he stretched to turn off the lamp. As you began to wriggle out of his grasp, he suddenly grabbed you tighter and held you as he shifted, lifting the blanket and dragging you both below. You began to protest on account of his injuries, but he squeezed you tighter against his chest.

“I’m not letting you out of my arms again,” he whispered, with a kiss to the head.

Once you both were situated in the dark, you rested your head on his shoulder as he scratched your back. The long, slow strokes nearly lulled you into sleep, but one question filled your mind.

“Baku--”

“Katsuki.”

You couldn’t see him, but he moved his face nearer yours, catching your hand planted on his chest. “Call me Katsuki.”

“Okay.” The draw of his informal name sent a chill down your spine that you’re sure he felt. “Katsuki, why call me Firework?”

He smiled into your hair, shifting your weight onto him. Drowsiness choked his voice. “Because fireworks are beautiful, brilliant, and I like to look at them.” His knuckles found your cheek, and he brushed them against it. “And you are beautiful, brilliant, and I like to look at you.”

Satisfied, you closed your eyes, drinking in the feeling of his warm skin and arms cradling you, desperate, never willing to let you go, and you never wanting him to.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugou x reader #boku no academia #my hero academia #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha #bnha #mha bakugou #mha bakugo #bnha bakugo #bnha bakugou

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jeonsjiddies · 4 years

Text

Lying That You Love Me | myg (m)

Summary - Upon first glance, no one would assume Min Yoongi would be the type to put someone back together. If his icy cold stare and stoic expressions weren’t enough to spook most people away, then the body covered in piercings and tattoos usually sent them running. You never could have imagined Min Yoongi would be the one to put your pieces back together, but there is always more than meets the eye.

Word Count - 10.5k

Pairing - Yoongi x reader

Genre - smut, minor angst

Warnings - mentions of broken family, family issues, mentions of homelessness, softdom!yoongi, dirty talk, cream pie, unprotected sex, oral (female)

a/n - Part of the Tatted Bangtan Series! 💕 Sorry it’s soooo late, I sprained my wrist lol. Hope you enjoy now that it’s finally here! Huge thanks to @nervouskiwi , @sunshinekims , and @excusemin for beta reading. 💕

You know those people you just instantly connect with? You hear their laugh one time and suddenly you feel more connected to a stranger than a friend you've known your whole life? Something in their smile that resonates deep within your soul, that somehow, on some level (whether it be friends or lovers or a kind stranger who changed your life in passing only to never meet again) you are just... meant to find each other.

Those people who feel like sunshine on your cloudy days? The ones who wrap you in warmth and make your heart say "Ah, yes, so this is what home is supposed to feel like. This is what it means to belong. This is what it means to be myself, unafraid."

Somehow, amidst all the chaos and the heartbreak and the hurt, you find yourself cocooned in safety, building your own version of home with these strangers who feel like family; and it's good. And sometimes your heart beats so fast and your chest feels so tight and you feel like you just can't breathe, so you reach out a hand into the dark unknown and you're met with arms wrapping around you and holding you together. Holding you until all your broken pieces can be glued back together, one by one.

Min Yoongi was one of those people.

Now, upon first glance, no one would assume Min Yoongi would be the type to put someone back together. He looked more like someone who was one wrong look away from tearing you to shreds. If his icy cold stare and stoic expressions weren’t enough to spook most people away, then the body covered in piercings and tattoos usually sent them running.

But you… you were a little different. You’d taken one look at the man covered in intricate inky designs and your face had lit up with glee. A few hours prior to meeting Yoongi, you’d been sitting in your car, reclined back with your phone, leeching off of McDonald’s free wifi for the 11th night in a row. Your back ached, your stomach growled, and your foot was one more cramp away from being the end of you. The tiny cabin of your car was no place for you to live.

You scrolled through rental listings, looking for the cheapest option that didn’t look like it popped straight out of a horror movie. Your budget was low, being recently thrown out by your father after a fight about you dropping out of college. Your father was convinced you couldn’t survive on your own and you wanted to prove him wrong.

Finally stumbling upon a small 2 bedroom apartment on the west side of town leasing out the second bedroom, you clicked on the listing. There was no way you’d be able to afford your own apartment in a safe area, so you’d ended up expanding your search to find someone looking for a roommate. You zoomed in on the pictures provided, though there were few, it looked pretty nice. You scrolled down and read the description.

Single male, 27, searching for a roommate. You pay half the rent and utilities. Rent is $950 and utilities usually range about $300 a month, give or take. Pets welcome, but there is a deposit with the apartment complex and a monthly fee. My friend (and ex roommate) recently moved in with his long-time girlfriend and I need someone to help with expenses. Serious inquiries only. Contact for more info. 555-555-1382.

You quickly typed the number into your phone and texted the man to set up a time to view the apartment, but if you were being honest with yourself, you were already sold. This was the cleanest looking unit you’d seen, on a safe side of town, and it was more affordable than anything else you were going to get that was half as nice.

The man was quick with responses and very polite, and the two of you agreed to meet that evening at 4pm. You were absolutely giddy, a petty smirk on your face as you imagined telling your father that you indeed weren’t coming home, tail between your legs. You would not allow him to dictate your life anymore.

3:30 rolled around and you made your way over to the area the apartment was listed in, not wanting to be late. The apartment was part of a large building that was clearly a few years old but still in good shape. You looked around, noting that the nearby houses were well-worn but not worn down. It looked like a good area, and based on your Trulia searches, the crime was low here.

You smiled from your parking space and waited until 3:55 to walk up to the buzzer, hitting the button for apartment 5D which had Min Yoongi listed as a resident. Yoongi. You liked that name. You grinned when a deep voice came over the speaker, asking who was there.

“It’s Y/N, we have a 4pm appointment for me to see the apartment?” you answered back cheerily.

“Oh, yes, come on up.” before he was even done speaking, you heard the door click as he unlocked it.

You pulled open the heavy door and began making your way up the staircase, glancing around for the correct apartment. Near the end of the hallway, you finally spotted your destination, nestled in the corner by a large window that looked out to the rest of the apartment complex. There was a playground and a tennis court, without a net, but you didn’t really care.

You gently knocked against the wooden door, the only one without some form of decoration on the outside and waited for the man to appear and let you inside. You weren’t sure what kind of person you expected to see on the other side of the wooden door; you really hadn’t given it much thought. You were entirely unprepared however, to see the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on swinging the door open and dusting his hands on his worn jeans before flicking his onyx gaze up to meet yours, pinning you to your spot.

You snapped out of your haze and allowed your eyes to roam over his features, from his button nose to his full lips, to his toned arms, covered with decorative tattoos, beautiful inky designs trailing from his knuckles all the way up his veiny forearms, past his biceps, and disappearing into the sleeve of his t shirt. You sucked in a breath, noticing the eyebrow ring and multiple ear piercings.

“Y/N, nice to meet you. I’m Yoongi.” he smiled, revealing his pearly white teeth, something shiny catching the light when his tongue darted out to wet his lips. A tongue ring.

A shiver ran through your body but you reached out your hand to shake his extended one. His large hand seemed to engulf yours, the veins prominent and a little distracting. Your face lit up in a grin, knowing that if your dad took one look at this man, he’d surely lose his mind.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Yoongi, thank you for meeting me on such short notice!” you smiled, allowing your hand to slip from his grasp and biting back the whine at the loss of contact.

“Come on in, have a look around. Like I said in the ad, my friend moved in with his girlfriend and left me to fend for myself. He did have the smaller bedroom but if that’s an issue, we can switch, if you’re interested that is.” he chuckled nervously, reaching his arm up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Oh, I am interested.” you giggled, looking around the spacey living room, which had an open concept that led into a small kitchen, but it looked like it had decent counter space.

“Oh! This is the kitchen…” Yoongi began, leading you over to get a better look after seeing where your eyes were wandering.

“It’s very roomy.” you noted with a smile.

“Jin did most of the cooking, but I helped out sometimes and we both fit in here pretty easily without getting in each other’s way.” he explained.

“Ooh, you cook?” you turned your gaze to him and watched as the tips of his ears turned pink.

“A little.” he admitted.

“Nice. Me too.” you grinned.

“Cool.” he grinned, his smile was the cutest thing you’d ever seen, the best way you could describe it was… gummy. Sweet. Warm.

Yoongi led you on a tour of the rest of the house, showing you your future bedroom, which was furnished since his previous roommate hadn’t needed to take his bed with him, his bedroom, the bathroom you’d share, and the small laundry unit in the hallway, hidden behind a closet-like door. Nice. In-unit laundry was a definite plus.

The apartment wasn’t super spacious, the bedrooms were on the smaller side, but the living room and kitchen were nice sizes, and there was in-unit laundry, and Yoongi seemed like a very clean, respectful individual. You were sold before you’d walked in, but now you were over the moon about the small patch of paradise you’d stumbled upon.

“Is there a deposit required? Or just first and last month's rent?” you asked Yoongi, who’d taken a seat across from you at the table.

“Oh, just the first month’s rent is fine. I’m not like a landlord or anything.” he said, shooting you a playful smile.

“Okay. Do you want a check or…?” you questioned. “I mean, if you’re willing to let me lease with you.”

“Of course! Check, cash, money order. I really don’t have a preference. If you want a paper trail with the office, we can do a check or money order.” he smiled.

You grinned back at the sheepish man across from you, his eyes shining with excitement. You were absolutely psyched to sleep in a real bed again, so tired of the worn leather seats in your car. Thank goodness it wasn’t summer so your skin wasn’t sticking to the material, but still. It wasn’t exactly a preferred sleeping space.

You ended up going to the ATM and giving Yoongi cash for the first month after adding your name to the lease just before the rental office closed. You both pitched in on a celebratory pizza and ate in the living room. You were surprised the rental office didn’t have to run a background check or something, you honestly didn’t think you’d be able to sleep in the apartment the same day you’d first laid eyes on it, but you weren’t complaining.

You stayed up with Yoongi until nearly 2am talking, drinking, laughing, and getting to know each other. He loved watching WWE, you loved watching K-dramas, he liked pineapple on his pizza and you thought that was basically blasphemy. Yoongi had braces growing up, had an older brother, preferred staying indoors to going out, and had a nasty habit he couldn’t seem to shake of biting his nails.

Yoongi was funny and warm and inviting. Though he seemed cold on the outside, he was actually very attentive and caring, always offering to refill your drink when he stood up, offering you a spare blanket if you looked cold, and making sure you felt comfortable as possible in your new home. You blamed it on the alcohol, but ended up getting way too personal too fast, telling Yoongi about why you’d moved in to begin with.

“... and he’s so condescending and judgemental, like he would hate your tattoos and immediately label you a delinquent just based on that alone.” you took a breath after rambling on for a few minutes, letting out your frustration for your situation.

“Wow, that’s… a lot,” Yoongi shook his head sympathetically, “it’s your life, you should do what makes you happy. It’s not his place to control everything you do.”

“He always has to be right, it’s exhausting.” you sighed.

“Well hey, bright side, you’re here now, and you’re free to be who you want and do whatever your heart desires. I fully support you.” Yoongi smiled at you and your heart seemed to grow three sizes.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Do you have anything you need washed?” you asked Yoongi, gesturing to the washing machine that wasn’t even half full.

“Don’t you have any more clothes than that?” Yoongi asked.

For weeks, you’d been cycling the same three outfits you’d been able to bring with you in a small backpack when you’d left home.You’d thought about going back home to get the rest of your things, but you really didn’t want to face your father. You weren’t scared of him, not at all. In fact, you’d love to rub it in his face that you hadn’t failed as he’d expected you to do. You just didn’t want to deal with him yet.

Being around Yoongi, having the freedom to be yourself and being so wholly accepted for exactly who you were was intoxicating, and you weren’t ready to go back into that suffocating environment full of judgement and expectations, even for a short time. You were strong and resilient, but you also knew that your family issues were a sore spot for you.

“I do at my parents house. I just haven’t had a chance to go get my stuff.” you shrugged, starting the washer.

“You haven’t had a chance? Between lounging around watching Netflix and binge eating takeout?” Yoongi chuckled, leaning up against the wall and regarding you with a curious look.

“I’ve had time,” you emphasize with a sigh, “I just… I’m not ready to go there alone.”

“What if you weren’t alone?”

You looked up to meet Yoongi’s gaze in surprise, a supportive smile playing on his soft lips.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your chest filling with hope.

“If you want, I can go with you?” he offered.

“Really? You’d do that?” you tried to keep the astonishment out of your voice in an attempt to not look as pathetic and weak as you felt.

“Yeah, we can take my car, it’s bigger than yours anyway.” he shrugged, pushing himself off the wall and walking closer to you.

“Have I told you lately that you’re amazing?” you grinned, reaching up to hug him.

Yoongi was used to your affectionate nature, but sometimes it still caught him off guard, as he wasn’t an affectionate person. He wanted to be, he just wasn’t always comfortable using physical affection. He froze for a moment, but quickly regained his composure and wrapped his arms around your torso to return your hug.

“Yes, but feel free to remind me anytime. My fragile ego needs it.” he joked, poking your side playfully.

You released him from your hold with a light chuckle, stepping back and grinning up at him. He coughed and looked down to hide his shy smile from your view.

“Let’s go.”

“Wait, right now?” you gasped, eyes wide.

“Do you have other plans?” he questioned with a raised brow.

“Well, no… but I-” you began but Yoongi sent you a look that had you slipping on your shoes and following him out the door.

Yoongi smirked to himself at how easily you caved into him with just a stern look, unlocking the car and ushering you in before settling in the driver's seat and starting the engine. You couldn’t stop bouncing your leg from nerves, and Yoongi glanced your way every so often before gently placing his large hand on your knee for comfort. Except it did little to comfort you, having his veiny hands on your body only sent your heart into overdrive and caused your breathing to become that much shallower. You gave him an A for effort though.

“It’s going to be okay, I’m right here,” he soothed, “I’ve got your back.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” you smiled appreciatively, placing your hand on top of his for a moment before looking out the window, watching the trees fly by as you got closer to your parents house.

You hadn’t alerted your parents that you’d be coming, part of you hoping they wouldn’t be home and you could use the spare key to get your things and get out without having to interact with your father.

When the GPS announced you were one turn away, your hopes were crushed into a fine powder as you finally looked up and shrank back into your seat when you saw both of your parents’ vehicles occupying the driveway. Yoongi pulled in behind your mom’s car and cut the engine, turning to look at you. You met his gaze with your panicked one and he motioned for you to breathe with him, taking a few deep breaths and guiding you to calm yourself.

“You got this. You ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” you sighed, stepping out of his car and meeting him before walking to the front door.

You gripped his hand tightly, and Yoongi looked down at your conjoined hands in surprise but didn’t say anything, realizing that you needed the support.He squeezed your hand gently before rapping softly on the door. Your whole body tensed when you heard the lock click and Yoongi gave your hand another encouraging squeeze. The door swung open and your mother’s face was revealed, causing the hole in your chest to clench.

“Y/N!” she gasped, her eyes trailing along your form, down to your hands, then up Yoongi’s arms to his face, her expression one of astonishment.

“Hi, mom.” you coughed awkwardly.

“Y/N’s here?” you heard from behind her, the smug voice of your father grating against your ears. “Our little baby came home to admit we were right?”

His grinning face came into your view, standing just behind your mother, his smirk immediately falling once he laid eyes on Yoongi.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“This is Yoongi, he’s my-” you began.

“Are you dating this man?” your father interrupted, sounding panicked.

Your eyes flitted from your mom’s face to your dad’s, turning red with frustration. He had always hated people with tattoos, and you’d warned Yoongi about this. You didn’t think he’d get this worked up about it, and suddenly an idea popped in your head, and just as Yoongi was about to argue that you weren’t dating amidst your silence, you spoke up.

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.” you said quickly, squeezing Yoongi’s hand in an attempt to beg him to go along with it.

Yoongi’s breath caught and he coughed into his elbow uncomfortably, but gave a sheepish grin when he recovered, letting go of your hand and extending his out to your parents.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. I’m Min Yoongi.”

Your mother stared at his hand hanging in the air like it was a foreign object before she collected herself, gingerly taking his hand in hers. Your father followed suit, his expression hard.

“It’s nice to meet you, Yoongi.” your mom smiled, warming up to Yoongi’s polite aura.

“I’m very honored to finally meet you. I see where Y/N gets her pretty eyes from.” Yoongi smiled, causing your mom to turn bashful and swat at him playfully.

Your dad hadn’t budged an inch, his hard gaze focused on the man at your side, scrutinizing and unwelcoming. His eyes wandered over Yoongi’s plethora of tattoos, many piercings, and ripped jeans. He made a face of distaste before turning his gaze to you.

“What are you doing here?” he wondered.

“We’re getting some of my stuff to take back home.” you explained.

“Home? You live with this man?!” you dad guffawed.

“Yes, we live together.” Yoongi supplied for you, stepping closer to you and wrapping an arm around you, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

He mostly wanted to be a shield for you against your father, as he could tell you were starting to shrink in on yourself, and he wanted to offer you a little more strength. You smiled up at him, hoping your eyes showed your thankfulness.

“Absolutely not, young lady. I won’t permit it.” your father hissed.

“With all due respect, you don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m an adult, and you kicked me out.” you shrugged, using your best acting skills to appear nonchalant.Yoongi felt your body shivering slightly against his.

“I- You-” your dad fumed.

“Why don’t we grab your clothes and come back for the rest when everyone has calmed down a little?” Yoongi offered quietly in your ear.

You nodded, pulling him along with you to your old bedroom. You felt your dad’s piercing gaze follow you down the hallway, but you ignored it. You grabbed some clothes and a few other things, throwing them in a decorative tote you’d once used to house scrapbooking supplies. Yoongi took the tote from you and led the way back out of the house, your hand clutching the back of his shirt like a safety blanket, the other arm filled with more clothes.

Your mom watched you quietly, with a sullen expression, seeming to try and express her apologies through her eyes while your dad seethed from his recliner, refusing to look at you. You sighed, taking a look around the house you used to call home before announcing your departure and waving goodbye, following Yoongi out the front door.

Once you’d placed the things in the back of the car and sat in the passenger seat, your body deflated. Yoongi began driving, to get you out of the line of sight of your parents in case you broke down, so they wouldn’t see.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry I dragged you into that. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just- I saw his face and I wanted to-” you sighed, struggling to explain the reason behind your split second decision to lie about the nature of your relationship.

“I understand.”

“You’re not mad?” you looked over at him in surprise.

“No. I can see the power dynamic in that house. Your family clearly has some issues they need to work out. I’m not mad.” he explained.

“I don’t deserve you,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, “you’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had.”

“Dang, that bar is set pretty low, Y/N.” he joked.

You slapped his arm playfully with a grin lighting up your face, suddenly feeling much lighter than you had moments ago.

“How about I pay for pizza tonight as a thank you?” you offered, gazing up at him.

“As long as there’s pineapple on it.” he smirked.

“Half and half.”

Seasons changed, the air turned colder, the leaves on the trees transitioning from vibrant green to deep golden yellows and reds before fading away altogether as the harsh winter breeze bagan to set in. Each new day, you learned more about Yoongi, and the two of you grew closer. Yoongi was respectful of your space and time. He would notice when you were having a bad day and do little things you almost didn’t notice to help you out and reduce your stress. He’d pick up your favorite tea on his way home from work or invite you to watch a movie you knew he wouldn’t have watched on his own.

You tried to show him the same level of respect, like making sure there was fresh coffee for him in the morning, or packing his lunch when he was running late. The more time you spent with Yoongi, the more you adored him. Possibly a little too much… You’d known from the moment you laid eyes on him that he was gorgeous, but you didn’t think it would be so distracting.

Oftentimes, you’d find yourself staring at the way Yoongi’s lips moved while he talked, or watching the way his muscles flexed while he wrote. Your breath would hitch when your bodies brushed against each other in the hallway or maneuvering around the kitchen together. You’d try to slip past him and his hands would reflexively find your hips to steady you and guide you past him. Sparks would shoot through your veins any time his skin touched yours, a warm tingle left wherever his touch had been.

Your eyes would linger a second too long when he’d come out of the bathroom in a towel, or when he’d stretch during your frequent binge watching sessions, the hem of his shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of gorgeous ivory skin. Your mouth would water on the occasions when his hip tattoo would be revealed if his sweats hung a little too low. Sometimes you swore he was doing it on purpose, when you’d look up to find him watching you with an amused expression and you’d tear your eyes away as your cheeks filled with heat.

Yoongi never called you out for gawking at him, he’d simply raise an eyebrow and his delicious lips would turn up in an amused smirk. You weren’t the only one who got caught staring though. You noticed his eyes on you when you would bend over to grab a water from the fridge, or his gaze trailing down your neck towards your breasts when you’d come home sweaty from a run. You pretended not to notice, but you saw the way his eyes would linger.

You danced around each other like that, somehow simultaneously completely at ease and growing closer with each passing day but incredibly bothered with tension and desire. Or perhaps it was all in your head, wishful thinking on your part. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes the amount of times Yoongi’s name would fall from your lips in pathetic whimpers while you attempted to keep quiet whilst touching yourself under the covers in your room.

You tried to act like nothing had changed, which is why when Yoongi invited you to watch a movie with him, you’d snuggled up to him on the couch, just like always, a thick blanket wrapping the two of you in warmth. Your head rested on his shoulder and his hand on your knee, the heat from his skin on yours causing other areas of your anatomy to warm up as well. It was hard paying attention to the screen when you could feel the warmth of his skin seeping through your jeans where his hand met your knee but you did your best.

You watched as the main characters began taking their clothes off and tensed up awkwardly, looking up at Yoongi to ask if he wanted anything to drink… at the same time he’d glanced down to ask if you wanted more popcorn. Your faces were mere centimeters away, you could feel his hot breath ghosting against your lips, your gazes locked. Your heart skipped a beat and time seemed to slow, and you could have sworn he’d begun leaning in, but a loud crash in the movie startled you both out of your moment, and you’d pulled away with an awkward cough.

Yoongi scratched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact, and you’d stood up, using his leg as leverage, but your hand slipped and glided up his thigh, almost making contact with his crotch. You wretched your hand away like you’d been burned and mumbled something about a refill before making a beeline for the kitchen. Hand over your heart, free hand resting on the counter to hold yourself up while you struggled to regulate your heartbeat, you closed your eyes and took deep breaths.

Was Yoongi about to kiss you? Surely not, but the way your eyes had connected, the sparks his intense gaze had sent down your spine… you shivered. You refilled your water and grabbed a new drink for Yoongi before making your way back to the living room, sitting a few inches from him and extending out your offering to him, which he took with a quiet “thanks.”

The air was thick and uncomfortable, the lingering tension from the almost-kiss nearly suffocating the both of you. You nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone started ringing, a FaceTime call from your mom. You sat up and sent a panicked look towards Yoongi, who glanced at the screen before scooting closer to you, and pressing the answer button.

“Hi mom!”

“Hello, love. Oh. I see Yoongi is with you. Hello, Yoongi.” she smiled politely.

“Hello, ma’am.”

“Y/N, I packed up some more of your stuff, I felt awful for how the other day went and I wanted to apologize. I talked to your father as well, and… you know how he is. I want to support you and if Yoongi makes you happy, I want to get to know him. I miss you.” she rambled, clearly nervous.

“Oh mom… thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“I do have to admit though, I was very surprised that you two were together, it just seemed so… unexpected. You usually go for a more clean cut kind of guy…”

“Well, you know what they say, opposites attract.” Yoongi supplied with a charming smile after sensing your body stiffen.

“That they do!” your mom agreed with a giggle, “it just didn’t seem real at first, I suppose.”

You shot Yoongi a panicked glance out of the frame of the camera, silently begging him to turn up the PDA. His lip was tucked between his teeth in nervousness, but he let it slide free and steeled himself before leaning in and brushing a gentle kiss to your cheek. Which would’ve been a great plan, had that not been the exact moment you’d decided to turn your head to look at him.

His lips met yours for the briefest moment, the most tender ghost of a touch, but it lit your insides aflame. Your heart pounded erratically, your chest tightening, and the air seeming to have been stolen from your lungs. Your arm holding your phone grew slack, and you dropped it onto the couch cushion, your hand instinctively placing itself upon Yoongi’s firm chest. The kiss lasted mere seconds, but with the way time stilled around you, it might as well have been hours. His soft lips pressed so delicately to yours suspended gravity itself, and you were floating on cloud nine.

“Y/N? Hello?”

The two of you broke apart in shock, springing away from each other like magnets with the same charge, eyes wide and breathing heavy as you stared at one another. Moments passed with your heartbeat pounding in your ear like a drum before you came to your senses and picked your phone up.

“Sorry mom. Can I call you back?”

“Oh sure, love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

Yoongi had taken your momentary distraction as an excuse to escape to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room with wide eyes and fingertips pressed to your lips in shock. Your lips had barely touched and it felt like your worlds had collided, two missing pieces finally coming together. And it was terrifying, so you decided not to dwell on it, you’d deal with it when the time came.

That didn’t stop you from replaying the moment in your head for the rest of the night, however. Laying in your bed with Yoongi just one wall away, you wondered if he was thinking about the kiss, if he was thinking about you too. Shoving the hopeful thoughts from your mind, you let yourself drift to sleep.

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to spend the holiday with your family, but your mother’s persistent guilt trip over the past few weeks had worn your resistance thin. Yoongi’s family was back in Korea so he didn’t have any other plans, usually opting to spend Christmas alone with a bottle of bourbon and leftover takeout. He’d agreed to be your buffer between yourself and your father and accompany you to the hellscape that was your old home.

Snow had already begun to softly drift from the skies, so Yoongi had reminded you about ten times to dress warm so you didn’t catch a cold. Upon the 8th reminder, you’d snarkily shot back “yes daddy.” and rolled your eyes, stomping off to pull on your gloves. Yoongi had frozen in place, jaw slack as his eyes bored into the back of your head. You paid him no mind, wrapping a scarf around your neck and tucking it into your coat before pulling on your hat.

“Are you coming?” you asked, your eyes warily running along Yoongi’s rigid body as he stood there with his eyes closed taking deep breaths.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you down there.” he tossed you the keys so you could unlock the car he’d started a few minutes beforehand, making sure it was warmed up.

You trudged down to the car, dragging your purse and the pie you were meant to bring to the occasion, sliding into Yoongi’s passenger seat and placing your hands against the vents for the warm air. A few minutes later, Yoongi joined you, much more relaxed than before. You sent him a hopeful smile and rested your hand on his knee.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

“Of course. I’ve got your back.” he shrugged, backing out of the space carefully.

You watched the scenery as Yoongi drove, noting how the snow had dusted the trees with a beautiful blanket, making everything brighter, almost as if it sparkled. You loved the snow as a kid and you loved it still, a fond nostalgia settling in your chest until you noticed you were getting closer to your parents house. Your grip returned on Yoongi’s knee and he tensed a bit before placing his free hand on top of yours.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m right here,” he soothed, then wiggled his eyebrows playfully “plus your mom approves of your boyfriend now.”

“She loves you more than me now.” you pouted.

“Well, I am pretty irresistible.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” you threw back.

“Don’t think I don’t notice you checking me out, babe.” he smirked, emphasizing the last word as you both walked up to the front door, Yoongi’s hand reaching out to knock gently.

“Shut up.” you crossed your arms defiantly.

Yoongi poked at your side, almost making you drop your pie, but he saved it at the last minute by reaching out and grabbing it from you. This caused his face to be just inches from yours and your eyes locked for a moment and you swear time stopped. Your heart was pounding in your chest as his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips momentarily, and you sucked in a breath in anticipation. It might have been your imagination, but Yoongi seemed to get a little closer to your parted, waiting lips before your mom opened the door. The two of you sprung apart like you’d been caught at a crime scene.

“Well don’t stop on my account.” your mom giggled, sending you a playful wink before beckoning you inside.

You avoided eye contact with Yoongi and tried to take steady breaths to calm your racing heart, your mind going a mile a minute. Was he about to kiss you? Surely not. You were play dating, and no one was watching. Did he want to kiss you? Your cheeks were on fire and you were honestly a little riled up, pressing your thighs together discreetly. You handed your mom the pie, which she sliced and set on the table.

“Merry Christmas, mom. Where’s dad?”

“Oh he’s taking a nap. Yoongi, come over here! I want to get a picture of you two together!” your mom grinned.

“What are you, best friends now? You guys video chat at least once a week.” you whined.

Your mom waved you off and held her camera up while Yoongi stood beside you, giving you plenty of room.

“Scoot closer. You’re boyfriend and girlfriend, not awkward preteens.” your mom huffed.

Yoongi stepped closer and put an arm around your shoulder, leaning in and smiling for the camera. You heard the shutter go off a few times, attempting to pull away.

“Wait. Let’s get one of you kissing his cheek, Y/N!” your mom gushed.

“Moooooom.”

“Do it.” she chided.

You sighed and glanced up at Yoongi in silent apology, but he only lent over and offered you his cheek. You gently pressed your lips to it, feeling the skin tingle where it met his. The tips of Yoongi’s ears were suspiciously pink, but you paid it no mind. He was probably uncomfortable. Your mom snapped a few pictures and smiled to herself.

“You two act like you’ve never touched each other.” she commented offhandedly while turning around to place her phone on the charger.

“Yoongi’s not a fan of PDA.” you covered smoothly.

“When I was your age my man couldn’t keep his hands off of me.” she shrugged.

“MOM!”

“What? It’s true. Young men always have a one track mind.”

You covered your face with your hands, and your mom laughed. Yoongi wrapped his arms around you from behind, shielding you with his body.

“Don’t be shy babe. I just wanted to be respectful around your mom but she doesn’t seem to care.” he spoke, allowing his lips to graze along the shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run through your body.

Yoongi smirked and kissed your cheek before letting you go, standing up straighter. You glanced where he was staring and your dad was making his way down the hall to join everyone.

“Merry Christmas, dad.” you said politely.

“Merry Christmas.” he responded, his tone a little stiff and uncomfortable.

He wasn’t showing clear distaste for you or Yoongi, so you took it as a win. Your mom must have had a talk with him. You silently thanked her and took your seat beside Yoongi at the table. Dinner was pretty uneventful, light small talk that your father barely participated in and Yoongi relentlessly complimenting your mom on her cooking skills, telling her how delicious the food was and how he needed the recipes.

After dinner, you all sat around the tree and opened gifts, your father having gifted your mother a lovely pearl necklace, your mother giving your father a new watch. You’d gifted your mom a foot massager that looked like slippers you’d seen at the mall, and your father a new set of tools, knowing his were beginning to wear. You’d gifted Yoongi a gift card to his favorite store at the mall, and he’d given you a beautiful bracelet he saw you eyeing a few weeks back.

The last gift to be opened had been a pair of matching couple’s pajamas for you and Yoongi, a red and white plaid design that was actually kind of cute. Your mom made you hold them up and take a picture together, ignoring your protests that she had taken plenty of pictures beforehand. Packing everything up and getting ready to go, you looked up between your parents and sighed contentedly.

“This was nice, getting along,” you smiled at your mom, standing up and dusting off your skirt, “we’ll be sure to visit soon.”

Your mom leaned in for a hug from both of you while your dad stood silently off to the side, hands at his sides, fingers twitching slightly like he was unsure if he should lean in as well or not. Swallowing your pride because it was Christmas, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him. He gently patted your back a few times before stepping back.

“See you around, dad. Merry Christmas.” you spoke softly.

“Merry Christmas.” he repeated, looking away uncomfortably.

You sighed and took Yoongi’s hand in your own, gazing up at him in a silent question. He smiled and pulled you towards the door. The second he opened the entrance, snow blew into the living room from the force of the wind, and Yoongi quickly shut the door, having to put in more strength than usual with how hard the wind was blowing.

“Wow, it’s really coming down hard out there.” your mom commented, eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Does your vehicle have four wheel drive?” your dad asked.

“Um… no.” Yoongi scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Oh there is no way I’m letting you drive in this!” your mother gasped.

“Mom, we have to go home. I’m sure we can drive slow.” you reasoned, though your nerves about the weather were grating at you.

“Absolutely not. You’ll stay here.” she commanded.

