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ahundredtimesover · 3 months

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Hold Me Closer | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; slight angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption; kitchen emergency; eldest child feels, adulting; explicit sexual content (making out, oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex but be safe please!); Seven JK (18+)

Word count: 19.2k

Read Part 1: Hold Me Close

Summary: When you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up... Not if your brother can help it, though.

Listen to 🎵: Hands Down by Dashboard Confessional

Playlist 🎶: High School Playlist

A/N 1: I know I said I’d be on a break but I reread Hold Me Close and found comfort in this Jungkook 🥹 so I went ahead and wrote this little piece! Whipped and comforting boyfriend JK is what I needed so I hope you enjoy this 💕

Six - the number of work calls you’ve already taken in the last hour, with each one of them lasting one whole song. Jungkook calculates that you’ve spent half of the entire drive since leaving Seoul talking with your boss about some report that he somehow can’t complete without you, which sucks because Jungkook was really looking forward to this road trip with you and his best friend.

You groan after you hang up and the clackity clack of the keyboard continues. He was hoping to hold your hand while he drove and maybe sing with you some of your favorite songs that he put on but it doesn’t seem like those will happen anytime soon. You’re immersed in your work but he guesses you have to be; the sooner this ends, the sooner your focus will be on him and this present moment.

He finds the positive side of it at least. He gets to listen to you explain things - why the numbers are what they are, what targets you reached, and what risks you managed. It’s quite silly but it’s kind of a turn on, hearing you talk about something you know like the back of your hand, pretty much proving to your crap of a boss how good you are at your job and why you’re an asset to the company. You know your shit, and you have a classy way of making sure they know that you do.

Six calls, and Jungkook already knows half of your project report. And perhaps he’ll know more, as the seventh one comes.

You let it ring for one, two, three times, as you hold your phone in one hand while you continue to type away with the other.

“I swear to god, ___. If you don’t pick that up, I’m gonna throw your phone out of this car,” Jimin, who’s comfortably seated in the backseat, growls.

The dramatics is understandable because one, it’s Jimin and two, the constant ringing is a little bit much.

“___, I’m not fucking kiddi—”

“Hello, sir,” you finally answer, then proceed to discuss this month’s analytics and projections for the succeeding quarter.

Jungkook predicts it’s gonna take you another whole song to finish, so he instead focuses on the road and appreciates the clear skies and familiar scenery of the drive to Busan. His thoughts go to how these next several days are gonna go. There’s visiting your favorite spots growing up, going to a resort, staying in to eat and play video games, and of course, cuddling with you in your room, as you and Jimin will have your parents’ house to yourselves once they leave for their anniversary trip in two days.

His musings are disrupted though, when he looks at the rear view mirror and sees Jimin’s annoyed face blocking his view. Jungkook can’t help but laugh, especially when he hears his best friend grumbling complaints just behind him.

“Leave her be, she’ll be done soon,” Jungkook dismisses him. “They sound like important stuff.”

“She’s talking so loudly!” Jimin groans. “I just want to reminisce and sing along to our teenage emo music, Kook.”

Jungkook turns the music off.

“There, I paused it. You can sing along once she’s done speaking on the phone,” he says.

Jimin pouts in response. “You always take her side. You weren’t like this when we were kids.”

“Well, if it means anything, I always took her side. I just never told you,” Jungkook laughs.

“Traitor.”

“I’m literally your most loyal friend.”

It’s a statement that Jimin can’t counter. Jungkook is his most loyal friend. And the most supportive. And the most dependable. And definitely the one who’s never left his side.

When Jimin casually told their group that he likes girls and boys, Jungkook was the only one who didn’t need time to “warm up to the idea.” Jungkook was also the only one who never disappeared whenever he had a girlfriend. He was also the one who never missed a single one of Jimin’s dance showcases in college and professional shows.

And of course, Jungkook was the one friend who took up his offer to drink that Friday afternoon, resulting in that infamous gutter incident - as you like to call it - and his subsequent unemployment and homelessness. While you, his beloved sister, were there to pick up the pieces, so was Jungkook, the way he promised he would after they became friends at 10 years old.

Those months when Jimin was heartbroken and unsure of what he was going to do with his life, his best friend was there to make sure that he wasn’t going to lose his drive and love for dancing. His best friend is also the one constantly cheering him up about this long-distance relationship that he decided to have with Taehyung while others continue to be a skeptic.

Jungkook is that friend, and Jimin supposes he can forgive the other man every time he sides with you.

Jimin is about to complain again when you put the phone down and make one of your restrained cries. He pities you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you wouldn’t be doing your work stuff while you’re on a trip of what’s supposed to be a mini-break.

“I don’t get why you don’t pick up after the first ring,” he huffs.

“It’s so Mr. Soo knows that I’m not easily available,” you say.

“But you are. You answer it anyway,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Exactly, I’m gonna answer it anyway. Might as well make him wait for it because he needs me,” you point out. “It’s bad enough that he’s calling while I’m taking the leave he approved, so I’m just pissing him off. He doesn’t know I changed the prompt to leave me a voice message to an annoying song so he’ll have to sit through it to get to me. I already know it’s getting on his nerves.”

“Ooh, petty. I like that,” Jimin hums.

“I know. I got that from you,” you proudly smile.

“But why are you even working?” He whines, your brother’s tone more of pity than annoyance. “It totally defeats the purpose of a leave. And you shouldn’t be indulging him!”

“Well, Mr. Soo approved this leave thinking that Chul would help him craft this report, which is based on the project that I proposed, only to realize that he doesn’t know shit about it because I wrote everything, and he just took the credit,” you explain. “I don’t want to be doing this, too, but I also just took the chance to show who’s driving the wheel, and it’s definitely me. Plus, I worked hard for that project. Working on the report at least gives me a chance to give myself credit for it.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right,” Jimin concedes. “Your voice is just so loud.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to match his tone,” you say. “But he’ll be in a meeting for the next hour or so and he probably won’t need me again until then. You can turn the music back on.”

“Ugh, thank god,” Jimin groans again. “I missed my favorite song.”

He leans forward and squeezes himself in the small space between you and Jungkook. The proximity causes Jimin to smack his elbow on your face, which you know is intended, considering how much of a brat he is. So you do what you always do - flick the back of his head.

He yells but gets over it once he manages to press the rewind button and plays the song he’s been wanting to hear. You haven’t been paying attention throughout the drive and hadn’t even known what they were listening to, but once the music comes on, a wave of nostalgia hits you.

You take the CD case you see in the compartment and scan the song list.

“Dashboard Confessional?” You read out. “Mayday Parade? Something Corporate?”

You go through 2 other CDs and look at both men questioningly.

“These are literally plucked out of my high school playlist that I illegally downloaded,” you state, given that music streaming sites weren’t a thing over a decade ago. “Why do you have them in CDs? And did you even know these songs back then?”

“Yes, because we listened to your playlist when you weren’t around,” Jimin confesses, earning him a flick on the arm.

“You went through my computer? You were in my room?!” You yell.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “It was a boring room, there was nothing to see. We just wanted your music because they were cool, but I’d never admit it.”

“I’m sure,” you shake your head. “But it was my ex, remember? He was a new kid from the US and he got me into these emo rock bands and I thought they were cool, too. He downloaded them illegally for me and I just jammed to those songs all the time even after we broke up.”

“We know. Jungkook and I could hear it from my bedroom,” Jimin says, “which is why we used to sneak in and listen when you weren’t around.”

“Is that why you put them in a mixtape? So you could listen to them whenever you wanted?” You ask, turning to Jungkook because between the both of them, he’s definitely the one who’d know how to do this.

“Yeah, Kook. Why did you make these mixtapes when neither of us had a portable CD player… but my sister did?” Jimin presses, cocked eyebrow and smug face on display.

You’re looking at him now, and it’s a curious look that Jungkook can’t resist.

“I just thought to put your most played ones in CDs,” he shyly admits, “and uh, planned on giving them to you before you left for college. But I chickened out so I just left them in a box in my room that I brought to Seoul. I’d forgotten all about it until Jimin raided my studio and found them.”

“You… you made me mixtapes? When you were 15?” You ask.

“___, I think I’ve established enough that I had a huge crush on you when I was a teenager,” he turns to you and laughs.

It’s a little embarrassing even if he’s already dating you. It still feels surreal sometimes, as he thinks of his growing up years and how he always looked forward to sleeping over at Jimin’s place and then catching glimpses of you. There were the times when you’d watch movies with them in the living room, and then he’d help you clean up in the kitchen so he could spend more time with you.

That was over 10 years ago and so much has changed, but the admiration he felt for you never dwindled. There was always that image of you looking happy. He kept that version of you in his mind, even when you had your boyfriends. He just wanted to remember your smile, and now he gets to be the reason for it, like now.

“It’s just… it’s very sweet and thoughtful,” you say softly.

“I… Well… I took interest in the things you liked. I guess that happens when you like someone.”

“Told you he’s a romantic,” Jimin nudges you.

Between the fairy tattoo he designed and did on your shoulder, the dinner and picnic dates he takes you to despite both your busy schedules, and the way he holds you so close to him whenever and wherever he can, you can definitely say that Jungkook is a romantic.

It’s only been three months but it feels as if you’ve been dating him for longer, given the overflow of affection he’s been giving you. It’s in the way he always holds your hand and kisses you so passionately. It’s in his encouraging words and the way he spoils you with the littlest things.

It’s refreshing to be with him. He has boyish charms that have become even sexier with his slightly long hair and the lip ring that he recently got. And whatever he’s wearing, there’s just something so comfortably sexy about him that’s both warm and exciting, and you often find yourself swarmed in butterflies whenever he talks about you.

It’s only been three months but it’s a relationship you’re still slowly being open about. Your friends were definitely surprised. Hoseok fell off the couch with all his body movements; Jin spat out his drink; Yoongi gasped, then followed it up with a teasing smirk; So-Hee and Na-eun gushed over how Jungkook treats you, and took the chance to say how he’s gotten more handsome over the years.

You asked them if it was that shocking for you to be dating someone younger - and your brother’s best friend at that - and while they said it was a bit unexpected, what really got them was how different Jungkook is from your exes. He’s not some corporate man with ambitions, they pointed out. His life is less structured, too, given his freelancing career and gig at the tattoo parlor. He’s definitely a lot more laid-back and more casual than they’re used to.

They were short of remarking that Jungkook’s lifestyle isn’t as stable and secure as what you normally go for, and they wouldn’t be wrong. It’s a thought you’ve had before, and something even he brought up because he didn’t want you thinking that he can’t keep up with you. But you’d been the one to point out to your friends that stability can come in different forms. With how Jungkook has been so dependable and assuring, that’s given you more security than you ever thought.

But it’s not something that’s easy to explain. Maybe your friends could understand. They’ve made careers in different industries, after all, with short term jobs forming part of their resume. But your parents are of a different generation and mindset. Stability for them means one thing, and they raised you to want the same thing in the same way.

Which is why it’s already been three months, and you still haven’t told them about you and Jungkook.

“I started young,” he laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he takes your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. “I used to just choose my moments of romance but with you, I’m romantic all the time.”

“Really? Does being a flirt count as being romantic?” You cock an eyebrow.

Because that’s what he is. He likes to tease and call you out when he affects you. He likes to charm and then edge you until you’re pleading for him to do more.

“Definitely! I mean, I’m out here living my teenage dream, you know?” He winks at you. “Not just anyone gets to say that they’re dating the person they had a crush on when they were 13.”

“Oh god, here we go again,” Jimin groans, earning him a laugh from you and Jungkook.

But even if your brother fake-gags at your not-so private displays of affection, you know deep down that he’s happy for you and his best friend. The two most important people in his life found comfort in each other, and he gets to witness and bask in that.

He also gets to brag that it all happened because of him.

You spend the next hour jamming to all your favorite emo rock songs because Jungkook wasn’t kidding - he really did include all of the ones you had on repeat from your playlist. It takes you back to over 10 years ago of playing the music so loud while you’re in your pajamas, jumping on your bed and singing your lungs out. They don’t really remind you of your ex-boyfriend. That was a short-lived relationship that only really had you appreciating the songs he shared and not much more.

Your boss doesn’t reach out to you until a half hour later. He’s taken to sending you messages instead, and when he does, you’re back to typing away on your laptop, to the displeasure of both men.

They don’t call you out this time and instead leave you be. Until, of course, it hinders you from enjoying yourself.

The car has stopped but you’re still on your laptop, double checking figures. Jimin has stepped out after telling you that he’ll throw your laptop in the ocean if you don’t stop, but Jungkook stays with you inside the car. He bops his head and hums to the music that neither of you could barely hear. He picks on his fingers and yelps at the hangnail he pulls out. He opens the window and shoos away a bug, then hangs out his head to feel the late morning sun.

“Kook, you can go out if you’re bored,” you say, your eyes still glued to your screen. “You don’t have to stay with me here.”

“But I want to,” he responds. “I’m not leaving until you do, not when you said we’re spending the week free from work and stress.”

“I just need to get this done,” you sigh, rechecking your stats for the third time and then aligning the table. “I’ll be finished soon.”

“You said that 15 minutes ago,” he points out, not wanting to sound like he’s complaining, although he might as well be.

“It’s just—”

“You’ve done your part, babe. You’ve encoded the figures and cross-checked the targets and objectives. Writing the rest of that report and formatting it isn’t your job anymore,” Jungkook says. “You weren’t even supposed to do those. You’re not on the clock. You’re on leave, and you deserve this break.”

“I hate that I have to work, too, but it’s not something I just can’t do, not when my boss is calling and expecting me to do all this,” you groan.

You see his eyebrows furrow and you get defensive.

“You know what, nevermind. You work solo, you answer to no one, you don’t have to prove yourself to corporate assholes. You won’t get it.”

You sigh once more and return to reviewing the conclusion, but the sudden silence is unnerving. You glance at Jungkook and see the look on his face - it’s not sadness but disappointment, and it’s one you don’t see very often on him.

You’re about to apologize when he speaks, his voice soft and low, as if speaking is difficult for him.

“I work with so many clients on a daily basis, with more than half of them setting deadlines that they don’t even follow and demanding so many things so yes, I get it,” he says. “But I put my foot down when I need to, because I learned a long time ago that I shouldn’t let people walk all over me. I know you’re up against a lot of things and you may feel like your hands are tied but they aren’t. A break won’t hurt you. And you know you deserve it. We deserve your attention, too.”

Your heart cracks at his words. Even more at the way he looks, as you see that all he wants is to spend time with you. He’s been busy, too. He’s spent the last few nights at his studio, buried deep in his projects because he said he wanted to focus on you this week. And you know that he’ll keep his word like he always does. Jungkook is dedicated to his work but he focuses on you when he says he will. You’re the one not loyal to what you say.

“Kook, I’m—”

“Just do what you have to do,” he interjects, his eyes downcast now. “I’ll be outside with Jimin. Come out when you’re done. You like it here, so don’t worry. We won’t leave until you’ve come down.”

Jungkook exits the car before you can say anything. You watch him walk down the stony path towards the ocean.

You hadn’t even realized you’re here.

You’re at Cheongsapo, with the pebble beach just meters away being one you all went to as kids. Jungkook’s older brother used to drive you here during summer, and you all enjoyed the calmness of the place. You used to bet on who would treat ice cream by playing rounds of stone skipping, with Jimin winning every single time. You remember how you and Jungkook taught each other how to do it, and then tag-teamed against your brother so he could finally treat you both that one time.

Whenever you’d visit Busan during your college breaks, you’d always come down here with your friends, with Jungkook and Jimin in tow. You’d visit at sunset and hold out your sparklers, then navigate the terrain at night and laugh about who tripped and slipped on the way back.

Jungkook’s right. You like this place. It holds so many memories of your youth, and you find yourself constantly reminiscing, as you try to recall his place in your life back then.

You mentally smack yourself. He didn’t deserve your dismissal. He didn’t deserve the way you spoke to him. He’s been trying to help, especially with how busy you’ve been these past several weeks. You were supposed to work from home while you housesat your parents’ house but Jimin convinced you to take your untouched leaves when Jungkook decided to come, and then they both called it a mini-break.

And maybe you need it, considering that all this preoccupation with work has caused you to snap at your boyfriend when all he wanted to do was ease your mind.

So you get out of the car and head to him.

There’s a small forest to pass through and a steep staircase to maneuver, but you manage. You look out to see Jimin already throwing stones and Jungkook standing by, reacting to every gliding pebble on the water. You spare a few seconds to admire him from the back, with his plain white shirt and light gray lounge pants, accentuating a figure that has you weak in the knees. His hands are in his pockets and his slightly long locks are in a half-bun, and he looks every bit of comfort in this place that holds so much of your years growing up.

You walk to where he is and wrap your arms around him from behind. He stills but he doesn’t say anything. You savor his natural scent and the way the tips of his hair tickle your face. You bask in the taut figure that somehow softens under your touch. Once you feel him relax a little, you tilt your head and whisper in his ear.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He remains quiet and unmoving. All you can hear are the sounds of the waves and Jimin’s cheering from some meters away.

“I just got caught up with work but I’m done with it. It wasn’t right of me to neglect you when I promised I was gonna take a break and spend time with you,” you continue.

Your voice is low and Jungkook could hear your pout. Just a little bit more and he’ll give in.

“You look so hot today and I just want to—”

“Yah!” He whines, finally returning your affection and caressing your arms that are now wrapped around him tightly. “Don’t tease me.”

“Hmm, that caught your attention, huh?” You giggle, lightly kissing his neck.

He shivers at the act, and he laughs at himself for how whipped he is for you, giving in so quickly.

“You know it would,” he huffs, turning around to face you now.

You still have that pout and he just wants to kiss it off you.

“How was walking down the steep staircase?” He asks, knowing that was your only non-favorite thing about this place.

“I tripped on a step but I’m fine,” you proudly smile now.

“You should’ve called me,” he frowns now.

“But you were upset with me!”

“So? Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you down the stairs and risk you tripping. You know how those steps are. And the pebbles can sometimes be slippery. You can trip here, too, and— what?”

“Nothing. You’re sexy when you’re worried about me,” you say nonchalantly.

“Ugh, come here,” he groans, pulling you in a hug, one that you fall into immediately. “I’ll always worry about you. And I’ll always help you, even if I’m upset.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry again. But I’ve laid off the report now. I told Mr. Soo I shall not be disturbed anymore for the rest of my leave.”

“Good,” Jungkook hums, pulling away to face you now. “Because I really want to know what you wanted to do.”

“Ah, many things, Jeon Jungkook,” you smirk. “But I’ll maybe settle for this first.”

You lean in and kiss him - deep enough to have him moan against your lips, and you suddenly can’t wait until you can do more.

“Oh, my eyes!” Jimin squeals, prompting you to look at him with his arm covering his face.

Jungkook only laughs but you scowl at your brother.

“You’re so dramatic,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve seen worse.”

“And I’ve erased that image of my sister and my best friend swallowing each other’s faces from my mind. Please don’t remind me again,” he groans. “But anyway, are you tolerable again?”

“Yes,” you frown. “I think,” you mutter, turning to Jungkook.

“You’re alright,” he teases, before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. “Now Jimin here wants to reassert his dominance as the stone-skipping king. You game for a match?”

“Do I have a choice?” You cock your eyebrow.