“YN… your mom is probably right. It looks pretty bad out there. I don’t think it would be safe…” Yoongi said quietly.

You sighed, resigning to your fate and nodded, setting your purse back on the coat rack and removing your jacket. Yoongi followed suit, shedding his coat and hanging it up, smiling apologetically in your direction. Your father had already retreated back to his bedroom to clean up for the night.

“Are the spare blankets still in the hall closet?” you asked your mom.

“Yes, why?” she wondered.

“I was going to grab one, Yoongi or I will probably be sleeping on the couch.”

“That couch is not comfortable enough to sleep on. It’s not like I don’t know you sleep together at home.” she scoffed.

Your cheeks lit up brighter than the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room and you didn’t dare look at Yoongi. Your mom laughed at your reaction, rolling her eyes and walking down the hall.

“Goodnight, see you in the morning.” she called over her shoulder.

The two of you stood there silently for a moment before you coughed and gestured for him to follow you to your old bedroom. Most of your stuff had been taken to your apartment by that point, so it was mostly just your old bed and an empty dresser with a lamp on it. You glanced down at the full sized bed, which had enough room for the two of you, but barely enough to ensure that you wouldn’t end up touching.

“Do you care which side?” you wondered, finally looking up to meet Yoongi’s gaze.

“No, it doesn’t matter to me.” he shrugged.

“Okay. You can go change first.” you offered.

Yoongi nodded and disappeared down the hallway to change into the pajamas your mother had gifted the both of you previously in the night. You decided to go ahead and rush through changing while Yoongi was gone, slipping on the matching pair and crawling into bed. The two of you laid straight on your backs, staring at the ceiling for a while.

“I’m sorry about this.” you mumbled quietly.

“It’s okay, really.”

You didn’t remember falling asleep so soon, but you woke up to a pitch black room with something warm and firm pressed up against your back. You snuggled closer to the warmth in the freezing room and were met with a low groan and something a solid pressing against your backside.

“Nnnngh.” Yoongi whined, half-asleep, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you flush against him.

You froze, trying not to rub against Yoongi’s erection that was pressing into your ass, but that didn’t stop the shiver from traveling through your body. With great effort, you managed to turn yourself around in Yoongi’s arms so you were facing him, watching his serene facial expressions in his slumber.

Yoongi really was a beautiful man. You watched him take slow, steady breaths, his face illuminated by the moonlight trickling in between the blinds. You wanted to reach out and touch him, feel his smooth skin beneath your fingertips, but you didn’t dare in case you woke him.

His body shuffled closer to yours once more, his arms tightening around you until your noses were nearly touching and you had to hold in a gasp. There was no way this would be happening if Yoongi had been conscious, and you weren’t sure if you should let him sleep or alert him to what he was doing. You couldn’t help being slightly elated at the situation though, being this close to Yoongi and being able to study his features without fear of looking weird, and the way his groin felt pressed against your lower stomach wasn’t something you’d complain about either.

You decided you should probably stop taking advantage of his unconscious state and attempted to climb over him to get out of bed without disturbing him. Just as you’d swung your leg over his body, he turned in his sleep, flipping onto his back, effectively knocking you off balance until you landed atop his chest, your legs straddling his hips.

You glanced up at his face and your eyes met, faces mirroring expressions of shock. You were both frozen in place for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. You snapped out of it and tried to climb off of Yoongi’s hips, just as Yoongi tried to sit up, so all the two of you accomplished was grinding your core against Yoongi’s erection. Yoongi let out a strangled moan, reaching out to grab your hips to hold you still.

His fingers gripped the skin of your hips where your shirt had ridden up, and his touch burned in the best way. You fought back a whimper at the delicious feeling, your hips stilling in his iron grasp. The air in the room changed, getting thicker. You swore you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Your racing heart skipped a beat as Yoongi’s eyes traveled down your body until they rested where your core met his length. He shivered. You gulped. Once again, you attempted to flee your current position.

“Please- don’t move,” Yoongi whined, almost desperately, “you’re making it worse.”

“I know I’m irresistible.” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood.

“You really are.”

Your brows rose in surprise at the earnest tone he spoke in, his voice bordering desperate. Your mouth slightly agape, you searched his eyes for confirmation he wasn’t joking. He smirked and sat up, holding you against him as his lips ghosted along your neck, barely brushing against your skin. His hot breath fanning against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers dug into your sides almost demandingly, and he let out a low, animalistic growl.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me… how much you tempt me. I see the way you look at me, the way your eyes linger. You’re anything but subtle. I’ve tried so hard to hold back… If we weren’t at your parents house, I’d fuck you so hard you’d forget your name…” Yoongi’s voice was low and quiet, and you let out an involuntary whimper at his words, causing his eyes to darken and a smirk to play on his pretty lips, “but maybe you’d like that, maybe you want them to hear, you want them to know what a dirty slut you can be, wanna show them who you belong to. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby girl?” he purred, rocking his hips up into yours, letting his rock-hard member drag deliciously against your covered folds.

“Oh fuck… yes.” you whimpered, all sense of dignity flying out the window at his dirty words.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this for so long.” he groaned, using his hands to guide your hips along his length.

“Me too.” you whimpered, falling forward and placing your hands on the defined planes of his chest, feeling it rise and fall as quickly as yours.

You allowed your hands to wander underneath his sleep shirt, feeling his warm skin against your own, slowly dragging your digits along his torso and teasingly letting your nails scrape gently against his nipples. Yoongi watched with rapt attention as you explored his body, relishing in the way you attempted to memorize every inch your eyes could devour.

His fingers dug into your hips when you flicked your thumb over his nipple, and you smiled innocently before dragging your hands down to the waistband of his pajama pants, gently lifting the elastic and letting it snap back against his skin, causing him to buck his hips up into yours. His hands traveled up your hips to grip the hem of your shirt, pausing and meeting your gaze to make sure you were alright, and you nodded, placing your hands on his and guiding them to remove the fabric, revealing your bare breasts underneath. Yoongi sucked in a breath, a low whine escaping as he released it.

His hands immediately found purchase on your breasts, his thumb and index finger rolling your hardened nipple. You let your head fall back as electricity shot straight to your core at his actions. You felt him move below you, sitting up in order to take one of your pert nipples into his waiting mouth. His warm tongue worked against the sensitive bud, alternating between licking and sucking while he worked the neglected nipple between his fingers. Your breathing grew shallower, your whines needier, and you felt Yoongi smirking against your skin, releasing your abused flesh with an audible pop.

“You fall apart so easily for me… who could’ve guessed you’d be such a responsive, cock hungry little thing.” he mused while allowing his hands to travel down your stomach, so close to where you needed stimulation.

“Yoongi please…”

“Fuck, say it again. My name sounds so much better coming from your pretty lips.”

“Yoongi.” you moaned, nearly breathless. “Please.”

In an instant, Yoongi had you flipped over, resting on your back as he hovered over you, his hungry gaze trailing over your chest and traveling down. He tugged on the waistband of your pajamas, pulling them down past the swell of your ass, then helping you kick them off and aside, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

“Wanna see you, Yoongi.” you pleaded, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

He quickly obliged, whipping it off and tossing it aside, revealing his expanse of glorious ivory skin to you. Your gaze traveled down the expanse of his torso, tracing over the intricate designs that decorated his skin in awe. You’d seen glimpses, when he’d been in just a towel, or stripping off his shirt at the washing machine, but you’d never gotten a good look up close.

You tentatively lifted your fingers, your index gently tracing the inky black lines as tenderly as you could, barely a ghost of a touch as you admired the beautiful artwork that so perfectly suited such a beautiful man. Yoongi shivered at your touch, watching you study his ink with such wonder in your eyes pulled at his heart strings, reminding him exactly why he’d fallen for you in the first place.

“When we have more time, I want to hear all about these,” you mused quietly, “what they mean, when you got them, I want to know everything.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, “but for now…” he trailed off, slowly moving his body down, kissing a path from your lips down your front until he reached the elastic band of your panties.

He teasingly ran his finger under the elastic, grinning up at your from his spot between your thighs before pulling the garment from your body and tossing it aside, revealing your soaking pussy to him. You tried to close your legs from embarrassment, but Yoongi gently slid his hands up your thighs, gently kneading the flesh there.

“So beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” he cooed, kissing a line from your thigh to your folds, causing you to let out a pleased sigh and spread your legs further for him, “mmm… good girl.”

He rewarded you by licking a long stripe up your slit, gathering your slick on his tongue and making a pleased noise in the back of his throat before diving in, working his warm muscle against your clit in different motions, alternating between sucking it between plump lips, licking broad stripes against it, and drawing figures with the tip of his tongue.

Using your pleasure as a distraction, he slowly eased a finger inside of your entrance, your slick aiding him with the welcome intrusion. He curled his finger and made come hither motions, repeatedly rubbing the pad of his finger against your weakest spot, and it took everything inside of you not to cry out at the intense fire burning in your core as he worked you closer to your first release. He slowly added a second finger, then a third, scissoring you open and prepping you for his cock.

Just the thought of the thick member you’d felt pressing against your lower back earlier nestled deep inside you had you drooling, and Yoongi’s skills with his mouth and fingers were certainly not hurting. Quiet whimpers escaped your lips as you fought the urge to buck your hips up into his mouth as your climax came closer and closer. Yoongi noticed your needy behavior and sped up his actions, working you towards your release.

You bit down on your fingers to stifle the loud moans that threatened to spill from your lips, even in your lust clouded mind, the last thing you needed was to be interrupted before you could get Yoongi inside of you. As your orgasm crashed over you from Yoongi’s ministrations, your back arched off the bed and you nearly drew blood from how hard you had to bite down to keep quiet, your body shaking as you came down from euphoria.

Yoongi kissed his way back up your body, finally becoming eye-level with you, smirking at your fucked out state and heavy breathing. You laughed and hid your face in the crook of his neck, drawing his body closer to yours in an attempt to hide. Yoongi’s low chuckles reverberated, shaking the bed slightly. Your hands traveled from being wrapped around his neck, slowly trailing down his back and pulling on the elastic of his pajama bottoms, desperate to lay eyes on his thick cock, which was pressed into your hip.

“Yoongi… need you. Need you so bad.” you begged.

Yoongi’s cock twitched in his pj’s, and he assisted you with ridding him of them and his boxers in one go, allowing his cock to spring free and slap against his stomach in all its glory. You were absolutely salivating as you looked at the reddened tip, leaking precum, the long shaft, and you couldn’t wait to feel him filling you up.

“Ready, princess?” he wondered, lining his member up with your entrance after gathering your slick to coat the head.

“So ready. Please fuck me, Yoongi.”

Yoongi slowly pushed himself inside your entrance, stretching your walls in the most delicious way. He took his time, periodically checking your expression for discomfort as he impaled you with his length. Your breathing was erratic, you were clutching onto his back for dear life as he split you open, eventually bottoming out. Yoongi stretched you out in all the best ways, filling you up better than any man had ever dreamed of before, and you were living for it.

You rocked your hips up into his, begging him to move, and Yoongi slowly pulled out until just the tip was sheathed inside your warmth before pushing back in, gaining more speed as he went. You couldn’t help the pathetic whines and moans that fell from your lips as Yoongi worked his hips, thrusting into you at a punishing pace. Every rock of his hips had the tip of his cock meeting your cervix, the powerful thrusts sending you closer and closer to oblivion.

“Fuck, babygirl, you look so sexy like this, taking my cock so well… like you were made for me. So fucking perfect.” Yoongi whispered hotly in your ear, licking a bold stripe along the shell, sending shivers coursing through your body.

“Yoongi, fuck.”

“That’s it baby, who’s making you feel this good?” he accentuated the last word with a harder thrust that sent your body a little farther up the bed.

“You, Yoongi! Oh oh o-oh..” your whines grow louder and Yoongi quickly covered your mouth with his own in an attempt to drown out the noise, lest your parents really do hear him defiling their daughter in her childhood bedroom.

You clawed desperately at his back, trying to warn him of your impending orgasm, and Yoongi deepened the kiss in understanding, pistoning his hips with as much strength as he could muster and reaching down to roll your clit between his fingers, sending you sailing off the edge, Yoongi’s kiss stifled your scream before he soon followed you off the edge, painting your walls white with his hot release.

Yoongi pecked your lips tenderly before rolling off of you and landing on his back beside you, both of you panting and grinning like idiots. Yoongi’s cum seeped out of your battered hole, and he licked his lips at the sight, causing you to cover your face and giggle. He stood, walking into the bathroom and dampening a washcloth to clean you up as gently as he could before tossing it into the hamper and resuming his position on his side of the bed.

The sun was just beginning to rise and shine through the blinds as you lay beside Yoongi, still catching your breath. You glanced over at Yoongi to find he was already looking at you. He gave you a shy, tentative smile.

“So…” he trailed off.

“So…?”

Yoongi sighed and sat up, urging you to follow suit so you could both talk. You followed his instructions, wincing slightly. He gently reached out and took both of your hands in his larger ones, looking up to meet your gaze before he spoke quietly.

“Listen… I know this started off as a lie to piss your dad off, but… I would be lying now if i said it was still fake for me. I really like you, Y/N.. I have for a while. I don’t know when it happened but somewhere along the way, I just- I don’t know. But if you’re willing to give me a chance, a real chance, I think I could make you happy.” he spoke quietly, his eyes filled with light and hope.

“Oh Yoongi…” you sighed, cupping his cheek with your hand tenderly and smiling as he leaned subconsciously into your touch, “you already do. None of this is fake for me either, not anymore. I really, really like you.”

A soft knock on your door tore you two from your moment, your heads snapping towards the door as you pulled the blanket up to cover your breasts.

“Morning, guys, breakfast will be ready in ten.” your mom called through the wood.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to look your mom in the eye now.” Yoongi chuckled.

“She already thought we were fucking before this.” you reasoned with a smirk.

Yoongi groaned and hid his face in the crook of your neck and you laughed, carding your fingers through his messy post-sex hair lovingly.

“I can’t believe you’re really mine, for real this time.” he whispered into the safety of your neck.

“And I can’t believe you’re mine… for real this time,” you grin, carding your fingers through his hair comfortingly, “let’s eat so we can go home.”

The two of you got dressed and headed out for breakfast, engaging in small talk with your mom and semi-comfortable silence with your dad. You still had a ways to go to fix that relationship, but you were pleased with the progress. You didn’t think you’d ever have a perfect relationship with your father, but you didn’t have to. You didn’t have to fix everything, or be who he wanted in order to receive love, you were slowly learning.

The roads had been salted and deemed safe to drive on, so you and Yoongi bid your parents a farewell, thanking them for letting you stay and for the gifts. Your mom pulled you into a hug, then Yoongi into one as well.

“I just love how happy you are around him, Y/N. It’s like you’re glowing. You two come visit soon, okay? I miss seeing you.” your mom spoke, holding your hand in hers.

“We will. I love you, mom.”

Yoongi reached out and you placed your hand in his, letting him lead you home.

Months later, on another lazy Sunday afternoon, you were cuddled up with your boyfriend on the couch of your shared apartment, snuggling into his chest while the two of you half paid attention to another movie on Netflix. Wrapped up in blankets and Yoongi’s arms, you’d never felt safer, more content, or so unbelievably happy.

Yoongi had your hand wrapped in his, lazily placing kisses along your wrist, palm, the tips of your fingers, anywhere his lips would reach. He wanted to shower you in kisses. You watched him with curious eyes, noting the way his own were shining as he met your gaze.

“What?” you wondered, chucking quietly.

“Say it again.”

“Yoongi,” you whined, looking up at him with a smile nonetheless, “I’ve said it like fifty times today.”

“Just one more time.”

You rolled your eyes before quietly letting the words roll off your lips like dripping honey as you pressed a kiss to his skin. “I love you, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi hummed happily, almost like a purring cat, “Mmm.. I love you too.”

You snuggled into his embrace before he spoke up once more.

“Okay, just one more time.”

You laughed and rolled over so you were straddling him, reaching down and squishing his cheeks together before pressing your lips to his.

“I love you.” you giggled, pecking his lips once more, then repeating the words and actions over and over and over again.

“I love you I love you I love you I love you.” you peppered kisses all over his face, any part of it you could reach until your boyfriend was a mess beneath you, laughing and blushing with the biggest gummy smile on his face.

Every once in a while, you meet someone you instantly connect with. Every so often you cross paths with someone you’re just meant to meet. But, once in a lifetime, you meet someone who makes your soul feel whole again. You see a face in the crowd and instantly feel at home. You hear their laugh one time and suddenly the world has color again. Once in a lifetime, you meet someone who doesn’t save you, but holds you steady while you gather the strength you need to save yourself.

Min Yoongi is that person for you.

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Neon Seoul

; Cyberpunk Detective!Jimin x Detective!Reader

; Genre: Angst, smut, slight fluff

; Word Count: 25.7k

; Warnings: Murder, crime scene, discussions of crime and homicide, criminal gang activity, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming

; Synopsis: It the city of New Seoul, another homicide isn’t newsworthy but instead just a statistic. But when the son of the mayor is murdered in an alley in a shady part of the city? Then it’s important.

You and your partner, Detective Park Jimin, are given the honour of investigating the crime. Will you find out who killed him? Or will you fail?

; A/N: I enjoyed writing this so much! I hope everyone enjoys it :3 it’s more cinematic style than normal so I hope you stick with it and that it’s fun to read! Please reblog if you enjoyed it and leave me feedback or reviews! Or send me an ask :D Also...I fully admit to not proof-reading this lol sorry about any mistakes!

The streets of New Seoul are dark tonight, the only form of lighting coming from the overly bright neon signage that screams for attention on every building. Hundreds of signs for thousands of promises, some real and some as real as the holo advertisements that rise like giants alongside the towers that rise so high, the tips vanish into the smog that hovers like a persistent malaise.

You could get everything your heart desired in 26th century New Seoul; from a warm body to keep you company at night to a quiet contract that would eliminate your foes. Nothing was legal and yet everything was legal. You just had to know the right people who knew the right people who knew the right loopholes.

Maybe it was some quirk in the law that meant they were able to flout their ability to wreak havoc in front of the police, or maybe it was simply that they had enough credits that they had important members of police in their pockets. It didn’t matter. People in this end of New Seoul did the dirty work for the people who lived in those tall towers, the building’s not so much ivory as the old metaphor went but more black with the years of rampant air pollution and dirt.

Moving your gaze from the neon visual assault to the ground, you grimaced slightly as you noted the disgusting street beneath your boots. Puddles of dirty water pooled along the uneven surfaces, filling every crevice they could find and the overwhelming stench of the garbage that had been unceremoniously thrown out of the building’s added to your distaste.

The water here was probably infected with something, it was that dirty. Glancing around the grimy back alley, you inhaled deeply and wrinkled your nose as you instantly regretted it. Even the nasal implants you’d been given once you’d graduated from the police academy struggled to filter out the sheer stench of whatever the hell was lining the streets in those bin liners.

2621 and yet still, cities couldn’t control the waste system properly. Though what did you expect, given New Seoul hosted a population of over 75 million right now. Millions upon millions of people, crammed into the Mega City that had sprawled across the land slowly, swallowing up the smaller cities that stood in its path and obliterating the towns and villages.

You could travel for hours in either direction from here and still be in this godforsaken city. Sighing deeply, you heard a sudden gurgling to your left, the sound quiet yet instantly notable to your enhanced hearing over the quiet sound of investigatory conversation. A quick look over has you almost gagging, spotting a sewer grate that was bubbling to itself happily, as if it was some sweet brook with clean and crisp flowing water in a forest somewhere instead of the pure sewage it was spilling.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Can someone sort out the fucking sewer problem before it contaminates even more of the fucking crime scene?” You spat out, anger flowing through your veins as you gazed at the grate. It was almost mesmerising, in a completely disgusting way, how the water was so brown and thick that it almost struggled to flow.

Turning away, you tried hard to control your gag reflex. It would not do for the senior detective on the investigation to vomit on the crime scene and contaminate it. Not only because you’d just complained over the sewer for that but also because it would just be fucking embarrassing.

The small alley was particularly dark compared to the rest of the city, the signage that was so prominent only really visible from the ends that led out into the bigger streets. No one would really bother wasting the money or time on a shitty alley like this. Literally, a shitty alley apparently.

There was still prominent neon though, only in the form of the holographic police barriers that had been erected, warning the public of an open crime scene. The yellow barriers hummed ever so slightly as you stood near it, the signage changing repeatedly from ‘POLICE’ to ‘CRIME SCENE’ to ‘PLEASE STAY BACK’. There were a few other messages in there but you’d seen them enough times to not even really notice anymore.

A few curious members of the public, whether they were residents of the buildings surrounding you or simple vagrants who called this alley home, and the idea of that made your stomach lurch, were stood just past the barriers. They wouldn’t come close to it. The only reason the barrier hummed was because it was being powered by a generator, the holographic barrier’s capable of accessing a person’s chip ID that resided in their neck.

If they were listed as being an active member of the police force, or other emergency services, then they were allowed through. If they were not...well, let’s just say it hurt.

A hovercar landed at the end of the alley, the sound soft as it descended but becoming loud and prominent the closer to the ground it got. Safety precautions meant they couldn’t just make it completely silent. That was the quickest way to flatten some kid or idiot. Though in fairness, there were plenty of people you could think of that you wouldn’t mind getting flattened.

Still though, the tall figure climbing out of it was expected, hence why you were currently still standing outside of the crime scene instead of in it. The idiot was late, as usual. Probably spending his evening fucking some synth in the pleasure house near his apartment. There was nothing wrong with that obviously, you engaged in the services of the synthetic androids yourself, but it gurgled in the pit of your stomach that he’d chosen to stick his dick in one of those instead of you.

You’d like to say he didn’t know your feelings, but you knew he did. He hadn’t made it to detective without actually having some deducting skills, and you weren’t exactly being shy about wanting him. In fairness, no one was shy about wanting him. Detective Park Jimin was indeed a delectable specimen of a human male.

Walking closer, you heard the careful thudding of his black boots on the dirty cement, the two inch thick soles giving him even more height above you despite the fact that he wore the same police issue boots you did. Metal was firmly embedded in the toes of them, allowing you to kick the shit out of anything you needed to without harming your feet.

It just made him look more attractive though. The fronts of those boots laced up high, far past his ankle and tight black trousers clung to his beautiful thighs. You’d fantasised about those thighs many times in many different ways. A belt with an assortment of holders sat prettily around that thin waist of his, his gun holstered firmly while other important items such as a torch and so forth were also firmly put away.

A black shirt that shifted colour ever so slightly to give it an intriguing metallic look was covered by his usual black coat, the long leather that reached his knees adorned with an abundance of pockets and metal, the buttons in odd places while the coat itself was covered with silver symbols and illustrations that glowed, sinuously flowing from one symbol into another as he moved. The collar of his jacket was high, hiding the outline of his jaw as he walked up to you.

You could barely make out Jimin’s face in the darkness of the alley as he approached, the only thing visible at the moment was the vivid, glowing blue tips of his hair, shifting slightly in the breeze. He’d chosen over the last few months to grow out his luxurious black hair, the look makin him particularly rugged as he constantly looked like he’d just had the wildest sex. On top of that, he’d had the ends of his hair dyed with a cybernetic pigment which resulted in the unnatural neon glow, the tips already shifting colour from blue to a smooth purple.

It looked good on him, and you most definitely approved. Not that he’d give a shit.

Finally he stood before you, a deep sigh leaving him as the yellow lighting of the barrier finally lit up his face for you. It gave him an oddly yellow cast, making his skin look sallow and unwell but you couldn’t deny that he was still beautiful.

Black geometric tattoos crawled up from beneath his shirt and coat, making their way up his strong neck with the right side creeping up his face as well. A swirl of thick black was painted up the side of his cheek, directly where his jawline met his ear and hairline before it burst into smaller lines, curling almost elegantly above his brow. It was one of the prettier facial tattoos you’d seen, and you weren’t sure saying that because it was him.

A black metal piercing studded the centre of the skin below his plush, pink lower lip. Besides from the abundance of piercings in his ears, that was the only other piercing you believe that he had. His left eye, under actual lighting, was it’s natural deep brown whereas his right eye was a cybernetic augmentation, the iris a highly unnatural vivid, neon pink that often bordered on magenta.

He’d received the augmentation, along with a cybernetic arm, after an arrest had gone severely wrong when the suspect had detonated a homemade explosive, resulting him losing his natural eye along with also losing his right arm at the same time. It came in useful for him as it gave him access to the police database on the go, along with being able to identify people and record incidents with certain muscle movements. And that was to say nothing of the benefits the artificial arm gave him.

“You’re late.” You say shortly, looking up at your partner with an imperious eye as you drag your gaze down his body. He doesn’t look like he’d been interrupted mid-coitus, but you never knew with him. Jimin always liked to look prim and proper.

“Some people actually fucking sleep. Given it’s 3 in the morning, you know.” Rolling your eyes, you gestured for him to enter the crime scene and pulled a face at his back once he’d passed. You had a reputation to keep up, and that didn’t involve letting him see you being childish. Though you were, and he was probably well aware of that after five years of working together.

As Jimin passed through the barrier, the back of his coat immediately lit up with holographic text in bright blue, proclaiming ‘POLICE’. The same would have happened for you when you moved through the barrier as well, letting everyone inside know that Jimin and you were the investigative unit.

“So what is it? A junker? Sex worker? Some rando on the street?” He asked, standing over the top of the body. Almost immediately, it was clear to see that all of his queries were incorrect. The male on the floor was wearing fabric that was top of the range, a style that normally would be shifting patterns and colours. His dead body wasn’t producing the electricity required to power it anymore though, so it just looked like a very nice black button up right now.

Still, it was clear his outfit cost money. From the style to the fabric to even the design. It was only what those who could afford could wear. In fact, the victim’s clothing probably cost more than this whole street made in a week. On top of that, the old style wristwatch, an actual watch that ticked and told time and everything, looked to be ancient and the brand made your brows rise.

That alone would pay your apartment’s rent for a year probably.

“No. Victim is Kim Namjoon. Son of Kim Minhyuk and Seo Jihyo. Yes...that Kim Minhyuk.” You said when Jimin’s brows rose as he looked at you sharply, his eyes narrowing until all you could see was a sliver of brown and pink.

“The fuck was the son of the mayor doing in this shithole? And not just this shithole, but this literal, particular shithole. I highly doubt the towers would want to spend their time here. I mean sure, idiots like this one might come to this part of the city as a dare or just for a wild night. But there’s nothing around here but residential buildings?” Jimin speculated, brow creasing as he poked his cheek with his tongue.

“You’re wrong, on a few things. First of all, towers,” You used the lower city slang for the rich and powerful who spent their lives in the towers that reached beyond the smog that hovered over New Seoul. “Are surprisingly common around here. You’re right in that they’re normally here just for a night on the rough side of town, but they’re not rare. And this isn't at all residential. There’s an underground casino just down the road. I have it on good authority that he was there.”

“The fuck? How do you know that? You don’t live here. And if you know where he was then what are we doing here? You obviously know how he died.” Jimin scoffs, leaning over to examine the victim’s corpse carefully. Grinding your teeth, you inhale deeply before letting it out slowly.

“Okay Park. Firstly, you too know how he died. It’s pretty obvious given, you know, the laser shot to his forehead. I’ve yet to encounter anyone who can withstand one of those. And secondly, I know because he wasn’t alone,” You gesture down the other end of the alley where another hovercar is parked, the door open and an elegant man sat in it. A few officers stood around, keeping watch.

“What? Who is he? Why aren’t we arresting him and questioning him?” He goes to start walking down the alley, his face grim and you grab his arm, pulling him to a firm halt. When he’s facing you, you gesture down to the Crime Scene Analyst currently crouched over the body.

“Jeon, what’ve you got for us. Please inform Detective Park here why it’s impossible his friend was the culprit.” Wide, dark eyes look up from beneath thick, curly black hair, a piercing cutting through one of the strong black brows on his forehead. Officer Jeon Jungkook had been a CSA for the New Seoul PD for over six years now and he knew what he was doing. Thankfully, that meant Jimin trusted him too.

The CSA stands, towering over both you and Jimin before he taps a metal circle implanted into his hand. A holographic simulation of the alley begins to glow above his hand in white, Kim Namjoon’s body outlined in violet. Other areas are red and you look around to try and identify those areas.

Jungkook’s eyes are the only thing visible about his face, the lower half covered in a black mask with two air filters poking out of the side. It was standard crime scene procedure for him, but you knew he enjoyed wearing it anyway. Long hair that was half wet curls around his face while his own black leather coat is equally covered in glittering silver outlines and illustrations. Black piercings liberally dot his ears, including a piercing at the upper shell of his ear with a slim black chain that connects to a piercing on his ear lobe.

His hands are ungloved and you can see the start of black tattoos winding around his wrist. He was another one who was ungodly attractive, and it was made even worse by the fact that it was all natural. You’d known Jeon Jungkook since he’d joined the police academy at the fresh age of 18, his skin untouched at the time.

All that had happened over the years had been a careful refinement of already pretty features, solely from age and maturity. You realise that you’re too busy admiring the CSA when Jimin elbows you, not even the slightest bit subtly either. Glaring at him, you note his narrowed eyes and roll you own in response.

“The victim was killed with a single laser shot to the forehead, as Detective Y/L/N said. It was point blank range with the suspect wearing a size 11 boot. The treadmark indicates it was most likely either a Villainous or Pandemic boot, though I will need to do more in depth research to give you a more accurate reading. Mr Kim Seokjin, the witness over there, was standing behind the victim and to the right. He grabbed the victim as he fell, there’s DNA evidence on the victims shoulders. It’s impossible for him to have been the one to be the suspect. The witnesses' footprints come from that end of the alley and stop there, behind the victim. They never move around to the front. The other footprints come from the other end, stop in the front of the victim and make their way back.” He gives the report briskly, making sure to only include information that he can back up with evidence.

As he talks, he generates holographic figures on the street simulation, their feet matching the glowing red imprints. Kim Seokjin is in green, his own footprints backing up Jungkook’s words while the suspect is in red, walking in and taking out the victim with ease.

Humming lightly, you run your finger over your lip before glancing over at Jimin. “This...I know we’re not meant to make a speculation here but...a tower? In this area? In this alley? Getting murdered like this?”

“You mean the fact that this is the most blatant case of a hit killing you’ve ever seen? Yeah, I get you. That looks like the movements of an expert killer there. And there's clear motive behind it, even if we don’t know what that is right now. Mayor Kim isn’t exactly popular nowadays and he’s made plenty of enemies throughout the years. Some legitimate and some simply because he’s a person in power. Hitting him through his son is a clear and easy way to get to him.” Jimin muses to himself quietly, though you’re thankful he lets you into his mindset as well.

After all, you are his partner.

“Maybe. We can’t rule anything out, you know that,” Looking at Jungkook, you point towards the body on the alley ground. “Jeon, can you make sure we get a full autopsy report? I want to make sure that we have all grounds covered. This is going to blow up with the towers, you know that.”

The CSA nods once, the movement brisk. He turns away from you, noting something down on his holo report that has replaced the visual of the alley he’d been showing you both. Taking a deep breath, you make a face as the overwhelming scent hits you once more before looking at Jimin.

“Come on, let’s take the witness back to the station. I don’t think he’s going to give us a very good statement right now with his best friend lying dead on the alley. I think a change of scenery will probably do him some good, right?” Jimin is still looking around the alley slowly, almost as if he’s trying to find more evidence.

You don’t push him not to though, letting him spend as much time as he wants observing the scene of the crime. As good as Jungkook’s skills were, sometimes the CSA missed something. But you don’t have to wait long though as soon enough, Jimin is striding up to you with a neutral expression on his pretty face.

“I don’t think there’s anything else here for us to look at. We’ll have to wait for the report later but I think Jungkook’s found near enough everything already. Let’s go talk to our witness.”

The room that Kim Seokjin was being brought into had luxuriously soft couches and armchairs spread throughout along with low, black glass coffee tables. The walls were covered in old style photographs, the scenes portrayed of vistas that had died centuries ago. Instead of the customary vending machine with its nauseously bright holo-screen, there was a fancy machine in solid black, the options available on a touch screen that could be activated.