“No. So okay, same rules,” your brother announces. “Loser treats everyone to coffee and pastry. We all know it won’t be me.”

“Brat,” you say under your breath.

But he’s not wrong. He dominates and Jungkook ends up losing. The wink he makes tells you he let you win. And though you like to play fair, you won’t lie and say his teasing smirk definitely turned you on.

You spend the rest of your morning enjoying iced coffee while overlooking the beach, then you head to your favorite seafood restaurant for lunch. You go to your usual market for ingredients for the week, including tonight’s dinner that your mother will be preparing. She wanted to cook for all of you before they flew out, she said, and that got you excited.

It’s refreshing to walk through the streets and spots of your childhood and reminisce with your brother and boyfriend. The memories take on different forms this time, as Jungkook tells you things from his perspective.

You remember that one time you scolded them for sneaking out on a school night and then picking them up at an alley with Jin driving you. Jungkook says he liked how caring and understanding you were then; you said you’d cover for them after flicking their foreheads.

There’s that summer when you got your friends to buy from Jimin and Jungkook’s ice pop stand so they could buy these skateboards that neither of your parents wanted to get for them. Jungkook recalls how you complimented his recipe and told everyone he made them so that they’d praise him, too.

There’s that winter when, after your brother’s begging, you had him and Jungkook join you and your friends’ bonfire night at one of your secret beach spots. Jungkook points out that you always made sure that as the youngest ones there, they were warm and well-fed.

And then there were their sleepovers when you’d join them play video games and watch horror movies in the living room. Jungkook gushes at how pretty you looked and how you’d always prepare them popcorn and drinks. He outs you as the one who puts the blanket over him and Jimin when they fall asleep on the couch.

“I tend to forget a lot of things but I remember when they’re about you,” he mumbles as he starts the drive to your house. “It’s just always stuck with me. Please don’t be weirded out.”

You giggle but assure him that you aren’t. You understand him - there are things and people and moments that naturally stick with you, and they’re the ones you hold dear, too.

He was a kid with a crush and his attention was often on you, and you suppose that given how you’d felt comfortable around him then, it was also maybe natural that you’d feel the same way now that you’re both older. It just so happened that he ended up looking as attractive as he did, and that’s just an added bonus.

Jungkook drops you and Jimin home before he drives three blocks away to his parents’ house. He’ll greet them first before heading to your place, he says, excited for your mom’s cooking that he always enjoyed.

It’s been some time since you last saw them. They don’t always drive out to Seoul, only doing so to watch Jimin’s shows, and you haven’t had time to go home, either. Plus, you had an injured brother to take care of, and he’s also really the topic of every conversation you’ve had with them these past months.

And there are no bad feelings there. He’s had injuries and illnesses that had them worried, and you’re pretty much as unproblematic and predictable as any eldest child could get. You think you’re that monotonous or unexciting, too, and you suppose that just meant they didn’t feel the need to check on you as much as they did with Jimin.

But you express your longing once they offer you their hugs. You say how you miss your mom’s cooking and your dad’s baking, which is code for saying that you’ve missed them, too.

You get your stuff to your room and sigh in relief at the comfort it still gives you. Not much has changed between your double bed, your desk, your beanbag, and the large cork board of photos on your wall. You pin the Polaroids from earlier, deciding to keep the ones of you and Jungkook for your place back in Seoul.

You huff this time, unsure how you’ll open the discussion of you dating your younger brother’s best friend to your parents. They’ve known him since he was a kid; they watched him get into all kinds of trouble with their son, and were there for his milestones, too.

Jungkook was always Jimin’s partner-in-crime; they were two peas in a pod who went through everything together. Now it’s you and him and you don’t really know how they’ll take it.

But you brush it off for now and think it’s a conversation for later, or maybe when they come back from their trip. You intended on telling them in person, which is why they’re still in the dark. It’s just a matter of how you’ll say it.

You head downstairs and take in the scent of seafood soft tofu stew. The two boys are already at the kitchen counter, munching on the rolled omelet that they shouldn’t even be having yet. But your mom lets them, as Jimin talks about his new agency and shows videos of him doing some choreographies.

You stand next to Jungkook, who sneakily feeds you. You don’t know why you get flustered at the act, even more when he whispers in your ear.

“So, I finally get to see your room with your permission,” he cheekily smiles. “I promised Jimin a few rounds of Overwatch before going to you.”

You merely laugh and tell him that your dad’s asking him something.

“So, Jungkook. How has work been? Jimin tells us you’ve been getting more projects recently,” your old man asks.

“Ah, yes, uncle,” he responds. “I’m getting more clients and exposure now. It took a while but it’s all going well.”

“That’s good. Although I always wondered why you never thought of joining a firm. Doesn’t that mean a more consistent client base? And better for you financially, too.”

“Well, I get to choose my clients and my projects as a freelancer,” Jungkook explains. “I control my time. And it allows me to take appointments at the tattoo parlor.”

“Oh, right, your hobby,” your dad nods. “I guess having multiple sources of income is the new trend these days.”

Jungkook just hums in agreement, already used to your dad’s frame of thought when it comes to a career. So are you, because it’s often the first thing he picks up on with your boyfriends. Each of your partners just happened to be working in corporate so there was never this line of questioning followed by an awkward silence.

But Jungkook is just your brother’s best friend, as far as they know. You wonder how they’d react once you finally tell them the truth.

You don’t completely fault your dad, though. It’s less about judgment and more about practicality. He and your mom came from the generation that believed survival and security mattered more than passion. They always thought the latter could come later on in life, which is why they opened their own cafe not long ago, at a time when they were already pretty secure. You suppose it’s his way of looking out for you, which is why he’s always been concerned about your partner’s occupation.

The conversation changes, as the focus now turns to your parents and what they’ve been up to. You assist your mom in the kitchen while the men hang around, helping when they’re called upon. Jungkook stands near you, asking if you need him and attempting to feed you with a dumpling this time, but you manage to feed yourself and he merely looks at you in understanding.

Dinner is finally ready and you all head to the dining table. You take the seat next to your mom, across from Jungkook, and he looks at you curiously but you offer him an apologetic smile. You only told him that you’ll tell your parents about your relationship in person, which you planned on doing.

That is, until your parents bring up your friends.

“Sweetie, Jin’s son is so adorable,” your mom chirps. “I saw the pictures on Facebook and the little one took after his father so much. I can imagine how happy he and his wife are.”

The topic of your dear friend and his family injects energy into you. You say how Jin’s been bragging about his mini-me but that the nursery you helped put together looks so beautiful. You were all there when his wife gave birth a few weeks ago and though you’re still unsure about having kids, you won’t deny how much it warmed your heart when Seo-yoon’s tiny fingers wrapped around your thumb. It’s not something you say though, as your mom eventually mentions Na-eun and her fiancé.

“I read that he’s been promoted as Director of their company,” she says.

Your dad pipes in that So-Hee’s new boyfriend is apparently the son of one of his former colleagues, and you’re quite frankly over the conversations about your friends’ partners. The insinuations aren’t lost on you.

“How do you even know these things?” You groan.

“Facebook,” your mom replies. “Of course I’m friends with all your friends. And it’s nice to know how well they’re doing since we don’t get to see them much anymore. You’ve reached that age of settling down, after all.”

“I guess,” you hum, no longer interested in the conversation. Jimin’s roll of his eyes tells you he feels the same. “Lots of good things are happening for them.”

You don’t mean to sound bitter and you aren’t. You adore your friends and genuinely love that things are looking out for them. You’re not the same person from months ago who felt lost and falling behind amongst them. Sure, things could be better career-wise, but you haven’t felt this much security in yourself and your relationship until Jungkook. Explaining why is a different thing altogether.

“What about you?” Your dad asks. “I know we’ve been calling every week to ask about your brother but we haven’t been checking in on you. I’m sorry, dear,” he continues, his eyes softening. “Is there anything new in your life?”

If the earlier conversations hadn’t happened, perhaps you’d willingly hint on the newest thing in your life, which is the relationship you have with the man currently looking at you with his doe-eyes in anticipation.

But they did, and you know mentioning your friends’ partners was their way of subtly pressuring you about being with someone of similar stature. And you’re not really in the mood for that right now.

So you end up doing the stupidest thing you possibly could, and that’s to lie.

“Not really,” you say, hating the prolonged silence that follows.

And as you look at Jungkook across from you, you see his face fall, and you hate even more that it’s because of you.

Your lack of a follow-up prompts your parents to move on. They know that when you’re in the mood to talk, you will and when you’re quite passive, it means you aren’t.

Your mom turns to Jungkook instead and asks him what else he’s up to other than his various jobs and looking after Jimin. He looks at you before his gaze shifts towards them.

“Not much else, auntie,” he replies.

The crack of your heart knows you completely messed up, because if it stings like this, then you know it hurt him even more.

“Oh, is there no one special in your life?” She asks, as she often does. Given that she treats Jungkook as part of the family, she’s lost all filter when it comes to him, too. “I recently met with my friend and her daughter. She’s such a lovely young woman, Kook, she’s brilliant and oh so charming. She’s in Busan for the week, too. Do you want to—”

“Is it time for dessert?” Jimin butts in, not wanting this conversation to continue.

He knows Jungkook wouldn’t know how to turn your mother down, and if he even slightly entertains the idea to appease her, you’d be the one upset, even if you technically put this upon yourself. Jimin already sees you a bit uncomfortable, and if there’s anything he can do to not make this worse for you and his best friend, it’s to be a brat.

“Oh, yes. Your father made an apple pie and some ice cream,” she says. “Let me—”

“I’ll get it,” you offer, standing up from your seat now.

You don’t want to know what your mom’s other propositions would be. You’re sure she’ll find some person’s son to match you with, given that she’s done that a few times after your breakup with Namjoon. You’re also not ready for Jungkook to agree with her about meeting someone, even if you know he won’t mean it.

Which is really stupid because if you’d just told them the truth, then you’ll be having a completely different conversation, although you’re unsure if you’re ready for that one, too. But at least Jungkook wouldn’t look as upset as he does right now, as he’s resorted to picking on his food instead of finishing it, which tells you that he’s lost his appetite and that’s never a good thing.

You go to the kitchen to slice the pie and scoop the ice cream. You do it so slowly to lengthen the time before you’re back there, only because you don’t want to know what else they’re talking about.

You’re in the middle of cursing yourself when you feel the sting of a tiny pinch on your arm, and you yelp in pain and smack your brother’s chest in reflex.

“Ow!” You yell, frowning at the man before you and ignoring your mother’s order to “behave,” even if they’re used to you two quarreling.

“You deserve that,” Jimin scowls at you. “Because what the fuck was that?!”

“I know,” you sigh, glancing at Jungkook who’s trying his best to be interested in what your parents are saying. “I… froze. You know what they wanted to hear, Chim. All those things about my friends’ boyfriends and what they do? I just didn’t want them to compare them to what Jungkook does if I tell them.”

“Why, what’s wrong with what he does?” Your brother raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing. It’s just… you know how focused they are on career stability and shit like that,” you try to explain. “You heard what dad was telling him earlier. I just didn’t want Jungkook to hear any underhanded comments from them and then feel bad about it.”

“And you think denying that you’re dating is any better?” He chides. “That’s literally worse!”

“I—”

“Jungkook knows how our parents are. And after you got together, he already anticipated that they’d question how he’ll be able to sustain your life together once you told them about your relationship,” Jimin explains. “He was ready for it. I doubt he anticipated this…”

You stand there, the crack in your heart getting deeper and bigger as the seconds pass. You hadn’t realized that Jungkook was already confiding in Jimin about any concerns he’d have about facing your parents. You suppose he would, given that you said you’d tell them when you saw them the one time that Jungkook asked if they knew, and you didn’t raise it again after. Living in your bubble together seemed more important, and you’d forgotten to mentally prepare yourself for this conversation.

“Chim, I fucked up,” you pout.

If it were about anything else, Jimin would push it. It’s how you always were, and you’ve reached that point in your relationship where you could call each other out and know it comes from a good place. But he doesn’t want to do this today, not when you’re already sad and guilty and he doesn’t want you to feel worse. He doesn’t want to take sides, even if he’ll admit that you were in the wrong, but he doesn’t want to antagonize you either.

“Hey,” he nudges your arm. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re both gonna figure it out. I don’t know how hard he’ll take this but he’s a really soft-hearted person, so just… keep that in mind, okay?”

You nod, wanting to believe that you’ll be able to fix it.

“And don’t hate yourself too much,” your brother adds. “He’s really, really into you. I just know he won’t be able to resist you.”

You nod again but you think that just makes it worse. You doubt he expected that out of all the people to disappoint him, it would be you. Yet here you are.

You and Jimin return to the table with the plated desserts. You hand one to Jungkook but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He doesn’t meet your eyes either when it’s all you try to do. He peacefully eats his apple pie while you feign interest at your parents talking about their recent weekend at a spa.

When everyone’s done, he helps Jimin clean up. It’s how you know that Jungkook’s considered part of the family, as your parents don’t stop him from doing so, unlike when it comes to other guests or your friends.

You watch helplessly as he washes the dishes, turning down your offer to help. You take the rest of the plates and walk towards him instead, standing close so you could place them in the sink. He just moves his arms to give you space then returns to his task, not sparing you a glance.

You stay with your parents in the dining area to talk about their trip. They leave you with important documents and give you instructions should anything bad happen to them while they’re away, as they always do whenever they go on a trip. Everything is your responsibility as the eldest, they remind you.

They finally go to their room to continue packing and you sit on the corner of the couch where Jimin and Jungkook have just finished watching some video of a guy reacting to other videos. You constantly glance at your boyfriend but he seems to be intent on not giving you attention because he’s not like this - he always wants to be close to you, needing his hand to be touching your arm or your thigh or even your hair, and his pretty eyes locked on you. But not tonight.

You recall how months ago, you avoided him because of what you started to feel. And perhaps this is how he felt then - helpless, unsure, and desperate for you to be next to him again.

You find the tiniest bit of courage and call out his name, hoping he’d at least turn to you this time.

“Kook, I’m—”

“Hey, we should probably play now so we finish early,” Jungkook nudges Jimin’s knee. “It’s been a long day; I don’t really want to stay up late.”

Your brother looks at you in apology as he responds to the man on his left in agreement. They both head up, leaving you rooted in your seat, wishing that Jungkook would turn around to tell you that he doesn’t mean creating this distance, but he doesn’t.

And you wouldn’t blame him. You’d stay away from you, too.

You end up watching Aliens on your own, crouched on your corner of the couch with the large blanket over you. You give up after an hour, once the movie starts getting intense and scary though. There’s no Jungkook to hold you during the jumpscares, or to tease you about your screaming, or to assure you that he’ll protect you from all types of monsters.

There’s no Jungkook next to you but you want him there, and it’s another half hour later when you decide that you’re not going to bed without speaking to him.

You hate sleeping sad and upset. You don’t like ending the day not being on good terms with him. There are so many things you want to tell him but more than anything, you just want to hold him close. He always said he liked that, because even during the times when there’s so much to say or feel, falling into each other’s arms is the easiest thing to do. It says enough. It shows enough. And you’ve both survived misunderstandings and stressful moments by holding each other, and then holding each other closer.

Walking up the stairs and towards Jimin’s room, the nerves kick in. Jungkook has been ignoring you the whole evening and you’re unsure if he’s willing to hear you out.

But you try, as you knock on the door, your heart beating fast when it slowly opens. Your brother’s downcast eyes meet you and you don’t need to say anything else.

He opens the door wider then turns to the man lying on a mattress on the floor.

“Kook, my sister’s looking for you.”

You glance at him, dressed in that black tank top that always made you breathless, but once again, he avoids your gaze. But he does stand up after a nudge on the foot from your brother and walks over to you.

“Can we, uh…” you gesture towards the room just across the hallway.

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t shut you out, which is a good thing. You take it as your cue to start walking and you hear his footsteps right behind you.

You let him in then close the door behind him. There’s so much you want to say, like you’re sorry and that you were stupid, that you didn’t mean to deny him but that you didn’t know how to tell your parents, or what you were even nervous about. You want to say that you just want to spend tonight wrapped up in his arms and apologizing in all the ways that you can.

But instead of uttering the words, your throat dries up. Seeing him standing there with that upset and disinterested look on his face breaks you a little. So you reach out, your hands pressing gently on his chest to try to feel him, to be close to him, hopefully to hold him and make your mistake go away.

“Kook, I…” you tremble, trying so hard to find the words.

Jungkook looks back at you, your face nervous and unsure, unlike his that’s probably still painted with disappointment.

He still doesn’t know what to make of your denial. He’s been trying to see things from your point of view all evening, but doing so only in his head because verbalizing them, especially to his best friend, makes it sting a bit more. Maybe Jimin can explain on your behalf but that would just confirm to Jungkook one of two things - that you don’t really intend on telling your parents about both of you for whatever reason he can’t comprehend, or you don’t think he measures up to their expectations and for that, you might just think he’s not good enough for you.

He doesn’t think he’s ready for that, so he shuts Jimin down when he asks. They watched videos earlier to have something to laugh about but he was faking it. He suggested playing a game just so he wouldn’t respond to you calling him earlier but all they’ve done since going to the room is lie in silence.

Jungkook doesn’t want to talk about it with his best friend. And he certainly doesn’t want to talk about it with you. He doesn’t want an explanation right now. It’s not what he wants to hear.

And it seems as if it’s something you’re even struggling to give him, as you stand there quivering, your hands slowly trying to pull him closer to you.

It’s what you usually do when you can’t find the words to express something - when you’re stressed and frustrated, when you want to patch things up after a small misunderstanding, when you want his comfort. And he always loved it when you did. He always willingly gave you that hug and that kiss and those whispers of “it’s okay” and “we’re okay” and “I’m just here.”

But not tonight, not when there’s this unnamed thing that’s eating him inside, and not even you can fix it.

“I don’t… I don’t really wanna do this right now,” he mutters, taking your hands to slowly slide them off him.

The look of hurt in your eyes is one that’ll probably haunt him for a while, but he’ll learn to deal with that. It’s better than talking with you about something that you don’t even know how to express.

This isn’t like him. It’s not like him to be upset at you like this, to not want to comfort you, to not want to be around you. This messes him up, too, and all he can do is step away and walk out.

He doesn’t really wanna be here, he thinks to himself as he enters the room just across, to the surprise of Jimin who half expected both of you to have made up. Jungkook would go home if he only brought his keys and it wasn’t too late to ask his parents to open the door for him.

But his best friend’s floor mattress will do for now. And so Jungkook puts on his earpods and plays whatever music is loud enough to shut out the thought of you until he falls asleep.

In the other room, you lay in your bed in complete silence. You don’t want to cry, only because he’s not there to wipe your tears away. And you don’t ever want to know what that’s like, so you don’t. You keep the tears at bay and force yourself to drift away.

You jerk awake the next morning to your mother knocking on your door. You promised to do errands with her today, so you get off the bed and yell out that you’ll just fix up.

“No rush, dear. I’m still having breakfast with your father. You can join us when you’re ready.”

You head down and eat the pastries that they brought from the cafe. You don’t have much appetite and these will suffice, but your mind goes to Jungkook and how he was craving kimchi fried rice and spam yesterday.

So that’s what you make for him and Jimin. You even prepare iced coffee the way they like it. You’re about to set the dish aside for them to heat up when you hear rushed footsteps down the stairs and you know they’ve woken up.

“Wahhh, it smells so good,” Jimin exclaims as he walks over to the counter while his best friend sits on the table. “Did you make something, dad?”

“Oh, your sister cooked for you and Jungkook,” your father hums. “It’s making me hungry now.”

“There’s still some in here if you want,” you call out, with him responding that he’ll get some later.

You serve the dish in two bowls. You hand one to Jimin and then place the other in front of Jungkook without sparing him a glance.

“Iced coffee is in the refrigerator,” you tell them.

You hear Jimin’s little squeal before he gets them. “Where you off to?” He asks.

“I’m running errands with mom.”

“Make sure you two make it in time for dinner, okay?” Your father says.

“Of course. I can’t miss your steak, dad,” you give him a small smile.

“Good. I prepared meat good enough for five Actually, six. I count Jungkook as two people,” he laughs.

The thought of this comfort and familiarity hurts you because you’re the one who made Jungkook think otherwise. You see him smile at your father’s remark but you turn away when he looks your way. You know he’s still upset and you don’t want to force it if he’s not yet ready to speak with you. You also haven’t gotten over the way he pulled away from you last night, and so looking at him today is a little difficult.

“You’re still joining us at the party, right?” Jimin asks.

Their friend, Hari, whom you know briefly dated Jungkook in high school, is celebrating her birthday tonight. Their group always looked to you as the cool sister so you’re always invited to whatever they’ve got going, and while the three of you talked about attending later, after what you did, you doubt Jungkook would want you to spoil his evening. You’re also not exactly in the partying mood for obvious reasons.

“I’ll pass, Chim,” you respond. “You guys should have a best friend night.”

You go back to your room to fix up before joining your mother to head out.

Back in the dining room, Jimin nudges Jungkook’s knee.

“She’s still playing favorites,” he playfully rolls his eyes as he gestures to the generous amount of spam in his best friend’s bowl compared to his decent serving.

Jungkook just hums, guilt forming that he didn’t even thank you for this because he really has been craving it. Before any of them could say anything more, your father speaks up.

“Your sister okay, son?”

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t she be?” Jimin nervously answers.

“She just doesn’t seem like herself, that’s all,” your old man replies.

“Maybe it’s work. It’s been tough lately,” your brother reasons.

“But she’s more tired and frustrated when it comes to work but that’s not what she is. Maybe it’s a guy.”

At this, Jungkook chokes on his food, and he’s glad your father doesn’t react.

“What makes you think so?” Jimin asks, his eyes flitting to his best friend.

“Hmm, it just seems different,” your father insists. “Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my end. She hasn’t introduced anyone since Namjoon. And I wish she would, just so we know she’s moved on, you know? And that the breakup isn’t still hurting her.”

“She has, and it doesn’t affect her anymore,” Jimin confirms, certain of at least that bit.

“Then why hasn’t she introduced anyone yet?”

“Maybe it’s because you really liked Namjoon, and he seems to be your standard so ___ is just probably just taking her time.”

“Well it’s because he’s smart and stable and very self-assured and—”

“Also very much married. And a soon-to-be father,” Jimin interjects, already being protective of you.

He wonders now if this is how your parents talk about him to you, and that you’ve always just protected him from all of it.

“Oh,” your father sighs. “It could’ve been her.”

“But it isn’t and that’s totally fine,” Jimin exclaims. “She’s young and she’s got time. And who knows, maybe that’s not the life she wants, or at least not yet? If you could accept my version of happiness, you should be able to accept hers, too. And what does ‘stable’ even mean?”

“Someone with ambition, with a direction,” your old man explains. “Someone who’s secure and financially capable of sustaining this good life that your mom and I gave you both.”

“Those are all the things she is, too, you know?” Jimin frowns. “And also, I love you, dad, but you’re old. By that I mean your thinking is old. It’s outdated. You think stability is about prestige and money and I get that but… that’s not everything. There are other things that matter to her and if you lessened the pressure a bit, you’d see that. She’s your daughter, don’t you want her to be happy? To be loved?”

“Of course I do,” your father sighs.

“Well then don’t let your version of what a good partner is dictate her life,” Jimin advises. “She’s a grown up, she knows what she wants and how to get it. But she’s also your daughter who doesn’t want to worry or disappoint you. What if she’s found someone who makes her happy and treats her right but she’s nervous of what you’d think because of all these expectations you have of her?”

Jimin’s eyes flit to his best friend again who’s quietly munching on his food but is clearly taking in this exchange. While Jimin still thinks you were wrong to deny your relationship, he at least hopes that Jungkook could understand what was going through your mind and it was all this.

“Well if she has then I’d want to meet him,” your father insists.

“And maybe you will, once she stops feeling the pressure of what she’s supposed to be for you and who she’s supposed to date,” Jimin explains.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, dad,” Jimin groans. “I lived with her for months and she just… she worries about a lot of things. It would be nice if she doesn’t worry about this. So please, stop with all the projections and underhanded remarks, okay? She sees right through you. Just let her live her life.”

A smile forms on your father’s face. It was never his intention to put all that pressure on you but he supposes you just accepted that it comes with the territory. But he realizes it shouldn’t be. His son’s right - he’s old. He and your mother worked hard so that you and your brother could have a life where you didn’t have to worry about anything, but he supposes the intention got muddled along the way. At least you and Jimin have each other.

“I know you and your sister don’t like to admit it but it’s really touching to see how similar you both are,” your father says.

“Excuse me, I’m cooler and funnier and definitely more talented,” Jimin pouts.

“Maybe,” your old man laughs. “But she’s sat on that same chair, lecturing me and your mom about letting you live your life and now you’re doing the same. She’s your biggest advocate and your biggest protector. It’s just nice to see how you’re the same for her.”

Running errands with your mother has always been your responsibility, but it’s once you’ve hit your late-twenties mark that you’ve come to appreciate it.

You learn a lot about the practical stuff like insurance and emergency funds and inheritance when you accompany her to the bank. You’re also reminded that sometimes you have to spend more to make things last when she drops off her clothes at the laundry service and picks up the bag and shoes she had professionally cleaned. You also remember the important things like buying flowers and leaving them on your grandparents’ graves.

You’ve just left the shopping center after she bought your father an anniversary gift, and her excitement over the satchel and perfume she got him has you smiling. You wonder how differently she feels for him 30 years later, and if this life they have together is everything she imagined it to be.

“Was it hard at the beginning? Being married to dad?” You ask.

“Of course, dear,” she answers. “Because it’s how marriages typically go. Your father and I were together for two years before we got married and it was a big change. You just… learn to consider another person, and you get used to someone always being around you.”

“It’s a good thing you can stand each other then,” you chuckle.

“That’s true,” she laughs back. “You’d be surprised to know how many married couples can’t. But we just always managed. And we had to be on each other’s side, you know? It’s the reason why we’ve lasted as long as we have.”

She looks quite emotional as she says the words and it’s probably because of what they’ll be celebrating soon but she turns to you with a smile.

“Your father’s parents wanted me to become a housewife, a stay-at-home mom who just ran the household,” she continues. “But I wanted to work so I could help my parents, and your father stood by my decision. He saw how working gave him financial freedom and he wanted that for me, too. And we just… worked hard. We fought a lot at the start because we were building our careers and raising a family but we knew it would all be worth it, as long as we stood by each other.”

“Then I suppose that’s what’s important in a partner, isn’t it?” You say. “Being dependable, being supportive, not… not what kind of career they have.”

“Well, a stable career helps,” she points out. “I mean, it’s how your father and I got to afford sending you and your brother to good schools. It’s how we could afford trips as a family and how your father and I can be secure at this age without needing much help from our children.”

“But that’s also because you worked hard, plain and simple. And you and dad had each other and overcame whatever challenges you faced together. You can’t say the same for all married couples,” you push.

“That’s true. I mean, it wasn’t like this during our parents’ time. I guess people had less options then. The world’s changed so much, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” you hum. “Not everyone cares much about their partner’s upward mobility and stuff like that. They want to savor the good life their parents gave them. And because they work hard, too, they just want someone to enjoy it with them. You know, like me.”

There’s a beat of silence as your mother processes your words.

“Is that why it didn’t work out with Namjoon?” She asks, reminding you that you’d only given them a general reason as to why things ended.

“We spent too much time planning for our future that we kinda lost our way,” you explain. “I guess that’s when I realized that I wanted someone to enjoy the moments with, regardless of what they do for a living. And we’ll never know what life will throw our way and I need someone who’ll stand by me, the way I’ll stand by them. You know, cheesy things like that.”

You smile to yourself as you think about Jungkook and his shameless affection that he shows in so many ways. You enjoy the cheesiness but you’ll deny it first before admitting it. But then again, he probably knows already. He pays attention to you after all.

“Well, I suppose that’s why we wanted to give you and your brother a good and secure life, so that you can enjoy it,” your mother hums.

“Exactly. You raised us well, mom. We’re not gonna throw our lives away, however we choose to live it, and with whom,” you assure her.

She gives you a warm smile. She takes your hand at the stoplight and caresses it. Perhaps it’s the assurance you need, too.

You return home to your father preparing the meat for tonight’s dinner. There’s a platter of steak, vegetables, and sausages that he’s seasoning to grill, and you can imagine how happy this is gonna make Jungkook. He always liked it when your dad prepared dishes like this paired with your mom’s spicy chicken soup, and you wish you could enjoy it together.

But you’re giving him space to feel what he feels and you’re doing the same, even if all you want to do is apologize. You haven’t had an issue quite like this, so things are a little unfamiliar to you. You tried to talk to him last night but he wasn’t ready, and you’re unsure when he will be.

You head towards the counter and cut up the vegetables for the soup before slicing the fruits. You’re focused on your task, knowing how sharp the knives are, but it’s at the same time that your brother and Jungkook arrive. Seeing your boyfriend look as good as he does in that denim jacket-over tank top fit is so sinful; it’s a crime you’re not talking that it distracts you, and it’s what causes you to slice through your finger and yelp in pain.

“Did you hurt yourself, dear?” Your mom asks as she stirs the pot.

“Yeah,” you say, placing your hand under running water.

You’re about to ask Jimin to get the First Aid kit from the drawer but Jungkook gets to it first, knowing where it is.

He knows that your brother, who’s terrified of blood, won’t help you, and despite your situation, Jungkook can’t stand not helping. So he lathers an antiseptic once the bleeding has stopped, then he wraps a band-aid around it. Just like him, you focus your gaze on your finger. Or maybe you’re stuck on the way he tends to you. Or the fact that this is the most physical touch you’ve done this past day when you normally can’t take your hands off each other.

He sighs to himself. If he wasn’t so hung up on his hurt feelings, he’d be able to tend to you better. This might not even have happened if he’d just spoken to you last night.

But he shakes the thought away. He’s still upset. But he’ll always want to take care of you; that’s the one thing that won’t ever change.

“Thank you,” you mumble, still not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll do this,” he says, waiting for you to step aside before he takes your place.

“Jungkook dear, do you mind helping me with the glazed potatoes after you finish that?” She asks.

“Sure thing, auntie,” he replies.

You watch him work around the kitchen the way he’s done so many times before, and your heart stings at the sight because you want to be doing this with him, with your parents, in your family kitchen. But it’s not like you could talk to him right now, not when you don’t know how to say what you want to say. So you head outside to where your dad is grilling the meat and help him instead.

It’s not long after when dinner is ready, and you’re seated across Jungkook again. It’s a little tense when you look at him when he looks away, but Jimin thankfully finds a way to keep the conversation light and focused on him.

Your parents insist that both men don’t need to help clean up, and Jimin asks you if you’re really not going.

“Yeah I’ll just… stay home, make sure mom and dad are packed well and just get everything in order for tomorrow,” you say, half lying.

“Gee, you make me look like a useless child,” Jimin pouts.

“You’re alright,” you hum. “You can drive them to the airport tomorrow.”

“But mom asked Jungkook to do that.”

“Well then you could just… make them a card or something,” you shrug.

Your brother sticks his tongue at you and you do the same.

“Fine, we’ll head out,” he announces.

“You guys have fun,” you say softly, glancing at Jungkook before walking towards the sink to do your duty.

You turn to your brother. “Call me if you need me to pick you up. No driving drunk, okay?”

He salutes you in response then heads out after Jungkook.

It’s uneventful after that. You help your parents with last minute packing then have a long shower. You lie on your bed and mindlessly watch some movie on your laptop hoping that you’ll fall asleep soon, and that when you wake up, you’ll find the strength to go to Jungkook and tell him that you’re sorry and that you don’t want to go another day without him.

“Hey, Jungkook. Dance with me.”

Jungkook looks up to find Hari and gives the same answer he’s given the last two times.

“Sorry, I’m injured,” he says.

She raises her eyebrow as if she doesn’t believe him and he can’t blame her; he doesn’t exactly know how to act like it.

“Oh, Jimin. There you are,” she chirps as the said man approaches the table. “Dance with me.”

“Sorry, I'm injured.”

“Great. It’s my birthday and I spot two hot guys in this party without girls around them and they’re fake injured,” she scowls. “What’s up with you two?”

“I’m not in the mood,” Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m babysitting,” Jimin says, gesturing at his friend. “But Mingyu and Eunwoo are right there. Go tell them to dance with you.”

“Fine. I’ll get in line then,” she rolls her eyes then walks away.

“How come no one believes me when I say I’m injured?” Jungkook asks as he munches on the fried chicken wings his best friend got.

“Because you’re a terrible actor. People believe me because I’m believable,” Jimin hums.

“They believe you because you posted all over social media that you hurt your ankle,” Jungkook corrects.

“Yeah but that was like, half a year ago.”

“Why are you even pretending you’re injured? You don’t have to stay with me, you know? Go to the dance floor and have fun. That’s your thing.”

“Well, maybe I’m also not in the mood because my best friend’s sulking,” Jimin frowns.

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“You know my sister’s sorry, right?”

“She’s ashamed, that’s what she is. And I’m just supposed to live with that.”

Jimin sighs as he watches his best friend mindlessly stare out onto the dance floor. Jungkook’s probably trying to rid himself of the image of both of you dancing and kissing and having fun if you were here. He could be making sense of what he feels, or his mind could also just be completely blank right now.

But what Jimin knows is that another glass of whiskey is something that Jungkook shouldn’t be having, so he stops his best friend from ordering another one.

“You might get drunk and then you’ll call or go see her and then you’ll say things you’ll regret and then you’ll hurt her and you’ll get even more hurt and you’ll have a harder time fixing things and then it just won’t stop and you’ll feel stupid because you’re not talking over something you could easily fix,” Jimin heaves.

It’s a lot to process but Jungkook knows that Jimin’s right. He’ll just get too emotional and won’t be able to control himself and despite what he feels, hurting you is the last thing he wants.

So he orders water instead, finishes it, then heads for the door.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore,” he says. “I need to get some air.”

They end up at a park, the one that you used to hang at with your friends in high school. Jungkook knows because he always accompanied Jimin there when you’d tell him where to meet you. It’s peaceful at this time of night and much more beautiful, too. It’s no surprise he keeps thinking that you’re right next to him, with your head on his chest and laughing at his jokes.

“Why is this affecting me so much?” He wonders out loud. “Why am I so hurt and so stubborn?”

“Because she said something she shouldn’t have. But also because you put her on a pedestal,” Jimin answers. “She made a mistake, and you’re free to fault her for it. I mean, anytime someone we care about hurts us, it sucks like hell. But you also have to think that maybe it’s affecting you as much as it does because she’s always been faultless in your eyes and she isn’t.”

The reality is a slap on the face, but one that Jungkook thinks he needs to have. You were everything he ever wanted and these past three months have been a bliss. But now that reality hits and you have to face the pressure that’s part of your life, your humanness is showing. And that’s what he’s always liked about you, isn’t it? The imperfections and the flaws? Now that those are affecting him, it’s affecting him hard, and he’s having a hard time getting over it.

“Maybe once you accept that she’s human and not just the dream you’ve had since forever, then you’ll realize that things like that happen but she never means to hurt you,” Jimin adds. “You can’t think that she does. You learn to work it out by facing it, Kook. You have to talk about it. You have to tell her it hurts and you have to listen to what she says, and then you forgive. That’s kind of how grownup relationships go.”

“Guess I’ve never had one before, huh?”

“Maybe they just didn’t mean enough to hurt you.”

“This means everything, then,” Jungkook sighs, as things get clearer in his mind. “Because I think what hurts more now is not being next to her.”

“Great! Then can both of you patch things up now?” Jimin beams, feeling hopeful. “I hate seeing both of you sad and so stupid. Plus, my parents are leaving tomorrow and you won’t have a buffer anymore. So please just talk.”

Jungkook admits feeling touched. He knows at the end of the day, Jimin cares about him and you more than anyone, and he probably misses being around both of you at the same time. Jungkook does, too, but he misses you the most and it’s only been a day.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “I don’t know what to tell her and it’s late. She might be asleep and—”

“Now you’re just making excuses,” Jimin crosses his arms.

“Well, what if I expect her to be the one to talk to me?”

“She tried but you didn’t want to, remember?”

“That was last night. The wound was still fresh,” Jungkook pouts.

“Oh god. I feel like I’m dealing with children,” Jimin groans.

“Imagine how we felt taking care of you,” Jungkook answers back.

“At least I was just one person,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Your dramatics were equivalent to two people though.”

Both men bicker as they walk back to the car. It started to drizzle so they decided to go back to their respective homes. Jungkook could stay over at your place and maybe talk to you if he really wants to but he’s seriously just chickening out over it.

He’s never had to make up with you because none of your previous arguments ever led to you not talking to each other, or him pushing you away. He’s never had to spend a day ignoring you. And now, there’s so much to say and so much to feel but he doesn’t know how to approach it. He’ll need tonight to sort himself out and then he’ll speak to you, maybe after he drives your parents to the airport. Or maybe on the way back.

He drops Jimin off; 30 seconds later, he’s home, too. You’re so close but so far away just like you used to be. But at least this time he knows that when the next day comes, he’ll have a chance to just pull you close and tell you he doesn’t want to be like this ever again.

There’s an incessant knocking on your door, and as you’re about to yell out that you’re asleep, you realize it might be Jungkook. You sit up on your bed and when the door opens and you see your brother instead, your face falls.

“It’s just me, unfortunately,” he says. “Kook’s back at his place.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “Why are you home so early? It’s like, 11.”

“Because after the third girl, his fake injury excuse wore off and people just didn’t believe him. We looked like losers sitting on the table eating chicken,” Jimin chuckles. “So we left after an hour then went to a park and I knocked some sense into him and now he’s not so upset anymore. And I’m here to knock some sense into you, too.”

“I already know I made a mistake, Chim. I’m… I’m so fucking stupid. I just… don’t want him to think that I’m ashamed of him or that I don’t think he’s enough or any of that. I mean I’m—”

“Crazy about him, right?”

“I kinda am,” you smile softly.

“Good, because so is he and he’s hoping you’d go talk to him even if he says he’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t waste time anymore and—”

You’re bolting off your bed and putting on your hoodie before your brother could finish his sentence.

“If mom and dad look for me, tell them I—”

“Got attacked by a clown in the sewer.”

You look at him incredulously then realize you’re wearing yellow then you frown.

“Just make up some excuse. I’ll… hopefully be back in the morning,” you say.