“So this is what seniority gets you, huh?” Jimin asks with a snort, his gaze tracking around the room slowly just as yours was. This was the break room for the senior members of the police department, those who had spent years working their way up the chain of command. Or working their way up something.

You could never be sure who had earnt their rank through genuine means and who just worked their way through the people they knew to get their ranking. The chief was certainly one of those who was in his place only because he was well acquainted with the powerful people in New Seoul.

So unsurprisingly, this break room looked nothing like the room that you and your fellow officers frequented when time allowed. Your room was filled with couches whose cushions had lost their softness long ago, the plastic creaking and breaking while chips and gashes abounded. And you didn’t even want to talk about the stains.

Understandable that they didn’t want Kim Seokjin interviewed there given his status, though why he was being interviewed anywhere outside of an actual interview room. Although even then, you realise why that’s the case. Those rooms are just cement squares with a metal table in the middle, not exactly the kind of place you interview such a high class witness.

“I think we should raid the vender, imagine what kinda high class shit they’ve got in here.” You whisper to him, smirking as you wiggle your eyebrows at him. Jimin gives a small life before nodding with a smile, turning to welcome the newcomer who has entered the room, waving off the officer who’d brought Kim Seokjin in.

“Hello, I’m Detective Park and this is Detective Y/L/N. Would you like something to drink? Or maybe something to eat before we get started? I would recommend something for you, you’re probably experiencing shock and we want to make you as comfortable as possible.” Jimin says, his voice incredibly diplomatic as he smiles a welcome to Kim Seokjin.

He sits at Jimin’s request, giving an awkward smile that doesn’t look remotely genuine. But the hollowness and shock behind his eyes tells you why and you feel sympathy bloom within you. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin’s words obviously filter through and he nods slowly.

“Yes, please, thank you. Just...a tea. Please. Hot.” Nodding yourself, you input the request into the machine before adding your own requests as well. Everything is produced onto a useful, clear plastic tray and you take it over before placing it on the low table with a gentle smile.

You’d got yourself a glass of water and Jimin his usual energy drink, the can’s design changing every few seconds to some new holo picture of some extreme sport. There’s also a simple glazed doughnut on a small plate, causing Seokjin to frown in confusion.

“The sugar will help with the shock. And it’ll help you to feel a little more stable.” Seokjin looks down at the baked good blankly before nodding, giving a small thanks before taking a bite. It’s not big, and he seems to chew almost mechanically.

“Please accept our apologies for what’s happened Mr Kim, we can’t even begin to understand what you’ve been through.” Jimin says, his voice low with compassion for the traumatised witness in front of him. Despite your partner's sarcasm, he’s always been good with the witnesses.

“Now, I don’t want this to sound callous but we’d like to get what you witnessed down on record as soon as possible, while it’s still...fresh.” You say gently, a compassionate smile painting itself on your face when you see the fresh pain in Seokjin’s eyes. He nods in acknowledgement and you press the band on your wrist, inputting a few details into the holoscreen before setting up the audio and visual recorder.

“This is Detective Y/L/N Y/N and Detective Park Jimin, Case 619-219-325. Interview with witness, Kim Seokjin. Mr Kim, for the purpose of the record, I will read you your rights, you are not under arrest or suspicion at this time.” You go on to read him his rights, the standard procedure for any interview nowadays and are relieved when he simply nods.

Some witnesses got angry, thinking they were a suspect suddenly, but it was standard operating protocol for the New Seoul Police Department. Jimin took over for you as soon as you’d finished.

“Can you please tell us what happened tonight? Start from a few hours beforehand if possible, lead us up to the moment when it happened. Try and remember as much as you can but don’t worry if you can’t.”

Seokjin nods slowly, taking a deep swallow of tea before letting out a breath and continuing.

“Namjoon had spent the day shadowing his dad and wanted to blow off some steam. He’s not normally the one to ask that so I suggested we…” He looks embarrassedly at you both. “I suggested that we go slumming. I’m sure you know what that means. We’ve done it before, frequently enough that we have favourite places. So we headed to a club a few blocks from our tower to start out, had a few drinks there with our mutual friend, Min Yoongi. Yoongi told us about this new casino that had opened in the city. It was...in one of the more shady areas of town, which always makes it a bit more fun. I know that sounds really bad but..”

“It’s fine, we’ve heard worse.” You comfort him, smiling gently. He looks awkward but carries on at your insistence.

“The casino was okay, we spent a few hours there. There was a cute guy that Namjoon had his eye on but it turned out that he was taken so both of us were out of luck. We lost more credits than I’d like to admit we lost. Turns out we’re not as good at gambling in those areas as the people who live there.” He gives a lopsided smile, filled with sadness.

Yeah, no shit, you think to yourself. That’s because the people that live there gamble for their lives, of course they’re better than a tower who’s just throwing money around. They probably took them for all their money, and then some.

“Anyway, after Namjoon got bored of losing we decided to leave. We were just going to head back home honestly. We’d both had a long day, pretty tiring. I just wanted to go to bed, I was meant to be travelling to New York tomorrow...today, for business. We...we couldn’t find an aircar that was free. In fact, there were barely any aircar’s around there at all, so we decided to walk for a bit to somewhere a little busier.”

A quick glance at Jimin has you realising that you’re both probably thinking the same thing. That it’s a goddamn miracle both of them weren’t killed just for being on the streets. You simply didn’t walk around those areas at that time of night.

“We checked the map of where the nearest transit station was, thinking that might have a free aircar or something. Or we could even use the transit and that’s why we went down the alley. We were halfway down, laughing about Namjoon losing this game earlier on and then suddenly...there was this guy standing there in front of us. He didn’t say anything, and...I couldn’t see him properly. The light...I’m sorry.” He breaks off, pressing his thumbs into his eyes as he bows his head. Neither Jimin nor you say anything for a moment, letting him compose himself again before he speaks.

His eyes are a little more watery now, his voice tighter and husky.

“He err...all I could really see was that he had this...spiked black mask on. Like a ventilator that people like to wear, but with these silver spikes on it. Err...I think his hair was black? He had no colour in it. In fact...his whole outfit was just...black leather. Nothing holo, nothing fancy. He didn’t stand out at all. He just...was standing there, which was weird as there hadn’t been anyone in the alley. We wouldn’t have gone in otherwise.” Seokjin stops once more, looking down at his half finished tea.

“This guy...just...stood there for a minute. Namjoon was slightly in front of me and well...we didn’t know what we were meant to do. We’ve never been mugged before. But then he just...lifted his hand and pointed at Namjoon. Pointed at him? But then there was this...popping noise and this purple flash. Then Namjoon was on the ground, the guy gone. And...I just...I freaked out. I called the cops and...yeah. I don’t understand. He didn’t even say anything? He didn’t even look at me?” His voice is broken as he whispers, the tears slowly falling to trail down his face.

He looked tired and worn out, the dark circles beneath his eyes even more prominent than when he’d begun talking and his soft brown eyes were now dark with unhidden pain. Perfectly dyed, platinum blonde hair was mussed on top of his head, becoming more so when he runs his fingers through it once more before gripping the strands in frustration.

Kim Seokjin is an attractive man, a clear product of centuries of careful breeding by his ancestors. Pink lips are plump and lush, his skin perfectly clear and untouched by augmentations or tattoos. Broad shoulders hold his elegant jacket perfectly and you don’t need to be rich to know that his clothes, the same material that Namjoon’s had been, were perfectly tailored.

But despite how beautiful he was, despite the money he came from and the money he would go on to make, he still looked like every other human being when someone they treasured was taken from them in such a violent manner. He looked like part of him had broken earlier this evening.

“We’re very sorry for your loss Mr Kim. And that you had to witness it. Is there...anything else you might remember? Anything that sticks out about him?” Seokjin considers it slowly, obviously turning the questions over in his mind as he goes through the memory once more. You hate to make him think about it again, but you never know what he might know.

Finally though, he shakes his head with a deep sigh. “No...I’m sorry. That alley smelled so bad and it was so dark. There was...nothing.”

“That’s understandable. It was hard to see even when we were there and in the spur of the moment, with the shock of it all. Don’t be too hard on yourself Mr Kim, it wasn’t your fault. That’s what you need to remember. It might sound a little harsh but...there was probably nothing that you could do to prevent it. This man...I don’t think there’s anything you could have done.” Jimin looks at you as you place your hand on Seokjin’s squeezing gently in reassurance.

You can tell that your theory of this being a hit is becoming even more solid, and you silently query Jimin as to what you think you should do next. His face twists slightly before giving a slight nod and carrying on.

“I think that might be enough for what happened. If you remember anything in the future, please tell us. You might find that you’ll remember something important at a later date, when you mind is better able to comprehend what happened. Don’t worry if you can’t remember now. If it’s okay though, we’d like to ask you some questions about Namjoon himself?” Jimin taps at his own band, his own holo screen the standard blue neon as he runs through police files to bring up Namjoon’s profile.

All citizens of New Seoul had some kind of profile on the police network, though most people would find it to just be publicly available information. Namjoon, as the son of the mayor, had more than a little information available.

“Yes, yes of course.” Seokjin takes another bite of the doughnut, chewing just as slowly and mechanically. You get the sense he’s not even tasting it properly and you sigh softly, leaning over to Jimin and whispering into his ear.

“I think we need to try and speed this up a little. He looks like he’s going to fall face first into the table. Let’s get a little information and then we can wrap it up and he can go home. If we need more info then we’ll contact him later. It sounds like a bust in terms of the scene anyway.” The words are featherlight, your voice barely audible even to him but he hears you anyway thankfully.

A slight nod is all he gives in response before he looks back at Seokjin, giving him a small smile.

“You first met Namjoon in high school, correct?” Immediately Seokjin is shaking his head, disputing what Jimin is saying.

“No, no we’ve known each other since kindergarten. Our families have known each other a long time. Namjoon was sent abroad to school for a few years and then came back for high school. We both went to King Sejong Private Academy before going to Seoul National University after that. He took a degree in politics with a minor in international relations, I did business management and international relations. He went to Harvard for his post-grad, I went to Oxford. But then we met up again when we were both back here in New Seoul. We’ve been living here for the last five years now since being back.” Jimin nods, updating his information in his file quietly.

“Apologies, our information isn’t usually that thorough. So...you’ve known Namjoon for a while then. Did he ever have anyone who might want to try and hurt him? Anyone who was outwardly aggressive with him?” They were standard questions and Seokjin’s brow furrows as he considers, lips pursing before he shrugs.

“I mean...he’s the mayor’s son? He has the same enemies his dad does. Well, enemies is a harsh word. Political opponents is the polite term in our society. But...they’re not dangerous. At least, not to Namjoon? They might try and assassinate his dad but there’s no need to hurt Namjoon. Although…” He trails off, thoughtful suddenly. “His dad was preparing him for the next mayoral election. Presenting him as his successor. There’s a lot of people who don’t like his dad, and Namjoon...didn’t have the greatest opinion of the augmented. That might not have gelled well with a lot of people?”

“What do you mean? What were his opinions about the augmented?” You ask, interrupting him. You’re leaning over to look at Jimin’s notes now, running through them to see if there were any notes about this. “I can see that his post-grad dissertation was on the downfall of humanity with the rise of augmentations?”

“Yeah. His dad has a low opinion of augmentations. Thinks they’re ruining humanity, letting the...lower classes get above their station. And there’s a lot of people who think the more augmentations you have then the less of your soul you have. His dad wasn’t that intense about it but...Namjoon started to get that way. His mom was in the Dongdaemun Attack.” Internally you wince. The Dongdaemun Attack had been the New Seoul government had been looking to regulate augmentations twenty years ago. A group of cybernetically augmented anarchists used it as an excuse to get attention to their cause, murdering over five-hundred people.

Namjoon would have only been nine-years-old, an easily influenced age.

“I don’t know why he got so fixated on it recently, we tried to discourage him. I’m not a fan of too much but I think augmentations are people’s own choice you know? Do you think...maybe that was the reason?” Biting your lip, you look at Jimin to see him looking at you with a droll stare.

It was obvious he thought the same as you. That it was highly unlikely that this was motivated by terrorism or anything like that. After all, the killer hadn’t said anything to him. Hadn’t tried to argue his point, hadn’t released anything since or claimed the incident. And there were plenty of people with much worse opinions than Namjoon.

“How deep were these opinions of his? Did he think that maybe augmentations should be banned completely? That people with augmentations are a lower class or anything? Subhuman?” Some people thought like that. It would be hard to see New Seoul electing a mayor with those kinds of views though.

Seokjin shook his head. “No. He just...he didn’t like augmentation. Never got any himself, tried to encourage us to not get any. It was more...I think it was more his spiritual beliefs. Like he was afraid that if humanity keeps going this way then...we’ll get lost or something? I don’t really know. But he wouldn’t ever impose them on others. Namjoon wasn’t like that. Despite what he thought, he believed in freedom of thought too. And freedom of expression.”

“Hmm, okay. It’s a start though. We’ll look into it. Has Namjoon received any...threats that you’re aware of?” Again, he shakes his head in response before twisting his lips.

“No. But I don’t know if he’d tell me that. You might be better looking through his computer at home. There might be something in there, whether he’s deleted it or not. I don’t know. But he’s not been acting afraid or anything so I don’t think so? I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you.” Jimin presses something on his screen before it vanishes, giving Seokjin a smile equally as tired.

“That’s fine, you’ve had...a very rough night. That’s all for the moment. If we have any further questions then we’ll contact you. I think it’s best that you probably go home and rest now.” Seokjin nods jerkily, not moving for a second before taking a final drink of his tea and standing.

“Thank you. For...investigating this. I...I hope you find it. Namjoon...Namjoon was a good man. A really good man. He didn’t deserve this.” He leaves the room surprisingly quickly given how tall and broad he is, his long legs taking him through the break room with ease until he reaches the door.

Once he’s gone, you finish the recording and end it before turning to look at Jimin with raised brows. “So...sounding more like a hit.”

“Yeah, but why? Because he doesn’t like augmentations? That’s not exactly a unique view today. In fact, he’s probably more in the majority now than the minority. Plus, there’s no flag in his file to indicate anything worrisome regarding extreme views, or even that he’s being targeted for those views. I think for the moment, it’s probably more likely to do with his dad.” Jimin leans back with a heavy sigh, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair as he slouches.

He looks tired, and that reminds you of how tired you are as well. Yawning, you cover your mouth with your hand before letting out your own sigh. Suddenly, your eyes feel heavy with a need to sleep. Understandable, given you haven't slept all day yet.

“Guessing you weren’t asleep when the call came in.” Jimin says suddenly, and when you look at him, you realise that he’s looking directly at you. There’s concern in his face as he scans over you and you give him a lethargic smile, shrugging slowly. Despite his sarcastic nature, you knew that Jimin did care for you and he maintained the same level of concern and protectiveness that you had for him in turn.

That’s what partners did.

“Was finishing up that paperwork from the Kang case.” Lips twisting, Jimin nodded slowly before groaning as he stretched. There were a few pops and cracks from his joints and in the silence of the break room, you can hear the subtle whirring of the machinery in his arm. The arm was covered in synthetic skin, specially designed to mimic his normal skin. He hadn’t wanted the hassle of it, but he hadn’t been awake when they’d fitted his arm properly.

“You know...they make this job look far more glamorous on shows.” He mutters, standing up and finishing off his own energy drink. You wonder if that was really a good idea for him now, given he should probably head back home and go to sleep. Or rather...go back to sleep.

Smirking at him, you stand as well, taking his can and your cup to the recycler before throwing it in. “What? You mean...you don’t think the mountains of paperwork you have to do isn’t glamorous? Just not trying hard enough.”

Leading him out of the senior break room, you feel Jimin poke your waist hard before letting out a snort. “What am I supposed to do? Extravagantly type while fending off a criminal who’s hellbent on destroying the station? Have flirtatious conversations with my file assistant while updating my expenses form?”

“I hope you’re not having flirtatious conversations with your file assistant. Didn’t you choose the cartoon German Shepherd?” He laughs loudly, your boots echoing on the loud halls. You’d expect that at five in the morning, it would be only a skeleton crew on. But this was the police department for New Seoul, one of the biggest cities on the planet.

Night just meant more crime.

“Well, it’d live up to the stereotypes of dashing male detectives who are perpetually horny, right?” Wrinkling your nose, you look at him in disgust.

“Ew.”

“Anyway, you should get home. Get some sleep otherwise you’re going to be the walking dead. And I have more than a little feeling that this is going to be a big case for us. A case that is probably going to have us being hounded by the uppers until we solve this.” Letting out a groan of your own, you pause and twist your lips before running your hands over your eyes.

“Fucking hell. Sorry, I’m the one that picked up the call. And I can’t go home. It’s five, our shift starts at nine and it takes forty-five minutes just for me to get home. I’ll just nap in the bunk room for a few hours.”

He doesn’t respond for a few more minutes, the silence between you two comfortable from the years of working together. Jimin doesn’t try to argue with you, instead following you to the room lined with bunk beds that could be used by officers and detectives for a quick nap. Most of the time, that meant anyone who’d been working an extra long shift and needed to energise themselves.

But for now, it would allow you to get a few hours sleep before your shift actually started. Because once it did, the real investigative work would begin and you’d both be knee deep in the politics of it all.

Picking a bunk furthest from the door, which hopefully would mean it was furthest from any unfortunate noise, you sit heavily on the bottom bunk with a sigh. Staring down at your knees, you chewed your lip as your mind whirred despite your tiredness. Already you were coming up with theories as to what had happened.

You don’t realise that your eyes have been drifting shut as the adrenaline from the night leaves your body and the comfort of the bed you sit on calls to you strongly. Not until you feel a tugging at your feet, startling you awake once more.

Looking down with wide eyes, you see it’s your partner, knelt before you as he carefully unlaces your boots. You’re thankful that one of the inventions over the last few centuries had been odourless shoes, because you can’t think of what it would smell like given how many hours you’ve worn these particular boots for.

Jimin carefully takes them off, leaving you in only your socks before looking up at you with a gentle smile. Without a word, you take off your coat and hand it to him, letting him place it on the hook next to the wall while your boots go in the small cube holder. He takes off his own boots quickly, repeating the movements that you had before sitting on the bed opposite you.

There’s little space between the bunks, quantity more than quality, and his knees press against your own. Looking down, you marvel at how big he is compared to you. You’re not even a small person really, but he just looks...so much more. Part of you knows that you’re just being slightly delirious from the sleep deprivation, having been awake for over 24 hours now. But part of you knows it’s just something you’ve admired about him for a long time.

“Come on supercop, go to sleep.” Jimin says, his voice husky yet soft. You note the folded blanket and fresh pillow he must have grabbed from the supply closet and carefully place the pillow down before curling up beneath the blanket. It feels absurdly warm and comfortable, which is how you know you’re tired because it’s well known the bunk room is basically a cold coffin.

A few familiar beeps cause you to blink blearily at him, noting that he was setting an alarm on his band before he too curls up on his bunk, a deep sigh leaving him as his body relaxes. All you can see right now is the vivid magenta of his cybernetic eye, his dark hair falling into his face prettily while the tips glow yellow.

You’d figure out who killed Kim Namjoon, and you’d do it with the help of Park Jimin, the best detective you’d ever known.

The next three days are spent interviewing the friends and family of Kim Namjoon. Jimin and you were waiting on the report from Jungkook about the crime scene and the autopsy report from the pathologist, though you both knew that the reports weren’t going to give you any more information than you already had.

Jungkook had been pretty clear that there wasn’t likely to be much more evidence he could give you, and from all accounts it had been a clean kill from an efficient suspect. On top of all that, you were left with the frustrating knowledge that Kim Namjoon, while having some views that could have future potential for conflict, was by all accounts a nice guy with no personal enemies of his own.

The interview with his father had been particularly awkward, given his grief at the loss of his son that had combined with his belligerence at the idea of having any enemies that could have done this. Apparently it didn’t particularly enter the head of Kim Minhyuk that he wasn’t entirely a popular mayor, but then again, those in power didn’t tend to listen to critics.

Which left you in an awkward spot with the case. Neither of you had found anything even remotely like a breakthrough, and while it was only three days into a case that by all accounts, should probably take a good few months to work through, you knew that you were being carefully monitored by the people higher up the chain.

Rubbing your forehead, you let out a deep groan as you flop back on your couch and rub at your eyes. Despite the lack of progress on the case, you still had other cases to work on while also engaging in background research of Namjoon and everyone who knew him, alongside filling out all the necessary paperwork.

You were beyond thankful that the auto-transcript was a thing, though you’d still had to read through them while listening to the audio version to make sure it had all worked properly. It was infamous for throwing random words in occasionally, which certainly wasn’t acceptable when handing in evidence to a court.

As such, you’d spend the last six hours sitting on your couch like a potato as you’d listened to the interviews and read along with the transcripts. Taking off the headphones, you let your head fall back on the couch as you look over at Jimin where he sat on the other end of the couch, his own body slumped into the comfy cushions.

“Transcripts are all okay, I’ll log them all into the case file now.” You tell him, fingers darting over the holoboard over your lap as you carefully save each file into the designated case file on the police secure server. A backup file is generated instantly in both yours and Jimin’s own computer systems while a third is saved to the police backup.

“All okay?” He asks, his voice rough from disuse. Given that you’d agreed to spend the day working through the transcripts, which was a job that neither of you particularly liked doing, he’d agreed to work on the case notes of the Park Junhee case that had been opened three months ago. The pathology report had finally come in for her and Jimin had been adding the information into the case file.

“Yeah. I didn’t get any new ideas or anything listening through again,” Making a very childish whining sound, you relax against the couch with a deep and heavy sigh. “We really have nothing right now.”

“We’ll get something. We always do. There’s no such thing as the perfect murder, you know that.” Giving him a droll look, you snort loudly before rolling your eyes.

“No, there’s no such thing as a perfect murder. But there is such a thing as overworked police detectives who can’t find any clues and therefore end up closing the case because they can’t find anything to move it forward.” Jimin smirks in amusement before nodding, his face looking sallow in the blue light of his holoscreen.

“True. I’ve finished up this so I think it’s time we both put the work down and just...relaxed,” He turned his holoscreen off finally, letting his own head lay back on the couch as he closed his eyes. “Christ, this was meant to be our day off. And I’ve spent the whole day sitting on your damn couch filling in reports.”

“Sorry, you didn’t have to come here.” You say, standing up and stretching with a grunt. As you lean your head back, rolling it on your shoulders and enjoying the way your neck cracks satisfyingly, you don’t see the way Jimin scans along your body with a darker eye than usual.

“Yeah well, it was better than sitting in my own apartment. My neighbours are pissing me off and I’m tempted to ask someone in the department to make a house call on them. God, they won’t stop partying and fucking. Your place is much quieter.” He stretches out too, the familiar popping of his joints even louder than your own and you laugh loudly.

“That’s just because I’m not a cheapskate like you and paid for the soundproofing.” You muse, grinning at him as you walk past to the small fridge installed into one of the kitchen cupboards. A lack of space was something that you had to get used to in New Seoul, which had made it all the more disheartening to interview Namjoon’s friends and families in their beautiful, expensive apartments high above the clouds.

Your window looked out onto one of the many small streets of Hongdae, the university still present just down the road. As a result, you got the lovely view of a smorgasbord of shop signs, advertisements and messages in a headache inducing rainbow of neon colours. Needless to say, you’d invested in blackout blinds to keep the sight away.

“True. I’m reaping what I sowed. And for a little extra cash I can’t even spend anyway as I’m too busy working.” He mutters, making you chuckle as you hand him a new bottle of his favourite beer. Looking down at it with pursed lips, Jimin mutters a thanks for glancing over at your own bottle of alcoholic cider.

You weren’t a big beer drinker, but you did love drinking cider. Particularly flavoured cider, and the drink in your hand was strawberry and apple flavoured. A favourite of yours from a small microbrewery out in what remains of the countryside down near Gwangju.

Crashing back on the couch, you take a deep drink and hum in happiness as the delicious flavours settle over your tongue. This brand is more expensive than others because it uses natural flavourings. Which meant it was made from real apples and not fakes. You felt it was always worth the price.

“Can I try that?” Jimin asks suddenly, causing your brows to rise in surprise. He wasn’t really the kind to drink fruity drinks, though he wouldn’t say no if given one. Brow rising, you smirk before handing him the glass.

Only he doesn’t take it from your hand, instead, he leans forward until his lips wrap around the end of the brown glass bottle, his eyes focused firmly on yours. You feel a hot flush run through your body at the sight of those luscious, pink plump lips almost seductive as the fingers of his artificial hand, the skin soft but the strength behind them evident, gently press against your own, tilting the bottle up.

His throat swallows slowly, long gulp that cause the muscles to contract and expand in a way that has your breath stuttering. The sudden sexual tension between you two is almost physical and you’re half convinced that if you reached out then you could touch it. But then he pulls away from the bottle, wet tongue licking along his lips slowly as he contemplates the flavour.

“Hmm...tastes good.” Smirking, he leans back and takes a drink of his own beer. He doesn’t stop staring at you though, and you’re left holding the bottle at a funny angle as you stare at him dumbfoundedly.

Then your eyes narrow while your lips purse, contemplating him. Jimin was a bold man, and you knew that he went for whatever he wanted. He was well aware of your attraction towards him, and you were pretty sure he wouldn’t say no if you asked him for anything sexual.

The stress of everything that has been happening pushes you on before you can second guess your actions, and you decide right then and there that you’re going to have your partner tonight. Right here, on the couch. You were going to seduce him, and then fuck him until he was crying out your name.

Make good use of the soundproofing you’d invested in.

Keeping firm eye contact with him, you bring your bottle to your mouth, carefully taking a sip before letting your tongue catch the remnants you let trickle down the edge. Jimin’s eyes immediately follow the movement and you internally cheer, knowing right then and there that he was going to be receptive.

Carefully placing the bottle down on the low table in front of you, you reach for Jimin’s and do the same with his. There’s a brief pause before you shift quickly, swinging one leg over his until you’re sitting on his lap. Almost immediately his hands move to rest on your waist, the warmth from his left hand a burning heat on you.

“Mr Park, I have a proposal for you,” You state cheerily, giving him a smile as you run one finger down the tattoos on his face. He raises his dark brows in question, the corner of his lips turning up in amusement. “I find you sexually attractive and I’m pretty certain you find me equally as attractive. I propose...that we fuck and get out all that tension.”

“Hmm, bold assumption there. But I agree. Sounds like the perfect stress reliever.” His voice is almost whimsical and you shudder as he drags his fingertips up, beneath your top. Grinning as he pushes it higher, you lean forward until the tip of your nose is pressing against his.

“Good. And the department does say that partners should always strive to work on their cooperation.” You murmur, lightly pressing your lips to his in a ghost of a kiss. Just enough that you can still feel the sensation of his skin on yours but so light that you feel the desperation for more.

“That is true. And I feel this would go a long way to improving our morale and communication skills.” Jimin goes along with you, his teeth bright in the instant he flashes a grin at you before he tugs your shirt over your shirt, leaving you in just your bra and leggings. His eyes flick down to the breasts, the bra a simple and plain white that wasn’t anything fancy.

You’d think that you’d spent thousands on it though, with the way the iris of his natural eye expands rapidly and his artificial eye darkens to a smooth magenta. It was odd how his cyber-eye worked to mimic human reactions, particularly given it wasn’t even remotely human looking. But still, you enjoyed the visible signs of his arousal.

And that was to say nothing of the semi-hard erection you could feel pressing against your core, causing your inner muscles to quiver in anticipation as a wave of your own arousal likely dampened your underwear. You decide then and there that you’ve had enough of bantering with him, and instead wrap your arms tightly around his neck as you bring your lips together, the pressure hard enough to make your teeth clash momentarily.

Running your fingers through his hair, you marvel at how silky smooth the strands are. Even the ends, with their cybernetic pigment, feel completely natural. Right now, they’re a vibrant orange that almost reminds you of the old tigers that used to roam the planet.

His hands stroke along your bare skin, the sensation overwhelming to your touch starved body and you moan deeply into his mouth, grinding your hips forward in an effort to bring some relief to the desperate need in your body. It had been a long time since you’d been sexually active with anyone.

Like Jimin said, your job was simply too busy to allow for personal interactions. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d spent time with your best friends. And even they worked in the police department as well, one as a narcotics detective and the other as a crime scene analyst.

There just wasn't enough time in the day.

But Jimin and you had the same schedule. Which meant the possibilities were endless, and given his natural attractiveness that had served you well for more than one fantasy over the years, you knew that this would be the perfect way to relieve your stress while hopefully getting a good orgasm out of it all.

And maybe just some intimate time with another person and not just your hand.

Sighing into his mouth, you tighten your grip on his hair and tug lightly, resulting in an odd mix of a moan that ends in a growl. Jimin pulls away from your lips before beginning to trail his own down your jaw, the metal ball of his piercing oddly cold against the heat of his skin wherever it brushes against you.

His hands jerk suddenly and your bra falls down your arms, causing you to let go of him to throw it off. Shifting back slightly, you let him take in the sight of you half naked, enjoying the way he licks his mouth as if you are a meal he’s going to devour. Because you do want that.

Sure enough, he dips his head down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, the heat of his tongue against the hard bud almost painful as he laps at it teasingly. A glance up at you through hooded eyes has you whimpering, your hands tugging his hair once more and he grins before ever so gently grazing his teeth over the sensitive flesh. Almost immediately, goosebumps rise on your skin at the sensation while you shiver in place.

Jimin lets out a low laugh, the sound vibrating through his mouth as he sucks hard, his augmented hand playing with the neglected nipple with clever fingers that roll and pinch with just enough pressure. You can’t help the way you push your chest towards him, enjoying the way he plays with your body for a few minutes while his free hand gently squeezes at your ass in an almost rhythmic fashion, encouraging you to rock your hips against him in a way that has his erection rubbing against your clit delightfully.

“Princess, I’d really like it if you would suck my cock. It’s been a fantasy of mine for a while now.” Princess. That’s a new one. But you weirdly like it, a smile gracing your lips as you try to hold your laughter in and look down at Jimin. He’d worded it as a request, but his tone made it a command.

And the way your body shuddered in anticipation at the cool look in his eyes tells you that you like that. You’re not surprised. Of course Jimin would take a more dominant tone in the bedroom. The man’s never met someone he hasn’t wanted to challenge, and while in the workplace you would be more than willing to bite back at him, you were happy to give in here.

When working, you were partners. Equals. You respected him and he respected you. But here? Sexually? You trusted him with your life in situations that could result in your death, your trust with him sexually was far more easier to give.

So you stand, watching carefully as you bite your lip and slowly slide your leggings and underwear off in one go, the material clinging to the wetness from your pussy. You know Jimin sees the damp spot, they’re a pale blue so it’d be hard not to notice the sudden navy in the centre, but he says nothing.

Simply smirks at you as he takes you in, eyes roaming your body greedily as he chews on his own lip. Leaning forward, you let him cup your breasts reverently before you capture his lips with your own, the movement oddly sensual given how naked you are and the coolness against your pussy is even more enticing.

Playing with his tongue as he teases you, you pull away from him slowly, his lips outrageously swollen and glistening from the messy kiss. But you say nothing more, simply sinking to your knees before him and being thankful you’d had the sense of mind to have an exquisite fluffy rug put in.

The quick inhale Jimin makes as you reach forward and press your hand to the bulge in his pants has you smiling, letting you know that he’s probably just as excited and turned on for this as you are. Pressing your finger against the buckle, you watch as it immediately retracts and you’re free to reach what you really want.

Slipping your hand into his pants, you dip beneath his underwear and grasp the thick, warm shaft of his cock tightly. His head falls back on the couch, a soft sigh of relief as you squeeze him tightly, the coarse hairs at the base of him tickling your hand slightly. Maneuvering slightly, you finally get your first glimpse of him as you pull him from the depths of his pants and you squeeze your thighs tight.

Jimin isn’t long, but the girth of him is more than enough to make you know that he’s going to stretch you in all the right ways. The slight bend in his shaft has the tip of him reaching upwards, letting you see the bulbous head and the slit in the centre, the colour of him already darkening from his arousal.