“Alright. It’s drizzling though so—”

And just like that, you’re gone.

It takes all but 10 seconds for the rain to pour, and your hoodie and sweatpants are no match for it. You groan at your brother for underselling the weather but then again, you also should be thanking him for telling you what you needed to hear - that Jungkook’s not so upset anymore and that he’s hoping you’d speak to him.

Much as you think you would’ve taken any chance today to patch things up, you also would’ve frozen in front of him. You suppose you needed to know he was ready for you, and if he wouldn’t tell you, then of course, Jimin would. You just really wish he had the foresight to know it would rain this hard but you’re probably asking for too much.

But Jungkook’s place is just a few blocks from yours so you power through. When you get there, you realize that you forgot your phone, so you make the stupid decision of climbing over the short fence and then hitting your cut finger in the process.

You have no time to feel pain though, as the next order of business is getting Jungkook’s attention. But before you can execute your plan of throwing rocks on his window, the front door opens, and you telepathically thank your brother who probably called your boyfriend to alert him that you’ll be arriving at his place wet from the rain.

“___, what are you doing here?” Jungkook asks with worry painted on his face.

“I just… I needed to come and see you,” you manage to answer.

His face softens and you feel the hope bloom in your chest. He pulls you inside by the wrist and instructs you to quietly go up the stairs. You’re at least not drenched but you still got wet, so he leads you to the bathroom to wash up. He tells you to wait as he gets you something to change in, and he returns after half a minute with a towel and a large shirt.

“Cream and band-aid, for your wound,” he says, placing them on the counter. “My room’s the second door to the right, in case you forgot.”

You take him in, in his black tank top and shorts, his tongue playing with his lip ring the way he always does when he’s nervous. You manage to nod before he heads out, and you take a quick shower and then pull his oversized shirt over you.

You quietly walk to his room, knocking on the door first before opening it slowly. It’s a bit dim but seeing him is all you need. After placing your clothes on the nearby chair, you look at him again.

He looks tired and worried. He also looks like he has so much to say but he doesn’t know where to start. There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes but there’s longing, too, and you suppose he’s mirroring how you look. You feel a lot. You also want to say a lot, but you don’t know where or how to start.

So you do the one thing you know often works. You approach him then wrap your arms around his torso. You fall into his embrace as quickly as he falls into yours, as he seems to have the same idea. You hold him tighter and pull him closer. You flush your cheeks on his chest while he buries his face on your neck. You grip his top and he does the same with yours. Your heart beats fast in longing and you feel his own do the same, too.

There’s so much to feel and say but this is all you can do. And right now, it’s quite enough.

You loosen your grip, but only so you could nuzzle his neck while your arms wrap around them. He feels so warm and he smells so delicate and he’s all you need.

“You knew I was coming?” You ask, turning to him

“Jimin said you were on your way without an umbrella and your phone,” Jungkook chuckles. But his face softens as he wipes the lone tear that falls down your cheek. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a typhoon or anything.”

“I had to get to you,” you mumble.

“He also told me he wasn’t subtle in telling you to come here.”

“Well, he did say you wanted me to talk to you. And I wanted to. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear me out and I was… giving you space.”

“Yeah well, I don’t know what to do with that space without you there,” he sighs, his eyes shy and absolutely adorable.

“Neither do I,” you smile. “So, uh. Will you invite me to your bed, maybe fill that space and more?”

“Of course,” he laughs, taking your hand and leading you there.

You get under the covers and once he lies next to you, you scoot closer, hugging him again until you’re laying on top of him. But he doesn’t complain. He just hugs you back tightly, pulling you closer until he’s able to bask in your scent and the warm feel of you.

But despite the relief, you know you actually have to do the talking. You pull away and lay on your side. You take in his beauty and his softness and the way they make you feel like all is right again in the world. Your fingers trace his face, from his nose to his cheek to his lips, and he does the boyfriend thing of kissing your hand - including your cut finger - before wrapping it around his waist. He looks like he’s anticipating your words, too, so you try and hope they’re enough.

“Kook, I’m so sorry,” you start. “I… I have no excuse. I was being selfish and cowardly because I didn’t know how to tell my parents. I didn’t want to deal with what they’ll say about your job, knowing how they are and what they value and I just…”

“That’s for me to deal with though,” he says. “Because I chose this. And I’ve always known how they are but I still chose you.”

“It’s for us to deal with, and I did it so terribly,” you shake your head. “I don’t want you to think that I’m ashamed of you and what you do. That freedom, the ability to create… they’re things they don’t really understand. And I thought I knew how to make them. I just ended up denying us and that was so wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“I… I get it,” he responds, caressing your cheek now. “They worked so hard to give you this life and of course they want to make sure you’re taken care of. And for them, they only know of one way that could happen. I’d be naive to think they’ll just accept that the man who’s crazy about their daughter isn’t some corporate dude with secure employment and upward mobility in his career.”

He doesn’t miss your shy smile and the way you nibble your lip and that just triggers the butterflies in his belly.

“But that’s for me to show them that I can take care of you, and not because you can’t do it yourself but because I want to,” he adds. “I… I wanna be that person who makes things better and easier for you and who makes you happy.”

And who makes you feel loved, he doesn’t say. That’s a conversation for another day, he thinks.

“You do,” you assure him. “And I feel it everyday. You’re good at that, and I don’t tell you enough.”

“I know now,” he smiles, leaning closer to kiss you softly.

You return it but pull away. “Do you forgive me?”

“Of course I do,” he says, falling into the kiss that he gives again.

“Okay. I don’t wanna hurt you like that ever again.”

Your pouty face tugs his heart and he wants to tell you that none of that matters now because you’re back in each other’s arms, and that’ll always be enough for him.

He just hums as he goes for another kiss that’s deeper this time. And when you let him push you to lay on your back as you moan against his lips, his heart soars even more. He’s missed you, and it’s definitely going to be a long night.

He hovers over you now, and he shivers when your fingers graze his neck and then his chest. You open your legs to meet his hips, and the feel of your clothed cunt against him has his brain short-circuiting. He gets in the rhythm of grinding against you while he kisses your lips then your jaw then your neck, his hand now sneaking under your shirt to fondle your breast.

It’s when he sucks on that sensitive part near your ear that you yelp in pleasure, and he immediately covers your mouth with his hand while he giggles.

“Gotta keep it down babe,” he whispers. “My parents are in the other room.”

But he doesn’t stop his kissing and you don’t really want him to.

“It’s not like you’re making it any easier,” you moan as he pinches your pert nipple.

“I’m not and I won’t, but you gotta try,” he smirks before his lips trail downward.

You’re unable to say anything once his tongue swirls around your buds. His hands wrap around your breasts that he praises, that he kisses and licks before slowly letting them go to hold onto your waist this time. He presses open-mouth kisses down your torso, his lips in tandem with your underwear that’s teasingly being removed off of you.

You hear him let out a breathy moan as he spreads your legs wider.

And while you know that this tender-hearted man has a cheeky streak in him, you didn’t expect for him to have his finger against his lips to shush you, knowing what he’s about to do. His smug face turns you on even more, and your breath is caught in your throat once you feel his tongue flat against your flesh, warming it up before the tip of his wet muscle swirls around your nub.

But you go along with his request, biting back your moan, even as your pussy chases his mouth for more.

And it’s what he gives, as he dives in and sucks and bites your clit while his two fingers explore your hole. The cold of his lip ring is a contrast to how hot you feel, and it’s a sensation you can never get enough of. You whimper in silence but you manage to look at him, his eyes closed as he buries his face in your cunt.

“Look at me,” you whisper and he follows, his gaze meeting yours. “Fuu-uuck, Kook. You feel so good,” your voice quivers.

His mouth’s full but yours is hanging open. You cover yours with your free hand while the other pulls on his long locks. He’s enjoying this so much, you can tell with the way he squeezes your thighs and moans against your skin. He follows a pace that has your body shaking, straining in intense pleasure until it gives in. You let out a low scream as your orgasm hits, and he’s right there, riding out your high with you.

He cleans you up with his tongue and then makes a show of licking your essence off his fingers before kissing you again.

“You did good,” he teases, as he caresses your cheek.

You’re about to say that so did he when bucks his hip against yours, and the feel of his hard cock against your still wet cunt ignites another fire in you. He repeats it, and it’s what has you moaning again.

“Fuck baby, I told you to keep it down,” he says, continuing his movements.

You know you can’t help it at this point, not when he’s back to licking your neck and kneading your breast.

“Whatever. Not like this isn’t new to your parents or anything,” you say.

It’s a guess but you doubt you’re wrong.

“What? Fucking a girl in my room?”

“Yeah?”

“But you’re the first girl I ever brought in here,” he cocks an eyebrow.

“That’s uh, that’s kinda sweet,” you reply, your breath steadying now.

“Yeah and well, who gets to say they fucked their childhod crush in their childhood bedroom?” He smirks again. “I can.”

He’s back to kissing you and much as you enjoy this, the itch to feel him in your mouth overtakes you, and you take the chance when he trails down your neck.

“So, can this childhood crush suck your dick?”

“Yes, she can,” he chuckles.

He removes himself from you and leans against his bed frame. You get on your knees and pull off his boxers, salivating at the sight before you. You get on top of him, your damp lips gliding against his hard cock and his mouth drops open, an invitation for you to do what you wish.

With your movements on his hips, you focus on his neck, licking up the smooth flesh and the protruding vein that has him biting back his moan. Then you kiss him, desperately and passionately, as you slowly remove his tank top and rest your hands on his chest.

It’s your turn to trail kisses down his torso now and you give every inch of him ample attention. But when you make it further down, there’s one part of him that deserves so much more. You tease him only a little, stroking his length and kitten-licking his slit, before swallowing him whole and swirling your tongue around and all over his cock. He’s hard and thick and everything you want inside of you.

You hold back a gag while he holds back his whimpers. You stroke him relentlessly so you could watch his mouth hang open and his strained body almost folding in pleasure as his thighs tighten in your hold.

“You like that, baby?” You hum.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me. Fuck,” he keens, his voice quivering now.

You let his sounds guide you on how hard and how deep to go, but he’s the one who stops you, as he leans close and captures your lips in a searing kiss. He pulls you back on top of him to slide down his cock and the stretch makes you moan in his mouth.

He’s propped up on his arms for support while you move up and down, loving how he drags inside you in an angle that has your mind going hazy. You wrap your arms around his neck while he pushes upward to meet you, and somehow doing this while trying to be quiet is making the pleasure more intense.

It gets too much for Jungkook and he wants more. He wants to hit your deepest spots. He wants to be as close to you as he possibly can. He wants to swallow your moans and touch every part of your body and pleasure you in every way that he’s able.

So he pulls you off and lays you on your side, sliding back in from behind, with your one leg raised. The angle has you keening, even more when his one hand finds your breast and the other does its work on your clit. He pushes gently then roughly, no longer caring about the odd sounds the bed is making against his wall. He wouldn’t mind making up a reason to his parents if they ask him about it. Right now, all he wants is to reach his peak with you.

Your body is shaking in pleasure and overstimulation but you urge him, wanting to feel his seed inside you as well.

You lick his mouth. “Baby please, I want to feel your cum inside me,” you beg. “I want you so bad, fuck fuck.”

He loves it when you plead to him like this. He loves hearing what he does to you. He revels in the way your body molds into his, the way it aches to be close and to be one with him. His movements continue, and with his unrhythmic pounding against your pussy, he comes. You come right after, caused by his intense fiddling of your clit, and you feel like floating, your body in the clouds of pure pleasure.

But like always, he’s there with you, making sure you safely fall into a bed of hugs and kisses and warmth. He stays inside you as he softens, but his arms wrap around you, his face in your neck as he mumbles words of praise.

“Fifteen-year-old me would never believe this,” he heaves as he turns you over to face him.

You giggle in response.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I do. It’s how I am with you. In the best way, of course,” he smiles his boyish smile, an interesting mix of innocent and cheeky.

“It’s the same with me,” you whisper, kissing his nose. “And 18-year-old me would never believe this.”

You wake up the next morning to the alarm that you set on Jungkook’s phone. Your parents are leaving early in the afternoon and they wanted to prepare breakfast for all of you, and it’s a meal with them that you’re excited and a little nervous to have.

You kiss the chest that your face is flushed against, and this elicits a groan from the man next to you.

“Good morning, babe,” you greet, shifting up to kiss his nose this time.

“G’morning,” he grunts.

“So, uh, we’re supposed to meet my parents for breakfast. And uh, I’m going to tell them about us.”

It’s what prompts him to finally open his eyes, and the softness in them makes your heart burst.

“Okay,” he smiles. “I hope it won’t ruin their trip or anything.”

“It won’t,” you assure him. “I… I tried to get through to my mom yesterday. You know, just telling her the things I value and stuff.”

“Hmm. Jimin did the same with your dad. I guess I won’t be such a disappointment now, huh?”

“Shush, you’re not even that,” you pout. “I think they’ll understand.”

He mirrors your smile and there’s a giddy feeling at finally - hopefully - seeing your parents be happy for you. So you get off the bed and sneak out of Jungkook’s bedroom to go to the bathroom.

You wash up quickly, only to make it to the hallway and find his parents standing there, wide-eyed as they look at you in surprise. You realize you’re only wearing Jungkook’s shirt that falls just above your knees and you try to cover whatever you can with your hands.

“Hi, uncle. Hi, auntie,” you shyly smile. “This, uh, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

“Well, we don’t really mind,” Jungkook’s mother smiles. “We’re just glad you’re here. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”

“I know. I, uh, I wasn’t dating your son yet the last time I was here.”

“And that calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?” She giggles. “That boy has had a crush on you since forever. It’s funny he never believed that we knew. He wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” you laugh back.

You hear a door open and before you know it, large arms are wrapping around your waist and a mop of hair tickles your cheek. Jungkook grunts against your neck as he says that he’s finally awake, and you cringe at his parents’ amused faces.

“Kook, your parents are in front of us. This is so embarrassing.”

“Nah, they don’t mind. They’re cool,” he says.

“Yeah, and my parents aren’t,” you sigh.

“So, I’m guessing your parents don’t know yet?” His father asks.

Your pout prompts him to explain. “Well, the day after you got together, our lovesick son here told our family about both of you. But he said that you haven't told your parents yet so we’ve kept it from them ever since. It’s hard since we see them all the time but we managed.”

“Kook also told us about what happened,” his mother asks. “He was grumpy all day yesterday and we got him to tell us why he was so upset.”

“I’m sorry,” you pout again. “That wasn’t my finest moment.”

You feel Jungkook’s hold on you tighten, his way of telling you it’s all okay.

“It’s alright, darling,” she smiles. “We know how your parents are, and their reasons come from a good place. We tried to make this boy here understand them and you as well. Firstborns carry immense pressure to meet expectations; he just doesn’t get it because he’s the youngest. But it seems that it’s worked out with both of you, and we’re glad it did.”

“He couldn’t resist me,” you shrug, to his parents’ amusement.

“Uh, you’re the one who walked through the rain to come see me,” he reminds you, his head popping out of your neck now.

“You wanted me to.”

He tickles you in response and you’re all laughing in no time. It’s a different dynamic with his parents, as Jungkook always had a very close relationship with them. You saw it as a teenager and now, you get to be part of it, too.

They finally let you go and ask you to have dinner with them tomorrow, and that’s one meal that you’re definitely excited to have.

You push Jungkook towards the bathroom and then return to his room to dress up. It’s shortly after when you’re both walking the few blocks to your house, fingers interlocked as you give each other comfort.

You make it home and once you unlock the door, you can already hear laughter and clanking pots from the kitchen. You head there, meet Jimin’s smug face, and clear your throat to announce your presence.

“Oh, there you are. We were wondering where you were,” your mother says. “And hi, Jungkook.”

He greets your parents and from behind you, you take his hand again.

“I went for a walk… with Jungkook.”

He clears his throat and you backtrack.

“I mean, I, uh, was at his place. That’s where I slept.”

“Oh?” Your parents say at the same time, their eyes looking at you in confusion.

“He’s kinda my boyfriend.”

“Kinda? Babe, I think I’m more than ‘kinda’ your boyfriend,” he exclaims.

Your parents look shocked and next to them, Jimin is laughing in his seat.

“I mean, he is my legit, actual boyfriend,” you correct. “The new thing in my life that I denied is actually him. And the person who stands by me, who makes me enjoy the moments? That’s him, too.”

Their faces soften, and somehow that’s the comfort you need. Perhaps all the talking that you and your brother have done has gotten into them. You wouldn’t be surprised if they talked about it, too.

“Why didn’t you tell us, then?” Your mother asks.

“Because he’s not what you expected,” you sigh. “And I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“Well, he is your brother’s best friend,” she points out.

“Who’s had a crush on me since he was a teenager,” you explain.

“That’s… not surprising,” your father laughs. “We could tell.”

“Oh my god, Kook. You are not subtle,” you elbow him. You turn back at them. “But I… I didn’t know how to tell you because you expect me to have a partner who’s part of your world, you know? And Jungkook likes his freedom. He likes his art and… he really likes me. And I happen to really like him, too.”

“He treats you well? Makes you happy? He’s someone you can depend on when things get tough?” Your father asks.

He smiles tenderly at you and you feel like crying.

“Yes, very much,” you nod.

“Then I think he’s everything we need him to be. A good partner, I’d say.”

You let out a sigh of relief. This is all you needed to hear.

“We’re sorry if you felt like you couldn’t be honest with us,” your mother shakes her head. “I guess we just needed some reminding of what we want for you and your brother. And well, Jungkook’s shown us his heart all these years. He’s always been a part of the family and he’ll be even more.”

They’re words that Jungkook didn’t expect would get him emotional, and he hugs you from behind just to steady himself. But it’s what makes your mother walk towards him for a hug, and your father surprisingly does the same.

“Alright, I guess it’s fitting to have this family breakfast together,” your mother says.

You all take your seats at the dining table, with yours being next to Jungkook now.

Jimin cheekily smiles. “Well, if this whole dance thing doesn’t work out, I guess I can just be a counselor or family therapist or something.”

“Just don’t call your clients ‘stupid,’” you roll your eyes.

“I won’t. That’s only reserved for you.”

And just like that, everything is as it should be.

You get through breakfast with lots of laughter, as you and Jungkook tell your own versions of the story while Jimin butts in to tell his own. It’s heartwarming to see your parents this way, especially when they tease your boyfriend about his crush on you growing up.

But even they admit that they’ve depended on him all these years, too, and that they don’t doubt his loyalty and commitment to you.

You share a tense moment with him after you all drop your parents to the airport, though. Jungkook has just unloaded all their things and as they hug you goodbye, your father teases.

“Just don’t welcome us home and tell us we're grandparents already.”

Jungkook dry laughs and so do you. That’s another topic for another day, you suppose, and while you’re still unsure of having a family, you just know it’s something you’ll both talk about.

You all get home soon after to wash up. Jungkook’s excited about how you’ll spend the day now that you’re both talking again, and you suggest hanging by the beach and then going out for dinner.

Jimin says he’ll stay home to let you two make up for the past two days and so he could have that online date with Taehyung, and you agree.

You and Jungkook end up having a really good day.

You go to a mall and walk around. He gets you a pair of stud earrings to commemorate the day you went official to your parents and you buy him a silver chain necklace for the same silly reason, but also because he looks really good in one and you want him to have more. It pairs real nicely with the shirt and joggers casual outfit he’s been sporting these past days, and the teasing look he makes after he puts it on reminds you of that one time his necklace was dangling on your face when he was pounding into you on your couch.

You get fruit drinks and snacks at the stalls you both used to buy from as teenagers, then you head to the beach where you lounge until sunset. You wade in the water, splash each other, and then make out when there’s no one around.

You feel so free and light, so young and hopeful. These are the moments you love having with him, the ones you like to enjoy and savor and have more of. And you know you’ll have them for the rest of this trip and when you get back to Seoul.

Jimin joins you for dinner at a burger place, then you all buy cup noodles and beer and head to your favorite park. It’s just like how most of your nights together go, just in the outdoors. You and your brother bicker and Jungkook referees; there’s also the occasional “you’re so cheesy” comment from you to your boyfriend and Jimin’s gagging sound.

You confirm plans for the rest of the trip. Your parents will be enjoying Hawaii for close to two weeks, and you have all that time to rest and spend time with your two favorite people. You’ll be off work. Jungkook has some projects to finalize while you do your own thing, and Jimin will be watching dance shows to get him inspired.

But there are more beaches and parks and villages to visit. There’s also that two-night stay at a resort you’ll be having. There are other sites and restaurants to go to, and you’ll be reliving your teenage years together while making new memories.

You’re now back at home, snug in Jungkook’s arms as he leans against the bed frame in your room, with you in between his legs.

“Today was a really good day,” you say, turning to him after he kisses your cheek.

“Today was amazing,” he hums.

He smiles as he replays the scenes of you shopping for each other, frolicking on the beach, and walking around your favorite spots. They’re all so simple and things you’ve done before but today felt so much more. There was a look in your eyes that held such tenderness and care for him. You held his hand as if you didn’t want to ever let go, as if you didn’t want him to.

“I really like you, Kook,” you mumble, almost like a confession, as if it’s not known. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

His eyes soften, as does his smile that he’s had on pretty much the whole day. But he just looks at you, and though you know he feels the same way, you want to hear him verbalize it again.

“Hey, say it back,” you nudge him.

“I love you though,” he says after a beat of silence.

You’re now the one who looks at him, unable to say a word.

“Are you that surprised?” He looks back at you nervously, nibbling his lip ring. “I mean, I think it’s quite obvious, just like everything I feel about you is.”

“Kook, I…” you try, but you don’t exactly know how to respond.

You don’t doubt his feelings but somehow you can’t help but think that maybe right now, he loves the idea of you and not you, and there’s a difference.

“I think I always have but I guess I didn’t realize just how much until this whole thing happened,” he continues, wanting you to understand what he feels. “I asked Jimin why it was affecting me so much and he said it’s because I put you on a pedestal. You were this dream I’ve had for so long that I admired from a distance and now I get to be with you and you’re… human, not some flawless being who doesn’t make mistakes. So when you hurt me, I faltered. That’s on me, too. Because I… I expected too much. And I’m sorry.”

His focus is on his hands that are playing with yours before he turns to you again.

“I realized that I wanted so badly for you to want me, that’s why it hurt. I wanted to be that person you cared for and trusted and needed because you’re all that for me. And when I saw you at my door last night, nothing else mattered but you,” he continues.

“Whatever misunderstanding or mistake or disagreement, I learned to accept them and I just wanted you, in my arms, so I could show you that you’re all I need. I’ve dreamt of you for so long and this version of you is more than I could’ve imagined. And I just… I love you, okay? It doesn’t matter how you feel. I just need you to know that I do, and I don’t think I’ll stop.”

Your heart is about to burst, and all you could do is cup his face in your hands and kiss him, hard and deep until you run out of air. You kiss him eagerly because you’re desperate for his touch. You kiss him passionately because there are things you feel that you can’t put into words yet, and this is how you tell him.

He’s quick to follow your pace, wrapping his arms around your waist as he helps you sit on his lap. Your fingers comb through his hair and grip his top and pull him closer, all while you grind against him and moan in his mouth.

But when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and caresses your cheek, you go tender.

“I love you so much,” he whispers against your lips, and all you feel is the warmth of his touch and how it’s all the comfort and security and stability that you need.

You slowly pull away and graze your nose against his. You don’t say anything else and he doesn’t expect you to. But you kiss his cheek and hug him, and you hear him sigh in relief.

He pulls away and cheekily smiles.

“You know, there’s a song for this.”

“A—what?” You laugh.

“A song.”

He pulls away from you then stands from the bed. “Let me get it from Jimin’s room.”

You stare at him questioningly because you really didn’t think he could surprise you even more. He returns with one of his burned CDs and you ask him if he has a sex playlist or something.

“I used to daydream about you to this,” he says, as he puts it in the CD player that your parents got you for your 17th birthday. “I listened to it after that very kiss we had and, well, we’re back home rehashing so many memories and I kinda just want to fulfill another fantasy of mine.”

He plays the song and the first notes get you all giddy and excited and nostalgic and very much turned on.

“This was my favorite song,” you say, as you signal him to come closer.

“I know. You played it all the time, I could hear it from the other room.”

You giggle, and it’s a sound he wants to listen to forever.

“So, what’s this fantasy of yours?” You ask, as you take your shirt off.

He licks his lips at the breathtaking sight of you, but he softens at the fairy tattoo on your shoulder, the one he customized and that you love showing off.

“Just… make love to you while this plays in the background,” he manages to say.

Your face softens, too, and it’s a sight he also wants to see everyday of his life.

“I’m all yours, Kook. Do whatever you please.”

It’s a week later when you tell him.

You’d just gotten back from that short trip to a resort that had you relaxed and stuffed with food. You video called with your parents during their sunset cruise and your father once again teased about not being grandparents yet and just like the first time, you brushed it off.

You’re lying on Jungkook’s chest as you laugh about Jimin’s terrible bowling skills. And in the silence, he asks, “does it bother you that your parents expect you to have kids?”

You knew he’d picked up on it the first time, but it’s just now that he’s bringing it up.

“A little. I try not to think about it though,” you sigh. “It’s another one of those expectations, you know? But I guess it’s a harder thing to talk to them about, that I don’t know if I want kids.”

He just hums and combs your hair with his fingers.

“Does it bother you?” You ask, suddenly feeling nervous. You know enough this is a make-or-break for many people.

“Not really,” he says. “It’s not easy to raise a child, much less carry one, and that’s something I can’t do for you. But I guess, it doesn’t matter. We can have kids. Or not. We can have a dog or a pet tortoise or a fish, really. When I think of a future, all I see is you. The rest is just a bonus.”

He speaks of your future with such certainty. He’s always talked about enjoying the moments but the one version of a future he wants is the one where you’re with him.

“I just want you to know that whatever you’re worried about, share it with me. I don’t want you to worry about me. We do this together. We figure it out together,” he adds.

And just like that, the fears and pressure you feel slowly dissipate. He’s the only version of the future you want. Everything else is just a bonus.

You turn to him with a kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, Kook. I don’t want anyone else to love me, and I don’t want to love anybody else,” you whisper like a plea, just like a promise.

“I’m not loving anybody else,” he kisses you.

And it’s his own promise he makes.

Permanent Taglist:

@sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati--c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @gukssunshine @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @main-bangtansmauyeondan @investedreader @petalsofink @stopeatread @craftymoonchaos @alpacaparkaseok @coletaehyung @boyfriendtaekook @moonchild1 @keshiadeija @nesha227 @src-9 @almatiarau @roseda

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook series #brothers best friend au

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nanamistiee · 8 months

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loverboy. // megumi fushiguro x reader

ooh, lover boy! what're you doing tonight? ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ megumi fushiguro x reader ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ━━━ ( ⋆｡°✩ tw: n/a) ━ (wc: 1,015 ) ━ ( song inspo ✩°｡⋆) ━━━

what kind of woman is your type?

ever since todo had posed the question, megumi hasn’t been able to get it out of his mind. at the time, he’d spewed some nonsense -- not having a particular type -- mostly because he’d believed the question was completely out of place and nonsensical; which, in his defense, it was. the other male was less than pleased with his answer, even going as far as to call him boring. yet, megumi couldn’t help but wonder if he’d even answered truthfully.

“gumi,” your voice finally breaks the silence between you two. he’d been so lost in thought he’d nearly forgotten you were a foot away from him, staring intently as you sipped away at your matcha latte. “you’re so quiet today,” you frown, fiddling around with your straw. has he upset you?

he matches your frown almost instantaneously. “i don’t think i’m being any more quiet than usual,” he tries his hardest to coolly retort, an impulsive hand rushing toward you to ruffle your hair in a desperate attempt to act like nothing’s wrong. no, his mind totally isn’t waging an entire war right now. no, he’s not at all debating on, perhaps, one of the most crucial decisions of his life.

whether or not to dare risk ruining your friendship.

──────────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────────────

“you make me sick,” maki’s voice, a disgusted groan, breaks his concentration entirely. as he whips his head toward the green haired girl, he realizes something. he’d been staring at you this entire time. you were several feet away, talking to panda. yet, the black haired boy is absolutely mesmerized. the way your eyes light up and sparkle every time someone makes you laugh… the way every time you flash your pearly white teeth seems to make his heart flutter. there’s something about you that he’s absolutely addicted to, but megumi fushiguro swears he’d never tell a soul about any of this. no, you two are friends. what if you didn’t like him back? what if he tells you how he feels and you never want to speak to him ever again? consumed by his thoughts, he fails to realize you and panda are waltzing right up to them.

he clears his mind with a visible shake of his head, tilting his head and looking at maki with his best ‘i don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. was he really that obvious? he makes a mental note to stop trying to stare at you less, yet this feels like an impossible task.

“just ask her out already, loverboy,” maki sticks out her tongue. he doesn’t even have to look at her to know she’s got a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

“ooh, ask who out?” you question, clasping your hands together as you sit down next to your best boyfriend. he heard your voice. your voice. you just sat next to him.

he swears he nearly jumps out of his skin upon realizing you’d just walked into a conversation about you. could he play it off? act stupid? what kind of lie could he tell to get out of explaining that maki was teasing him about you? were they talking about another girl from another school? no -- something about even pretending to like another girl feels wrong.

“‘gumi’ likes a girl, but he’s too much of a pussy to ask her out,” maki snickers. it seems she’s even poking fun at your nickname for him, and he silently prays that you don’t notice this. “as a fantastic and the best friend anyone could ever ask for, i’ve been trying to encourage him.” her sarcasm is nearly enough to make his skin crawl. she’s deadpanning and making it so obvious it hurts.

“do we know who this girl is?” you ask. maybe he’s making things up -- imaging things to make himself feel better -- but he swears your eyes dull and shift from the beautiful, sparkling orbs they always were. “we do not!” maki clicks her tongue, and megumi can finally breathe a sigh of relief. or so he thinks. “say… what’s your type anyway?” she segways the conversation almost cruelly, staring you dead in your eyes.

you seem to take a moment. firstly, to inhale a sharp breath. then, you take a second to think, furrowing your brows together in a moment of deep thought. a few beats pass and you finally exhale your sigh, and megumi swears you three have been sitting in silence for eternity. “tall,” you start, and he swears his stomach is tying itself into knots. “reserved… smart -- gotta be smart,” you chuckle and grin. “maybe even a little stoic. like i can never tell what’s going on in his head, but i always at least hope he’s thinking about me somewhere in there.”

in his state of sheer panic, he nearly misses the obvious blush dusting your cheeks. maki could’ve smacked him right in the back of his head and he still would’ve missed it. yet, somehow, you still have more to say. “someone who’s always thinking about other people… protective, i guess. someone mature and who always takes things seriously, even if other people think he’s a pain in the ass for it.” he can’t help but feel a bit guilty about giving such a lame answer to todo now, especially when you’ve had plenty to say. megumi opens his mouth to speak, yet he’s not even sure what he’s supposed to say to that. he prays deep down you’re talking about him, but it’s not exactly like he can voice that out loud--

“oh my god!” maki groans, throwing her head back. “you two are absolutely disgusting!” “you know she’s talking about you, right?” she hisses aloud, giving megumi, perhaps, the dirtiest look she could ever muster. “it’s actually so painful to watch you two dance around each other!” with her opinions growing quite vocal, maki stands up and crosses her arms. “do i have to do it for you? or are you two gonna talk about your disgusting and obvious feelings for each other?”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen imagines #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x y/n

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sunderwight · 2 months

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Thinking about an SV scenario where TLJ had kids before the whole Su Xiyan thing went down.

Like he was an emperor, right? And we don't actually know how old he was, though he was at least old enough that his sister's son was mostly raised to adulthood by him by the time catastrophe struck. It wouldn't have been at all strange or even improbable for him to have been married already, perhaps several times over, by the time he met Su Xiyan and actually fell in love with someone.

Obviously any known kids TLJ had would have demons queuing up to install them on the throne after he got sealed under the mountain (and others probably wanting to kill or oust them), but we could explain the perception that TLJ had no heirs with a little bit of deliberate planning or cleverness on their part. Maybe they also showed up at the ambush, saw an opportunity to escape a life they detested, and pretended to have been killed/sealed too before just walking off to go life their dream life as a theatrical performer or country doctor or fortune teller or something. Maybe there were a bunch of them and they all engaged in brutal in-fighting for the throne, except one who just took the first opportunity to fake their death and then nope'd out to the countryside. Maybe they were a hybrid like Zhuzhi Lang whom everyone discounted from the succession due to not inheriting the "good" genes, so they went and stayed with their mother's faction and dropped out of political events.

Honestly I'm kind of surprised we don't seem to have loads of Heavenly Demon OC's and self-inserts in this fandom. I bet PIDW fandom was flooded with them. Bet there were tons of "Binghe's long-lost cool older brother who gets his own massive harem and adventures and separate realms to conquer" type OCs and probably just as many "distant cousin of Luo Binghe's is a beautiful Heavenly Demon and the only woman fit to be his equal who does away with his need for the harem because she can keep up with his desires and cleanse xin mo all by herself" and etc.

God it would be so funny if Peerless Cucumber had a Heavenly Demonsona. The world's most unselfaware combination of those two types, Luo Binghe's long-lost distant male cousin who has no interest in building his own harem (seriously guys stop trying to compete!) but only wants to support Luo Binghe and offer him the companionship and compassion (brotherly, platonic!) that he truly needs and can't seem to get from all those 2D hussies he surrounds himself with.

Even funnier if the System makes Heavenly Cucumber a real character, and suddenly Shen Qingqiu is faced with his own idealized self-insert who is blatantly obsessed with Luo Binghe, obnoxiously over-powered, and living in the kind of glass closet that makes post-canon Shen Qingqiu want to crawl into a hole and die.

#svsss #bingqiu #scum villain #scum villain's self saving system #shang qinghua probably laughs so hard he forgets how breathing works for a hot minute #not so fun when you encounter your mary su from the outside now is it?

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azullumi · 4 months

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LAST NIGHT I DREAMT OF THE STARS AND YOU, PT. 1

premise — because that’s just how they are; alternatively, “the type to” trend with hsr characters. characters — ruan mei, veritas ratio, aventurine, and robin content tags — gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, slight angst, not proofread, word vomit in some parts, 1.6k words ; headcanons

note from me — seasickness took me out and the fact that i have a 9 hr road trip tomorrow is already making me dizzy. i hope i’m asleep for the 3/4 of it,, also this has a pt. 2 which i’ll upload later on !! anyways i wrote this in between my vacation and trip and in between the long-ass separate fics with sunday and aven so sorry if it seems rusty or out of my style 🙏

RUAN MEI, (lies in between the line of a good lover and a bad lover) the type to be unable to express her affections for you through words and settles with small and simple gestures that she has observed and seen from everyone around her; having never understood “love” and never knowing how to correspond with such, she’s left silent and confused like a lost child in the wake of it. She’ll find herself staring you quietly, memorizing the lines of your face and how it creases and contorts into different expressions, studying each crevices and edges of the parts that makes up your being to bury you in her memory, and there’s a smile that tugs on her lips every time her gaze falls on you. Oh, she wishes she understood what it all meant (she simply and devastatingly adores you).

RUAN MEI, the type to subconsciously write your name on paper whenever she’s distracted. it’s a small habit she does, one that makes her smile whenever she notices the letters spelling out your name. She has ruined, tainted several of her papers, even important ones, with just a single word, a set of letters that composes of what makes warmth seep into her chest when her mind drifts into the thought of someone—you.

RUAN MEI, the type not understand the underlying reason behind her actions—why she spends the time and makes the effort in between her busy schedule and pile of papers to make sweets for you, why she lets you do her hair despite how messy it often turns out when you braid it and how she can never find the strength in herself to “fix” or disturb the state of your work, why she always seek for the warmth of your hands whenever she’s feeling uneasy or stressed, why she always lean to your shoulder or to your touch when you caress her cheek, and everything. It’s a puzzle board of missing and scattered pieces, unable to comprehend the full image of the mystery—and yet, she still delves into the enigma of her feelings that is intertwined with your existence. Maybe one day she’ll come to know it all and maybe it will be the time when she can finally be honest to herself.

VERITAS RATIO, the type to want to know every single thing you and remember all of it. Perhaps it’s the bare minimum, perhaps it’s something that he just does. “They don’t like that,” He would say when an arrogant fool would even try to give you (or do) something, and he’s there, witnessing it all, knowing the things that you prefer and like. He knows what flowers that you like, knows your favorite color, knows the way you prefer to sleep, knows the small habits that you do when you’re nervous or scared or happy, knows every little detail that paints the whole of your existence. Isn’t it simply just lovely when someone desires to know you from the inside and out? Even if it’s just a little bit, he feels more closer to you in this way.

VERITAS RATIO, the type to be sweet and reassuring towards you (through words and actions), even though he may come off as mean, blunt, or rude towards others. Sure, he may call you an idiot sometimes but he’ll never go past that nor reach the line of degrading and distasteful remarks because he never wishes to hurt your feelings; if ever he did, he’ll apologize and tell you it’s not his intention. “Fool,” But the affection that edges into the tone of his voice cuts the thread of disdain that sews into the word. Oftentimes when texting and it’s easy to misunderstand the tone of one’s message, especially his tone, he’ll reassure you that he didn’t send it in a way that he’s angry or scornful: “The ‘Ok’ that I sent is not a mad ‘Ok’, I am in a rush and could only type that out. I’m not angry.”

VERITAS RATIO, the type to entertain your questions no matter how stupid it can be; he’d give you the answers every single time. He doesn’t mind being treated like a walking encyclopedia or dictionary if it’s you—he’d hate it if you were going to ask someone else instead of him (although he probably never told you that discomfort). I mean, you have a well-known member of the Intelligentsia Guild, someone who parallels a genius, just right at the tip of your fingertips, why bother asking someone else?

AVENTURINE, the type to like listening to the sound of your breathing, the sound of your heartbeat (to listen to the sound of you blinking, to listen to your hands soothe). It’s comforting, in an odd way, and he never tells you but it helps him fall asleep—watching the rising and falling of your chest, seeing your calm face wrinkle ever so often while you sleep. He keeps the sound of your heartbeat close to the pocket on his chest, weaving the rhythm of it to his pulse, and before he knew it, the dawn will come in quiet solitude.