Licking your lips, you experimentally stroke him in one, long movement that has him letting out a stuttering breath. Smirking, you lean forward and flick your tongue over the tip of him, tasting the clear precum that was beginning to leak from him in a dainty and playful kitten lick. A soft growl from him lets you know he wants more and you comply willingly, wrapping your lips around the tip of him in much the same manner he’d drunk from your bottle.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself sink down his cock, the thickness of him stretching your jaw a little wider than you would have liked but you try to take as much as you can. His hips jerk upwards at the sensation and he lets out a moan, causing you to press your tongue as flat as you can to the back of his cock. The thick vein beneath your touch twitches and you hum, letting him feel the extra sensation as the vibrations fill your mouth.

His reaction is instantaneous, another quick jolt of his hips while his cock convulses once more. Pulling upwards, you hollow out your cheeks to increase the amount of pressure he’s feeling while your hand moves to grasp the base of him once more, beginning to work in conjunction with your mouth as you repeat your movements over and over. The noises he makes increase even more when you reach into his underwear with your free hand and begin to gently play with his balls, figuring out what makes him tick and moan the most.

You’re not even sure how long you’re down there for, all you know is that Jimin seems to be enjoying every second of it from the way his hand on your head keeps pushing at you, his pleasure so much that he doesn’t quite realise what he’s doing. There’s no complaint from you though, not when you’re enjoying it just as much as he is. Your partner tastes far better than you’d expected and he feels so good in your mouth that your pussy is almost screaming in demand to feel him too.

Whether it’s because you’ve both never slept with each other before or just because Jimin’s not an overly talkative person during sex, he doesn’t say a whole lot. Which you’re half sad about, because you’re sure he’d be good at dirty talk, but you’re also relieved because you’re not normally a fan of said dirty talk.

Maybe not yet anyway.

Despite that though, the sounds he makes are so erotic that you can’t find it in yourself to care that he’s not vocalising his pleasure in words. His body is doing that for him, and you continue to lap, lick, suck and stroke at his cock as if it was your favourite thing in the world. But you were also starting to feel a little neglected, your pussy soaked with your excitement and aching from emptiness.

Pulling off him, you look up at Jimin as you take deep breaths to regulate your breathing once more while your hand continues to jerk him off. Looking up at him, you lick at your lips hungrily and almost whine at the dark look Jimin gives you.

“Please fuck me now.” You beg softly, the need between your legs so strong that you’re not even bothered about what you sound like. Jimin had already established earlier that he would be in command, but you knew him well enough to know that he liked his boundaries being pushed too. So your request is a plea, the words tinged with a whimper while you try your hardest to make your eyes look beguiling to him.

Hissing as you squeeze his cock, he bites on his tongue slightly as he bares his teeth, a furrow forming between his brow as he wrinkles his nose before he nods. His skin looks flushed, the pink enticing against the natural golden tan of his complexion and you grin in excitement.

Letting go of him, he stands and quickly pulls off his black shirt, revealing the jaw droppingly toned torso that had you feeling hot inside many a times at the station. You’d seen this much of him before, and the tattoos that crept down his real arm in yet more geometric circles and thick lines, some of them stretched down his chest and back, are even more enticing now that you can press your lips to them.

Which you do, obviously. Mouthing hot kisses of need against the black lines on his chest as he manages to shift around you, kicking off his pants and underwear to leave him naked before you. The tip of his cock presses against your abdomen, the rigid member hot against you and you gasp in delight, pushing up to bite gently at Jimin’s jawline.

A low growl leaves him before he has one arm around your waist, pressing you to him tightly until his cock is firmly wedged between both your stomachs while his other hand forces your neck up until his lips are against yours in a forceful kiss. You give in to him happily, the trust you’ve built with him for years letting you know you’re okay.

Moaning as he presses against the small of your back, making your hips grind against him while he does the same, you know that he’s using your body to jerk off. And it’s more than exciting, it’s infuriating because your poor clit is beginning to feel very ignored.

Between kisses, you manage to gasp out your request to him.

“Please, Jimin. Please.” The low rumble of his laugh lets you know he’s teasing you, playing with your desire for him and stringing you along on a dance of arousal. If you’d been in a normal situation, you would have snapped at him to hurry up. But you weren’t in a normal situation right now.

Still though, he’s not cruel. And so when he pulls you down to the couch, you let out a deep sigh of relief at the knowledge that cock was going to be firmly inside you within minutes. The knowledge that he was going to be bare, taking you raw and hopefully filling you with his thick cum made you clench, even more wetness forming at the prospect.

You both were under the police health care, which meant you were both inoculated against all known diseases and viruses. That included sexual ones, and you both had birth control implants. You knew, because you both get them at the same time. Which had been only two months ago.

So you were free to have the messiest sex possible with him. And the idea was more than a little enticing.

He doesn’t move on top of you though like you expect, nor does he pull you on top of him. Instead, he lays so his back rests against the couch, his torso lifted by one arm before he pulls you in front of him, letting you lay with your back to his chest. The knowledge he was going to take you from behind, which was one of your favourite positions and the quickest way to bring you pleasure and an orgasm, was even more exciting and you couldn’t stop the whimper that left you.

Jimin laughed softly, his augmented arm lifting your leg up before running his hand along your inner thigh. The skin there is so sensitive, so vulnerable and you shudder at his touch before he slides his hand further down, meeting the wetness there. A sigh from him has you trying to look at him and he catches your lips quickly, the kiss deep but fleeting.

“I’d love to feel you with my real hand but, this is my dominant hand. You’ll appreciate it more, I’m sure.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jawline before you feel his fingers slide through the slickness of your entrance. His augmented hand has always been cooler than his real arm, and you feel that coolness now against the incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves at the centre of your legs.

The flesh there is hot to the touch and swollen with need, the bud of your clit so prominent that Jimin finds it with minimal effort. His quiet laugh at the way your body jerks at the touch has you gripping his arm, trying to get him to add more pressure. But his arm is far stronger than you, and it doesn’t even move when you try.

All thought vanishes your head though when you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, the tip pushing through your folds with ease and coating itself in the wetness that has accumulated. You don’t even realise that you’re murmuring requests and needy pleas to him, desperate for that blunt head to spear you until Jimin murmurs that you’ll be okay.

And then he’s pushing his cock inside you, the thick intrusion penetrating you at an agonisingly slow pace. But you relish the stretch he causes in you, the almost relief your body experiences as he slides deeper into you before finally he’s bottoming out, balls pressing against your pussy while his hips push your ass. A deep groan leaves him when you tighten on him experimentally, a mirrored groan escaping your mouth as you let your head fall onto the cushion.

“Oh fuck, Jimin.” You whisper, throat tight and voice husky with pleasure. Pushing your head back into Jimin’s shoulder, you tilt it to try and see what his expression looks like right now. But you’re distracted immediately by the way he pulls out slowly, the movement causing his cock to drag against all the right nerves in your pussy and you let out a breathy moan.

“I’d like to say I’d take this slow, but I honestly just want to fuck you hard and fast.” Jimin whispers into your ear, his breath hot against you and a garbled response leaves you as he thrust into you at the same time, the movement harder this time. Body rocking forward, you can’t find it in yourself to complain at his words and instead push your hips against him, encouraging him more.

He takes your body movements as permission and hooks his arm around your thigh, pulling higher and stretching you open for him. The depth he’s hitting is so pleasurable, so good that you’re just left making incomprehensible noises as the lewd sound of his cock sliding in and out of your obscenely wet pussy takes over. The only other thing you can hear is your stuttered breathing, hints of moans lacing each one with more than a few cut off from how hard he slams into you.

Eyes closing, you whine and pant with desperation, wiggling your hips against him as the pleasure overwhelms your senses completely. The years waiting to have sex again were definitely worth it if this was your reward for all that celibacy.

And then you feel his fingertips against your clit once more, the cool digits feeling so lifelike against you. Moaning loudly, you’re not entirely sure if you’re moaning his name or something else but you reach down to his hand, guiding his fingers into the rhythm that pleases you most until he’s able to do it on his own.

The tight ball of feeling in your stomach grows more and more, the combination of Jimin’s fingers on your clit as he rubs in the quick, constant movement you’d shown him in combination with the quick thrusts of his hips overloading your pussy with pleasure. It sparks and pops in your veins, causing your body to twitch against him as your hips begin to gyrate, almost as if they’re not sure whether to encourage him on or push him away.

But the insistent press of his cock against all the spots inside of you that cause the needy noises to escape your throat without your knowledge and his clever fingers on your clit combine in what is possibly the quickest orgasm you’ve ever had in sex before. Muscles tightening, you let out ragged moans, your breath catching and almost choking you as you pant and mewl in his arms.

Throughout it all, Jimin keeps moving. His hips slap against your ass repeatedly in quick thrusts that have you whining in overstimulation, your convulsing inner muscles squeezing tight on his cock repeatedly and causing him to grunt at the added pressure and friction. It’s not long before you’re pushing his hand away, unwilling to accept the added stimulation that was now bordering on pain and instead you let out gasping breaths, the occasional moan slipping from you, as Jimin now focuses on his own high.

His speed increases inside you, thick cock moving in and out of your pussy almost like a damn machine and you’re a little shocked to release there’s even tears falling down your face from the sheer power of the orgasm he’d given you. You’re not upset or anything, it just seemed to be a natural reaction.

“Ah fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jimin grunts, one of the few things he’s said the whole time before his thrusts begin to lose their fluidity, the movements jerky before he finally orgasms. You’re almost surprised by the way you can actually feel his cock twitch inside you as he cums, filling you with ropes of white cum. It’s an erotic image that actually has you shivering with surprising arousal, despite how tired you feel throughout it all.

And then Jimin is still against you, his chest breathing just as hard as your own as he lets go of your leg. You’re so exhausted from it all, which is ridiculous considering he did all the work, that you let it hit the couch with a thud, causing Jimin to laugh. Sure enough, you soon see his face where he pushes himself up to look over at you, a bright grin painted on while his cheeks are flushed and he has a delightful sheen of sweat all over.

He looks hot, and beautiful.

“Tired?” Jimin asks, playfulness in his voice despite what you’d just done. A small ball of anxiety you’d had in your stomach that maybe he’d treat you differently after relaxed. Of course he wouldn’t treat you any differently. He was Jimin, and you were both adults capable of separating work from play.

Despite that, you realised that he’s still fully inside you. You don’t say anything though, finding it surprisingly nice to just cock warm him for a while. So you’ll let him stay like that for as long as he wants. Smirking up at him, you blink slowly.

“Well, it’s very tiring being this good. I mean, I made you cum in less than what? Three minutes?” You state, putting on a thinking face that has Jimin snorting and rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t contradict you, instead shrugging casually.

“You’re right. That was quick. Good, but quick. I’ll have to do better next time. Are you okay?” He asks, scanning down your body to check you over. Humming, you stretch as much as you can without causing him to slip out of you before nodding and grinning.

“Yep, I’m good. That was a fucking good orgasm Park, holy shit.” The aura of pride mixes with smugness on him and you can’t help but chuckle at the sight, causing you to roll your own eyes at him. “Don’t get too cocky.”

“I still have my cock in you, so I’ll be as cocky as I want,” He muses. “We should order food. I’m fucking hungry. Are you?”

When you nod, he finally slips from you and manages to climb over you awkwardly. You take in the sight of his toned body before focusing on his now semi-hard cock, slick with your own wetness and with a streak or two of his own cum. The feeling of said cum leaking from you is particularly nice, but you don’t say anything. In fact, you should probably go to the bathroom.

He’s halfway between getting dressed again, his underwear and pants on before he crouches in front of you. “Hey, this changes nothing between us, okay? We’re still partners. And friends. I’d be something more with you if it wasn’t for the fact we’re literally partners and I think we’d kill each other within two weeks. You okay with that?”

Pausing, you look him over and see he was serious. You would be something more with him if he wanted too, and you knew it wasn’t possible right now as well. The fact that Jimin was potentially open to it in the future made your stomach twist but you nodded in acknowledgement, giving him a small smile.

You two were partners; you spent twelve hours a day with each other on the job investigating murders and more. As much as you’d love to be able to claim him for your own, you knew a relationship would not stand that. Too much time together without enough to talk about would leave your free time resulting in resentment of each other. You’d seen it happen with partners before.

The two of you would get new partners at some point though, and you would jump on him then. For now though, you simply grin.

“What do they call people like us? It’s not friends with benefits, though we are friends. Partners with benefits? Colleagues with benefits?” You muse to yourself, standing and ignoring the cum that leaks from you even more. It’s probably a good idea, because Jimin certainly has noticed it as he puts in the order for your usual at the local takeaway.

“I believe, fuck buddies will suffice.” Grinning at you, he wiggles his brows as you grab your clothes and move off to the bathroom. Nodding in response, you muse that at least you’ll both be stress free when you work from now on. Or at least...less stressed than before.

“Fuck buddies it is. Make sure you get some of the honey butter fried chicken for me!”

The loud, familiar beep of a call makes you look down at your band, thankful that the hovercar has been set to automatic. Glancing over at Jimin where he sits in the passenger seat, you raise your brows at him and lift your wrist.

“It’s Jeon, guessing he has news for us.” You say, watching as Jimin’s lips twist at the sight of Jungkook’s name. The two of you had thankfully been completely normal since the frantic sex a few nights ago, which you were grateful for, and it was almost amusing how easily you both slipped into your work personas around each other.

“Hopefully. Or at least something that we can lead with.” The two of you were going to interview one of Namjoon’s friends that had been out of the country since Namjoon’s murder. A fact that both of you found strange, given Seokjin had explicitly said that Min Yoongi had been the one to tell them to visit the casino.

But you’d just had to wait for him to come back, and a week after the murder he finally had. You thought he’d probably come back for Namjoon’s funeral, which had been scheduled for the following week. The autopsy report had come back for him, though you haven’t received it personally. It was probably what Jungkook was calling about.

Usually the CSA’s would compile a full report of all the crime scene analysis along with the autopsy report so you didn’t have to wait around for the other. It was a pain when one took longer, but it usually ended up being easier to read so you were pretty content with it. Any extra tests that were required did come in the form of extra reports, and you were hoping that there was no need to wait for any of that.

Pressing the band, a small holoscreen popped up just above your wrist with Jungkook’s face prominent. He looked to be distracted, his lower lip pulled between his teeth as he hummed something while his brows were furrowed, concentrating on something you couldn’t see.

There was no mask on his face today and you noted the strong jawline he had along with the almost chiselled features. It was almost amusing how his big, bright eyes could make him go from looking like a certifiable badass to the sweetest guy ever. There was a reason he was hugely popular at the station.

Today though, he just looked all business and you knew he was in work mode. As expected really. Looking away from whatever had his attention, his eyes met yours through the small screen and he gave a small smile. Two black ball studs dotted his lower lip, shining slightly against the light of whatever screens he was looking at.

“Afternoon Detective,” He said as a greeting before nodding his head to Jimin when he saw his face too. “I’ve got the CSA and autopsy report for you. I’m sending it through now. Unfortunately I don’t have a lot more to give you regards to the crime scene. I’ve narrowed down the types of boots available but given how clean this scene was, it could be that they used a different sized shoe purposefully or even grafted a different sole onto their boot. It’s not much I’m afraid.”

Sighing deeply, you nod and give him a small smile. As expected, but actually hearing it made it all sound even harder. Glancing over at Jimin, you saw the tiredness on his own face as well. Having no evidence at the crime scene meant your jobs were going to be much harder.

“However, there was something interesting in the autopsy report. A quick overview for you, there was nothing of interest anywhere. Cause of death was a single laser shot to the forehead at close range, which we’d already figured out anyway. He had consumed large quantities of alcohol and there were traces of nemesis in his system but not enough to cause concern. Sounds like he had a fun night.” Jungkook smirked.

Nemesis was the new drug of choice in the city. Despite its name, it was pretty harmless thankfully and only resulted in a pleasant high. As Jungkook noted, nothing of worth there. But you were interested in whatever had caught his eye.

“Okay, sounds exactly like Seokjin told us. What’s the interesting thing?” Jimin asks, his thought process evidently following yours and you nod in response to his words. Biting your lip, you wondered if maybe this could be the breakthrough you need.

“Namjon had a few of the gene updates that are common with families with the money for it. The usual updates; updated immune system, increased brain capacity and all that. Nothing of real interest or help. However, he had exactly one cybernetic augmentation. His right eye. From what the pathologist noted, it’s exceptionally old, probably from in his first five years of life. It’s been sent over to the hackers for more investigation, they’ve been given a high priority notice so I would probably expect you to be able to have some more information by the time you get back.” He finishes his call promptly, letting you know that the reports have been copied into the case files and usual back ups for you before ending it.

Looking over at Jimin with risen brows, you see a similar look of surprise and confusion on his face too.

“I’m not being stupid here right? The guy who apparently has anti-aug views has his own augmentation? And an eye at that?” Jimin’s own augmented eye is bright in the hovercar, the sky outside perpetually gloomy and overcast from centuries of pollution. Shifting in his chair, he looks at you thoughtfully with his lips pursed.

“I mean...it is possible to have those views and also have an augmentation. But...it is pretty hypocritical.” Letting out a groan, you rub at your forehead as you slump in your seat. Licking your lips, you roll your head to look at him.

“Right, well. It’s probably a useless fact at this point. If it’s from that long ago then it likely has nothing of interest for us but we’ll swing by the hacker lab later,” The hacker lab was the slang term for the people who worked in the technology lab, those whose specialty was investigating any tech evidence that came in. “But for now, at least we can go in with what is hopefully surprising information.”

As you say this, the hovercar begins to settle into a space at the parking lot of the tower Min Yoongi lived in. Exiting, you both move towards the elevator and enter the number of the apartment you’d been given. There’s a brief pause and you get the feeling the elevator is asking permission of said apartment before the elevator begins to move.

“Are we actually expecting anything that could help break the case here?” Jimin asks and you know he’s been thinking the same as you. This murder was so clean, so perfect, that under any other circumstances, you’d have been tempted to just give in immediately. But you couldn’t, not this time in particular.

“No. I’m not. And we’re gonna be severely fucked if we don’t get something soon. You know damn well that they’re not gonna take this lightly that we have no information. Even though they probably know the hard spot we’ve put in.” Your partner snorts loudly at that as the elevator comes to a halt, the doors sliding open smoothly to reveal an elegant hallway.

It’s lit stylishly with subtle lighting in the ceiling while a luscious, thick black carpet coats the floors. You think the carpet is stupid, because what if someone came in with particularly muddy or wet shoes? Then it’d be fucked, but hey. Rich people.

There are dainty tables made of what looks to be real black wood positioned at intervals between the black metal doors and you note idly that there are only four doors on this entire floor. Which means the apartments beyond must be ridiculously large. The hallway alone is bigger than your entire apartment.

“Can you imagine being this rich?” You mutter, gesturing to the real flowers that sit in a clear glass vase, the stems a luscious green while an array of bright colour gives off a sweet fragrance. Above the vase is a framed painting of...well you don’t know what it is. Lines, apparently.

Jimin looks around and shrugs, amusement on his face as you both reach the correct apartment door and press the button to alert him to your presence. “No. That’d require me to look at this shit and think ‘ah, this is nice’ when in reality I’m thinking ‘someone actually paid for that painting?’”

That gets a laugh from you which you quickly cut off when Min Yoongi answers the door, his face pale with dark shadows under his eyes. He scans you both over quickly before welcoming you inside with a small smile, apologising to you for being so late in responding to your interview response.

“It’s fine Mr Min, we just have a few questions and then we’ll be gone.” He pauses before nodding, his shoulders slumping slightly and you glance over at Jimin questioningly. A slight shrug is all you receive before he carries on scanning the apartment with interest.

Yoongi leads you both to a black leather couch, the cushions artfully placed on it a mix of silver and cream. After an offer of a drink, which you both decline graciously, he sits down on a matching couch heavily.

Setting up the recording as usual, you look directly at Yoongi and smile reassuringly at him. “Could you please tell us what happened that night? Anything you can remember might be helpful to us.”

He pauses for a moment before nodding, taking a sip of the cup of coffee he’d already had. The scent is delicious and you wonder about maybe asking for a drink after all. It smells like Min Yoongi uses real coffee, which is more than enticing.

“Erm, I’d been working all day. I work at the headquarters of my father’s bank, Min Banking, and we’re in the middle of a takeover of a Hong Kong based bank. So I’d been at work from 6am until 9pm and wanted to relax. Seokjin said he and Namjoon were going out and wanted some fun, so we met up at a club. Had a few drinks there, talked about the usual crap. They wanted to keep going but my midnight, I was done. And I had to travel to Hong Kong the next morning, which is why I’ve been gone. So I told them about the casino that some of my other friends had been to.“ Yoongi looks down then, guilt etched into his face and he looks far more tired than you’d anticipated.

“I didn’t know that would be the last time I saw Namjoon,” There are tears in his eyes now, his voice croaking slightly. “I just...they always went out together, you know? Namjoon and Seokjin were like a pair and they were always fine. And then...and then this happens? I just, was it my fault for telling them to go there?”

Shaking your head, you give him a sweet smile. “No, don’t think that way. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen.”

Jimin nods along with you and you both give Yoongi time to compose himself once more. Wiping his eyes, he gives you a weak smile before shrugging.

“I’m four years older than them both. Our families are old friends, it’s how it always is. So they were always little brothers to me, you know? Looked up to me and I tried to look after them too. Namjoon had such a bright future ahead of him, you know? He was going to run for mayor and everything, his dad had been grooming him for it his whole life basically and he’d finally decided he wanted it.” Nodding, you let him get everything out. It wasn’t useful to interrupt in interviews too often and was better to let them get into a flow.

“It’s hard to...Namjoon was so nice. He’d never annoyed anyone. Who would want to kill him? And why?”

Pursing your lips, you take a deep breath as you offer a potential answer for him. “We’ve been told that apparently Namjoon had some, anti-augmentation views that were becoming a bit stronger in recent years? We understand it had something to do with his mother and the Dongdaemun Attack?”

Yoongi snorts, his eyes rolling and you’re almost taken aback by the contempt in his eyes for what you tell him. When he sees the obvious surprise in yours, and Jimin’s, eyes he flushes slightly before explaining.

“Namjoon had some anti-aug views yeah, but they weren’t nearly as intense as everyone thought. He wrote a paper on it for his postgrad and he’d talk about it but...you have to understand Namjoon. Who he was. He was...one of those philosophical types, you know? He’d theorise constantly, be coming up ideas and thoughts. It wasn’t that he actually hated augmentations, it was more like...he wondered where the limit was going to be? Where humanity would stop and machines would take over. But he certainly wasn’t running around screaming that augmentations should be stopped. He also didn’t like eating meat, if we’re talking about the things he wasn’t fond of.” Yoongi’s voice has turned gruff and you hesitate, pausing to glance over to Jimin.

You’d gotten the impression so far that Namjoon wasn’t as gungho about his beliefs as you were initially told, but you hadn’t been given quite this in depth of a look into his mind. If what Yoongi was saying was true, and you had to admit that everyone had been pretty adamant that Namjoon wasn’t some raging conspiracy theorist, then perhaps even this avenue was a bust.

“So...he wasn’t bothered about his own cybernetic eye?” Jimin stated bluntly, his own face a picture of disgruntlement that the ideas you’d had were now falling apart in front of you. Yoongi jerks slightly, his eyes widening in astonishment before confusion takes over. It’s only for a second before you see comprehension in his expression.

“Ah, yeah. I totally forgot about that. When he was a kid, like 4 or something, he got this virus in his eye from some weird bug. They couldn’t save the eye so they had to remove it. Given his parents and their wealth, they obviously went for a cybernetic replacement but they had it made so that there were no symptoms of it. It didn’t show up on scanners and it just showed whatever he saw with his natural eye, no writing or special enhancements. Solely a replacement eye.” Lips pursing, you want to shout out loud and throw your hands up given the wrench this was throwing into the works.

You’d finally had a fucking breakthrough, only to be told that it was probably nothing at all. Rubbing at your eyes, you let Jimin take over the interview for a few minutes.

“Why? Is that important?” Yoongi’s question is urgent and you wish you had something better to say to him. Some way to give him some hope, or at least closure in regards to all this. Instead, all you have is even more questions.

“We don’t know yet. We’ll have to find out. But the information you’ve provided us is very helpful, and we appreciate your time. Is there anything else you might remember?”

Walking through the police station, Jimin and you quietly discuss the interview with Yoongi as you head towards the hackers lab. It had been a bust really, and both of you knew it. The lead with the eye was looking like a dead end already, and now you’d been told that his anti-augmentation views weren’t even that bad. It was ridiculous how little evidence you had.

The doors to the hacker lab opens up and you grimace as the room inside is far darker than outside. And that’s to say nothing of the ridiculous array of gadgets, figurines and more than dot almost every free inch. The hackers were aptly nicknamed as they were usually recruited when they were caught hacking some aspect of the police network. It was almost a right of honour now.

One thing they all seemed to have in common was a love of crap, ridiculous colours and doing questionable things that often made you wonder how they were still on the police force. A slight pressure on the small back of your back indicates that Jimin is behind you and you let him move you forward through the desks, noting the large number of holoscreens that clutter each desk.

There’s even one with six screens, and you’re about to ask how on earth they get any work done but you’re past him before you can say anything. The desk Jimin leads you to is occupied by an eccentric guy you’ve come to know over the years. For some reason, it seems like he’s been assigned to your team or something. But he’s good at his job, so you’ll let the odd collection of creepy dolls on his desk go. And the stupid, oversized glasses on his face that reflect every damn bit of light in the room.

His desk has three screens open, a holo keyboard at his fingertips as they dart across it at impossible speeds. Eyes widening, you watch him for a few seconds in amusement. Kim Taehyung was only twenty-two years old, but he’d been working here for over four years now. After he’d got caught hacking into the cold case files.

Why he’d wanted them, you had no idea. And neither did anyone else, as he’d never bothered to tell anyone his reasoning. But he’d joined the force and been ridiculously productive since. You almost got the impression that he seemed to think he was living in a show or a film or something.

His hair today is glowing neon green, the tips blending into a yellow that’s so disgusting you actually scrunch your nose at him. He looks like the pee of a teenager after a night out in the most popular clubs in the city. And you know, because you’ve seen exactly what that looks like many times. Why people felt the need to ingest stuff that actually glows is beyond you.

His face is dotted with piercings; two studding his upper lip and two mirroring this on his lower, a piercing similar to Jimin’s in the centre of his lower lip and two nose piercings. His eyebrow has been pierced three times and there’s a cheek piercing too while his ears are probably making excellent impersonations of Swiss cheese.

Glancing up at you both when Jimin coughs loudly, Taehyung’s eyes are almost comically big beneath his glasses and he grins brightly at the sight of you both. It’s stupid how beautiful Kim Taehyung is and you’re not surprised that he’s also another hearthrob at the station. His smile is always laced with mischief though, and there’s nothing different today about it.

“Detectives! Come, come! Sit, sit!” He says eagerly, rolling his chair back and gesturing to the space next to him. This gets him a blank look from you both as there isn’t anything for you to sit on but you just shrug, crouching down while Jimin stands behind you.

“There’s no chair’s dickface.” Comes a feminine voice to your left and you look over to see Lee Siyeon, Taehyung’s partner in crime and the other hacker who often works on your cases. She’s basically the female equivalent of him and you’re about positive that they also have some kind of ‘fuck buddies’ thing going on, but you’ve never managed to get a confirmation out of them.

Her long hair is swept up into two, high pigtails on either side of her head with one side being neon pink and the other neon blue. Black lipstick coats her lips and her eyes are done with equally dark makeup, but you find that she pulls it off with the contrasting irises she has at the moment. Both her eyes were augmentations and she’d been one of those who chose to have the ability to change her eye colour on the fly.

Right now, the eye opposite the pink is blue and the one opposite the blue is pink. A multitude of piercings are present on her face as well, but she’s also got some chest piercings that you can see. She has on a tight dress that accentuates her breasts and lets you see the unique piercings in her skin while the bottom is puffy with layers of white, pink and blue and her long legs covered in fishnet tights, black leather boots with high soles making their way up her calves.

Taehyung pauses to look at the space before making a surprised expression before shrugging. “Oh yeah. Oh well, sorry. So we got the eye last night actually and I’ve been working on it for you.”

“Really? All this time? Why?” Jimin asks, his tone much nicer than the blunt words he asks. It’s always odd how well he gets on with Taehyung, given his naturally broody and sarcastic manner. Without even realising it, you end up leaning back against Jimin’s sturdy legs as you watch Taehyung’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Because there’s shit on it? Why else?” Of course, how silly of you both. Laughing, you lean forwards to rest your arms on his desk and take a look at the eye on his desk. It’s kinda creepy and you shiver, looking away from it. Taehyung had plugged it in to his unit and you found it weird how natural it looked.

“We got told by our interviewee that he got it after a virus when he was younger. Had to have the eye out, but given Kim Namjoon’s...feelings towards augmentation, we find it a bit hard to understand why no one else brought this up?” You query, looking at Taehyung with raised brows. He lets out an understanding noise before his fingers move over the keyboard once more.

“Well, that’s understandable. This is your basic eye, gives you absolutely nothing besides the bare minimum. It’s not even designed to give you a better resolution or colour or anything. Literally just a replacement, nothing interesting about that part of it. What is it interesting though, is that it has been designed to record for forty-eight hours intervals. After that time, the data is deleted and it starts again.” He taps once more and brings up a video screen, giving you a disorienting first person view of Kim Seokjin as he laughs, a table below covered in poker chips.

Standing up abruptly, you automatically grasp the arm of Jimin’s coat.

“Holy shit, are you telling me…” You let the question die off, your voice quieting as you look at Jimin and see the excitement reflected back at you. His grin starts to spread and you squeal, jerking his arm around as you realise this was hopefully the break you’d been looking for.

“Yep, we have the moment of his death.” Your intrepid little hacker smirks at you both, leaning back in his arms with his arms over his chest. Why he looks so smug, you don’t know because you’re pretty sure he didn’t actually do anything that you couldn’t have done, but whatever. You could kiss him right now.

“I created an algorithm that filtered out all the scenes of black that would have been caused by him blinking or sleeping, anything that would have had his eye closed. There’s no need for you to look at that, which leaves you with a hefty amount of footage still.” Siyeon interrupts, blowing a bubble of baby pink gum before it pops and she goes back to chewing.

Her own fingers are tapping the keyboard just as quickly as Taehyung’s and she doesn’t look over at you both, but you tell her thanks as well. It would help to make it quicker to view over the overall footage to see if there was anything noteworthy in the hours leading up to Namjoon’s death.

“Yes she did, my little sugar bumpkin,” He coos at her, making kissing motions and you look at Jimin in amusement of it all. “Anyway, what I spent all my time doing once the data was filtered was running facial scans on everyone it saw. There’s a bunch of towers, a few interesting people in the casino that should not be gambling...and this guy.”

The screen changes to show a dark image with an impossibly bright centre and you squint, leaning forward. Recognising the alley that you’d been in the other night, you purse your lips as you get your first actual look at the man who killed Kim Namjoon. It’s just at the moment he fired, a burst of bright purple-white laser fire lighting up his face.

Just as Seokjin had said, he wore a mask on his lower face that was studded with silver spikes and you note with interest that the laser is coming from the end of his finger. Humming, you lean your weight on the desk and idly recognise the feel of Jimin’s hand on your back as he takes a closer look too.

“Well, this makes it concurrent with our ideas of a contract kill. Who else has a laser gun embedded in their damn finger?” Jimin murmurs, his voice as his hand moves in a slow and reassuring manner. Making a noise, you move in even closer to look at the eyes.

“His eyes are neon green, probably augmentations. And it looks like he has a tattoo on that side of his face, black.” Trailing your finger over the image, you bite your lip before leaning back. All more points towards it being a hit.

“You’re right detective, and that’s why you get paid the big bucks. This dude is most definitely a pay and spray,” Taehyung uses the crude slang to indicate a contract killer. “What’s more interesting is that his face popped up earlier in Namjoon’s vision. Not close to him, more in the background and it’s only because he used a laser fire that we would’ve got the visual of his eyes so clearly, otherwise the programme wouldn’t have been able to match him.”