AVENTURINE, the type to be always on fight-or-flight mode. Perhaps it’s the way that he grew up, perhaps it was the harsh and cruel environment that he’s in, but he’s always on guard, seemingly on defensive mode as if danger lurks at every dark corner. His shoulders are always tense, his hand either hidden or playing with the ring on his finger, it’s like he never can’t seem to relax himself even when he’s in the comfort of your arms. It follows him everywhere, trailing behind his feet, and forces him awake at night—he doesn’t even know where the fear, the anxiety, is coming from, he just knows it’s there. One wrong step and his thoughts will come crashing down like cold downpour, one wrong move and you’ll come to leave him. Sometimes a little reassurance comes a long way and it’s all he needs when his mind is being tormented. (He will learn to live with it, even if he can never seem to understand or know it. He will come to know peace as if it’s all he had in his hands when the sun first held him).

AVENTURINE, the type to immediately smile after a kiss. It’s utterly affectionate; parting, staring deeply into one’s eyes with his cheeks dusted with a certain color and he’s grinning—warmth beams from his expression and there’s a certain feeling that intertwines into his gaze and he knows it’s love because it’s all he feels whenever he looks at you. He’s the type to laugh into a kiss, feeling ticklish all over his bones as if your hands are ghosting the sensitive parts of his skin, and you’ll ask him, “What?” but he’ll only answer with, “Nothing.” He’s not drunk, the ache of wanting simply swells up in his chest and all he can think of is how much he adores you.

ROBIN, the type to try and make time for you. Her schedule is always packed, filled with all kinds of events and tasks that she needs to do. It’s overwhelming, everything feels overwhelming for her and it’s hard to know which one she should prioritize first not when she has a lot of things on her hands. Sometimes she feels lost, feels the weight too heavy on her shoulders, feels like her feet are tied to the ragged earth, feels the cage closing on her. She tries so hard to be the perfect lover for you, to become someone that will reach beyond your expectations; she cradles that perfect image, broken in all of its edges, that were constructed for herself close to her chest even if it feels like a knife to her heart. But really, all you need is for her to be herself (not the star that everyone admires and wishes to reach) and sometimes, that’s all she needs to hear from you—that she doesn’t have to hold on to the shattered chains when the coldness of the metal reminds her of what she has to carry.

ROBIN, the type to go on all kinds of dates with you, silly or not, and even matches clothes with you. She’s usually the one to make the invite to match, thinking that it’s cute and the both of you rarely ever has time like this so why not make the most out of it; who are you to even say no when she’s beaming at you so warmly? She has all of her options laid on the bed, displayed on clothing hangers, asking you what you’re going to wear or what color do you want. It’s lovely, sweet, seeing her like this and you could only pray to whoever aeon is listening that nobody comes to ruin the day the both of you rarely have for each other.

ROBIN, the type to bring you all kinds of souvenirs and gifts from her (universal) tours, sometimes having bought too much that you don’t know what to with some of them; the type to send you letters every time she’s away so that you won’t worry for he, especially knowing what happened last time, the type to always try to keep in touch and keep you close no matter the stars between you and her. She’ll ask for one thing that you own that she can carry with her person, making a promise that she’ll come back and return it—the item a testament to her vow—, but for the meantime, she’ll keep it so she has a little piece of you everywhere she goes and she can say that you’re always there by her side.

DRUM ROLLS PLS *dundundundundun* special mention to the one and only beloved feli @dr-felitas !! i think i owe you a lot of end notes so here i am :3 also i’m sorry if i publish this and i still haven’t responded to your messages (if you have sent me cause im on dnd to avoid my dumbass from checking and looking at the phone during car rides knowing that i get motion sick) ANYWAYS i would like to begin this with i love you mwamwa, you’re one of the sweetest and most wonderful souls i have ever met and anyone who tells u otherwise will get a boulder thrown to their head 🫵 im glad to have met you, that my anti-social ass went ahead and messaged you despite the fact that we only talked once or twice AND IT WAS OVER ASKS OR COMMENTS BUT YEAH !! idk what or where i’ll be if i hadn’t done that; maybe not replying to my friends idk (again im sorry if i take business days to answer i sometimes get busy or i sometimes dont have the energy :3 i hope u still love me hahahaha… *slides down the wall*) again, i really appreciate and adore you for everything. you are a brave and kind person and i only hope for the good things for you. don’t be too mean or harsh to yourself 🫂 know that i’m always here to listen to you no matter what you’re saying. you’re never a burden to me and i hope you’ll come to see just how you shine and radiate with so much warmth and kindness, it’s like love itself is found in you. ily lottss mwaa <33

sunday, himeko, welt, gallagher, and jing yuan next !!

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

ok this one may be a little off putting BUT

Spencer, going out with the bau clubbing and bau!reader is getting absolutely hammered throughout the night bc of em and jj, and eventually it leads to the responsibility of him taking the reader home but the reader is trashed and feels gross so she wants to take a shower and basically begs spencer to get in the shower with her to wash her hair.

love u have a great dayyyyyyy 🤍🦆

Spencer the germaphobe would have never thought he'd have his nails raking through unwashed hair that was not his own. He takes solace in the bubbles frothing at his fingertips, an assurance that he's cleaning your hair, not just spreading the filth from the club through its strands, but it's still several steps to the left of his comfort zone.

If it were anyone else, he would have said a very firm, but kind, no, and he may have gagged as soon as they were out of earshot. But it was you, and you looked at him with your pretty eyes, your pretty sad eyes, your pretty tired eyes, and asked him to please help you clean yourself up before bed, because you'd just washed your sheets and you didn't want to dirty them with the remnants of a night out.

He reasons that designated driver duties included walking you to your door, getting you a glass of water for the morning, and locking your apartment behind him, but he hadn't planned on helping you shower. That he had only agreed to under extreme stress (those pretty, sad, tired eyes he can't stop thinking about) and it's how he finds himself now crouched on the lid of your toilet, scrubbing suds through your hair.

"Thanks, Spence," You groan, feeling his nails rake across your scalp, "I was- I dunno how I was gonna do this without you. I'm dizzy."

It's a concerning observation to be made while cross-legged on the ground and not tired with the effort of standing up, but Spencer reasons that you'll feel better after a night's sleep. A night that he's not sure he can let you spend alone for fear of you choking on your own sick.

You've taken to resting your flushed forehead against Spencer's calf, and it's leaving a soapy stain on his poor excuse for social wear. The only two types of pants that he owns are slacks and pajama pants, and he's not sure he'll be able to properly clean this pair anymore. But he doesn't push you off - in fact, he takes note of the feeling of your touch against his leg.

"I'm cold," You shiver in place, despite the warm water flowing around you, as well as the clothes still on your body, now soaked. Thankfully you'd retained enough of your brainpower to know not to strip in front of Spencer, and he's grateful that he didn't need to enforce the matter.

"You're still dressed," He muses, taking the showerhead and rinsing his hands, then turning it on the mass of bubbles atop your head, "You'll be in pajamas soon."

"M'kay," You accept, even though Spencer can still see goosebumps on your exposed forearms from the cold, "Will you help me change?"

Perhaps you had not retained as much of your brainpower as Spencer thought you had.

"Uh," He stammers, "focused on a patch of suds near the nape of your neck, "Do you think you could- um, do it yourself?"

"I guess. Maybe. I don't know," You laugh at the absurdity of your own statements, "What, you don't wanna see me naked?"

"Y/N!" He gushes, cheeks burning hotter than the water that's pooling around your form on the floor of your shower, "No, I- I mean not while- not now! You're drunk."

"I only got drunk so I'd finally man up and make a move," You grumble against his calf, and Spencer's previously racing heart stops beating altogether, "Just- tell me I said that tomorrow, okay Spence? I'm gonna be pissed at- uh, at me if I forgot."

Spencer agrees with all the niceties that he's learned in dealing with the public, an empty promise falling from his lips when all else fails him, "Okay, I will."

"Liar," You accuse, your nose still nestled snugly against his leg, "This sucks. We're both too scared to make a move. Maybe we should both get shitfaced, and just buy a Plan B the next morning."

Spencer is well and truly speechless. He has several options as to his next response, if he can ever muster up the courage to enact them: an awkward laugh, a strained chuckle, prolonged silence. Instead of choosing any of those he swallows, the action almost hurting his now-dry throat, "Uh- Plan B can interfere with your next menstrual cycle, and there's a host of other side effects that aren't ideal for you."

"Fine." You snort, "We'll keep the baby."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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osarina · 3 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 CHAMPAGNE KISSES

FEATURING: pm!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: in a desperate attempt to try to get you to drink with him, dazai offers up a secret he's never told anyone... and how could you possible refuse that? AKA the first kiss fic.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: here is the promised second fic! another light hearted one :D (warnings: fem!reader, there are some implications of reader and chuuya being taught to use their bodies as tools - as implied in canon - but nothing else really, this is light-hearted as promised)

You don’t usually drink.

In fact, you usually stay as far away from any type of alcohol as you possibly can because the one time you did drink, you ended up passed out on the floor of the Colonel’s office with no recollection of how you got there. You blame Nakahara Chuuya because he is a bad influence and stole one of Kouyou’s bottles of wine, sneaking it up to your office to convince you to drink with him to celebrate your sixteenth birthday. The Colonel was severely unimpressed with you and you were severely embarrassed, more so when you found out that he spent half of the night cleaning up after you.

You blame Chuuya.

Neither of you can recall how you’d gotten separated that night, but you’re certain that it’s his fault somehow.

“Just a few glasses,” Dazai complains, a pout tugging at his lips as he drapes himself half over you and half over your couch, dangling a bottle of champagne in your face as if to tempt you. “We just ended the biggest conflict Yokohama has ever seen. I was just promoted to executive. Celebrate.”

“No,” you tell him instantly, putting your palm to his face and shoving him away from you.

Dazai instantly lets out a string of complaints, unbalanced as he rolls off the couch and onto the ground. He scowls up at you, disgruntled and irate as he pushes himself back to his feet and throws himself right back down where he was, perhaps even more on top of you than he had been before. You sigh, he looks distinctly pleased by the withering look you give him.

“You drank with Chuuya.” Dazai instantly throws the fact in your face, as offended about it as he was the day he found out you and Chuuya got drunk for the first time without him. As if it was your fault that he was sent away on a two-week mission in Sapporo to try to draw Murasaki and her men out of Yokohama and back to their homefront.

He didn’t speak to either of you for days.

It was the most peaceful few days of your life.

No, you’re joking, you spent a whole week doing paperwork for him as an apology, but no matter how much he tries to convince you to drink with him so he can be even with Chuuya, you deny it because you have no interest in drinking again any time soon.

“You drank with Chuuya and you won’t drink with me. You hate me,” Dazai complains, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “You want me dead.”

“Dazai,” you start, but he doesn’t even let you get out a second word.

“You can’t even deny it,” Dazai accuses, pulling off of you to glare at you. “I’m supposed to be your best friend. Not Chuuya. You’re trying to replace me with him.”

You give him a blank look right back, and distantly, you wonder how you ended up in this position, regretting that Mori ever pulled you back to Yokohama from Kyoto, desperately wishing to go back to the city just so you can escape Dazai’s dramatics. Maybe you’ll ask him now that the Dragon’s Head Conflict has ended.

His expression shifts into one of offense, as if he can read your thoughts.

“Take that back,” he demands.

“I didn’t say anything,” you say, appalled.

“You didn’t need to, it was all over your face. Take it back.”

You lean forward, hand lifting to his face to squish his cheeks together. He squints at you, aggrieved, but you don’t let him yank his face out of your grip.

“I am not drinking with you,” you tell him firmly, tired of this conversation, you’ve been going back and forth about it with him for almost thirty minutes. You duly ignore the way his eyes droop and the way he sticks his bottom lip out—a ridiculous expression considering you’re still squishing his cheeks. “You’re welcome to have a few drinks yourself, but I am not going to be cleaning up after you.”

You drop your hand back to your lap and relax back against the couch, raising your eyebrows when Dazai only continues to pout in your direction. At once, a glimmer of mischief flashes through his visible eye and instantly, you’re on edge, tilting your head to the side as you wait for him to speak.

With no concept of personal space, clearly, he leans forward again, lips curling up into a suspicious smile. “What if we made a deal?” he asks, looking mighty pleased with himself when your eyes narrow onto him, interest piqued.

“What type of deal?” you ask dubiously, not entirely convinced that he has something up his sleeve that could convince you to drink again.

“If you drink with me, I’ll tell you something about me that I’d never admit sober.”

Oh.

Dazai smiles like he’s won.

You click your tongue sharply and then say, “Pour me a glass.”

This was a mistake.

You don’t know where Dazai got his hands on two bottles of champagne, but you almost would’ve preferred his choice of whiskey to it. The bubbles have gone straight to your head, your entire body feels light and Dazai has become far more touchy than he usually is. It started out with subtle brushes—he moved closer to you, thigh pressed to yours as he spoke animatedly about his portion of the last mission, occasionally knocking his shoulder into yours. He’s no doubt over-exaggerating the grandeur of it all, but you find yourself smiling as he waves his hands around and describes the epic staging of his capture and how he almost died at the hands of the enemy because Chuuya ‘can’t function without Dazai there to order him around.’

You think Chuuya would punch him in the face if he heard Dazai say that, but you think you’ll let it slide this time because Dazai looks cute happy rambling on about the mission and boasting his feats. His cheeks are tinted pink from the alcohol and he’s talking so fast that you can hardly keep up.

Dazai had been weird the past two weeks. You thought he’d be excited with his promotion to executive and beating both you and Chuuya in the race to the open seat, but he’s been oddly glum. Hasn’t risen to the bait of Chuuya’s gibes, hasn’t chased you around headquarters to bother you about one thing or another; when people congratulate him for his promotion, his gaze slides past them as if they aren’t even there. You and Chuuya have been trying to figure out what’s wrong with him but every time you guys try, it’s like he knows to evade you.

This is the most ‘normal’ you’ve seen him in almost two weeks.

“What were you going to tell me?” you finally ask curiously when the conversation lulls as Dazai reaches to pour himself another glass.

He pauses, gaze cutting to the side to look at you. Your eyes narrow and for a moment, neither of you move, just staring at one another. Then Dazai pointedly continues to pour himself another glass.

Notably, not answering your question.

You scowl at him. “You are not getting out of this, Dazai Osamu,” you say, irate. If your voice is a little slurred, you ignore it. “You promised.”

Dazai makes a noise in the back of his throat—something caught between a complaint and a whimper—and you lean a little closer to him, intrigued, watching as his face steadily gets redder.

“Oh my god,” you say more to yourself than him. “You really are embarrassed. Come on, tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

“I’m not drunk enough,” he protests, trying to physically turn his body away from you, but you shift closer to him, half leaning on his lap so you can keep your gaze trained on his face. “Stop that, get off.”

“No,” you say instantly, delighted at the change in demeanor. “I’m drunk enough. Tell me. It’s time.”

The expression Dazai shoots at you is nothing short of withering, the look in his eyes hateful, you only give him a simpering smile in return. He pointedly turns his head away from you and mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear. You frown as you lean in a little more.

“Speak up,” you tell him, nudging your shoulder into his and you can see him scowl, cheeks flushed, chin raised high.

“I’ve never had my first kiss,” Dazai rushes out as if it’s his greatest shame, refusing to look at you.

You stare for a moment and then you snort.

“Did you just… laugh at me?” Dazai’s head snaps toward you, thoroughly offended.

“No,” you say immediately, forcing the smile off of your face as you look at him, but as soon as you catch the pink tint on his cheeks, your hand is flying to your mouth to muffle another giggle, this one far more obvious than the last.

Dazai looks entirely insulted. “You did. You’re laughing at me. You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasp through a wheeze. “I’m sorry, I just-you’ve got to be lying. There’s no way, I mean-”

Dazai bristles. “Stop laughing at me,” Dazai complains, burying his face in his hands, he covers his cheeks as he turns to glare at you. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised, it’s not like the slug has either.”

“Chuuya has had his first kiss, Dazai,” you say before you can think over your words and instantly Dazai’s brows are furrowing, eye squinting as he looks at you.

You think you’ve made a fatal mistake. The alcohol has made your tongue far too loose.

“How do you know that?” he asks suspiciously, staring at you intently as he waits for an answer.

Shit. You stare at him for a moment, contemplating your options because there’s no way in hell that you’re admitting to Dazai Osamu that you were Nakahara Chuuya’s first kiss. But the longer you wait, the more suspicious he’s getting, you can tell, and you have a feeling that if you do lie, he’s going to figure it out right away.

“He told me,” you finally answer and instantly, Dazai’s gaze sharpens.

Fuck.

“Liar,” he accuses, and you can see that even under the influence of four glasses of champagne, his mind still works sharply—a bit slower, maybe, because even Dazai Osamu is not immune to the effects of alcohol, though he does clearly have a ridiculously high tolerance.

You see his thoughts whirling, racing to put together the pieces laid out before him, and you watch as he suddenly straightens in his seat, eyes wide. “Dazai-”

“No,” he breathes out, horrified. “No. No. You’re lying. You must be lying.”

“Dazai,” you say again, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Noooooo,” Dazai complains, louder, more aggrieved. He tugs at his hair, squeezes his eyes shut. “No. No. Noooooo, I can’t accept this. Revoke it. Revoke it immediately.”

You blink. “Dazai,” you start slowly, “I can’t just revoke it. That’s-It’s not how that works, what-”

“REVOKE IT!”

“Jesus Christ. Fine. Revoked. It's been revoked.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, leaning back against the couch as he turns another flinty look onto you. “You’re so disgusting.”

“Look in a mirror,” you snap back, irritated.

“No, you look in a mirror. You’ve kissed a-” he gags as if he can hardly bring himself to say the words. “You’ve kissed a slug. You’ve kissed a slug, you’re so disgusting, I can hardly stand to look at you.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic, Dazai,” you snort, rolling your eyes at the genuine repugnance painted all over his face. But you watch as the disgust suddenly disappears, melting into a conflicted expression that you have trouble reading. “You really haven’t had your first kiss?”

You don’t really know what you expected. Well, you would have thought that Dazai would have some experience—maybe not as much as you or Chuuya, the two of you have been trained in utilizing your bodies for strategic purposes, but you would’ve thought maybe he found someone to experiment with.

Although, you suppose you shouldn’t really be that surprised. Mori is Dazai’s mentor, and he has the boy constantly swamped with missions and operation preparations, keeping him carefully under his thumb so that no one else can taint the control he has over his precious Demon Prodigy—Dazai likely doesn’t even have the time to even think of stuff like this, much less go out of his way to experience it himself.

Dazai doesn’t respond, pointedly turning his face away from you.

“So what if I haven’t?” Dazai snips, regaining his cool facade, even if it did take a bit longer while under the influence of the champagne. “Maybe, I’m saving it for someone special, ever think of that?”

You coo, reaching out to pinch his cheek, and Dazai gives you a look nothing short of affronted, pulling his face away just as you feel how warm his cheeks are.

“Tell me about your dream woman then, Dazai?” You lean your elbow against the back of the couch, resting your cheek on your palm as you look at him. “I wanna know allll about her.”

“Well-” Dazai starts, clearing his throat as he takes another sip of his drink.

You watch as he stares ahead for a moment, waiting to see what he says—a part of you is genuinely curious, a tight feeling of anticipation in your throat that you can’t seem to push away but don’t know why.

Finally, Dazai looks at you with a crooked smirk and a victorious look in his eye that makes you realize whatever he is about to say is going to piss you off. “You would like to know, wouldn’t you? I knew you had a crush on me. I bet you just want to know if you’re my dream woman.”

“HA!” you bark out a laugh immediately at the prospect, ignoring the weird tug at your chest. “You wish, Dazai, maybe when hell freezes over.”

You miss the way Dazai’s expression falters as you try to distract yourself from the tightness pulling at you by taking another generous sip from your half-full glass.

Dazai lets out an irritable puff, pushing out his cheeks as he looks away from you, making a show of being offended by your comment. You roll your eyes at him as you turn your attention back to him.

“So you’ve both had your first kiss then,” he says, voice clipped, and before you can make a comment about it, he continues, “Whatever. It’s probably not that great anyway. It’s just pushing your lips against someone else’s. What’s so special about that? Honestly, it sounds kind of gross.”

He’s not looking at you, and you have to gnaw at your bottom lip to not snort at the blatant bitterness in his tone as he speaks. You wonder if he’s that aggrieved by the situation, or if the alcohol is just making him looser with his emotions because he’d never usually be so openly bothered by this.

“Why haven’t you kissed one of Mishima’s daughters?” you ask curiously, tucking your knees to your chest as you watch him curiously. “Those three are always hanging around trying to get our attention.”

That’s putting it gently—Mishima’s girls are your age, and whenever the Sun and Steel host an event that the Port Mafia is invited to, the three are all over you guys. Whether it’s teenage rebellion against their father, or they’re actually interested in you, you don’t really know, but they make for better company than most of the other people in attendance and have loose lips, so you tend to find the oldest sister to entertain you for the night.

Dazai hesitates for a moment, an odd expression crossing his face. He finally says, “They’re not interested in me.”

You wrinkle your nose as you look at him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “What do you mean? The youngest is interested in anything with two legs, pretty low bar to reach,” you try to joke but Dazai seems to find no humor in it, lips curling down as he stares ahead absently.

“Not me,” Dazai says after a few seconds. “... They think I’m weird. Heard them talking about it at the last event—Noriko and Michiko.”

You pause, lowering your glass from your lips to rest your hands down in your lap as you observe him. His expression is mostly blank, but there’s a conflicted look in his eye that makes your throat feel tight. You’d always wondered if Dazai cared about what people would say about him—they’re not exactly subtle regarding how they feel about the youngest executive. They find him odd and disturbing, most people evade him as much as possible. They think he’s inhuman, closer to a demon than man. You’re sure he’s overheard a lot of it: Dazai knows anything and everything that goes on in the Port Mafia, you can’t imagine he’s blind to people’s opinions on him, but if he is aware, he’s never let it outwardly bother him. In fact, you think he’s utilized it to his advantage for the most part.

But… you’d learned quickly once you were back in Yokohama that Dazai Osamu isn’t alone by choice. He craves interaction with people, but finds little of it because people find his presence unnerving and the few that don’t are wary of the tight leash that Mori has him on. So, you suppose you shouldn’t really be surprised that he’s more bothered than he lets on about some girls your age, who are clearly hung up on both you and Chuuya, having no interest in him because of how they perceive him.

“Well, fuck them,” you finally scoff, already plotting out a way to humiliate the two that Dazai had overheard talking shit about him at the upcoming event in a few weeks. “They’re bitches anyway. And stupid too, clearly. You’re not weird.”

Dazai looks as if he doesn’t believe you, lips tight as he lifts his glass to his lips only to find it empty. He seeks out the bottle and sighs when he notices that it too is empty. He places his glass back down on the table, but doesn’t turn to look at you.

“You don’t need to lie,” he says, keeping his voice breezy but you can see the expression on his face even if he is trying to hide it from you. “I know that I am, I-”

“You’re not,” you repeat, getting increasingly more irritated. “Don’t piss me off. Stop saying that shit.”

“It’s the truth,” Dazai says simply, folding his hands over his lap. “I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about it. Even Chuuya thinks so.”

“It’s not the truth,” you snap, “and I’m getting upset about it because you’re my best friend. I’m sick of people acting like you’re some evil incarnate for doing what we all do. And I’m sick of you letting it feed into whatever complex you have about your humanity. And for your information, Chuuya has drop-kicked people for talking poorly about you—and you better not tell him I told you that, he said he’d kill me if I did.”

Dazai doesn’t react to what you say for a second, brows furrowing and a strange expression crossing over his face at your words, as if he wasn’t sure what he expected from you but it wasn’t that. But it’s the truth.

Chuuya has beat the shit out of people for talking badly about Dazai—no matter how much he bitches and complains that Dazai is annoying and a freak, he doesn’t let other people say the same shit when he’s around. You don’t like getting your own hands dirty like Chuuya does, but you’ve had people killed for talking badly about Dazai—you won’t admit that to anyone even if there’s a gun to your head—but all it takes is a few words about a certain subordinate stirring dissent within the ranks and the Black Lizards are on the move to take care of the inciter.

It’s safe to say that the Mafia subordinates are careful to not voice their opinions about Dazai around the two of you anymore.

Then, he says firmly, “I’m not your best friend.”

Your eye twitches. “What?”

“I’m not your best friend,” he says again, speaking in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Chuuya is your best friend. You hang out with him more than me, you go drinking with him and don’t drink with me unless I bribe you, you kiss him.”

“Why can’t you both be my best friend?” you ask, annoyed, feeling much like a child.

“That defeats the purpose of best,” Dazai says snidely. You roll your eyes at his tone.

“Well, I only hang out with Chuuya more because you’re on missions more than both of us because you have that fancy executive title now. And I don’t go drinking with Chuuya. I drank with him once and never again.”

You pointedly don’t say anything about the last comment he made, but Dazai catches that, leveling a steady look onto you.

“You kiss Chuuya,” Dazai repeats, quieter this time. “You don’t kiss me.”

“I would kiss you,” you tell him, voice a little more hesitant than you intend for it to be. Nervous, even.

This is different from when you kiss Chuuya—from when you do anything with Chuuya. Kouyou directed the two of you to each other a few weeks ago toward the end of the conflict, saying that if you ever plan to bring any of the tactics taught by your mentors about utilizing your bodies for strategic purposes to the field, it’s best for the two of you to practice with one another as training.

It was work.

It was training.

It wasn’t whatever this is about to be.

Your heartbeat feels erratic in your chest as you stare at him, he hasn’t reacted to your words, staring at you as if trying to figure out if you’re being serious or if you’re setting him up to make a fool out of himself.

“… I would not mind if hime was my first kiss.”

You let out a flustered noise in the back of your throat at the sudden use of the title you’ve grown to loathe over the past two years, dubbed by none other than Mori himself. Usually, Dazai only uses it whenever he’s trying to goad you into an argument, knowing how much you hate it, but there’s something different about it this time—something that has your cheeks heating up. His voice is softer, breath a bit hitched as he speaks, as if he’s just as nervous as you are but is trying to hide it.

“I thought you were saving it for someone special,” you say quietly, looking at Dazai carefully.

Dazai finally turns his head to look at you, expression subdued. “... Hime is special to me.”

Your breath catches at the admission, wondering if he’s trying to say you’re special because you’re his closest friend or if he’s trying to hint at something more, but Dazai’s expression doesn’t betray any of his thoughts and he doesn't seem inclined to expand on his painfully cryptic comment.

Nor do you have the courage to ask.

You take in a quick breath, gathering your nerves before Dazai takes your prolonged silence as rejection and flees. You shift closer to him, watching as he takes in a sharp, quiet puff of air, staring at you carefully. His fingers are stiff in his lap, twitching as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. You lift your own hands to cup his cheeks between them.

His bandages are rough against the pads of the fingers on your left hand, and absently, you think that you should maybe stock up on a softer brand, because you’re sure they must be irritating his skin. His skin is smooth in contrast as the fingers of your other hand brush along his cheekbone, you watch as he lets out a shaky breath, visible eye wide as it traces your face. He instinctively leans into your touch and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder when the last time someone has touched him gently. Even Chuuya didn’t have such a reflexive reaction to your touch.

You don’t kiss him for a second, gaze lingering on his face, searching his eye to make sure that he’s ready. His tongue darts out to nervously wet his lips, cheeks tinted pink, fingers still unsteady in his lap as he waits. It’s cute, you think—and it might be the first and last time you’ll ever see Dazai Osamu so plainly flustered over something, so you want to savor it as best you can.

Once you’re satisfied, you lean in to press your lips against his. His lips are chapped and taste like the champagne the two of you have been drinking and faintly like the cigarette he’d been smoking on the walk back to your apartment. Not the most pleasant taste, but for some reason, you can’t seem to get enough of it.

As far as kisses go, it's definitely a bit awkward, but still, it’s nicer than kissing Chuuya. You tell yourself it’s because kissing Chuuya is like any other job or mission, but a part of you wonders if it might be more than that.

You disregard that thought instantly.

You keep the kiss soft and chaste, lips moving only subtly against his own. Dazai doesn’t kiss you back—you can feel his lips trembling and you try to relax him by smoothing your thumb over his cheekbone, but it only seems to make him even more nervous from how his breath hitches against your lips.

You can’t help the smile that tugs to the corner of your lips and he can obviously feel it, so he pulls back and asks, “Are you about to laugh at me again?” His voice is edged with a whine, lips turned down and expression sullen.

You don’t respond, instead, you lean in to press another quick kiss against his lips, letting out a puff of amusement when he lets out a surprised noise but swiftly melts into it.

Then you press another, and another after that, and again, until you can feel his own lips curving up against yours. You don’t know how long the two of you sit there, sharing short, chaste kisses and giggles until you can hardly remember how the two of you ended up there. You blame the dizziness you feel and the way your heart flutters in your chest on the alcohol.

When you finally pull away, Dazai’s face is flushed. He tries to hide the way his fingers are shaking by sneaking his hands beneath his thighs to sit on them, attempting to save some face by raising his chin and giving you an arrogant look.

“I knew you had a crush on me.”

“Ugh! I do not, you’re so gross, Dazai.”

But even as you speak the words out loud, you know that it’s a shameless lie.

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai fluff #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs fluff

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xerotiny99 · 6 months

Text

2 AM Call // Our Precious #1

2 AM Call (Our Precious series #1)

M.list ┃Next Part

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Warning: dom!yunho, sub!reader, suggestive, sexting, phone sex, a lot of dirty talk (seriously, really filthy), masturbating, etc...

Note: if any of the above-mentioned topics trigger you then you can click off. :) also, do not proceed if you're below 18.

An Extra Note: this is a mini - or - a long series, and I'm too lazy to make a different book for it. Hence, I'll be adding all the planned/written chapters of this series in this book. It'll be in second person pov, but instead of writing [y/n] — cause I'm too lazy, really — I'll be writing Angel. So, the reader's name is Angel for this series. This series revolves around polygamy, which means the reader will be involved with ot8; the chapters will unfold slowly from the beginning and follow a storyline.

Gist: being in your sophomore year of college, you meet a very cute and handsome bookstore clerk. You happen to exchange numbers and on the same night, he's all you can think about. When you decide to ring him up, it's 2 AM and both of you have different things on your minds.

Word Count: 5,471

Lehninger.

Albert Lehninger.

Principles of Biochemistry.

You grumble under your breath, shifting your eyes chaotically around the shelves of hardcover books aligned in alphabetical order. The wooden shelves feature biochemistry books, and out of all these, you needed only one, which apparently was too hard for your eyes to search. Scorching sun outside is far less preferable than the air conditioning of the second-hand bookstore you were in, so you decide to stay in and pass a few more minutes looking through the books.

Maybe, you could find something worthwhile in store, perhaps something other than textbooks and thesis unrelated to your university work. Sighing, you bend over slightly to grasp the titles inscribed on the spines of several other books.

"It could be here, maybe." you thought to yourself.

"Hi, how can I help you?" a cheery yet raspy voice cuts through your thoughts, "are you looking for a specific book?"

Your attention turns towards the humbly speaking man, and once your gaze falls onto him, and his smile, you hold your breath. He was...ethereal; clad in a beige coloured cardigan and a white turtleneck under it, the man's demeanour was stoic and poised yet friendly and warm. Towering over and looking down at your petite stature, he smiles widely, politely waiting for you to reply. You take a minute longer to stare and notice all finer details on his face; his porcelain skin, pretty pink lips, a straight nose—almost sculpted, and his innocently shaped doe eyes just boring into yours.

There it goes without saying, you were drooling over him. He was attractive, no doubt, but the way he offered you a benign smile made your heart lurch a bit was far more beguiling than his looks. In all seriousness, it had been more than a minute or two since you had been silently checking him out; you had failed to notice the heap of books he was holding in his arms before, but now that you do, you mentally groan at his bulging arms with prominent veins on the back of his hands.

"Hello—"

"—yeah, no. I mean, I was actually looking for...Lehninger—um, biochemistry?" you stutter and ramble, lastly stringing your words into a question.

"Oh, wait. Give me a minute, I'll check it in our database." Carrying the books in his hands, he nudges you to follow him with a nod.

You do cluelessly follow him but enjoy the view of his rear; you really needed to snap out of it! He guides you to the front desk where the cash register was situated, and a computer was stowed away on the other side of it. Thump the books go, having been put down on the desk by him before he leans over the computer to type. Standing on the other side of the desk, you watch him do the work, with your arms folded over your chest.

In the heat of the moment, you're reeling back to checking him out; silverbluish hair styled in a mullet, the puffy strands kissing the collar of his turtleneck, his eyelashes batting every two seconds at the blaring computer screen—you bite down on your lip when libidinous thoughts swarm your mind. His hands, those sleek fingers pressing down the keys on keyboard...how good would those feel as they're pumping in and out of your cunt.

"Oh, okay. Got it!" he squeals softly, turning to you, "looks like we've got one copy of the sixth edition. Would that be alright?"

You flinch, snapping from your thoughts and realising you really needed to get laid, at least to get your mind straight.

"Ah," you take some time to comprehend his words, "sure. I don't mind, to be honest. Only need it as a reference for my assignment."

"You could've issued this book at the university library, why didn't you?" he asks, stepping out from the counter and guiding you back to the wooden shelves.

You look at your feet, stumbling behind him, unsure of what to say. "I believe it's better to have a personal copy instead of issuing it from the library since I'm going to need till my senior year. Couldn't afford a new one, so I thought why not invest in a second-hand."

He heaves out a gentle chuckle, halting his steps in front of a shelf. "That's fair. So, Horizon University?"

"Yeah," you mumble. "Got a scholarship and everything...how did you..."

"It's the only university close by, and I'm in my senior year there, well, at the end of it—only one more month left till I graduate." he starts rummaging through the racks in the shelf to find your book. "Dance major."

"Sophomore year here, zoology major." he hums, looking at you and pulls out a thick book from the shelf. You continue in a hushed voice, "I've still got two years left in that hellhole."

"You don't like the university?" he questions, as a matter of factly.

"No. Not really. Not that I know I can't make friends for fucks sake," you state.

"You haven't met the right kind of people yet, it's fine. You will soon." he flashes you a toothy grin. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm good." you whisper, "I'll hopefully vibe with someone soon, can't be alone all the time."

"Like I said, you will. Hang in there," he reassures you with his smile going deep in his cheeks, "I'll ring this up for you, come on."

By the cash register, you pay the respective amount while he puts the book in a paper bag having the store's name printed on top of it.

As he hands you the bag, he chimes, "there you go."

You take the bag in your hands, but don't leave just yet; you didn't want to leave him. Drawn to his charismatic presence, you stay behind for a long second. You're staring into each other's eyes, intently lingering onto the disguised inklings in either of your minds. The space around you seems so suffocating, heavy and laden with thick air. In the pit of your stomach, there's an urge you want to act on, you want to tear your gaze away from him and continue on with the rest of your day.

But you can't.

And your heart doesn't want to, thinking there's a possibility of you engaging with him on a romantic level.

From the corner of your eye, you watch his lips twitch into a tiny smile; he scurries his hand on the desk and pulls out one of the store's business cards. He has a sharpie ready on him, and scribbles something on the back of the card.

"Just in case, here's my number. Give me a call, or a text. Would like to hang out with you some time," he slides the cards across the desk to you, "I'm Yunho, by the way."

You take the card and slip it in the pocket of your dress; yes, you wore a clingy summer dress with pockets because pockets are a lifesaver.

"My name's Angel."

"I look forward to hearing from you, Angel."

And you did find something better in there, other than books.

The day rolls by as smoothly as it should, after leaving the bookstore you make your way back to your dorm room in the university to keep the book in your room and grab your laptop as you decide to spend the rest of your morning in the campus cafe. Musty notes of coffee linger in the air while you save Yunho's contact into your phone and work a little on your assignment. All your lectures, you whiled the time thinking about Yunho—his face, his voice, his fingers, his body—you were starting to realise how reprehensibly had this man taken up every fraction of your mind.

You weren't complaining, though. But it was proving to be very distracting amidst your lectures. Coming back to your dorm room, lethargic from the humdrum day of lectures and practical work, you lay in your bed. Mindlessly, you pick your phone and go through your socials, especially Yunho's. He has to have an Instagram page at least. And to your surprise, he does. You come across a public account with few of his photos. You didn't get to see much of him however, as the photos were mostly of him either looking away from the camera or hiding his face behind his hands. Heaving an exasperated sigh, you lock your phone and go on about the rest of your day.

As night dawns in, you're back in your bed after eating dinner. You've done all of your nightly routine and are freshly showered. You wear a dark brown cardigan over your black lingerie; really not in the mood to change into sleepwear because of the buzzing heat of summer. Again, mindless thoughts pop in your head and you grab your phone to check any texts from your nonexistent friends. It's not like you didn't have any friends, you didn't prefer to make friends—regardless, you did have one friend in the entirety of your university. He was a bunny-eyed man with deep brown hair, and a baby yet stoic face; Choi Jongho. But you spoke to him occasionally and only interacted when needed to.

Opening the messaging app on your phone, you almost make sure to have a double take when you see Yunho's name at the top with very recent messages from him. Yep. It was him. You checked it twice only to be sure and it was his contact number. Stifling a squeal, you open your chats.

Yunho: Hey! Just wanted to make sure you got to your dorm room safely. And how's that book working out for you?

[Sent 22:39 pm Read 1:06 am]

So, he needed an excuse to text you. How adorable.

You: Hi Aren't you quick to text me? ^^ It's alright. And... The book makes me want to hit my head against a wall.

[Sent 1:07 am Read 1:07 am]

Yunho: Ouch :( I have no idea what works in biochemistry. Sadly. But hang in there! And ofc Thought I'd keep you company since you're a loner.

[Sent 1:09 am Read 1:10 am]

You: I have friends, mister!

[Sent 1:10 am Read 1:12 am]

Yunho: Yeah You do Imaginary friends don't count.

[Sent 1:12 am Read 1:13 am]

You: I do have a friend! Don't underestimate me.

[Sent 1:14 am Read 1:15 am]

Yunho: "a" friend I'm not tbh But who's this friend?

[Sent 1:16 am Read 1:17 am]

You: He's in my department We've got couple of classes together

[Sent 1:17 am Read 1:18 am]

Yunho: well then I'll let you talk to him

[Sent 1:19 am Read 1:19 am]

You felt a pang of pain bubble in your chest, but your mind couldn't figure out why you were hurting over his response.