Both of your heads whip towards Taehyung, anticipation running through your body as you realised what he’d just said. Already you can feel your breath coming a little faster, wondering if this moment was truly it, the moment you’d crack it open. And so quickly!

“Turns out Mr Killer has a record, but he’s untouchable.” A tap of his finger brings up a mugshot and a profile of the man who had been responsible for ending Kim Namjoon’s life. The name glows brightly and you whisper it softly, reading through the information.

Name: Jung Hoseok.

Age: Unknown

DOB: Unknown

Height: 5’10

Weight: 69kg

Father: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Emergency Contact: Unknown

Crimes: Mugging, breaking and entering, grand theft auto, murder, manslaughter

Convictions: None

Notes: A member of the White Tiger Clan, suspected as the Clan’s hitman and cleaner. Exceptionally dangerous, do not approach.

“Oh my fucking god,” You murmur, your blood running cold as you read over the information once more. His eyes are cold, almost dead, in the mugshot and you find that impressive given they’re not even real. But it’s the information you’d read that makes it worse. “The fucking White Tiger Clan. We were right, he was a hit killing.”

“It has to be because of his dad. I know he’s been clashing with some of the underground clans and cartels for a while now, and they’re one of the biggest out there. There’s no wonder he’s never been convicted of anything. Officers probably look in the other direction because I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to try and bring him in. And even if you do, you’ve got the clan on your head.” Jimin moves backwards, tongue in his cheek while he crosses his arms over his chest.

You understand where he’s coming from and feel your own stomach sinking at the thought. This was exactly the break you’d needed, and it was the exact opposite of what you’d actually wanted the whole time. He was untouchable. Even to the mayor.

“Fuck Jimin, we got so close.” Hissing, you let your forehead fall onto his head as your frustration takes over, hands balling into fists by your sides. He doesn’t respond for a moment and you know he’s thinking things through as well, wondering how on earth you’re meant to navigate this bombshell.

Sure, you could tell the mayor that you’d found who killed his son but that there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d be able to bring that person to justice. But he wouldn’t like that, nor would he accept that. Even if he knows it’s impossible.

Jimin and you were in between a rock and a hard place, and neither of you knew what you were going to do now.

A week later, you’re sitting with Jimin in one of the diners near your apartment. It’s a tiny bit grotty, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s passed the food standards requirements but all you care about is that the food is good and the staff are...well they serve the food with minimal complaints.

Given how the case has stalled so spectacularly, you’re craving greasy carbs that will do absolutely nothing for your body except taste damn good. Which is why you have a cheeseburger that’s positively dripping grease, the cheese as fake as they come and the bread slightly soggy. The fries are crisp at least, and you dip one into the small cup of ketchup you’d been given.

It tasted full of artificial flavours and sugars, but you didn’t give a damn. Not when your mood was so low. The two of you had been given a reaming by your section chief, who had informed you that you had both better bring Jung Hoseok in for questioning or you’d lose your jobs.

“We’re absolutely fucked.” You murmur despondently, twirling a fry around with a pout as you slump into the cracked, faux red leather. This was one of those replica diners that simulated some era a few centuries ago. It was gaudy as fuck but whatever.

Jimin hummed in acknowledgement, his own dinner consisting of a shredded barbeque beef sandwich that was loaded with equally fake cheese, fried onions and tomatoes. A weird combination but whatever.

He was a lot healthier than you usually, but he probably needed the energy burst as well. You’d like to say that you’d both been hard at the case since the meeting with Taehyung, but in reality you’d both just ended up resolving and closing other cases that were open and engaging in...well a lot of stress fuelled sex.

Which was great, but there were a lot of underlying frustrations about your work coming out in it. This morning had been one such explosive session, given that you’d been scheduled to meet with the chief once you got into work. Both of you knew what that meant and the stress and anxiety had all blown up into some ridiculously good sex. That relaxed mood it had put you two into plummeted quickly though in the meeting.

“We may as well just submit our resignation now, because we can’t win this case! It’s impossible,” Scowling, you squish the fry in your fingers. “If we don’t bring Hoseok in, then we will probably end up losing our jobs and given who Kim Namjoon’s father is, we probably won’t get a job here in New Seoul after that. But if we bring him in then we’re probably just gonna get straight up murdered by the White Tiger Clan for daring to bring their pet killer in. Or he’ll kill us first!”

Tongue licking at his lips, Jimin inhales deeply before letting it out and taking another bite of his sandwich. He chews slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face and you wish that you could see into his mind. Your partner was always the more level headed out of the two of you, but right now you desperately wanted him to get angry too.

He must sense the scowl on your face as he reaches out and takes the ruined fry from your hand and places it down before holding your hand in his own. Looking at him through narrowed eyes, you take in how relaxed his face looks.

“Hey, come on. This isn’t our fault, you know that. I know that. We’ll figure it out somehow. And...well, even if we don’t then I guess at least we’ll be jobless together, eh?” His smile is an obvious attempt to make you laugh but your spirits are so long that it doesn’t work and instead, you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying suddenly.

You’d never failed so badly on a case before and it irritates you even more to know that it’s not even your fault. That everyone was just being outside circumstances.

Jimin does say anything, but the gentle squeeze of his hand around yours lets you know that he’s there for you. Lowering your head, you simply use your other hand to bring the burger to your mouth and take a big bite, chewing almost sullenly.

You don’t notice the way Jimin suddenly stiffens as he sees something out of the window.

“Hey, hey. Look out the window. The fucker…” He trails off and you look up, squinting out of the darkened windows. It’s dim outside as usual, the only lighting coming from the abundance of neon signs for the stores and other diners around here and a lot of the interior lighting is being reflected as well.

But then you see what he does and your eyes widen in shock, your own body tensing up as you recognise the person standing on the other side of the glass. His mask is the same as the one that he’d been wearing when he killed Namjoon and those green eyes look almost eerie as they look over you both.

Shuddering, you realise that you don’t like the fact that you can’t tell what’s going behind those eyes. Jung Hoseok tilts his head back, his black hair falling out of his eyes as he raises his eyebrows at you both, almost as if he was asking a question and expecting an answer.

And then he lifts up a hand, pointing at you in a finger gun style motion and your heart stops. You vaguely recognise Jimin saying something and moving but all you can focus on is the tip of his finger. The same finger that had produced the laser blast that killed Kim Namjoon.

When he ‘pulls the trigger’ though, nothing happens. Instead, you see the skin beneath his eyes puff up in what is obviously a smile beneath his mask before he waves goodbye at you both, almost cheerily. Taking a deep breath, that’s a little more shaky than you would like to admit, you watch as he turns around and walks away from the diner.

“Is he fucking kidding?” Jimin hisses and you realise he’s next to you, his knee up on the bench and his augmented arm over your chest. A part of you warms when you realise he’s protecting you, but you’re still being a little slow on the whole uptake right now frankly.

Before you can even say anything, Jimin is tapping his band to the payment screen on the table and throwing his coat on, his gaze focused firmly on the figure walking away. Suddenly, you realise what he’s going to do and you stand just as quickly, grabbing your own coat as fear runs through you.

“Jimin, Jimin no! We can’t!” You hiss at him, running after him as he marches out of the diner with what must be death on his mind. But you can’t stop him, despite trying to push him. Swallowing thickly, you glance over at Hoseok’s retreating form and try to get through to Jimin once more.

“Jimin!” You stand in front of him, refusing to move until he stops. Finally, he looks down at you and you shiver at the sight of the pure anger in his eyes. But you need to stop him, before he does something insanely stupid. “It’s a trap, don’t you see? Why else would he fucking turn up? And I mean, holy shit. He’s literally baiting us! He couldn’t be any more obvious!”

He takes a deep breath, eyes closing and you rest your hands on his arms, squeezing gently as you try to get through to him. “Please Jimin, please. Think. This is a set up, it’s so obvious. We’ve never even heard of the guy and then suddenly he’s outside our booth at a diner? He wants us to follow him!”

Jimin’s lips purse before he relaxes, his eyes still firmly on Hoseok’s rapidly disappearing form.

“I know, I know it’s a trap. But god dammit, he fucking killed Kim Namjoon, he’s killed who knows who else. And he just threatened you!” His voice goes low at that, the sheer anger blazing in him and you’d probably feel a lot differently about his protectiveness if you weren’t so terrified right now.

“It doesn’t matter. Jimin, we know damn well if we go after him then he’ll probably try to kill us. It’ll be a game to him. Or maybe he’s under orders to kill us.” You try to get through to him and Jimin finally looks down at you, tongue in his cheek as he thinks.

“I know. I know all that. But we have to try at least. If we follow him, we can try and get him before he leads us into whatever trap he’s set up. I have my stunner on me, he can’t combat that right? So we get close to him, hit him with it and see what he can tell us.” Eyes wide, you lean back from him with a frown.

“Are you fucking kidding? Are you trying to get him to torture us before he kills us? What the fuck?” But Jimin is walking past you, his pace fast as he strides to catch up to Hoseok. Unable to do anything else, and frankly unwilling to let your partner die alone despite his stupidity, you follow after him while pleading the whole time.

The scenery around you remains the same as before, generic shops dotting the floor and late night diners filled with hungry workers and teenagers with nothing else to do. Nightclubs are beginning to open up around the city and their own signs are a little more lewd, a bit more inviting.

“Where did he go?” Jimin suddenly asks out loud, pausing as he frowns and looks around the street. It’s one of those streets that you’d only go to if you had to, aka for your job, and you shuffle slightly closer to him at the sight of the unsavoury people around. Licking your lips, you look around as well and notice that Hoseok has vanished.

Uneasiness stirs in your stomach and you turn to ask Jimin to leave, that it wasn’t worth it. But then suddenly you’re both being grabbed from behind, your arms immobilized while the mouth of a gun is pressed to your neck. Managing to glance over to Jimin, you see that he’s in the same position and a sense of relief runs over you.

Which is stupid, but at least if you’re going to die then your idiot partner is going to die too.

“Detectives, I’m afraid we’re going to have to take your weapons.” The voice behind you is deep and you feel the familiar, economical movement of a pat down. Any weapons you have are confiscated and the same happens to Jimin, though at least he has his arm. “You are now in the territory of the White Tiger Clan. I recommend neither of you do anything stupid.”

Glaring at Jimin as you’re both manhandled into a sketchy club to your right, you manage to lean over to him to hiss angrily. “Oh sure, just follow him. We’ll get him before anything happens right? Well now we’re fucking in the custody of the god damn White Tiger Clan. If we never get seen from again, then it’s your fault.”

Jimin’s eyes roll, but you note the way he moves a little closer to you. Almost protectively. You’d be annoyed that he thought you were a damsel in distress but honestly, he was the better one for protecting. That cybernetic arm of his was not only stronger but was also made from a bulletproof metal compound. He had more chance of surviving this than you did.

The main room of the club looks like any other club you’ve seen; dark and sensual lighting, hologirl’s dancing on circular tables dotted throughout while people danced with wild abandon. There looked to be a good mix of towers and grafters in the room. Multicoloured hair glowed in the UV lights while clothing was a cacophony of loud patterns and vibrant colours.

It smelled of sweat and the artificial scent of endorphins that were no doubt being pumped through the ventilation system. There had been more than a few cases that you’d been on where the ‘endorphins’ that a club used had resulted in a death. Most people just got happy, maybe a little frisky. Some got violent.

Shuddering, you tried to limit how deeply you breathed. You sure could use Jungkook’s ventilator right now, but you had no doubt that the whole point of bringing you both here was so that whatever was in the air would make you a little more amenable. It rankled, and you tried to keep your face neutral when you were both led up a set of stairs at the back, discreetly hidden through subtle lighting.

At the top of the stairs was a balcony, the barrier blocking anyone from falling made of glass that seemed to have been coated in a non-reflective material. Pursing your lips, you gazed out over the club for a moment and took in the scene of pure debauchery before you. It looked even more hedonistic from here, the smoke from various machines around the room combining with the vape smoke people were using greedily, sharing from mouth to mouth.

The bar was lit up in a blaze of neon blue and purple, the colours surprisingly subtle given how loud they were. People were crowding the bar, three deep and you could see glowing drinks being handed out by the synth bartender, credits flowing between the customers and the bartender.

Finally though, you turned your gaze to the only table on the balcony. It was made of the same non-reflective glass as the barrier while the couches that surrounded it were a dark black, the leather reflecting the lights that flashed around the room.

Sitting with his legs crossed on one end of the couch was Jung Hoseok, now maskless as he looked entirely too relaxed for the little chase he’d led you both on. A smirk graced his lips, two rings dotted in his lower lip while studs dotted the same places on his upper lip, another in the centre of his skin below his lower lip. That was all combined with the piercing in his cheeks, the two metal balls looking prominent.

You’re struck by how similar his piercings are to Kim Taehyung’s and a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of your clever little hacker.

Those neon green eyes stare at you intently, his eyelids narrowing as he looks you up and down and you get the urge to sneer at the killer. The tattoo that paints itself over one half of his face, the lines thick and solid, look even more striking in the poor lighting, his natural skin looking sallow and pale.

Lifting a hand, he waves at you cheerily before winking in amusement. “You two are fun to play with. Thank you for following along, I enjoyed it.”

“You’re a sick fuck.” Jimin hissed, his eyes narrowing as he bared his teeth at Hoseok. Shifting over to him slightly, you pressed your hand against Jimin’s arm in a gentle warning. You desperately wanted to tell him to not piss off the contract killer because the last thing you needed was making an enemy of him.

“Maybe so. But you’re not going to do anything about it.” Hoseok grins, uncrossing his legs before sitting back casually. And then he looks over to the woman sitting at his right and raises one brow. “Right?”

“That’s right. You may be NSPD but in here, you’re nothing but a pain in my ass.” The woman says, her voice casual but you can practically hear the condescension in it. She’s wearing a red leather dress, the material tight and clingy to her body while matching thigh high stilettos cling to her legs. You’re almost jealous of how good she looks.

Sleek black hair has been completely pushed back from her face, the strands looking almost wet or gelled so that she perpetually looks as if she’s just risen from the ocean depths or something. A holographic red visor covers her eyes, whether it’s a stylistic choice or it actually offers her information, you don’t know but it just adds to the intimidating look she’s got going on.

Vibrant red lipstick coats her luscious lips while talon like claws look as if she’s dipped them into fresh blood. A tap against her temple has the visor vanishing and you’re left seeing her full face properly. It’s elegantly sculpted with high cheekbones and a statuesque nose, her brows carefully drawn on while her wide, sea blue eyes are lined in thick black with a strong ruby line running along the crease of her eyelid.

You knew who she was, and your stomach felt a little nauseous as you realise Hoseok had led you both directly to the top. She was Kim Taeyeon, the leader of the White Tiger Clan. One of the most powerful people in the entirety of New Seoul. She held the power of her Clan in her elegant hands and had been responsible for hundreds of deaths in the city, thousands of addicts and probably millions of family heartaches.

She was probably one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, and that made her all the more frightening. Because she didn’t look like the type of woman who ordered assassinations, who planned out hostile takeovers of rival clans and cartels, who arranged drug shipping routes through the city and to other areas of the country, even other countries. But she was, and she did it with ruthless efficiency.

“Kim Taeyeon...I didn’t expect to be meeting you today.” You say calmly, trying to hide the fact that you were more nervous than you’d ever been before right now. The reality of your situation was starting to sink in, and god you wished someone else had been the one to answer that homicide call.

She smirked in response, tilting her head as she scanned over the both of you before carefully gesturing to the couch next to her. Neither you nor Jimin went to move, and the sudden movement of what was obviously Taeyeon’s bodyguard caused you to startle.

The woman had been standing silently by the side of the couch and it was only as you looked at her now that you realised she was probably more machine than human. One half of her head had been shaved, the skin there tattooed while cybernetic implants burrowed their way into her skull. One eye was a solid white, not even an attempt to recreate a human looking eye while the other glowed a fiery orange.

A fitted black jacket adorned her torso, beneath it a carefully pressed white button up. You could see her hands were metal, the same kind that Jimin had and you realised that both her arms were probably augmentations. The black hair that remained was straight and reached her shoulder, half covering a pretty face.

As Jimin and you sat at the proferred seat, she moved back into place and you watched with dual fascination and disgust as a thick wire crept down from the ceiling. It moved sinuously and she jerked slightly as it latched onto what must be a socket at the back of her neck. Almost instantly, her white eye turned black and her expression vacant.

You weren’t someone who had any real aversion to augmentations or anything, viewing it as a person’s own choice. But part of you certainly agreed with the anti-auger’s when it came to people like this woman. There didn’t look to be much humanity left in her and it made you feel cold.

Turning back to Taeyeon, you saw her watching you carefully before she glanced at the bodyguard. Almost instantly you feel hot with embarrassment, having been caught out staring so blatantly.

“Her name is Dami. She’s currently plugged into the security system here, watching and hearing everything that’s going on. The ultimate protection, yes?” Her brow raises elegantly before she gestures to the glasses that have been produced by a silent waiter.

“No, thank you.” You say politely and cringe internally as her eyes harden.

“Drink. It’s just water. I swear.” Jimin takes one of the glasses and presses it to his lips, slowly drinking the clear liquid inside. Reaching for your own, you watch him for a moment before seeing his subtle nod and taking your own drink. Well, if you’ve just been poisoned then at least both of you are going to die together.

That’s almost romantic, in a morbid kind of way.

“So, my two lovely little police officers. I hear that you’ve been searching for my little killer butterfly for a few weeks now.” A hand movement made you both glance towards Hoseok, who grinned at his macabre nickname.

“Yes, well. We have a few questions that we’d like to ask your...little killer butterfly.” You’re almost impressed by how much venom Jimin managed to put in that sentence, only it fills you with an equal amount of worry too. Was he purposefully trying to get killed.

“You can ask your questions to me. I know why you’re here.” Taeyeon said curtly, her lips pursing in an expression that made you feel very nervous indeed. If she knew why you were here, then what exactly was going to be happening from now? This was entirely unknown territory for you.

“Why you?” At that blunt question, you do hit Jimin’s thigh. It makes him jolt slightly and he looks at you briefly, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. But you don’t care as you give him an equally annoyed expression, silently asking him if he’s trying to get you both killed.

“A testy one, aren’t you Detective Park Jimin? No worries, I can only imagine how unnerving it must be to be in the heart of all this criminal debauchery. I don’t care though. You will deal with me, because this is my club and my Clan and he is my killer. He kills who I tell him to. Therefore, I am the one whom you will ask questions to. Is that clear?” A tilt of her head finishes her question and you swallow hard, throat surprisingly dry despite the drink you’d just had.

“We understand.” You say quickly before Jimin can offend her again. Taking a moment to inhale and settle yourself, you lick your lips before carrying on. “We believe that Jung Hoseok is the person who killed our victim in a homicide that occurred-”

“Yes, yes,” Taeyeon waves her hand, her eyes rolling with exasperation. “He killed Kim Namjoon, that’s correct. He killed him because he was ordered to kill him. There were no hard feelings.”

Her easy admittance has your eyes widening, causing you to look at Jimin. His own expression is a little more neutral than your own, but you’ve known him long enough that you can also see the surprise etched deeply within him.

Had she just...openly admitted to having Kim Namjoon murdered? Part of you wasn’t really surprised given who she was, murder was a daily occurence for her. But this wasn’t just the murder of some random person, or someone else in the criminal underworld.

“I’m...I’m sorry. But...you do realise that you just admitted to being an active accomplice in a murder? And that he is the one who committed the crime? You do realise who was murdered right?” Your questions aren’t exactly subtle, but you can’t bring yourself to be polite given the situation and everything that was occuring.

Taeyeon’s eyes narrow, her face stilling in a beautiful visage that was as cold as it was stunning. “Yes, Detective. I’m not stupid. Kim Namjoon, the son of Kim Minhyuk. The mayor of New Seoul. Hoseok did his job efficiently, just as I expected.”

Frowning, you look at Jimin who finally looks as confused as you are. Pursing your lips, you poke at your inner cheek before sighing.

“You do realise that we are police detectives, correct? And that this is the case we’ve been investigating for weeks now. You’ve just admitted that you were both behind the murder. It’s our duty to take you in.” Your words are far bolder than you actually feel but your sworn oath to uphold the laws of New Seoul, no matter how much those laws get broken, propels you to say them.

“I realise that. But you have limited options here. As far as I can see it, your path will follow one of these routes. Firstly, you can attempt to arrest me. That will end up with your death at the hands of Dami and Hoseok. Secondly, you can attempt to kill me and you’ll probably get the same result. Although, I will be dead so there’s that.” She gives a small smirk, counting down on her fingers. “Let me tell you though, I will be mightily fucked off if I have to have your remains scraped from the floor. I can only imagine the cleaning bill in here.”

You’re almost amused by the fact that that is her only worry. But then you remember that it’d be your remains that she’d be peeling off the floor and suddenly it feels a little worse honestly.

“However, I have no interest in killing either of you tonight. That would just be more of a headache than I can stand right now and I’m already unhappy with the amount of bullshit this has caused. It’s been fun watching the towers freak out over this but I’m over it now. I’ll tell you who ordered the kill on Kim Namjoon. You will not have any further negotiation with us though. We will not testify but we will provide you with the secure contract that was signed. Understandably, it will not lead back to us. Even if everyone knows. But it should be enough for you to fulfil your duty.” She smiles, almost catlike as her eyes narrow in pure amusement.

Eyes widening slightly, you realise that this is all just a fun game to her. A game where lives are mere pawns, worth nothing more than the money they can offer.

“Why would you just tell us? After all this? You’re just going to offer them up like that?” Jimin asks, uncertainty lacing his voice with an equal look of suspicion on his face. It at least makes you feel better that he’s as confused by Taeyeon’s sudden helpfulness as you are.

“Because I’m bored of all this. It’s caused way too much shit already. It was just a contract at first, we didn’t care who it was. They paid upfront and never questioned it again. That was good enough for us. And then suddenly it was all over the news and the police were looking a little too closely because he was the mayor’s son. It’s well known the mayor doesn’t care for us. So, I want it over. Give them another scapegoat. We were just the weapon used. And now we want this over and done with. So, we will give you the name and everything you need to take the person who actually did it. It’ll be amusing to watch the towers freak out over themselves once more.” She pauses, giving you both an imperious gaze before giving you a smile. It wasn’t a very comforting smile.

“Is that acceptable?”

“I...we don’t have the authority to approve that. We’d need to go to-” Taeyeon interrupts with a quick gesture of her hand, her expression frozen. Taking Jimin’s arm, you have as close of a mental conversation as is possible with him. His blank expression tells you it’s not working, so you lean forward.

“I don’t think we’re getting out of here unless we say yes.” You murmur to him, lips brushing against his ear. For a moment, you’re taken back to the bedroom, when you’d whispered into his ear something far more delightful and sensual.

“I agree, as much as I wish I didn’t have to. We’ll just...have to argue it out with the chief.” Jimin whispers before sighing, sitting back and looking at Taeyeon with a resigned look.

“Fine. We accept your proposal. Who is the one who ordered the hit on Kim Namjoon?”

Standing in the familiar senior break room, you cross your arms as you poke your tongue into your cheek and look over the vending machine here. Brows rising, you note that it’s got real coffee in it and you automatically press for it, anticipation for the delicious drink already bubbling in your stomach.

The presence of Jimin behind you is familiar as he looks as well, inputting his own choice for a herbal green tea and you raise your brows at him in amused surprise. “That’s a rather healthy choice for you, no energy drink?”

“Not today. I’m going to go home once we’ve done this and sleep for the entire evening and night. It’s gonna be fucking great. I can’t wait.” Nodding, you smiled along with him as you both took your drinks over to the couch you’d decided on. The room was empty, as per usual, and you hummed in delight at the taste of the rich coffee.

“Man, they get spoiled in here. They don’t deserve this.” Muttering, you gesture towards the coffee and smirk when Jimin leans over to take a sip. He lets it stay in his mouth for a moment, savouring the taste before nodding in agreement.

Before you can both say anything else though, the door opens and you both watch as the person you’d asked to visit the station walks through. Smiling at him, you stand and offer out your hand for him to shake as he gives you a tired smile in response.

“Would you like a drink?” You offer, gesturing to the machine and he shakes in his head in response, lifting up a hand of gratitude at your offer. As expected from a tower, after all. “Please, sit. Thank you for coming into the station for us again.”

“Of course, it’s the least I could do.” His smile is sad and you look at the shadows under his eyes, frowning slightly. Tapping your band, you set up the interview process once more before gesturing for Jimin to begin.

“We’ve thankfully had a break in the case, which I’m sure you’re happy to hear.” The man straightens, his face going serious as he rests his elbows on his knees and watches you both closely. A subtle nod lets you know that he’s listening intently.

“Really? That’s great, what is it? Have you found who did it?” The questions are urgent and you lean back slightly, holding the cup of coffee in your hand and inhaling slowly, taking in the scent you love so much. It’s a shame that you can only get it in here. Maybe you should try sneaking in more often.

“We have actually. A contract killing, as we expected from the initial crime scene and interview. Kim Namjoon was killed by a Mr Jung Hoseok, under contract with the White Tiger Clan.” His eyes widen at that, alarm evident in them as the name filters through to his head. You’re not surprised, they are one of the most famous Clan’s in the city.

“The White Tiger Clan? Why would they want him dead?” Brow furrowing, you marvel for a moment at how well he disguises it. If you hadn’t seen the proof already, you would have never suspected a thing about it all.

“They didn’t want him dead at all. In fact, we had a talk with them. They told us everything we need to know. Turns out they don’t quite care for being used as pawns in a political game.” Your tone is much colder now, eyes narrowing and you can tell he can sense the change in you.

That caring look in his eyes, the tiredness and sorrow is quickly vanishing. You’re surprised by how much scarier he is than any of the White Tiger Clan.

“So, care to tell us why you ordered the hit on Kim Namjoon? We can’t quite figure that part of it out, but maybe we’re just not wired that way mentally. What did he do to upset you so much, Mr Kim?” Jimin asks, tapping his finger to his lip while his brows rise in a question.

Kim Seokjin sits there for a moment, his eyes flickering between you both before the facade drops immediately. Any sense of emotion vanishes from his eyes and you shiver internally, realising you’re staring at the true face of him. The fact of a man who paid to have his best friend murdered, and then made sure to be at the scene of the crime to make sure he couldn’t be implicated.

It turned your stomach.

His perfect, pouty lips twist into a sneer that’s quite unbecoming for him and he sits back on the couch, crossing his arms over his broad chest. There’s silence in the room for a few moments and he looks around before shrugging, almost petulantly.

“I thought the contract was meant to be private. Secret, whatever the fuck they call it. I paid enough for it.” He snaps, unhappiness evident in his body language and you marvel at the difference in him. Jimin licks his lips before shrugging himself, pressing his band before bringing up the contract that Seokjin had signed, complete with his own unique signature.

“They’re a criminal Clan, they can change the rules as they want. They’re not exactly famed for being honest, upstanding citizens,” Your partner points out, watching as Seokjin’s face goes stony at the sight of the contract. “They knew objectively that Kim Namjoon was the mayor’s son, but they didn’t realise the heat it was going to put on them. Or the way the city was mourning. So they wanted out, and they offered up the person who ordered it all.”

That gets a scoff from your unhappy culprit, but he doesn’t argue back. He’s smart, he’s being educated at some of the best places in the world and has the benefit of gene improvements to further increase his intelligence. He can tell a losing battle when he sees one, and evidently he realises this is it.

“Fine, yeah. I did it. I ordered the hit on Namjoon. Organised it so that I’d give them the signal that they could follow to find us so that I’d be there when the hit went down. Hard to be accused of being the murderer if I’m right there, correct?” He smirks and your eyes narrow slightly, dislike seeping into every bone in your body.

“But why? Why do it? He was your best friend. He was like a brother to you according to everything we’ve heard?” The questions you ask are deep and imploring, giving away the confusion you feel towards Seokjin’s callous nature. His cold gaze turns to you, and you realise that you wouldn’t want to be on his friend list.

“He was my best friend. But he was also in my way. His dad was grooming him to be the mayor, and he’d have won. Namjoon would’ve been a fucking useless mayor. He was more interested in waxing poetic about stupid philosophical bullshit gave a fuck about or coming up with ways to improve the environment. The man was obsessed with trees and all that shit. Putting him in charge of one of the most important cities in the world was a fucking joke. I wanted the mayorship, and I knew that if Namjoon was gone then I could run in his place. In his ‘memory’,” He makes air quotation marks with his fingers then. “And people would vote for me. The poor man who watched his best friend get murdered in front of him. His dad would have supported me and I’d have got it. I’d have made a great mayor.”

He sounds almost annoyed that his plan had been foiled and you almost want to laugh at how cartoonish it all seems. His big, grand plan being upturned by the very people he’d paid thousands and thousands of credits to in order to take out his competition. It was irony at its best.

And you’re both stunned to realise his reasons were so...banal. Frowning, you flick your eyes to Jimin to see the same look of both confusion and condescension on his own face.

“If you wanted it that badly, why didn’t you just ask? From everything we’ve been told about him...it sounds like Namjoon would’ve given up and supported you. He didn’t exactly sound like leadership material, and I think he might have put his full weight behind you.” That gets you another eye roll from Seokjin, along with the scoff that only towers can truly pull off.

“Please. Namjoon would do anything his father told him to do. He idolised the idiot. Even though half the city hated him. I loved Namjoon, but I wanted this more. And it would’ve all succeeded if it had gone to plan. I had it all set up. You couldn’t possibly go after the White Tiger Clan because of who they were, but you couldn’t not as well. The best option was that you got killed, the lesser option was that you just get fired. Either way, the case goes cold. But no, the fucking criminals had to have a heart.” He snorts, disgruntlement written all over him.

Lips pursing, you narrow your eyes at the sorry excuse for a man. You’ve had enough of this and he’d admitted to it, so you didn’t need to interview him anymore. At least, not today. The prosecutor could have the fun of dealing with waste of air.

Standing, you try your hardest not to glare at him as you move around to his side. “Kim Seokjin, please stand. You are under the arrest for conspiracy to commit murder and the murder of Kim Namjoon. You have the right to…” You go through the rights as usual, forcing him to stand upright as you snap the laser cuffs to his wrist. A slight hiss at the discomfort comes from him but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Leading him to the door, you present him to the waiting officer and narrow your eyes. “I hope you get hit with every conviction they can possibly hit you with. You used your friendship, the trust Namjoon had in you to get him killed. For something stupid and trivial. He deserved more than that. He deserved more than you.”

Seokjin doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes as he’s led away to the jail that’s located in the basement of the building. You’ll see him again when he’s a trial, but for now, you’d be happy if you never saw his face again.

Closing the door behind you, you lean against it momentarily before letting out a deep breath. Jimin stands before you, far closer than a partner should officially stand but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. Giving him a weak smile, you raised your fist in mock excitement.

“Yay. We did it! Without dying or getting fired.” He snorts in amusement, augmented hand lifting up to trail along your cheek slowly. You know that he can tell you’re disturbed by what you’d just heard and you let yourself lean into his touch, needing the human contact with someone who cares.

“You okay?” Sighing, you flop your head back before shaking it. Neither of you saying anything for a moment before exiting the room and heading towards your own desks, one floor higher. Pursing your lips as you go, you stare down at the floor before letting out a noise of disgust.

“You know, I don’t get the mentality behind it. Behind any of them! I mean, Taeyeon I actually kind of understand. She’s a criminal, she runs a criminal organisation. Being cruel and hard is part of her thing. If you’re friends with her, you know full well that there’s every chance she’ll kill you in the future for a job opportunity. She’s open about herself. But him? He fucking cried at the interview with us. He cried at the funeral, consoled Namjoon’s father in his arms and gave a fucking speech about how much he cared for Namjoon. When he was the one who paid to get him killed. I just...I don’t know.” You trail off, feeling confused and more than a little angry at humanity as a whole.

Jimin pauses, grasping your arm lightly and simply pulling you into a hug. The hallway is empty and you let him do so, relaxing into his embrace as your eyes close and you try to push the frustration away.

“Hey, don’t let it get to you okay? We see all sorts in this job and this is just one aspect of it. Don’t let him get to you. We did it. We got it done and hopefully, we’ll never have to see him again except at the trial. He’s gonna go where he belongs, and as a tower he probably thinks he’ll get off light. But he’s got another thing coming, especially when Namjoon’s father finds out.” That makes you laugh lightly, knowing that the tower community will come down on Seokjin like a hammer.

It was probably why he gave up so easily. Because he knew that he couldn’t get out of it. But still.

Pulling away from Jimin, you rub at your temple tiredly before smiling in thanks at him. “True. Maybe now we can both go have that well deserved sleep.”

He goes to say something but the beeping of your bands interrupts you, the message showing that you’d both been called to another homicide in the city. Letting out a deep groan, your shoulders slump as Jimin laughs.

“Maybe later. For now though, let’s go do our jobs. And hope this one has nothing to do with the Clan.” Smiling, you let him pull you along the hallway back to the elevator. In a city like New Seoul, a detective’s work is never really done and you’re just thankful that you’d managed to solve this one.

Glancing over at Jimin as he presses the button for the garage, you bite your lip before exhaling deeply. At least this time, you’ve gained something new out of the mess this case had been. Not quite what you were hoping for, but more than you had.

2K notes · View notes

harringrovetrashrat · 4 years

Note

Intercrurral prompt: Billy’s been harassing Steve all year, and it’s taking everything Steve has not to think bisexual thoughts about the guy he HATES. But one night, wrong place and wrong time, where they run into each other in the woods while Steve is on demodog patrol and Billy is escaping a bad run-in with Neil. Things boil over - the biggest imagery I have is Billy harshly whispering in Steve’s ear “Tell me you want this. TELL me you want ME.”

Okay, okay, okay

Here we GO. Alright. It took me a moment to find just the right way to do this, but I finally got it.

And it somehow ended up over 3k, whoooops. Let’s hope the read more actually works this time lol

TW for one use of the f-slur and misogynist language from Billy.

Steve ran a hand over his face as he stomped through the trees. The cold February air bit at his skin, made his nose run. Steve sniffed for what felt like the millionth time, still unable to stop the jittering in his bones. He couldn’t go home. Things felt too still, too quiet tonight. Something was going to happen. Steve could feel it.

He twirled the bat again, stretching out his fingers. The trees were dark against the snow, the cloudless night allowing the moon to shine in through breaks in the trees. Steve bit his lip, thinking about the day. It sent a spike of warmth to his gut and he frowned, annoyed with himself.

It wasn’t much different than normal. He spent the day tailing after Nancy and Jonathan, ignoring Tommy when he passed him in the hall, and trying to keep his dick to behave whenever Billy pressed up against him. Or pushed him. Or teased him. Or fucking looked at him, jesus. Steve had a problem and he really didn’t want to have it. He’s looked at guys before, done stuff before, but of all fucking people, his dick had to be interested in Billy fucking Hargrove.

He’d prefer his dick be interested in Jonathan.

There was a snap from a few meters ahead in the trees and Steve froze, all thoughts exiting his brain. His blood pumped through his veins and his pulse skyrocketed as he adjusted his grip on the bat. He quietly made his way forward, looking through the brush for anything weird. Anything slimy. There were some dark spots on the ground that Steve followed, panic clawing its way into his chest.

“Fuck!” He heard someone hiss. The sound came from in front of him and Steve relaxed minutely. It wasn’t demodogs.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t still a threat.

Steve did his best to make sure his shoes didn’t crunch too much in the snow as he approached a clearing. Someone was sitting on a log, hunched over on themselves, but they looked human enough. There wasn’t any weird smell, nothing too obviously weird, so Steve lowered the bat.

“Hello?” The person on the log jumped, standing and whirling around, fists up and ready. Bruised as well. Which was why Steve wasn’t surprised to find himself looking at Billy Hargrove.

A messed up Billy Hargrove.

He had a black eye and a bloody nose, with what looked like a small cut at his hairline. Steve kind of wished he hadn’t said anything. Billy relaxed minutely, face scrunching into a sneer.

“Harrington? What the fuck are you doing out here? Mommy and Daddy playing house?” Steve ignored the sting, flaring his nostrils as he flexed his hand around the bat. Billy’s eyes darted down before widening. “What the fuck?” His voice lost it’s teasing edge, verging into actually scared.

“Oh,” Steve said, not wanting to drop the bat in case he needed it. For whatever reason. “Just-- On a walk.”

“On a walk?” Billy droned, unimpressed. “Really? Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?” Steve bristled and whatever was in the air that night pressed him forward, made him confrontational.

“Maybe,” he replied. Billy tensed up, nostrils flaring as he grit his teeth. “Smart people don’t come out here at night.” Billy barked out a mean laugh.

“S’Why you’re out here then, huh?” Steve stopped a few feet away, slinging the bat over his shoulder. Now that he was closer, he could see that Billy’s cut was still bleeding. Could see that his wounds were fresh. That he was shaking.

“Seriously,” Steve said. “The woods around here aren’t safe.”

“Safer than other places,” Billy grumbled angrily. He looked up at Steve, eyes sharp. “If they’re so unsafe, why are you out here for a walk?” Steve’s mind went blank as he grasped for a reason.

“I-- Well, I mean--”

“You out here meeting some fag lover?” Billy said, smile sharp and mean. Steve clenched his fist, cheeks going ruddy. Billy tilted his head, pushing his cheek out with his tongue. Steve couldn’t help the way his eyes were drawn there.

“No,” he replied, stony. “Honestly just out for a walk.”

“Really? You and Creep Byers don’t meet up when Wheeler’s being too much of a bitch?” Steve gripped the bat tightly, scowling.

“Don’t call her that,” he snapped. Billy snorted, hiding a grimace, and rolled his eyes.

“She left you, man,” he said. “And you follow her and her new boyfriend around like a fucking lost dog.” Steve felt his cheeks heating up again, felt a blush creeping down his neck.

“Fuck you,” he said. “It’s called having friends, ever heard of it?” Billy sneered, getting up into Steve’s space. It made it a little hard to think, having him this close. Close enough that Steve could see where Billy would freckle in the sun, how blue his eyes were, could fucking smell him. He pushed the thoughts down, ignoring the heat in belly, just from having Billy close. Stupid dick.

“You think you’re so above everyone, everything, don’t you?” Steve rolled his eyes, letting the bat fall to his side. Billy wasn’t a threat, not really. Not worthy of the bat at least.

“What’s your issue, man?” Steve asked. Billy shoved him a little, making Steve take a step back.

“You’re my issue, Harrington,” he snapped. “And I told you to fucking plant your feet.”

“What the fuck did I ever--”

“Your fucking existence fucking pisses me off!” Billy shoved him again, harder this time, and Steve let out a grunt, dropping the bat. “You’ve got a fucking family that gives a shit, you’ve got fucking money, you’ve got fucking everything, and you--” Billy punctuated each reason with a shove, pushing until Steve was back up against a tree. When he cut himself off, something flashed over his face. Worry, fear, Steve wasn’t sure, but it was gone as soon as it was there. “You, Harrington, just piss me off.”

“You don’t know shit about me, Hargrove,” Steve snapped, trying to push him off. Billy pushed back, pinning him against the tree. Steve let out a grunt, freezing up as Billy’s pressed up closer, getting into Steve’s face. This was… dangerous. Steve was already chubbing up in his pants and he swallowed thickly, giving some more frantic shoves to Billy’s shoulders. “Fucking get off,” he said, voice high and pitchy. Billy sneered, shoving Steve to the ground, standing above him.

“You’re such a fucking pussy,” he sneered.

“At least I’m not some fucking violent freak,” Steve said, sharp and cutting and cruel. It’s what he wanted to be, in that moment. Billy did that to him. Brought out the King Steve who was mean, alone, and hurt. And the words worked. Billy snarled, jerking Steve up off the ground. Steve grabbed at Billy’s hands, stumbling.

“Fuck you,” Billy hissed. He gave Steve a shake, shoving him into another tree, slamming a hand next to his face. Steve’s chest heaved with anxiety and, unfortunately, arousal. He kind of had a thing for being manhandled. At least, being manhandled by Billy. The blonde pressed close, hurt shining in his eyes behind the fury. It threw Steve for a bit of a loop. “Fuck. You.” Billy repeated, voice wobbling. He pushed at Steve, pressing him up against the tree, before pausing. His eyes widened and Steve flushed. It was bound to happen, but Steve had held out some childish hope that Billy wouldn’t notice he’d been sporting a boner for a little while. “What--”

“You’ve made your point--” Steve tried, tense as he tried to sink into the tree.

“Are you hard?” Billy asked. Steve swallowed and closed his eyes, wishing the world could swallow him up. “Seriously?”

“I’m not talking with you about this,” Steve squeaked, trying to move away. Billy pinned him even more against the tree, sliding a leg between Steve’s thighs. He let out an involuntary whimper.

“You are,” Billy said, almost with wonder. Steve opened his eyes, meeting Billy’s blue ones. They were calculating, stripping him down, and it made Steve shiver. Billy’s tongue flicked over his bottom lip and his mouth curled up at the side. “Is it from the lack of pussy? Not enough girls begging to wet your dick?”

“Why are you so gross,” Steve breathed, closing his eyes again. “It’s not-- Just drop it--”

“Oh, so you only get like this,” Billy trailed a finger over Steve’s clothed dick, making him let out a choked cry, “For me?” Steve’s eyes snapped open and Billy grinned. There was something hungry in his eyes that made something hot curl through Steve, made him breath a little harder. But, well, this was Billy. He was probably fucking with him.

“Fuck off,” Steve breathed out, finding it hard to control his voice. He tried to push at Billy’s shoulders, tried to avoid those piercing eyes, but Billy caught his face in one hand, making Steve look at him. He slowly pushed his thumb into Steve’s mouth, pulling it open. The salty taste of his skin on Steve’s tongue made him breathe harder, chest heaving, pupils dilating.

God he was gonna get the shit beat outta him for this.

“I thought I was,” Billy began, trailing off. He pulled his lower lip into his mouth, tongue peeking out as he looked in Steve’s eyes, at his mouth, still open and panting. Gripped Steve through his pants, making his legs tremble. He was grateful for the tree behind him, that was for sure, otherwise he might have stumbled from his legs turning into jelly. Steve’s chest heaved, nervous and aroused, and Billy exhaled heavily through his nose.

“Thaw yoo were wha?” Steve asked, breathy and mangled from Billy still holding his mouth open, thumb pressed against Steve’s tongue.

“The way you look at me,” Billy said, eyes heated now, hungry, almost rabid with want. “Thought I was imagining it. But this,” he rubbed over Steve’s erection again, making him tremble, “Suggests that maybe I wasn’t.” Steve stared at Billy, dick throbbing. Billy licked over his bottom lip, almost unconsciously. His eyes flicked down to Steve’s bulge, a weird groan escaping him. It made Steve’s dick twitch in his jean almost painfully. Billy’s eyes widened and his eyes snapped back up to Steve’s.

“‘illy,” Steve tried, still unable to speak clearly with that thick fucking thumb on his tongue.

“God,” Billy groaned, shaking again, but with restraint. Like he was trying not to touch Steve more than he was already. “You’re so fucking-- You want this, don’t you?” Steve tried to shake his head, to deny the fucking obvious truth. “You want my dick in your mouth? Stretching those pretty pink lips?” And god, Steve did. He’d never had a dick in his mouth but god, did he want. He nodded, weakly. Billy tsked, pulling Steve’s mouth open more, until it almost hurt. His dick shouldn’t have liked it as much as it did but, well. “No no, Harrington,” Billy crooned. “Use your words.” He leaned in, lips brushing against Steve’s ear as their bodies pressed together. Steve couldn’t feel the cold, couldn’t feel anything but the heat of Billy’s body pressed against him. Of his erection pressing against Steve’s thigh. Fuck. “Tell me you want this,” he hissed, breath puffing against Steve’s ear, sending goosebumps across his body. He gave a full body shiver, could practically feel Billy’s grin against his lobe, a wet tongue slowly following the shell. Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe and he never wanted it to stop. “Tell me you want me.”

“‘uck , ‘illy,” Steve wheezed, arching his back so their hips ground together, eliciting a moan from himself and a hiss from Billy. “Ye, ye, p’ease.” Billy’s hand fell out of his mouth, one hand gripping Steve’s hip as the other made quick work of his belt and zipper. There was a damp spot on the outside of his jeans, the inside of his underwear sticky from where he had been steadily leaking, and Billy’s sharp inhale made Steve groan. Billy looked at him, eyes hazy with lust as he licked his palm, maintaining eye contact as his gripped Steve’s dick, freed from the confines of his clothes. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed and his mouth opened in a silent gasp as he tilted his head back, thunking against the tree. “Fuck,” he whined, hands gripping Billy’s biceps.

“I fucking knew it,” Billy hissed, leaning to press open mouthed kisses to Steve’s neck. The heat of Billy mixed with the cold, harsh air, drove Steve fucking mad. His head was foggy, filled to the brim with Billy. “Every time I shoved you, fucking every time I looked at you, I could see it.” Steve gasped as Billy latched onto his neck, biting and sucking. It was so different than anything Steve had experienced, even with the guys he’d fooled around with. Billy was rough, yet somehow still gentle, still attentive. His hand was slow, leisurely stroking Steve and swiping the head with his thumb. Steve wasn’t sure he’d still be upright if it wasn’t for Billy holding him up against the tree.

“See what?” He gasped.

“That you wanted me,” Billy replied, breath hot against Steve’s neck. “Wanted me to shove you, touch you.” Steve was dripping, shaking as Billy teased him. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this to you?” Billy whispered against Steve’s skin. Steve shook his head, unable to make his voice work. “Since that fucking party. Wanted to fucking claim you.” Steve found that he really, really wanted that too.

“Then do it,” he rasped, one shaky hand coming up to tangle in the hair at the nape of Billy’s neck. Billy’s hand faltered before pulling away. Steve whined, head tilting back down to look. Billy looked almost feral, eyes wild and face flushed. He made quick work of his jeans, pulling out his cock, angry and red and hard. Steve’s mouth fucking watered. Billy held his hand up, the one slick with Steve’s precum, and ordered,

“Lick.” Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He ran his tongue over Billy’s hand, getting it wet and spit slick. Billy watched, breathing hard through his nose, before he pulled his hand away, using the other to turn Steve around. “Pants at your knees, pretty boy.” His voice was low, husky, and Steve would do whatever he said. He could feel it, the need to obey. He’d never wanted to just let someone have their way with him, use him, but he found himself imagining Billy, relaxed as he ordered Steve to please him. He shuddered at the thought. Steve shimmied his jeans and underwear down, leaning against the tree and looking over his shoulder. Billy was stroking himself slowly, letting drool spill down his tongue and onto his dick until is was wet, dripping with saliva. Steve groaned.

“I’m not-- I’ve never--”

“Don’t you worry,” Billy said, hands gripping Steve’s cheeks as he squatted, pulling them apart. “When I fuck you, it’s gonna be thorough. Gonna open you on my fingers until you beg for me to stuff you with my cock.” And then he licked a hot, wet stripe from Steve’s perineum all the way up to his hole, circling the rim.

“Oh holy shit,” Steve cried, hips jerking back. He felt Billy’s chuckle against his skin. He lost himself in the sensation of Billy’s tongue, his mouth, licking and sucking at Steve’s taint and thighs until they were slick and wet. The sound he made, primal and needy, when Billy stood, almost made him embarrassed. He was too horny though.

“Clench those thighs for me, King,” Billy said, pressing a kiss to one of Steve’s back dimples. Steve shuddered, but did as he was told. When he felt Billy’s dick slide against the crease of his legs, he gasped, fingers clenching against the bark of the tree. The head of Billy’s cock slowly pushed in, gliding through the spit, now warmed by Steve’s skin. It was veiny, thick, and velvety soft against the meat of Steve’s thighs. When the tip brushed against the back of his balls, Steve whimpered, biting his lip. Billy’s hand was tight, bruising against his hip. The other came and pulled Steve’s hair, tilting his head back so he couldn’t hide any noises.

“Please, please, please,” Steve rambled, mind blanking out except for Billy. The feel of him between his thighs, the smell of his cologne, fuck, even the rough denim of his jeans against the back of his thighs. He didn’t even know what he was begging for. Billy let out a long, rumbling groan.

“Jesus fuck,” Billy said, voice sounding as wrecked as Steve felt. His hips snapped forward, slapping against Steve’s thighs and ass, and Steve gasped, fingers painfully gripping at the tree bark. He hadn’t expected it, but the glide of Billy’s dick against his thighs was incredible. The way the head tickled the back of his balls, the way he could feel Billy’s dick leaking precum, sliding it around as he made Steve’s thighs slicker and slicker. Steve clamped them as tightly as he could, getting an aborted moan for his efforts. He grinned as Billy moved faster, hips slamming against Steve, forcing high pitched moans out every time. “Look at you,” Billy rumbled. “So fuckin’ pretty like this, Harrington. Bent over like the needy little bitch you are.” Steve should have bristled at the words, should have pushed Billy away, but something inside him went white hot in pleasure. Made his cock drip.

Like most things Steve was discovering about himself, it came down to Billy. If anyone else tried it, he’d hate it. But, fuck. Billy made it sound like the best thing in the world.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed out. “Fuck yeah I am.” Billy let out a sound that made heat burst in Steve’s groin, brought him even closer to the edge. His hips shuttered, moving wildly until he slammed himself against Steve, curling down and pressing his forehead against Steve’s back as he came. Steve moved one hand down, jerking himself off almost painfully fast. The feeling of spit and cum, warm against his skin, cooling rapidly in the air, was almost too much. Billy moved to pull away but Steve whined, making him stop. “Just-- Stay there.”

“Jesus,” he heard Billy whisper. And like that, Steve came, painting the tree in white stripes of spunk. He cried out, loud where Billy had been quiet, muffling his sounds. Steve was loud, he knew that, but he reached obscene levels as he trembled, orgasm making him nearly black out.

They stayed that way, panting as their sweat rapidly cooled. Billy finally pulled away, hands leaving Steve and he missed the feeling immediately.

God he was so fucked.

Steve didn’t turn around as he caught his breath, shakily using the tree to stand erect. He pulled up his jeans, not bothering to clean up. Wasn’t sure he wanted to admit to himself that he wanted the feeling of cum and spit sticking to his skin, dampening his jeans and underwear, dirty and so fucking hot. When he turned around, Billy had his back to him, the sound of his zippo clicking loud in the wake of what they’d just done.

“Uhm,” Steve began, because, like, where do you go from here?

“We can keep this under wraps,” Billy said, back still to Steve. He let out a cloud of smoke, thicker in the cold air. Steve noticed the tension in his shoulders, in his voice, and he swallowed, wondering if he’d fucked up.

“Yeah,” Steve said, fingers twitching nervously against his thigh. “But uh,” he took a sharp inhale, forcing the words out, “My parents aren’t usually home so, you know, if you ever wanna like, let off some steam--”

“Aw, Harrington,” Billy teased, finally turning around. “You like my dick that much?” Steve wasn’t sure what it was, but something told him he needed to be honest. To tell the truth, or Billy’d run and never look back.

“Yeah,” he replied, honest. Billy’s eyes widened and his mouth went a little slack. But the attraction and want that shone in his eyes let Steve know he’d made the right choice. “Maybe next time you can let me choke on it.”

#anon #prompt #harringrove #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #lemon #intercrural #gross boys being gross boys #dom/sub vibes

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elriel-oblivion · 4 years

Text

I think it's been three days? Dunno, I don't keep track of day or night like I should lol but here's part three 😁 Next part up in five days so I can waste even more time before writing part six pft 😅 Thanks to all who interacted with the last post 😊🥰🤗

Word count: 3K. Lemme know if you'd like to tagged/removed 😊

Shoutout to @julesherondalex @verifiefangirl and @queen-of-glass for picking up on my fave paragraphs in the last part 😁😭 Can anyone do it again? Maybe I should make this a thing lol, shoutout to anyone who can find my faves. I think there are only two (or technically three?) this time 😅

Also, I'll prob put this up on AO3 this weekend, thanks to @acourtofcouture for reminding me 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part III

Warmth soaked into Azriel as Elain poured a jug of water over his head. His throat loosened as that warmth fluttered through his body, pulsing against those frozen veins and humming under his skin. Goosebumps tickled his arms.

But it was nothing compared to the sheer bliss that rippled through him as her fingers delved into his hair. It was an effort to restrain the groan reaching through his throat, so he let out a light sigh instead. He didn't think it prudent for Elain to hear him moan under her care. She was so kind to do this for him; he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

Two more jugs of water followed.

'Is that nice?' she asked, as though it could be anything but. It felt almost exactly like his mother's hands when she'd wash his hair in those so few minutes he was allowed to see her every week. Gentle and tender and pleasant.

He could fall asleep here if he weren't so aware of Elain in the room with him. Touching him. As it were, that warmth pulled deeper into him, loosing his muscles, thawing his bones.

'It is.' His voice sounded thick and he cleared his throat.

She was silent as her fingers worked, and after a minute or two, she rubbed soap into her hands. The scent of lavender filled the air. She massaged his scalp and lathered his locks, her touch so comforting it almost broke him.

Cauldron boil him, she was so much like his mother, right down to the scent of the soap she used. Her touch had just the right amounts of care and force as it worked across his scalp, relieving a knot of tension at the base of his skull.

His blood was now a soft thrum under his skin, that warmth guiding him further from consciousness, like he was wrapped in his shadows, safe from expectations, safe from judgement, safe from the world.

'Azriel?' came Elain's voice.

He jolted, eyes snapping open. 'Huh?'

She let out a light laugh. 'Your shadows are sort of hiding your head.'

Indeed, his shadows swirled around him, thickest by his eyes. 'Sorry,' he murmured, leashing them back in.

'Don't be. You can close your eyes again.'

As he did, he noted how soft her voice had been, the sombre touch to her words. She hadn't stepped away from his shadows. They must've been cold on her skin, but she'd made no comment. What did she think of them? It irked him not to know.

She continued her work, occasionally adding more water to his hair. Her fingertips rubbed his scalp, the cool night air touched with that lovely lavender.

Behind his closed eyelids, his mother smiled at him. Her smile was so sweet, so radiant and inviting, so homely that he wished he could freeze time to extend that one hour into eternity.

'You're so beautiful, my boy,' she whispered, her voice tender. Her arms were extended and he ran into them, savouring the comfort he found there. It was astonishing that he could experience this warmth after those long miserable days in that cell.

Those days. They often blended into each other, dark and dank as the cell itself. When he'd be taken to see his mother, light through the windows was painful as it pierced him. It was always too bright, the sun. Always too penetrating, like those rays sought him out to display all his wrongness - especially his shadows, a frenzied, wild and unchained beast before he learnt to control them. Terrible, dark magic not born of the Mother, his father constantly claimed.

And oh, how dark those shadows looked in the sunlight.

But then he'd be reunited with his mother, and her light was mellow. Soft like a caress, serene as sunset, always calming his hurricane of shadows. She bathed him in her light, let it wash over him with her smiles and kind words, ever flowing in their hours together.

He regretted most the little time he had with his mother growing up. Resented it, for it was neither of their faults. It was always too fast, that weekly hour, and when he was finally thrown in the Illyrian camps without a clue what his culture truly meant, it was eternities before he could see his mother again and bask in her soothing glow. Those times were long and cold, even with his found brothers by his side.

His mother's image faded into darkness as something soft touched his eye. 'Mother?' he rasped.

'No, it's Elain,' whispered Elain.

Elain? As he opened his eyes and blinked, his murky vision cleared and he found her staring down at him in her dim bathroom, brow creased. His shadows were everywhere but one of her hands held a fresh towel; the other hovered by his eye. He dispersed his shadows into clear air. What did she make of his address?

And was that salt he scented?

Cauldron, did he - did he cry?

'I asked you to lift your head but you'd fallen asleep,' Elain said. 'I didn't want to wake you, but we should dry your hair before you really go to sleep. Especially if you'll be going outside again. Although I would ask you to consider taking a guest room.' She frowned.

When had he fallen asleep? And how could it have been so sound a sleep that he didn't feel Elain finish? There must be magic in those fingertips of hers to relax him so deeply.

'Right,' he said, slowly sitting up. His neck was stiff and Elain reached behind to hold it as he pulled it forward. Water dripped down his temples, off his head, some drops pattering on the floor.

Elain patted his head with the towel, wiping his neck and forehead. She brushed wet strands away from his face, her focus so intent on his hair. He dropped his heavy head, and she gave the back a more thorough dry. A few minutes of ruffling his hair around, during which she pulled the towel from his neck, and she seemed satisfied. She raked her fingers through his hair, flattening the spiky mess he was sure sat atop his head, and a ripple of comfort descended through him. She discarded the towels on her bathtub.

As a thin breeze breathed over his wet head, he noticed the plants resting on small stools around the tub. How did he not see them earlier? Exhaustion, he supposed.

Blooms and vines overflowed their small pots, cascading down in bursts of bright colour. Three hanging baskets of what he smelled as rosemary lined the wall, wild green clusters of stems trailing over the edges and hiding the ivory stone behind. He wanted to touch all those soft petals and velveteen leaves, feel the depth of Elain's care through their touch.

He made to stand, but she held his shoulder. 'Wait,' she said. 'I want to clean your face, too.'

He'd forgotten about all the dirt she'd found there earlier.

She wet a cloth and knelt by his side, touching the cloth to his cheek, right above the gash that rogue Illyrian had opened earlier.

He winced, the skin tight where the mud had dried.

'Sorry,' she said softly, pausing.

With a smile, he gave her the same response she'd given him earlier: 'Don't be.'

Elain breathed a laugh and dipped her head. 'That cut does look very bad, though. I think I'll have to clean it with alcohol too.'

'Let's crack open that wine, then.'

She laughed again and blushed. 'Not tonight, Azriel.' And she patted his cheek again, rubbing off the dirt and blood.

The sound of his name on her tongue heated his blood. It wasn't that pleasant warmth as she'd washed his hair; no, this was something more charged. Something that settled his weariness into a quiet hum and left him a little more awake.

He drew in his shadows, sending them through his veins. The cool they delivered wasn't nearly enough to pacify his rising heartbeat. Not with Elain so close. If he moved forward just a few inches, there'd be no space left between them.

He didn't usually think of Elain like this. Think of the feel of her mouth on his.

He blamed the exhaustion, even as it hunkered down.

And - she was so lovely. And he was Azriel. He should be disgusted that he was here, letting her tend to him, making jokes with her, imagining them kissing. That was enough to tame his heart a while.

But Cauldron boil him. How would he sleep with his mind teeming with so much conflict. The dead girl and her family, his mother. Elain too now, whether he liked it or not. He'd hoped his physical fatigue would win over his crowded mind. That he'd get some proper rest and deal with all the rogue Illyrian troubles and whatever else later.

Apparently not this night.

As Elain stood and washed the cloth, he let out a deep breath through his nose, then shifted on the seat, hoping to put more space between them. Distance - even an inch - might be helpful.

Not that he'd make the first move.

He never did.

Elain knelt down again, wiping the cloth across his jawline, nose, cheek. He faced her to give her more access, but she kept her gaze intent everywhere except his eyes, as if cleaning his skin required her utmost focus.

Look at me, he almost said. With her so close to him, it was maddening not to share even an accidental glance.

She abruptly went to close the window, a heavier silence settling over the room, then moved to the cupboard by the door, pulling out a small bottle of alcohol. Her petite frame looked so delicate, yet a tautness relaxed from her body in the way her shoulders loosened. It was probably just her defence against the cold, though the temperature was nothing but mild to him.

She poured a few drops onto a clean cloth and took her place beside him. She cringed. 'This'll hurt.'

He smiled faintly. 'It's all right.' He doubted he'd even feel it.

She delicately touched the cloth to his cheekbone and he clenched his jaw, the alcohol harbouring more ire than he expected. Mother above, that was a deep cut.

Elain creased her brow and patted along the gash. 'Are you all right, Azriel?' Her voice was subdued.

The truth would be more painful to put out. 'I'm all right. Are you all right, Elain?'

'I'm fine.'

He doubted her just as she probably doubted him. The dark circles around her eyes were faint but still there. But theirs was a friendship of mutual respect and boundaries. If she didn't impose on his, he certainly wouldn't do so on hers.

But oh, how he wished she would feel comfortable enough to truly confide in him right now. It wouldn't be the first time she'd done so; he just needed to be patient. But he'd do anything to relieve the tension humming behind her eyes. From her manic visions, pain he knew lurked under her skin and in her mind, general exhaustion from keeping up appearances - he would swallow them all in his shadows and dispel them on the highest wind if it meant she would be all right.

They were silent as she finished up. When she washed the cloth, he turned in the seat and spoke. 'You can talk to me, Elain, whenever you need.'

She beamed at him and her eyes finally met his. 'I know.'

He stood, holding her gaze. Something was very off about that smile.

Her hands fiddled to turn off the tap, the cloth falling from limp fingers. Her body faced his, and her smile fell, brows rising slightly. She cleared her throat. 'We should go downstairs to the fireplace. It'll be warmer there.'

In an instant, they were wrapped in shadows, her wrist in his hand, and the great living room came into view. A thin sheet of moonlight through the windows was the only illumination. Just as their feet found the floor, Elain bent to put three logs into the fireplace, lighting them after a few tries. 'Those shadows are quite convenient at times, aren't they?' she said.

He huffed a laugh and rested a forearm against the mantelpiece, crossing a leg over the other. 'They can be.'

The blaze flared out and she stepped back, looking up at him through that shadowy amber glow. 'Just a few minutes now and we'll be warm.'

Her eyes didn't leave his. And how stunning they were, soft and subtle in the dim light. The brown looked richer among the warm tones of the fire, something like dark chocolate - or rosewood, perhaps, with a mahogany undertone.

'I think you'll need a bandage for that wound,' she said.

'I'll be fine without it.'

'It's quite deep.'

'Not a match for my Illyrian healing.' He smirked, trying to relieve whatever pressure thrummed in the air between them. He hadn't even noticed it come; one moment the air was clear, the next it was pulsing a steady beat. What the hell was this? Did she feel it too? He wished his shadows would just devour the tension, if only to reduce his own shame.

Her eyes flicked to his wings behind him, and they rustled, spreading a bit. He straightened. The heat in his blood turned to a simmer and he knew in his bones it had nothing to do with the fire. Why couldn't he control this? She met his eyes again.

He'd wanted to see her eyes on his, but now they were just too focused, and if she didn't stop looking at him like this, like she could see the blood beginning to bubble beneath his skin -

She cleared her throat and scanned his face, likely checking she hadn't missed anything. 'Oh,' she said, raising a finger to his temple.

Her touch on his skin sent his blood boiling. His heart was pounding a loud rhythm and because his mind was so muddled from the fight and the blood and his childhood somehow entering his conscience, and the lines between the past and the present were so blurred tonight, and this heat was just searing - he grasped Elain's wrist where it hovered by his face.

Her breath hitched, eyes snapping to his.

This was wrong, this was so utterly wrong, but he couldn't let go. What had he done?

She stared at him, through him. 'I can hear your heartbeat,' she choked out.

Through the crackling fire, she could hear him.

He was silent. His body tensed.

'And it's a beautiful sound.'

His pulse spiked like his heart sang out to her, called her name. Did she - could she - feel the same as he?

'You're beautiful, too,' he breathed.

The air was stifling. Cursed flames. Every thought in his head narrowed to the girl before him. Her eyes glistened.

He wasn't sure he was breathing.

Was she?

Her eyes swept his face. They stopped at his lips.

'Are you going to kiss me?' she whispered.

So focused on her plump, rosy lips, he almost didn't hear the hiss of a log as it tumbled further into the fire. His throat bobbed. Maybe - just maybe this could be okay. Maybe if she wanted it as much as he did, he could put aside his own self-loathing for a moment. Elain was different, an essence of light in and of herself. Her core radiated brilliance; it'd take more than just a few of his shadows to snuff out her glow.

And damn the consequences anyway. The Azriel of later would deal with them. If he didn't burn alive here first.

He swallowed. 'Only if you want me to.'

'Yes.'

His chest tightened at the resolve in her tone. Yearning and compunction warred within. He craved her touch, yet disgrace corded his heart. How could he even think this could be fine? She would be poisoned, made impure by his mouth.

'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'and I want you to know I trust you, Azriel. You will do me no harm. You couldn't.'

She trusted him. He wasn't sure why, but she trusted him. What could he give in return? His scars? He lowered his gaze, her wrist still soft in his hand. He felt his arm move like a dead weight, but it was only the feel of her thumb on his brow, smoothing out the crease there, that mollified him, that unravelled and burned away that cord of disgrace. He released a long breath.

'I trust you, Azriel. So kiss me.'

And it was the clarity in her voice, the pure stability that had him leaning down - slowly, so slowly. Doubt flickered along his bones but he couldn't savour the anticipation enough. This moment would change their path for ever.

His heart thundered with every inch he yielded, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek, fingers setting so perfectly over the delicate plane of her face. Her breath stilled when he was but a whisper from her mouth, and he paused.

Her floral scent fanned him, melding with the smokiness of the flames. Was that datura he smelled? Those exquisite flowers he loved so much, with their large petals curling off in tapered tips so like his own shadows. The first memory he had of them, that conversation where Elain had grabbed his wrist.

He was still holding hers now.

Her doe eyes were so steady on his. 'Kiss me,' she murmured.

He closed his eyes and removed the space between them.

So much for never making the first move.

___

So what's your fave ice cream flavour?

Feedback, constructive criticism welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17 @a-happybird @thewayshedreamed @sleeping-and-books @thefangirlofhp

#elain archeron #azriel #azriel acotar #elriel #elain x azriel #acotar

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sapphicsandscience · 3 years

Text

Growing Pains - Susan & Kerry ER fanfiction (1/1)

When Susan needs a little help, Kerry is the unlikely one who steps up. However, the two women struggle to get past their fractious relationship.

(read below the cut or on AO3)

Patients filled the hospital corridors from top to bottom. A group of intoxicated wedding goers from the previous night and the sweltering temperatures had blessed County with a dose of chaos. No one seemed to be moving anywhere apart from into each other, including Kerry who had returned from examining a patient to find it somehow worse than fifteen minutes previously.

“Sir, take a seat. Someone will see you when it’s your turn,” she said, strategically maneuvering her crutch between herself and a man in a fancy suit drunkenly stumbling around. The last thing she wanted was his bloody nose spilling all over her clothes.

Her white coat was an object of desire to the frustrated and uncomfortable patients as she attempted to move through the hoards of people. Her petite frame made it impossible to see the admit desk, her target destination, over what seemed like hundreds of heads. However, the sound of an infant crying from that direction managed to pierce through all the noise. Using the cries as a guide and her crutch to give some individuals a ‘gentle nudge’, Kerry finally managed to break through to the admit desk.

She was greeted by an upset-looking little Susie in the hands of a wired-looking Randi. The baby girl was all but being thrown around reception in the clerk’s arms as she answered phones and Susie evidently was no longer enjoying the ride.

“Where are all our doctors?” Kerry said with a brash tone. She immediately switched her demeanor as she leaned in closer to little Susie and stroked her damp cheek, which momentarily distracted Susie from her wailing. “There is no room to swing a cat out there.”

Randi stopped searching through the pile of charts in front of her and looked at Kerry. “That would be animal abuse,” she deadpanned.

“It’s a figure of speech.”

Randi tried to contain her smirk. “Mark is in CT with a patient and I don’t know where Doug is.”

“It’s unprofessional for an ER to be in such a state, never mind dangerous.” Kerry increased the volume of her voice as Susie began to cry again. “What about Susan? I’ve barely seen her all morning.”

“She had to take a phone call,” Randi said, preoccupied trying to soothe Susie by dangling around a small blanket in her face, the only thing she had been able to pull out of the diaper bag quickly. “Something about some lawyer I think.”

“No, I just saw her going to take a nap in exam four,” Connie interrupted as she walked over to the admit desk. “What are you doing to the poor girl?” Her brows raised as she watched Randi’s method of comforting the baby.

“You’re kidding! I can’t look after her all day!” Randi threw the blanket onto the desk in frustration. “She said she would be back in ten minutes.”

Kerry sighed. As much as it displeased her to see a doctor's personal life interfering with their work (and the running of the department), she couldn't help but have some sympathy for Susan. It hadn’t exactly been her choice to wind up looking after her sister's child. The majority of Kerry’s frustration with Susan came from the fact that Kerry hated seeing a doctor with such talent and potential distracted by things out of her control.

But it wasn’t just a distraction. It was a baby. Little Susie was her family.

Family. Something Kerry did have much left of anymore.

Deciding not to go and wake Susan up, Kerry glanced up at the clock. It was nearing twelve and the morning hadn’t made much of a dent in the crowd that was in chairs. However, she was due a break and none of the cases appeared particularly emergent. Mark and Doug could take care of it when they decided to return to the trenches she thought.

“I’ll take her for a bit,” Kerry offered, reaching out her arm towards Susie.

Randi and Connie simultaneously looked up at Kerry, disbelief written on their faces.

Kerry rolled her eyes back. “What? I don’t bite, no matter what rumors you have heard.”

The phone began to ring and Randi gratefully passed Susie to Kerry, ignoring the fact that Susan probably wasn’t going to like this. “Just take her, please. I'm pretty sure she needs to be changed.”

Kerry expertly maneuvered the infant up against her chest with one arm, so the girl's rosy cheeks gently rested on her shoulder. “I think Randi is right, isn't she little Susie?” Kerry felt the heavy diaper as she rested Susie on her arm.

“You look like you have done that before.” Connie pried not so subtly, watching as the young girl almost immediately calmed against Kerry’s touch, Susie’s wet eyes wide as she gauged this new person holding her.

The personal life of Kerry Weaver was, of course, under the scrutiny of the gossip mill. And while none exactly saw her as the maternal type, Connie wanted to see her reaction.

But she got none.

“Is this her diaper bag?” Kerry indicated to the bag on the desk.

“Yep, all her stuff is in there.”

Kerry scooped up the various baby paraphernalia into the bag and hung it over the handle of her crutch for the short journey. “Connie, I’ll be in one of the exam rooms if anyone needs me,” she called back as she walked away.

Avoiding the crowds, Kerry carried Susie into a nearby exam room. She switched on the overhead lights but Susie brought her little fists up to her face in discomfort. Apologizing to her, Kerry quickly turned them off again and instead turned on a less intense lamp that provided enough light for her to do the job.

“It’s okay, here we are. Nice and quiet here,” she rocked the girl on her hip. “Away from all those yucky sick people.”

Kerry walked over to the bed, collecting a sterile sheet before placing Susie down on her back. Susie was sporting a cute one-piece ensemble, with a matching sun hat and socks. The diaper was very full and wet and Kerry checked for any leakages before sliding the girl’s clothes off. Satisfied that there were none, Kerry opened the bag that was sitting beside Susie with her free hand and collected the required items to change her.

“I can see why Susan is so attached to you,” Kerry patted Susie's little stomach as the baby happily squirmed on her back, enjoying her new clean diaper. “You’re a gorgeous girl aren’t you? You must have your aunt’s genes hey,” she said and Susie babbled back in agreement, a cheeky smile falling on her face. Kerry leaned down closer and shook her head excitedly. “Yes, you are.”

It took a while for Susan to regain full control of her limbs as she clawed herself out of the sleep-deprived coma that she had entered in exam four. Her call with her now ex-lawyer had left her wishing she could just disappear from existence for a bit.

Not quite ready to lift herself up, Susan stretched out with a yawn as she studied the ceiling. Little Susie had been up every couple of hours the last few nights, the young girl perhaps feeling the unrest that was in her aunt's life at the moment. Between that, work, and the amount of stress she was under, Susan couldn't remember the last time she had a moment to herself.

Though this moment to her herself had not left her feeling particularly rested or rejuvenated. Instead, she awoke from her ‘short nap’ uncomfortable. Everything was hot and cloudy and she felt like she had awfully overslept.

Which was odd, considering Susan could swear she had only been in here for 10 minutes. 20 Max.

Reaching over to the side table she picked up her watch and squinted.

“Crap,” she muttered. It had been at least an hour.

The realization that she had left Susie with Randi along with a certain chief resident's voice in the back of her head berating her for missing work, sprung Susan into action and she quickly collected her stethoscope and pager before running out of the exam room.

“Randi, I’m so sorry!” she called out, fixing her hair and clipping on her pager to her lab coat as she made her way towards the admin desk. “I just thought I’d close my eyes for a few minutes and then -” her apology ended abruptly as she looked up and noticed something was wrong. “Where’s Susie?” her voice went cold.

Randi frowned in confusion as she tried to decipher Susan’s questions while simultaneously trying to control the rowdy crowd that had somehow spilled into the admit area. “Oh the baby, Dr. Weaver took her,” she replied.

“Took her?” Susan tried to quell any panic and come to a logical conclusion. “Like to the daycare?”

She struggled to fathom any reason as to why Kerry had taken Susie. But perhaps Kerry had grown tired of Susie’s cries and shipped her upstairs to prevent any further distraction in the department.

But why had no one come to wake her first?

“I’m not sure...” Preoccupied, Randi brushed her off and resumed yelling at the man that was opposite the desk. “Sir, you need to sit down. Otherwise, I’ll turf you out of here myself!”

“Lady, you can’t talk to me like that!”

“I’ll talk how I like,” Randi spat out and smiled as she watched the man retreat back. “I think she is still down here though. She said something about an exam room,” Randi focused her attention back on Susan and answered calmly.

But Susan was gone before Randi had even finished her sentence.

“Move please!” Susan pushed herself through the crowded ER corridors, not bothering with any pleasantries.

It had been over an hour since she had left Susie to go and make her phone call. Over an hour that little Susie had been left alone with a stranger. Left alone with Kerry Weaver of all people. Randi would have been better passing her off to the LOL in curtain three, Susan thought.

With every empty exam room she found, Susan’s heart rate climbed. And with every extra beat, Susan’s mind became less sound.

What if they had left the hospital? Susie could be anywhere.

“Mark! Thank god,” Susan burst into the suture room.

“I’m a little busy right now,” he replied, getting ready to begin a suture on a passed-out patient, presumably another victim of last night's wedding party.

“No, it’s Weaver you have to -” she continued breathlessly.

Mark let out an exasperated sigh and swung around on his stool. “Susan, I thought we had been through this. You two need to learn how -”

“Weaver has abducted little Susie!”

Bewildered, Mark and Malik stared at Susan.

“Umm...Malik, wash this wound out again, will you? I’ll be back shortly,” he took off his gloves and stood up, leaving a curious-looking Malik behind him.

“What on earth are you talking about?” he ushered Susan into the corridor.

Susan raised her hands to her forehead. “I went to take a break...Susie...she was with Randi and then she wasn’t...I -” she rambled, running her shaking fingers through her hair.

“Slow down. What does Kerry have to do with any of this?”

“Randi said that Kerry took her and I can’t find them anywhere.”

Mark frowned. “I’m sure there is an explanation,” he comforted, as the pair walked to somewhere more private where they could talk.

“Mark, I don’t care if there is an explanation,” she said, as they entered the doctor’s lounge. “I don’t want her near little Susie!”

Susan’s words ricocheted through the doctor’s lounge, clearly making themselves heard to the occupants. Kerry and Connie were both seated on the couch along with Susie who was happily perched upon Kerry’s lap. The young girl smiled as she stole both of the women’s complete attention. That was until Mark and Susan had arrived. An awkward air swept through the room as they all stared at each other.

“Good Susan, you’re here.” Kerry was the first to break the silence and she stood up, ready to pass the baby over to Susan. “I think she is getting a little hungry, but I wasn’t sure what formula she takes.”

Kerry quickly gave the baby to Susan, which was slightly hindered by the fact that Susie had a firm fist wrapped around one of Kerry’s fingers. Kerry managed to pry her tiny fingers from her own and Susie was then in her aunt's arms, which immediately allowed Susan to breathe again.

“There is already some made up in the fridge,” Susan said offhandedly, the events of the last fifteen or so minutes washing over her as she stroked her niece's cheek. Susie was fine. “The formula.”

Kerry shuffled on her feet for a few seconds before committing and turning around to go and collect the bottle. Susan sighed as she took a seat at the table. She hadn’t meant for Kerry to go and get the formula. Truly she wished they all would leave. Kerry especially. Only so she didn’t have to look at her in the face after what she had just said.

Mark laid a hand on her shoulder. “If everything is alright here, I have to get back,”

“I should be getting back to work as well,” Connie lifted herself up from the couch. “Bye-bye, little Susie,”

Further tension spilled into the lounge as the two buffers departed. Susan glanced over to Kerry who had located the bottle and was warming it up. Kerry’s movements were deliberate and slow as if she was trying to extend the time she could have her back to the other woman in the room.

Susan swallowed. “Kerry I-”

“Randi was getting swept under, so I offered to take her for a bit.” the redhead interjected. Her voice was shrill, though not in its usual acerbic manner. More as if the voice was hitched in the chest and its owner was desperately trying to mask it.

Susan nodded, watching as Kerry collected the bottle from the microwave and tested the temperature of the milk on the inside of her wrist.

“I should have said something. Left a note.” Kerry continued as she turned back around. “Here,” she smiled, placing the bottle on the table.

Susie’s eyes immediately lit up and she reached out for her meal. She couldn’t quite hold her own bottle up yet, but that wasn’t going to deter her from trying.

“Thanks,” Susan replied and picked up the bottle. Susie grumbled as her milk was delayed when Susan splashed some of the milk onto her own wrist.

“Oh, I already did that,” Kerry pointed out, the intonation falling at the end of her sentence as she realized Susan wanted to check for herself. “Nevermind.”

Kerry uncuffed her crutch from her arm and gently rested it against the table before sitting down. Both women smiled as Susie latched on to her bottle and drank feverishly. Susie was something for them to focus on rather than themselves. And it was working. The mood lifted.

“She is a good little drinker,” Kerry commented.

“Kerry...I’m sorry,” Susan said.

Kerry stretched her neck from side to side as Susan waited for a response. Apologizing to Kerry Weaver was not something Susan had ever planned to do. Yet, here she was. Apologizing. Giving Kerry the upper hand.

However, the chief resident was as good at accepting apologies as she was offering them and she ignored the crumb of a peace offering that had been placed in front of her.

Susan pressed her lips together and looked down at little Susie, who was contently enjoying her milk, to quench the anger she could feel rising inside.

Kerry couldn’t even acknowledge it. Which made apologizing in the first place feel even worse.

Despite her apparent inability to make things easier for herself and Susan, Kerry didn’t show any signs of leaving and leaned forward. “I think you are doing a very admirable thing. Looking after your niece,” she said softly, but Susan couldn’t help but hear it in a condescending tone.

“It probably won’t be for much longer,” she replied bitterly.

Susie chose this moment to start making some ominous gurgling sounds and Susan reached towards the bag to find a blanket. The last thing she needed today was another shirt decorated with baby spit-up. Her laundry pile was growing and little Susie was ‘customizing’ them faster than she could wash them.

Kerry quickly went to help her, unzipping the bag further and making it easier for Susan to pull the blanket out with her free hand. “Randi said you were speaking to a lawyer?”

“Chloe wants to play mom again and apparently me being the only constant fixture in this girl's life for the last few months means nothing,” Susan lifted the girl up onto her blanket-covered shoulder and gently burped the baby. “I have a meeting with another one tonight. But I can’t bring Susie along.”

“Can’t your parents help?”

“They don’t want to get involved,” Susan replied, eyes downcast. “And maybe, I shouldn’t either. Just let Chloe get what she wants. She is her real mother after all.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Biology doesn’t dictate love, Susan. Not like that.”

Susan shook her head. “I’m no better than Chloe. My first response was to get rid of her. Adopt her out. You don’t do that if you love someone. You don’t do that to your child.” her words were less of a statement and more of a sad pleading question. She knew the answers. That nothing was as black and white as that. That people give away children they love all the time. She knew she was holding herself to a higher standard than she would anyone else.

But she just wanted someone to tell her what to do. Tell her what was the right thing.

And deep down. Tell her she could be a mother.

A good mother.

She wanted it so badly that she’d even take it from Kerry Weaver.

Or maybe Kerry Weaver’s opinion meant more to her than she was willing to accept.

Kerry remained silent for a few moments, fiddling with a ring on her finger. Susan furrowed her brows, she could see the light reflecting in Kerry’s damp eyes. Her words had evidently had some sort of emotional effect on Kerry.

Since when was Kerry Weaver so invested in my personal life?

Kerry cleared her throat. “Susan, I’m sure, whatever happens, it will work out,” she sat up straighter, regaining an air of authority. “But still, I think you should go tonight.”

“How?”

Kerry looked down nervously. “I...I can be with her,” she offered quietly.

“Kerry-“

“I’m serious. I’ll watch over her for an hour or so, while you go and meet this new lawyer,” she said. “It will be fine, me and Susie have already gotten to know each other haven’t we?” Kerry lent forward and rubbed Susie's back.

“Kerry,” Susan sighed, leaning back further against the chair and away from Kerry. “It’s nothing personal, but I don’t like the idea of leaving her with someone we don’t know.”

“It’s okay Susan, I understand.” she nodded with a pained smile and Susan could see how her face had fallen ever so slightly. “It was just a suggestion.” Kerry stood up and collected her crutch. No further words were exchanged between the pair as Kerry walked to the door.

“Wait Kerry,” Susan called out with a regretful grimace. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She picked up a stray piece of paper from the table and started writing. “Umm...this is my apartment address, come by at 6:30 and I’ll go through what she needs?”

Susan gently inserted her key into the lock and turned the mechanism, careful to make as little noise as possible. With Susie being so difficult to settle these past few weeks, she doubted that Kerry would have had much success putting her down for the night. But on the off chance that she had, Susan didn’t want to wake her as she arrived home.

She was eager to get inside and see Susie, still not entirely comfortable with the idea of Kerry in her apartment and taking care of her. Logically she knew she didn’t have many reasons to be overly concerned. Kerry was a responsible adult and a doctor. And much to her shock, quite good at dealing with young children. However, the difficult relationship between them didn’t do a lot to settle her nerves.

She wasn’t exactly sure what she expected when she walked into her apartment, but to her surprise, everything felt overwhelmingly normal. The sheer presence of Kerry Weaver hadn’t turned the place into a cold and disturbed environment.

Not that Susan thought that of course.

It still felt like home.

She found herself smiling as she closed the door behind her and unwrapped the scarf around her neck. There wasn’t much to smile about, she thought; her life was still in shambles and she was going to have to deal with what was likely going to be another awkward Weaver interaction before she could even think about her head hitting the pillow. However, the day hadn’t been a total disaster.

There was a light on in the kitchen but the lounge area was dimly lit. A single lamp illuminated Kerry who was seated on the couch and absorbed in the book she was reading. Susan bounced up onto her tiptoes as she hung her scarf up. Raising her chin up she could just make out a peaceful Susie sleeping in her bassinet over the other side of the room and she let out a breath of air.

“Susan,” Kerry stirred and placed her book onto the coffee table. “How was it?”

“It was good,” She replied.

In fact, the meeting with this lawyer had gone far better than expected. Though Susan wasn’t keen to elaborate further right now. She had opened up herself enough to Kerry for one day. Arguably enough for a lifetime.

But this lawyer was ready to fight. The only question left was, if she was.

“I’m glad,” Kerry smiled.

Susan wandered over to the bassinet, the innate need to see her niece overpowering the fact that the girl was already settled and asleep. She placed a gentle hand on Susie’s front and stroked her cheek lightly with a finger. Susan had grown to hate missing bedtimes with Susie. The girl moved on her back ever so slightly, a little hand coming up to Susan’s that was now resting on her cheek. Susan stilled as her breath hitched in her throat.

Of course, she was going to come home and wake the baby in front of Kerry.

But Susie’s face remained content as she continued to sleep and her arm fell back down.

“She had been like that for the past hour or so,”

Susan jumped as she heard Kerry’s voice over her shoulder, not having noticed the redhead come up behind her. The women had a way of creeping up on you. Figuratively and literally.

“Took me long enough,” Kerry continued with a smile. “But she hasn’t woken since, so fingers crossed, she might sleep through for you.”

“I can’t tell you how much of a relief that is,” Susan let herself relax. “Thank you, Kerry.”

Kerry nodded stiffly before turning back and using the various pieces of furniture to balance as she returned to her crutch that had been resting against the back of the couch. Susan instinctively looked away, not having realized until that point that she wasn’t using her crutch. She never really thought about it, Kerry’s leg, but seeing her grimace as she walked across the apartment made her internally cringe as she remembered the incident in the lounge.

How she had managed to create such a complex relationship with Kerry she didn’t know.

Never in her life had Susan had so many painful interactions with the same person. And the worst of it all was that she didn’t actually dislike Kerry. Sure, the woman could drive her up the wall on a daily basis but she didn’t hate her. There had been far worse bosses in her life. And yet, the two could never seem to have a normal conversation. Sometimes they’d laugh together, Kerry would feel like one of them, one of the team. And then it was like she was an alien from another planet, sent here to obsessively pick over their every move.

And Susan let Kerry get to her, more than anyone else.

“I guess I better be going then,” Kerry fluffed up the cushions where she had been sitting and picked up her bag. “Umm...there is also some takeout for you in the fridge.”

Susan looked over surprised and walked into the kitchen. Though before she made it into the fridge, she noticed that the kitchen had obviously been cleaned and she immediately felt embarrassed. She had made sure that the apartment was in somewhat of a presentable state before Kerry arrived. However, it was now clear that Kerry hadn’t thought so.

But still, Susan tried to focus on how it was nice of her.

“It’s Chinese. I’ve seen you eat it at work. Not that I watch you eat or anything. I just knew that it was something you liked. Anyway...” she stammered.

“Kerry, you shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, it was nothing really.”

Susan was about to thank her again when something caught her eye in her bedroom. There were three freshly washed and folded piles of clothing sitting at the end of her bed.

“You...you washed my clothes?”

There it was, Susan thought. Kerry Weaver could not help herself. Had to go and interfere in her life once again. And now she was micromanaging her in her own home. The thought of Kerry seeing her baby vomit-covered shirts and god knows what else sent Susan into overdrive. This was too much of a personal infringement for her.

Not picking up on the sudden change in Susan’s mood, Kerry continued as she put on her coat. “Susie was a bit grizzly and I thought a trip to the laundry room may help. She surprisingly likes it down there.”

“I didn’t say you could do my laundry!”

Kerry stilled, her face palling at the sudden acidity in Susan’s voice. “I just thought you might appreciate the extra help.”

“I don't want your help, Kerry! Not at work and definitely not in my own home.” she spat out. “I’m not useless you know?”

Susan lent heavily against the kitchen counter with her arms forward and closed her eyes. She needed Kerry to leave now.

Kerry, however, walked over to her with a look of concern in her eyes.

“Susan, I don’t think you are useless.” She reached out to place a hand on Susan’s forearm. But, Susan dramatically flinched away from her and Kerry stumbled back.

The redhead visibly tensed and straightened into her usual demanding posture. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again.”

“Kerry-” Susan began as Kerry began to walk to the door but she was distracted by the sudden cries from Susie who had awoken with the commotion. Quickly she rushed over to her, picking her up and rocking her against her chest. “Shhh, I’m sorry, it’s okay Susie.”

But Susie continued to cry.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Don’t be late,” Kerry said as she was leaving. “It..it has been happening far too frequently of late. It doesn’t look good for your application for Chief Resident.”

Susan’s apartment did feel cold that night.

#been working on this for a little while #something a little new from me #hope you enjoy #kerry weaver #susan lewis #kerry x susan #er fanfic #er fanfiction #my writing #I may make this a series in the future #also sorry for any grammar mistakes this was written after a couple of migraines lol

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eutaerpe · 4 years

Text

the escapades (m)

pairing — jimin x reader

genre/warnings— smut (oral, fingering, orgasm denial) & college!au, fratboy!jimin, brief e2l, brief ewb, acr universe

summary — the one where there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension, until there isn’t.

notes — 8.3k words of the happiness before the storm i couldn’t write. i realised halfway through this there’s a slight plotwise change in comparison to what i wrote in acr so. yeah. sorry. kudos to you if you find it lol

The first time it happens, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.

You’re sitting near the end of the table, crossing your legs and playing with the hem of your dress, your lips twisted into a frown. The real reason lying behind the simple decision of having a single, almost infinite table of guests doesn’t, in the slightest, cross your mind; why your idiotic brother would see this as a delightful idea really is above you, but you suppose the valuable genes in the family runs all in your DNA.

You’re playing with the table decorations while waiting for the guests to come, and it’s so fucking boring you regret telling Seulgi no, babe, what the fuck - you even shook your head and decided to sound extra mad at the idea - I won’t sneak in weed.

Too bad for you, she had answered, a cute pout on her lips, I’ll give you an hour before you’re bored out of your mind.

The truth hangs above your head, with a sheepish grin: you just needed ten minutes to be absolutely, drastically bored.

In hindsight, sneaking in weed wouldn’t have been the worst idea: your mother is talking to the in laws, gesticulating excitedly at the idea of kids right after marriage. What the fuck, you text Seulgi, at home trying to get out of bed, my brother has been married for an hour and there’s already baby talk going on at the table.

Seulgi

[12.49]

With the baby talk comes the dick talk

You

[12.49]

Oh no the dick talk

Seulgi

[12.50]

man how can you survive your relatives talking about nonexistent boyfriends without my weed, damn???

You

[12.50]

option a: I’ll tell them I’m dating you

Seulgi

[12.50]

we kissed ONE time

You

[12.50]

option b: I’ll tell them I’m in a relationship with Jeon jungkook

Seulgi

[12.50]

bitch we both know you’re not in a relationship with the hottest guy on campus. he has dimples and long hair and piercings. my sources can even confirm he has a big dick. what do U Have

You

[12.51]

i was talking about my vibrator but go off lmao

anyway I’ve had that D ;)

Seulgi

[12.51]

you’re officially cancelled

when did this happen? I can’t believe you’re telling me over text!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.51]

last semester!!!!! why do you think I’ve named my vib after him!!!!!!

Seulgi

[12.52]

because you’re lusting after him like the rest of us mortals!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.52]

I’ve upgraded since then. I’ve leveled up. I’ve seen things People Can’t Even Imagine

Seulgi

[12.52]

just say he got u off and go

You

[12.52]

anyway option c: I scare them away by saying controversial things. Id est: I don’t believe in love. I am choosing my partner solely judging their abilities to finger me under a table when people are around. I am secretly lusting after my brother’s wife. I am trying to get impregnated like in The Sims 2 aka I am waiting for that alien dick.

Seulgi

[12.52]

hate to break it to you babe but that’s literally who you are

You

[12.52]

I literally compliment joohyun’s boobs once and this is the treatment I get

Seulgi

[12.52]

are we not gonna talk about your alien dick kink

You

[12.52]

no kink shaming in this house lady

option d: I listen to their complaints and run

Seulgi

[12.53]

option dick

man sorry I meant option d

You

[12.53]

you didn’t

Seulgi

[12.54]

ur right I didn’t

Option e, also known as I’ll entertain the other guests so I don’t have to talk to you, presents itself in the form of one very hot, very ripped young man sporting the most expensive shirt in the room. You’re only human when you admit to yourself, mental sigh, that he ticked all the let’s get y/n horny requirements in less than fifteen seconds.

You can’t believe Joohyun has kept him hidden for so long from you. Such betrayal ends when your brother, Kim fucking Seokjin, hugs him tight and brushes with utter affection the nape of his neck, gracing him with a warm smile and a heartfelt laugh.

You can’t believe Seokjin has kept him hidden for so long from you.

Well. Scratch that. You can.

Suddenly, the ticked requirements disappear and a giant neon sentence with a very cheap background music impose themselves in your head. WHAT A TURN OFF! they read, the neon red words mocking you; you steal a glance at your brother’s acquaintance one more time - one last time - before slipping your phone in your hands and dedicating yourself one more time at your Instagram feed, scrolling through the most recent pics.

(You stumble upon an extremely rare Jungkook selfie, and you hate to admit you spend the following thirty seconds admiring him before tapping twice on the quality content you’ve signed up for when you joined the social)

You suppose that, even though your brother’s friends with fuckboy tendencies are signed off your let’s get to know each other better ;) list, it doesn’t mean the same goes for them.

So, when the dark-haired young man with a jawline sharper than Seulgi’s retorts after her third beer sits next to you, you reckon you shouldn’t be that surprised.

He acts all casual, you notice while discreetly looking at him; he’s busy taking off his jacket and flexing his muscles, all of this while pretending not to notice you, and you find it immensely cute.

Ah, fuckboys.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips twisted in a crooked smile, “I didn’t think it would be this hot today.”

“Yeah, sorry, the heat is on me.”

He chuckles in disbelief at your words, eyes turning into crescents.

“Right, there’s always the girl stealing the bride’s spotlight at weddings.”

“Oh! That’s me,” you nod enthusiastically, “That’s one hundred percent me.”

“Groom or bride?” He asks, pointing at the couple with his chin.

“What do you think?”

He looks at you funny, pressing his back on the seat, pondering in silence. Cute.

“Bride. One of Bae’s sorority sisters, maybe? You seem too young to be her age, though.”

“Damn,” you exhale, crossing your arms under your chest, “I can’t believe you got it all wrong. The expectations were low, but I’m still disappointed.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Then it’s the groom. How do you know Seokjin?”

Your eyes twinkle with excitement at your next words, but honestly, who can blame you? You’re having fun with this lost, cute chick.

“What’s your take, officer?”

He erupts into a laugh, and you drink in his handsome features; fuck you, Seokjin, for being friends with fuckboys only.

“Alright,” he punches the bridge of his nose, scanning the room, which is slowly filling with other guests. “I’m his friend, and I know all of his friends, which can only mean one thing: option a, you’re one of his ex-girlfriends; option b, you’re one of his secret hook-ups; option c, you’re an old friend from high school.”

“Oooh,” you beam, unrealistically intrigued, “You really suck at guessing, don’t you?”

He laughs, passing a hand through his dark locks, messing his perfectly styled hair. “Ok, fair. Which one was the closest, then?”

“Option d, of course.” You nod, relaxing your features into a sheepish grin, “I’m his much more beautiful and smarter sister.”

You exam his face, now twisting into some sort of what the fuck, such betrayal look, and you take in, for the last time – really the last, this time – his attractive, sculptured face, his full lips, the smoothness of his skin. It’s awful and unfair knowing you two won’t cross paths ever again in your lives, but at least you had some fun messing with him before things could worsen.

“I’ll be sitting in the middle of the table, with my family, if you want to avoid me.”

You wink at him for good measure, and you swear to god he blushes.

Half a wine bottle and two flutes of prosecco down, you realise you underestimated your resident fuckboy.

It happens when you’re grabbing your napkin and channelling your dreamy, happy looks towards the newlyweds, dancing in the middle of the room, their eyes gravitating only towards the love of their lives.

You sigh, pouting for the smallest of fractions, when you feel someone sitting at your side.

“You know,” Fuckboy begins, and you picture him licking his lips as he pauses, “Now I get why he never told us anything more than: I’m not an only child.”

“I know,” you exhale, turning to face him, “Seokwon is the real catch of our family. We’re really protective of him.”

“He’s married. With kids.”

“I was there when the twins opened their eyes, thank you.”

“We thought you were either a small kid or a forty years old woman.”

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “How did you know about us then? And who’s we?”

“We dug into his stuff and he caved in, admitting he had a brother and a sister.” Fuckboy looks at you, eyes dark but reflecting the dim lights of the function room, “Us. The frat guys.”

“Right, the fuckboys.”

He looks taken aback by your statement, bewildered, and you take advantage of his reaction to stand up and head away from him. It’s his words that stop you from doing so, though.

“You don’t know us—”

“—except I do know your pledges and your brothers.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “I prefer to steer away from my brother’s friends, though.”

“Right,” he says, tightening his lips in a hard line, almost hurt, “So, who am I to interfere with your judgmental thinking?” He clicks his tongue, then, a resolute exhale slipping past his lips, smothered by his own tingling despair.

The words hurt.

You don’t know what exactly pinched your senses hard, if the tone or the wallowing sadness swimming in his expression, but, as he stands up and leaves, you’re left facing the cold, hard truth.

The words hurt, you hurt, and you feel guilty.

You say nothing, glancing in the direction of the first alcoholic beverage around, and you fill yourself a glass.

Had it been someone else – had it been another sentence, another less sickening scenario, you would’ve felt proud, righteous. You’re, instead, on the other side of the feelings spectrum, all filled with crippling guilt and a nauseous, pervasive feeling you can’t quite name and pin down.

The guests are dancing around you, moving hand in hand to the rhythm of the pop love song now playing; the ballroom is packed when you let your impulsive side make a choice, eyes following the guy’s composed figure. You can drastically feel the sweat, and the heat the people are radiating, when you stand up and move towards him, the only smiling boy passing his glass from a hand to the other.

You’re close enough to tap his wrist and brush your fingers, which you do; it elicits a gasp from him, all soft, not scathing around the edges yet able to bite you, anyway. It’s the guilt, you remind yourself, looking for a sign of some sort of inclination to accept your apologies between the crease of his brows and tight jaw, and everywhere in between.

It’s sickening—this boy didn’t exist four fucking hours ago. It didn’t even cross your wildest dreams, someone like him. His shape – his silhouette – has left a print in your mind, and no matter how hard you try focusing on something else, someone else, your mind keeps going back to the shape itself.

But you’re a coward, so, while he lets you intertwine your fingers, you admit, voice loud: “I wanna dance.”

He handles you properly, kindly, before pushing you in the crowd and brushing your hips with his hands, all rings and jewellery adorning them.

He blinks twice, biting the insides of his mouth, but he manages,

“Who says I wanna dance?”

Which is a bit stupid, or hypocritic if you might, because he’s swaying you to the rhythm of a ballad the pop love song turned into. You break into the smallest of smiles.

“I want to apologize.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know you,” he says, funnily enough, “But that seems almost unlikely, coming from you.”

“Yeah, you got me there, officer. I was, uhm,” you stare blatantly at his neck, and you suppress the desire to stroke your fingers’ pads on his soft skin, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You were right, I don’t know you. I do know your frat brothers, my own brother, but that doesn’t mean I know you.”

He hums, moving for a small fraction of instants his thumbs on your hips and it’s enough for your breath to catch into your own throat. He nods, which could mean anything, from I accept your apology to go fuck yourself, this is bullshit. You prefer the former option, if you’re being honest, which is the answer you settle for in your head, hazed and absolutely hazed and madly hazed because of his small physical contact.

To put this into the simplest terms, Seulgi’s words, you don’t like this.

“I like dancing,” his eyes tower you and gaze at the other people dancing; you wonder if he’s thinking about them, who they are to you, what role they played in Seokjin’s life, if they’ll show up to your wedding, too. These thoughts popped into your mind unannounced, before, at the table, before the not-really-fuckboy sat next to you and made you feel guilty. Such absurdity; yet here you are, in his arms. Oh god, what would Seulgi think of you if she saw you?

“Good to know, I’m awful at shoulder-hips coordination.”

“Shoulder-hips coordination?” he inquiries, lips parted.

“Uh, body rolls?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I see, you mean classy grinding.”

“I don’t do classy grinding, sorry,” you retort, head tilted to a side.

His smile his amused. “Too bad, shoulder-hips coordination is a nice trait to exhibit sometimes.”

“I prefer hips coordination. Well, hips rotation.”

“Hips rotation?”

“Riding? Is the term somehow unfamiliar to you?”

He flushes, biting back a grin and fixing his gaze somewhere in the crowd. How cute.

“Not at all, it’s nice to meet a hips rotation enthusiast here, though.”

“Statistics say at least a member in each family is a riding enthusiast, did you know?”

“Shit, talk dirty to me,” he licks his lips, pointing at Jin with his chin, “Didn’t peg him for a rider, though. Not at all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not a STEM major, are you? You’re lacking basic intuition, my friend.”

“Is this your attempt of discovering my major?” – he eyes you, a flick of amusement burning in his orbs – “You’re not very smooth, you know?”

“I have my moments.”

He snorts, placing both hands on the small of your back. You’re at height level with the base of his neck, and it’s fun how your mind betrays you in such moments, providing mental images of your nose brushing against his skin, and you nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Such taunting, invasive pictures. Fuck off, you reprimand your own mind, fuck off.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you taste the name on your tongue, hitting the back of your front teeth. “Jin never talked about you. I’m Y/N.”

“Jin never talked about you either.”

“Of course he never did, I’m prettier than he is.”

His little dimples make an appearance. “You know, you could really steal the bride’s spotlight.”

“That was my ultimate goal all along, even though I prefer the dark side.”

“I,” he licks his lips, and you don’t know why you’re following the gesture, “I meant to say you’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, eyebrows raising, “Are you a charmer?”

“I mean,” he begins, sheepish smile on display, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Touching.” He smirks. “How sweet of you.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“Please,” you beg, meeting his eyes, “Don’t say my pussy.”

“Please,” he repeats, same mocking tone, “The possibilities are endless. Your mouth,” he scoots closer, words whispered on the shell of your ear, “Your mouth around my dick,” he almost nibbles your ear, “Your mouth screaming my name.”

“My pussy,” you add, trying not to lose your mind.

“I would never call sweet something I’ve not tasted.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you offering? You’re not very smooth, you know?”

He ignores the last question, tightening his grip. “In the middle of your brother’s wedding? Seokjin’s wedding? I’m not a dick, even though you sitting on my face would be a sight to see.”

“Right?” your voice doesn’t falter for a second, “That’s what I always say”

“Nice to see how we’ve got much in common. But I was thinking of something else, actually—” His face is once again inches away from yours, ear to mouth, hot breath fanning over you bare neck. “I wanna finger you.”

Oh.

“Under the table. Right behind you. Wanna make you whimper.”

It’s almost like being tongue-tied, fumbling for words, body flushing, but you gather somewhere the strength to form an actual sentence, which makes him smirk devilishly.

“I can be very quiet.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Bet you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“When I win,” you say, lying your words on an unrealistically high vote of confidence, even for yourself, “What do I get?”

He licks his lips, slow, savouring the moment. “You get to ride my face.”

“Not your dick?”

“I’m not a fuckboy, baby.”

A comeback of some kind is already on your tongue, but – there’s a kiss somewhere in the following seconds, all wet and tingling and perhaps filled with too many lip bites, but he can’t really blame you when you’ve been brushing your thighs together for the past minute, heat pooling down your belly. It’s enough for you to silently pledge for more, and for him to tease, because he takes a step back, smirk in place and lips reddened, and guides you towards his seat at the end of the table with a hand on the small of your back.

Downhill begins as soon as you sit down, legs barely parted, a minimum space not fitting for his plans, apparently, because the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows grows when he nudges them apart with his hand, the cold metal of his rings cooling down your flushed state. You want to gasp at the sudden intrusion, but the sound is swallowed entirely by his hot mouth on yours, distracting once again, incredibly soft and alluring. This kiss is slow, this time, like he’s taking his time tasting you and learning about the hums he draws out of you, the shyness of your previously biting tongue, and how fast you get lost in the kiss itself. You press a chaste kiss on his mouth, before creaking a space between you.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite”

He doesn’t answer, but stares into your eyes with his hooded gaze, and he manages to sneak a hand furtively under your dress not breaking the contact. His skin is warm, but you’re warmer, and his destination is even hotter. He cocks his head, fingers brushing against the soaked, sticking material you used to call panties up until fifteen minutes ago, and he must notice—his eyes grow wider, his jaw tightens and his hand gains courage.

Fuck. This should be embarrassing, getting worked up over dirty innuendos and a kiss or two, but you’re instead feeling flushed and more. More sensitive. More open to the idea of him ruining you, even though that’s not what he’s offering. Or— is he?

The question lies unanswered when his digits rub with a sparkled intensity over both your clothed sex and your inner thighs. It’s a continuous, mellifluous melody, his fingers dancing between the two until he settles on your panties only, and that’s when you almost let out a soft moan; you don’t, he raises his brow, challenging, but you don’t, and instead glance around to notice if someone has his eyes on the both of you, sitting in the furthest region of the fucking smart, endless table.

He raises the stake, flushed: Jimin pushes your panties on one side, petting with his index your exposed self, and you suck in a breath. He continues to do so, face still, closing the distance between you two.

You don’t question the sudden kiss, instead you angle your face and close your eyes and let him press his lips on you. This feels like being drunk, or high, stretching underneath a sky dripping with stars. You cup his face with your hands, his lips so terribly soft and inviting, the smallest of smiles meeting your own chapped and curved upwards lips.

It’s when you’re merely inches away from him that he thumbs at your clit, sensitive and tingling, circling with utmost peace and no speed whatsoever. You pout at little, you realize, which makes him melt either cause of your cute frown -oh, how the tables have turned- or simply because he’s the devil himself, pressing a finger against your entrance and delving it into your heat.

“Cute,” he purrs, kissing you, “Is this okay?”

The crude, hot, nerve-wracking fingering has begun, which makes you, quickly enough, putty in his hands and ablaze with ardour for this man whose rasping voice could kill you.

“Yeah,” you breathe on his mouth, eyelids drooping closed, “Yeah, all good.”

You hum to yourself as he starts pressing kisses on your jaw and your neck, a trail of treacherous flames lighting up your skin, and you have the audacity to sigh under his ministrations, a tiny, strained sound not quite a mewl.

If he hears, he doesn’t show it. You’re biting your own lip when he enters a second finger, filling your searing emptiness.

“Want three?” he asks, voice husky and as desperate as you are under his touch. He adds it when you nod, the squelch louder than before, and you moan, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“Shh, baby,” he coos, placing his other hand on your hips, slowing your movements, “Be a good girl.”

He fucks you deep, fast, fingers clashing against the silky dress you’re wearing and sweat sparkling on his forehead. He swallows another moans of yours, sucking your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You’re close. You’re so close, and it’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t hear anything that isn’t your wet pussy clenching around his fingers, his rhythm ruthless and burning.

“Too bad you’re not coming on my fingers, today,” he says before kissing your neck and emptying your dripping pussy, then proceeding to taste and lick his own fingers in his mouth. He lets them out with a small pop, and it’s the most terrifying sight you’ve ever had in front of your almost watering eyes. “I’m sorry I won the bet, though, your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

That’s the high and dry story of how you first met Jimin.

The second time it happens, it’s under completely different circumstances, and, substantially, against your every predictions, it really happens. It takes place, like a once in a lifetime event: there’s an orgasm involved, not due to the very charming and never disappointing Jeon jungkook the robotic version, and instead it involves a rather attractive asshole with a persistent smirk plastered on his face.

Except it’s a lot more complicated than what it sounds, and most of it is Seulgi’s fault.

Your roommate had pouted all evening, because that’s what semi adults do when they’re denied a companion for the night.

“I just wanna get wasted. It’s been one hell of a month, and you know how I get when I’m stressed.”

“I can suggest you a vibrator and a bottle of vodka. Do you settle for that, your honor?”

“The more you talk like this,” all self-absorbed and assertive and cautiously, like when talking to a kid, she begins, hands in her long, mahogany hair, “the more I just wanna push you up against the wall.”

“Sounds to me you just wanna get laid.”

“Maybe I do,” she huffs, hands on her hips, the light of your abat-jour highlighting her golden skin. “Maybe I don’t. What I know is that I wanna get wasted. Come with me, pretty please?”

“Look,” you raise your eyes from the book you’ve been holding, stretching a leg onto the unmade bed of yours, “I just wanna get this fucking paper done. I need,” you grip the phone on the bed table, checking for the white, large numbers on your lock screen, “an hour. An hour and half to edit it and I’m all yours.”

“This paper is due on Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, but I have a reputation to uphold in the family. Have to be the most beautiful and successful.”

“You’re full of shit,” are her last words, muttered with a smile as she grabs her jacket.

“Hey,” you call, stretching your neck towards her, “I don’t care if it’s two am and you’re already wasted. Call me and I’ll come to you with a whole bottle of vodka to make it up to you. Hell, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t wanna make out with you, you freak.”

“You didn’t say that last time, baby!”

Seulgi

[2.13]

wassup bitch

make out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

[location shared]

com n get me littl nuggrt

Not Sober Seulgi is probably the worst Seulgi you have ever dealt with. You let out a sigh, eyeing the frat dorm all lit up and vibrating to the trashy trap music the insiders are jamming to.

Of course, when it comes to Not Sober Seulgi, there’s boys involved. Frat boys involved. At first, you don’t pay attention to the details, the signs, surrounding you like blinding traffic lights signalling stop stop stop, all red and striking. The thought doesn’t cross your mind, the dots connecting in some hidden part of your brain not making your insides short circuit—instead you’re knocking on the door, then banging on the very wooden entrance until a face shows up; the dorm is dimly lit, and the face is partially lightened by a soft, hued red and, that, too, Future You pinpoints, should have been a sign.

It’s useless, anyway, because you hear the insider talk and you’re burning instantly, like after touching a steaming, hot cup of coffee, except that bitter coffee is still good coffee. Smug Jimin plus bitter you isn’t really sweet, nor a match made in heaven. It’s chaotic, a caustic explosion, and you both know it, judging from the sharp smile he offers you, after blinking lazily at your figure.

“This is a mixer party only,” his soothing voice welcomes you, “Do you have an invite?”

You press your tongue on your teeth, mouth carefully closed.

“Yeah, from Hell, I’ve come to take a fallen angel.”

“Sorry to break it to you, oh-kind-lady, but we didn’t give any invite to poor, damned souls.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about your policies, then,” you move towards the small space between the door and Jimin’s body, but he interferes, placing himself right between the two. “Look, I don’t give a single fuck about this party.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “My friend is here. She’s most certainly not sober and I’ve come to pick her up. That’s it. Do you think I want to be here, among these drunk, perverted jocks?”

He turns around, stretching his neck, his eyes darting through the crowd, inhibited by alcohol, smelling like cheap beer and weed. The moment his eyes bore into yours, though, it’s terrifying; it’s a rustled reminder of Seokjin’s wedding Jimin, and you don’t like it. You loathe it. You dread it.

“Maybe only some of us.”

He tips his head, lips curving into a timid, small smile, and you tear your gaze from his lips in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, keep dreaming of it. I just want my friend back.” You point your chin towards the amalgam of drunk party animals, “I’ll leave you to your immensely interesting activities, then.”

“What if,” he begins, “You don’t. Or—even better scenario, you leave with me.”

“Best case scenario, I leave with my friend. You stay here.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario, then?”

You cock a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest. “I leave with my friend, you stay here. Sometime before me leaving, you’re punched. Or kicked. I don’t know. There’s a high chance I’ll throw a drink on you.”

“That implies you’ll be here long enough to grab a drink, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to ruin my shirt to get me naked, babe. Just ask nicely.”

You huff, and you’re mildly tempted to shove him against a wall. Or ruin him. Not in the funny way. More like the high and dry way, the one he knows so well. “I changed my mind, I’ll kick you.”

“Ask nicely?” His teasing tone makes your cheeks flush, and you hope the shitplace with subdued lightening can cover it. His expression shifts into an arrogant one, full smirk and little dimples out, so your cute guess is that he can see. He sees his effect on you, albeit completely unwanted and full of hatred from your side, and he enjoys it. Actually lulls in it, letting out a small laugh which, in turn, makes his eyes turn into crescents, all warm and cute—all things he’s not. All things you know he’s not.

“Ask nicely,” you repeat, rolling the words on your tongue, “Okay, babe. Let’s do this, babe. What do you want from me, babe?”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the answer is you?”

“Yes, actually,” you sigh, fingers brushing his neck, face comically close to his perfect, chiselled one, “That’s exactly what I thought when you stopped fingering me.”

“Right,” Jimin has the audacity to smile, craning his neck as if to close the distance between you in order to meet you for a kiss, “I’m a man of word, thought. You should be impressed.”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s impressed is your face under the orgasm denial definition. Google it, babe, I guarantee you the meaning comes with your name and a brilliant review of one star.”

“Unlike you.” He licks his lips, eyes on your pretty pink ones, smeared with venom, “You’re not coming.” He explains, to further ignite your rage.

“And whose fault is that, babe?”

Jimin nuzzles into your neck, cupping your other cheek with his rough palm, and his thumb stills on your throat, right where your breath is stuck. He adds pressure on it, lips fondling your burning skin, his usual smirk plastered on them.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re not fucking me,” you spit back, mouth now millimetres away from his, gently inviting you to kiss it, and cherish it, and biting it until you’re satisfied with the hot result.

“I’ll eat you out? Until you come.” He hums. “You’ll come.”

His voice is a mere strangled sound, wanting and dripping with need, and you snap out of it with a small smile.

“Nice offer,” your smile is wicked as you scrape his nape with a feathery touch, the slow movement rousing a flutter in your lower belly. “But get in line, babe.”

His shell-shocked face is the last thing you see before you fulfil the let’s rescue Seulgi! party.

(“Why do you smell like softener?” Seulgi sniffs you, arms looped loosely around your neck, eyes completely shut down. It’s a nice sight, all things considered. You’re no angel, no saint, no perfect person, but you’re a nice friend, and that’s probably the most Seokjin trait you recognize in yourself. It’s your shared apartment, and it’s past 3 am and you’re the one good friend who keeps her promises. “It’s strawberry vodka, you heathen.”)

The line turns out to be a real line, queue line, let’s get this coffee line, which, well. How can one word it, how can one phrase it fully catching the irony of it all, the distinctive je ne sais quoi of life without—

“Nice to see you here.”

It’s the perfect set for a rom-com, you notice, taking in the warm scenery around you. What else can one dream of, right? The campus coffee shop, the campus hot not-really-but-also-kinda fuckboy Jimin, partial jock to give him credit, full time attractive idiot with a tendency for orgasm denial. Really.

“What are the chances?” You exhale, voice devoid of emotions. For the sake of your parents’ integrity, you suppose, because they raised no impolite woman, of course, you turn around to face the angel-like human being, black hair partially covering his forehead, little dimples on full display. That’s—that is lack of integrity, or indecency or au-fucking-dacity. It might as well be a mix of the above-mentioned possibilities, all fitting and nurturing you because he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. Jimin’s the most attractive human being you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not fair.

(Beside the fact that you’ve lived with Kim Seokjin, for fuck’s sake)

He pokes his own cheek, and you bask into the otherworldly scenario that takes place right in front of your caffeine deprived eyes. It’s a sight for sore, soft eyes, and it’s the end of the world as you know it, because it’s morning, too early to properly function like a normal human being, but there he is. There he is, Jimin, channelling his inner boyfriend material aura, oozing off boyfriend smell, nice, fresh, aftershave smell, rocking a stupid sweater and the messiest black mop of hair.

It’s honestly a tragedy, and you won’t stand for it. You will make a move—

“You’re squinting your eyes, like, real tight. Are you alright?”

Just ogling you, your drowsy mind offers, the fucking cheater.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing a lump in your dry throat, “Just need coffee. A latte. Anything.”

You move forward in the queue, and as you blink you realize it’s your turn, until it’s not anymore. Jimin carefully and gently moves you out of the way, brushing with the softest touch your side.

“A latte and an iced americano, please.”

The sweetened order for two turns into a hushed thank you, a tipped smile, a flutter of you heart. It’s drinks still half full, his curious gaze darting on your lips, your defences down. It’s unfair, because in a hot second all this pent-up tension shifts into a light, chaste kiss, your back pressed against the coffee shop’s restroom; your chest heaves under his tantalizing make-out session with your neck, followed by his frantic lips pressing on yours, his tongue licking lazily into your mouth, a gasp easing its way out of your warm and eager mouth. It’s a hot-blooded supercut, each frame announced by a starving moan, a content sigh, and, before you realise it, you’re on your bed, Jimin hovering on top of you.

It’s Saturday morning, you hum to yourself, fingers sliding into his hair, all’s in check. There’s a warm body slumped on yours, his tongue swerving on your lower lip and his hips shyly bucking between your open legs. Your panties are drenched, you can feel his hard on through the jeans and, really, all’s in check.

He nudges your nose with his. “Lemme eat you out.”

The answer lies sitting on the tip of your tongue, right next to an obnoxious remark that you hope will rile him up enough for him to rip your underwear, which you definitely won’t complain about. However, the words don’t come out, they slur in your craving mouth the second he gets up and shoves you toward the end of your unmade bed, spreading your naked legs open with his calloused palms.

“Nice skirt,” he comments, voice a rasp, eyeing the drenched, lilac underwear, skirt at this point gone up to cover your stomach. “I just want…”

He shuffles closer, enough for you to feel his hot breath on your core, and that’s when Jimin pulls the panties on a side, teasing you with little licks to your entrance. You’re responsive, too eager for anything to quench your thirst that you sigh happily at the barest of actions, gripping strands of his hair. Jimin chuckles, engulfing the throbbing clit in his mouth in one go and drawing desperate moans out of your cute, devilish mouth.

“Fuckboy move,” you emit, voice cracking at the pressure of his warm mouth, “Oh, oh. Fuck…”

He replies flattening his tongue on your core, then licking and lapping against your dripping folds. Jimin positively glows at the cries you let out, face slobbering with your arousal while driving you insane, fucking with his tongue like his life depended on it. It’s almost a spiritual experience, a crescendo of wails and sobs, his face drown in your pussy and his tongue paying reverence to your approaching orgasm. He can feel it in the way you writhe, in his hand splaying over your stomach, keeping you still while he eats you religiously, forehead beaded with sweat.

You come with a trembling hand in his hair, the other flicking your bare nipple, back slightly arched and a lewd mewl; Jimin takes in the way your body trembles, your breath all staggered because of him, and the sight alone is enough for him to cum in his pants with a grunt, completely untouched.

The second time it happens is, coincidentally, the first time Jimin knows there’s no turning back from this.

Complicated is a big word when it comes to relationship, you reckon, emitting something akin to a gasp, truly soap operas worthy material, but, for the first time in your life, you decide to name it this way.

Being with Jimin is… complicated, for starters. Especially because you’re not with Jimin, in the strict, relationship-wise meaning. He knows your favourite colour (“Why the fuck you only own purple underwear?” “It’s lilac, dick, watch your mouth.” “Watch your own mouth, babe. You’re the one on your knees.”), your favourite food (“But you like having your mouth stuffed with my cock, honey.” You sigh, blushing. “First of all, I’m talking about real food. That amazing steak kind of food—“

“I’ll show you real meat, babe.”

“Gross. Gross. How can I cancel the last five seconds of my life?”

“Come here, Jared, nineteen,” he half smiles, tilting his head, “I’ll get us fries.”), your favourite movie (“We can’t get each other off every time your ugly paper cap fits—oh,” you suck in a breath, Jimin flicking his tongue on your turgid nipple, “oh, god, don’t stop.”), your best friend’s name (“I condone you dicking her so good she sometimes cries, you know, I just don’t when I’m in the room next to hers and all I can hear is my best friend trying to formulate a single coherent word but failing because you’re pounding her mercilessly into the mattress.” Jimin chuckles, grabbing his jacket before holding the doorknob. “She begged, Seulgi.”)—so what? It’s not like you sat down and decided not to ask each other dumb questions, so that you could find out in the funny, kinky way. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even decide on anything, didn’t even talk about talking, because the relationship related shit didn’t even cross your mind.

It’s even quite fucking hard for it to cross it, because half the time you’re together you’re either both naked – except for the time he pleaded for the tartan mini to stay – or stuffing your mouth with food—because, if there’s something you’ve learned after one too many hook-ups with him is that this kind of sex requires strength. Like, actual, physical strength, if we’re not talking about the this test is draining me please fuck me until I can’t walk sex. Which, yeah, 10/10 would recommend. That was the day Seulgi decided to invest in ear plugs while muttering capitalism, here I come.

You also came.

Funnily enough, guess who also came. Not in the funny, kinky way. Think about the grossest thing, imagine the beyond the bounds of possibility, sprinkle it with Jimin earnestly shoving his dick down your throat, stir it with a poor Taehyung brushing his teeth next to the both of you, a step away from the shower, and serve it on the most expensive plate in the kitchen, a recipe not approved by Kim Seokjin.

Yeah, you mentally roll your eyes, licking your lips clean, at eye-level with your sorta enemy with benefits’ pretty dick: the married brother of yours, former fratboy, taller than your current will to live.

In hindsight, maybe it is Seokjin’s fault. Once you’re married, you’re supposed to be committed to the cause, and sometimes, an angry little crumb in you finds the audacity to speak, the cause is made up of your four walls: ergo home, ergo your married life, miles away from the absurdity that once filled his university days. You’re being hypocritical, you realize, skin wet, body trembling. In the simplest, most hedonistic terms, you’re done with the chaos in this fraternity and just wished that hooking up was easier. It’s more than a stolen orgasm, a random spur of pleasure and free de-stresser; it’s also something not quite like art but just as peculiar. Sex with Jimin is more than nice, more than a fast rummage of clothes on the floor and panties teared, or condoms stuffed in every single pocket of his jacket.

It should also be noticed that it’s been one hell of a stressful week, okay, which means that it’s one of those times you seek for naked intimacy, in its least literal meaning. You’re looking for something sure, something silent, something earnest. Jimin gives you that in the simplest of forms, in the easiest of ways. It’s not fair for your brother to come unannounced and burst into the house with his adorable laugh and love for his own brothers. Way to ruin the moment, bro.

Jimin blinks attentively when Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands all happy and following the elder’s voice outside the bathroom.

“I’m getting you my clothes.”

“Wait, what?”

His lips part just enough for his tongue to wet them, and your eyes follow in silence the gesture.

“I mean,” he starts, grabbing a towel, “You either come out with me from this bathroom or you don’t.”

He’s concise, yet harsh, words uttered with those soft lips yet are just as hot as a slap in your face. He’s telling the truth, but you soon find out you don’t really like it.

There’s something abrupt and severe in those chosen words, so well picked out because they’re not meant to hurt, but at the same time they’re so worrying. So terrible, practically as hard as a punch in your guts.

You either come out of the bathroom with him — you had been blowing minutes before, hadn’t you? Quite the intimacy, huh? — or you don’t. You stay behind. Different rooms, a whole door to separate you while he’s out with the people he cares about.

Seems legit, but. It’s unfair. You know Jimin isn’t choosing for you, but it’s obvious he’s inclined towards an option between the two, and you’re terrified to discover whether it’s his own desire pushing or what he thinks you want.

You, instead, push the thought aside when you nod, taking the towel from his hands and covering your body from this terrific half hook-up.

Because that’s what it is—that’s what you are.

It dawns upon you like a cold breeze hitting your face in full December, suddenly, and that’s when you realize winter is near. In your mind, this hooking up scenario seemed nicer. Sounded softer, a cute bubble moving slowly in the air.

But now—well, now the bubble has burst, and it feels wrong, and this unexpected wrong doesn’t feel right in your chest, and that’s the story of how you leave the house escaping from his window, in his clothes, with vision blurred by hot, stupid, idiotic tears.

Seulgi is the first one to notice, and, obviously, the first one to speak.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she says, head tilted in a way that’s supposed to be emphatic and worried but comes off as stiff and terrified. “Care to share?”

It’s just a wholesome amount of terrifying stuff, isn’t it? First the shower incident, now Seulgi’s ways not working around you anymore. What’s next? Avoiding Jimin for a whole week? Blocking his number? Losing the smart and beautiful title to your obnoxious brother?

You wouldn’t be surprised, really. Shit like this always happens at the same fucking time.

“It’s nothing. A stressful couple days, maybe? Or maybe I’m getting sick. There’s a guy always coughing during Physics. Maybe it’s his fault, who knows.”

Seulgi unlocks her phone, an unreadable gaze studying you. She gives up a second later, though, her weak maybe reaching your ears when you’ve already looked down on your book.

One simply cannot be annoyed because of a half hook up. Christ. You deserve better than that. You have some dignity left, tainted by everything that’s not Jimin and his harsh, stupid words.

So, your mind offers, while you squint your eyes, I suppose there’s nothing else you could do about it.

Nothing else besides acknowledging it and moving on.

Sounds like a plan. A fireproof plan, an escape plan, something detailed and precise. Planned to work out smoothly; planned to be executed without pain or mistakes.

It’s seven sharp when he knocks, takeout in his left hand, eyes bulging because it’s fucking freezing outside.

“It’s fucking freezing, what the fuck.” He says out loud, indeed. What he receives as an answer is the sound of your tongue clicking, the biggest amount of interest you’ve shown towards him the whole week. He would finally exhale, weren’t it for the fact that this is still pretty traumatic, because if there’s something he’s learned while orbiting around you, is that you’re constantly awake and aware of your surroundings. Your body language says that you pay attention to him, or Seulgi, or whoever you’re talking to. You follow the guy with your eyes, and you listen and nod in all the right places during a conversation, and you search for his dark gaze when he’s fucking you in the dimly lit bedroom, the bed creaking under your sweaty sex making. He’s not admitting it, he never will, and he’ll pretty much deny this to everyone who will ask but: there’s something hot about it. Something burning with the way your body reacts to him, when your eyes follow his actions, while your voice falters when he fucks you right, and it somehow pushes him to the edge every time. It’s the equivalent of Jungkook getting a boner in the gym while catching girls and boys drooling at him, except he’s talking about you and your crazy moans, your magic aura.

And yes, okay, fucking blame him, the realization alone made him jerk off in his room like a teen, twice, yesterday. That’s a fact. That’s barely a fact, alright? This is a truth; a statement soon forgot by the knowers. Obviously.

You look spent, he thinks, if he had to choose a word, dared by some arrogant deity to define the current mess you were. He glances at your barely done ponytail, at the tiredness written all over your face. He takes in your baggy sweater, your quiet beauty, knowing this is gonna be one of those nights you take a step back.

He doesn’t say anything though, instead he brushes the hair on your forehead, not even making contact with your skin.

You grab the bag from his hands, shivering instantly and hoping he doesn’t read the signs. They’re—they’re there, you know, you’re collecting them slowly, one after another, grabbing one and looking cautiously for the following one, hoping it’s not there. Hoping it doesn’t exist.

You exhale a sigh, disguising it as cough, a noise, something distracting Jimin from his silent staring, which is, funnily enough, loud and cacophonic.

“Hungry,” you state, the single word weighting more because of the soft pout on your lips. Jimin hates that he knows what it means, that it’s gonna be just the two of you this time, no chill whatsoever, no bodies touching and melting against each-other. He’s not complaining, what the fuck, he’s not an idiot. He’s not even mad, he’s just—accepting, on a level. This is the point of no return, he guesses, following you on the couch and admiring the laptop’s screen reflected on your face.

He doesn’t say anything when you search for Brooklyn 99 on Netflix, because he’d say everything, otherwise. He’d mumble something along the lines of this feels real, we could do this all the time, or, worst of all: I like this. I like you.

So, in order: he tugs at your sleeves and scoots you closer to him, and you say absolutely nothing at the gesture. He’s ecstatic on the inside, partially terrified, mostly delusional. He pretends he’s something more when you lean on him, the slightest pressure of your head on his shoulder. He cares zero fucks about the show when he’s breathing your scent in and feels how warm you are and shuts his eyelids down when he pictures you adoring him. Liking him. Liking him a whole lot more—

He’s fucked, he realises, hours later, when you doze off and he has to carry you to bed, something you claim of loathing, which—what on earth. It’s an unfathomable absurdity, that’s what it is.

“You can stay.”

His voice falters. “What?”

You cough, eyes closed as you speak sinful words: “The night, I mean. It’s fucking freezing outside.”

His lips form a small o, and it’s hot all of a sudden. “Alright,” he manages, staring at you on your bed, hands fidgety and heartbeat accelerated for some reason, “Make space for me. Hey, fucker. I’m serious. Let me in.”

You do.

(to be continued. ily)

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