You: Why do you sound mad?

[Sent 1:19 am Read 1:35 am]

Yunho: I'm not :)

[Sent 1:35 am Read 1:36 am]

You: k.

You roll your eyes and blink away the weirdness. Now, your silly anguish had been replaced with anger and frustration. In fact, you wondered why you felt so silly about this ordeal when he was the one to initiate texting you. They say men have a golden rule of texting, that is, they'd wait three days until texting. But it turns out Yunho was little too eager to talk to you. Shaking your head, you sit up straight in your bed and puff your cheeks. Your eyes glaze over your reflection in the full-length mirror in front of your closet.

An idea sparks your curiosity, and you smirk to yourself. Bringing your phone back in your hand, you angle it at a specific point to get your entire body in the frame. You take a mirror selfie, perched by the edge of the bed, your cardigan loosely hanging over your shoulder to expose your lingerie and a good amount of your cleavage, your hair flowing down on one side of your shoulder, and your eyes remain emotionless. Having no perceivable clue of your behaviour, you slump yourself back in bed and purposely send the picture to Yunho. You wait for a minute to pass when you text him back.

You: *sent attachment*

You: Oh god! Didn't meant to send it to you. Can you delete it, please?

[Sent 1:45 Read 1:45]

Yunho: Oh ... Well I saw it. And it's only fair if you... *sent attachment*

[Sent 1:46 Read 1:47]

You feel the buzz in your head, upon checking out the attachment he sent you. Thinking it'd be a normal photo, you didn't pay too much attention to it, but maybe you should have, and you did exactly at your second take of the photo. It was him, obviously; he was sitting in a gaming chair, legs widespread, wearing his loose sweatpants under a haze of dim lights of his room. One of his hands held his phone as he clicked the picture, while the other palmed his crotch. And then you saw it, his boner, protruding from the sweatpants. You mentally tried to gauge his size by the pronounced outline on his pants. And you were impressed.

The heaviness in your head grows when you notice his sly smirk in the photo, and the bulging veins on both of his hands; he wanted to rile you up, just the way you did. Though, if there could be a difference, you did it out of spite and he was doing it to get back to you. Squeezing your thighs together, you tried to control your urges, the same stupefying urges you got when you saw him in the bookstore this morning. The suppression of your desire leads to you heaving out a deep breath, wanting to get back at him for ruining your peace with that photo.

You: someone's all worked up. what were you thinking about?

[Sent 1:50 am Read 1:51 am]

Yunho: Just something Or someone

[Sent 1:51 am Read 1:52 am]

You: I wouldn't mind taking a peek in your head ;)

[Sent 1:53 Read 1:53]

Yunho: Do you really want to know what I'm thinking about?

[Sent 1:54 Read 1:55]

You: Yes Unless you don't want to.

[Sent 1:56 Read 1:57]

Yunho: I'd be the one to ask you that Are you sure you want to know?

[Sent 1:57 Read 1:58]

For some reason you could picture him with a conceited smile on his face, still sitting on the chair and his legs wide apart while he rubs his cock through his sweats.

You: You like teasing don't you?

Yunho: Oh I love it

You: I'll tell you what. I've been thinking about you since the morning

Yunho: Hmm Likewise I've been thinking about all the things I'd do to you if you were here with me

You: and what would you do?

You draw in a sharp breath, chest heaving up and down when your mind fogs with the thoughts of him doing filthy things to you.

Yunho: For the starters... I'd gently kiss your lips While ripping the buttons off your sweater Taking it off Letting my hands roam your body

Reading his texts, you pull at the buttons on your sweater, one by one and eventually shrugging it off from your body. You tremble slightly as you proceed to text him with one hand.

You: Go on...

Yunho: I'd pin you to the bed Make sure your hands are above your head Kiss you so hungrily. use my hands to feel all of you. And take off whatever that's remaining on your body Id tease you a hell a lot Fukc Ferl your bdy shuddre under mine when I drg my fingerss down to yor wet pussy Pusj my fingers deep in you knuckles feep Make you mewl as my fingers pumped in and out ... Fuck I want you so bad

That was the point of no return for you, you were deeply invested in this game, in this stupid act of desperation where all you could think about was his texts. It brings your colourful imagination to mind, visualising his texts as you rub your fingers on your now-aroused cunt through your dripping wet panties. you noticed the typos in his texts, probably from him typing with his one hand while his other remained busy.

Taking a deep breath, you rest against the headboard of your bed, your legs spread a little to make it easier for your hands to rub you. You bite your lip, thinking more of him, thinking of his sleek fingers sawing you out while he's knuckles deep in your cunt.

You: I want you too So so bad I want your fingers in me I want you to loosen me up nice for your cock to pound into me

You finally decide to push your panties to the side, while ghosting your fingers over your clit before you let them submerge in your heat. Your arousal coats your fingers as they slick back and forth, at a steady pace, in your cunt. Your mind is already long gone to the end where you were only yearning for him to make you feel good. Noticing how your phone hadn't buzzed for a long time, you shift your attention to it and instead of his texts, you see him calling you. Hesitation knocks at your door, but you're too far gone from rationality to think about it. As you answer his call and press your phone to your ear, you hear his ragged breathing. It brushes your ear and tickles you, springing up goosebumps on your skin, as though he was right next to you in your bed.

"You really know how to make a man all worked up, don't you?" he hisses, "don't worry, princess. I'll make you feel good."

You take in another deep breath through your mouth, bringing your fingers out of your cunt. Hovering them over your chest, you push the cups of your bra down and grope your breasts; you pinch your nipples, fondle and knead your tits to get yourself in the mood. He doesn't know about it, but your fantasies run wild—with him as he fills his hands with your tits, groping and fondling them, maybe even more.

"What is my Angel doing right now? Are you touching yourself at the thought of me pinning you down to the bed and fucking you relentlessly?" he asks, and your mind pictures it word to word.

"Yes. I want you to—I want you to fuck me foolish—make me—make me see stars—while—while your cock rams into me..." you stutter, struggling to strip yourself out of your lingerie.

"Pretty filthy thoughts for a beautiful face like yours, Angel." His tone is teasing as he continues, "wanting a stranger you just met to do all these vile things to you...you're a cum-slut aren't you?"

Dirty talk was never your cup of tea, it made you cringe internally but there was something about Yunho's deep and sultry voice that made you wet, insanely wet. You bite your lip, conscience half gone to the sound of his trembling breathing, and rub your clit—the sensation only brings butterflies in your stomach, because in your mind those were his fingers and not yours. In your mind everything you did to yourself was replaced with him, and it was enough to get you started.

Biting back on a moan, you reply, "yeah...I want you to—I want you to do all the vile stuff to me."

You hear certain shuffling in the background alongside a long pause and then, your ears catch up on his soft little grunts. Nothing prepared your imagination for what you were thinking; him in his bed or just in his gaming chair, with his cock out, stroking himself at the thought of you.

"Your—your wish is my command," he growls, his deep voice resonating in your ear, "would love to finger your tight little cunt, drawing out these pretty moans from your mouth..."

You slide one finger down your slit, and eventually ease it in your hole; it brought discomfort at first, a little, but when you started moving it deep within you, you felt your walls clench slightly around it.

"Fuck...yes, I want you to spread—spread me open with your fingers."

He did not need to know that you were fingering yourself, your voiceless grunts and whispers were enough for him to imagine it. Picturing you plunge your fingers into your cunt, he increases the pace of his hand stroking his cock; though, he keeps himself steady. He couldn't really help himself and gradually increases the rhythm of his movements.

"Add another finger, baby." he mumbles, closing his eyes and leaning back against his chair.

You oblige, adding another finger in your hole.

"How does it feel?"

"Good—feels good, Yunho." You mewl his name, scissoring your fingers inside of you.

"You're doing great, princess. Now, curl your fingers..." he manages to squeak out in a whisper, pumping his cock with busy motions.

His chest rises and falls rhythmically to your moans, and you do as he says; curling your fingers inside you, you feel a certain warmth lingering in your stomach. You were getting close to your climax, without even having to anything more—the knot strikes a jolt of tightness in the pit of your stomach, and you moan out loud. Really loud.

"I want you to feel me, Yunho." you breathe out, aroused. "I want to feel you too—feel your cock sliding in and out of me—fucking me good with it."

"Oh baby," he goes silent for a second, focused on stroking himself, "I'll fuck you good—I'll fuck you till you're begging for me to stop..."

"Ah fuck," you arch your back off the mattress, trying to chase your high.

Your fingers plunge in and out, increasing tension in your stomach and gut; your tightness was gradually easing up, and so you decide to insert another finger in. The stretch stung, however, pleasurable, making you whimper his name out loud.

"Yunho...!"

"Yes, baby, I know." he winces in diversion. "Hold on a little longer, I'm close—I'm close too."

He breathes out, increasing the pace of his hand; his cock slick with his precum and it spreads along the shaft as he continues to pump himself. You could hear the strain in his voice, indicating you, he indeed was close to his own climax; you were too, knowing your fingers were hitting your sweet spot every time they thrusted in you. Keeping your phone on loudspeaker, you set it on the nightstand and use your other hand to rub your clit. You increase the pace of your fingers, flesh squelching, your juices lightly lapping against your fingers—the knot tightens delicately in your stomach as your tempo remains constant.

Yunho bucks his hips into hands, composing himself as he thrusts his cock into his hand, thinking about your tight cunt. He has a colourful mind too, picturing himself rocking his hips so that his cock hits all of your deepest parts. His lungs convulse, fighting the urge to moan but it breaks out of his lips anyway. He moans your name, shaking and struggling to hold his phone next to his ear—he does the same as you, sets his phone aside while keeping it on speaker.

"Such a dirty little slut, fingering herself to the thought of my cock thrusting into her," his voice gives you a push, fuels your soul with the fire it lacked. In retrospect, he needed something too, to tip him off his edge as he fucked his hand. "Fuck...needs my cock to make her happy..."

"Yes, please," you cry, tears rolling down the side of your face as your fingers do their work.

Your high was approaching you, so close, almost there. The limit to hold it in was past the point, he could say something and you would be riding down your orgasm—you needed him, his voice, his words. On the other hand, Yunho's patience was running thin, he wanted to finish it off—feeling the warmth of his hand pushing him to his edge, he smirks to himself and throws his head back.

"Are you close, princess? Cause I am..." he grunts.

You nod your head, pursing your lips together to make a gentle sound of humming. You didn't realise it yet, but you were bucking your hips to your fingers, letting them curl and slip in deep inside you; grinding your hips against your fingers, you let out a satisfied groan—the tightness in the pit of your stomach comes undone. Rummaging your hand to hold the headboard behind you, you brace yourself as your high washes over you with a vehement intensity. You let our shaky breaths, well beyond being breathless, as your fingers slowly make their way out of your heat. Your chest rises and falls, tremors spread under your skin with your juices dripping down your inner thighs.

"Fuck, princess..."

His groan is a little static, coming from your phone as it leaves your imagination to run wild. You picture him slumped in his chair with his load spurting out to stain his lower abdomen and clothes. In reality, Yunho breathes through his mouth, letting it fall agape when his high comes crashing down onto him. He had never felt such rush of satisfaction by only indulging himself with you on call; he had never felt himself cumming so hard for anyone with any real action, but here he was, panting and shaking, stroking off his climax as he grimaced at his hand full of his cum.

There's a long moment of silence between you two, and in that silence, the post-orgasm clarity sinks deep within you. The thought of you being so indecent with a man you met in the morning, not even knowing him for more than a day, brought some coherence to your mind. Though, the best is to let it go and keep it in your bounds of inadvertent thrills of late night.

Your body feels languid, and tired; wondering the same for him.

"That was..."

"It happened in the moment," Yunho breathlessly pronounces, "we're just two strangers who have nothing to do with each other, right?"

"Well..."

You sit straighter in your bed, staring at your phone as you bite your lip; you were waiting for him to speak.

"Well what?" he mumbles, a sly smile stretching his lips.

"I thought...never mind. I'm way over in my head." You shrug it off, pulling the sheets over your body as the embarrassment drowned you out. "It's fine, we'll pretend this never happened."

"What? Are you crazy?" his voice is much clear now, with the obvious tone of bewilderment. "Gosh, Angel. You don't know how hard I came for you. I can't pretend this never happened; instead, I wouldn't mind giving us..."

He trails, dragging his words in a whisper with hopes of you completing him. "...giving us a try, like just keeping our relationship exclusive to sex?"

"If you're down for it." he mumbles, "I don't want to do anything that you're uncomfortable with."

"I'll think about it."

You smiled to yourself, thinking about that possibility. When the sun rose to a new day, you found yourself pondering. Not exactly in the 'deep venture' of it, but you just kept your mind busy with Yunho's proposal and thought of the consequences if you were to ever agree to it. Friends with benefits with a soon-to-graduate hot senior? That sounds tempting, a lot, it also fuels your infatuation with him. But on the other hand, you didn't want to go down that road with him. There were second thoughts in your mind, of course there'd be—you maybe, sort of, liked this man, after all, he does give off the vibes that he'd be a great boyfriend. You didn't want to ruin that possibility with him.

The rest of your day goes as scheduled, you attend a few of your lectures in the morning. Currently, it's afternoon and you have last of your classes to attend. Amidst all the excitement and stress, your friend, Jongho texts you, asking you to get him your lab-coat for his practical class. You find him standing in front the chemistry department, smiling and engaged in a chatter with someone else. And upon noticing it from afar, the person who he was talking to was Yunho. It was such a contrast, both were happy-go-lucky kind of guys, but Jongho seemed more innocent than Yunho (after the night you had spent with him, it was hard to picture him being anything but innocent). You could make it out from his tall built, and silver-bluish hair styled in a mullet, regardless with his back facing you. Hesitation stricken, you somehow manage to make your way to him; because Jongho had already noticed you even before you turn around and run away.

"There she is!" Jongho glees, and Yunho turns around, meeting your eyes. "Thank you so much for bringing it, I really despise prof. Yuen when he gets all judgmental about 'forgetting' to bring a lab-coat to his practical class."

"Hey, no worries," you smile at him, handing him your lab-coat. "I have his practical class day after tomorrow, till then the coat is yours." You laugh it off, awkwardly glancing at Yunho.

Jongho notices the out-of-ordinary ogles you made at Yunho, chiming in, "oh right, Angel, this is Yunho. I live with him and six other guys. But that's not important and ummm.." he looks at Yunho, scratching the back of his neck, "she's Angel, my only friend in this university."

Yunho smiles warmly at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he does. "Oh so, it's her you can't stop chattering about?" he chuckles lightly, "and what do you mean 'your only friend' aren't we your friends too?"

Jongho rolls his eyes, "you guys are nothing but a pain in the ass. Just today, in the morning Wooyoung and San drank all the milk and kept empty containers back in the refrigerator. I had to crunch on cereals before heading out for my morning classes."

"So, are you tainting all others because of those two individuals?" Yunho retorts.

You purse your lips together, ineptly crossing your eyes between them; you were aware of Jongho's living condition, but you could have never expected Yunho to be one of his flatmates. It was true, Jongho lived with seven other guys from the university, some of them having a full time job, and at times he would complain about them to you. Though you never really focused too much on what he had to say, or even catch their names.

"Uhhh..." you trail, offering them a tight lipped smile.

"Angel, come on, back me up." Jongho grumbles.

"I can't say anything about your flatmates, Jongho." The chestnut-haired man rolls his eyes, and you continue, "but I've always listened to your rants."

"I bet you're a good listener, Angel." Yunho taunts you, "and an even better friend to him."

"She is," Jongho breaks out in a smile. "Hey, you should totally come over on Thursday. We've got a game night planned."

"Uh, Jongho, I don't think I'd want to play board games with eight guys." You mutter under your breath.

"Who said we play board games?" Yunho says, drawing his brows together. "Though, it'll be fun for a while, having a girl over."

"Yes, Angel. You should consider it. Just—just think about it okay?" the enthusiasm in Jongho's voice isn't hard to ignore. "Now, I've got a class, so I'll see you in a bit."

With that he disappears, leaving you and Yunho stranded alone with nothing to talk about or a lot to talk about.

"What a lovely coincidence," Yunho begins, smiling at you, "the girl he talked about was you all along; well, he painted a pretty picture of you in our heads."

"I see Jongho as anything but more than a friend." you pout, "and this game night, should I even consider coming?"

"Well, it depends on you, princess," he smirks, "it depends on whether or not you could keep your hands to yourself. Because I'll be there."

"Oh, don't put yourself on a high pedestal, mister." You roll your eyes, "I'll think about it."

"Don't you have a lot to think about already?" he steps closer to you, towering over you as he leans close to your ear, "I don't think I can go on without touching you for the entire time you'd be there, so really do think about it."

He straightens up and mumbles one last time before leaving you completely high and dry.

"And if you do come, I will really fuck you senseless."

Next Part ┃ M.list

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez yunho #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #smut

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kierahn · 6 months

Text

DRIVEN. [ y ! assassin x m ! reader ]

[ nsfw, minors DNI ]

yandere! assassin x journalist! male reader

warnings :

nsfw

forced non-con [in bold letters]

dead dove

reader death

slight torture warning

semi-necrophilia ?

hi, i'm back after three months of dying🧍‍♂️ it might take me awhile before i post a fic again, but here's an update for you guys.

malachi was a man whose services could be availed with just the right amount of money. he isn't the type to settle for less, confident that he was beyond excellent at doing his job.

ask him to dispose of someone and it would be as if they never existed in the first place. most of his victims' bodies had never been found. that, or they would be beyond recognizable when found. traces of his victims' existence would be gone in a pull of a trigger, with only their names to be remembered by their loved ones.

you were a journalist, renowned for your boldness and endless pursuit for the truth. unlike malachi, your silence can't be bought by any amount of money. you never hesitated to shed light on several issues which made you a formidable force in the eyes of the elite. after all, a journalist who values transparency above anything is someone to be feared by their kind; shrouded with secrets that they dare not reveal to the media.

you were well aware of the risks that came with your job, but that never once detered your work. truly remarkable, but idiotic in a sense.

you knew that it would all come to bite you back someday. with all those companies that you had brought down and names that you have ruined; maybe this was your karma catching up to you.

even as you stood at the receiving end of malachi's gun, regret never once entered your mind. you will never regret challenging the elites. they were nothing but a bunch of cowards, hiding behind their status and disposing of anything that threatened to destroy it.

over the past few months he had been keeping a watchful eye on you, malachi hadn't expected you to barely flinch despite having a gun pressed against your forehead.

"what an interesting reaction," the male on the other end mused as his calculating gaze studied your unfazed expression.

you truly were a bold one, always so headstrong and indifferent. even when threatened with a bullet through your skull, you stood your ground, not even a yell for help or a plead for him to spare you.

"why am i not surprised," a sound of amusement escaped malachi's lips. "you've always been so fearless. perhaps, you were already expecting this to happen."

he wasn't entirely wrong, you've long envisioned this scenario inside your head.

you stood with an oddly placid expression before the barrel of his gun, but your hands told a completely different story. they trembled against your sides, a stark contrast to your calm demeanor.

you were scared.

you could only hope that he could do it quickly to save you from further embarrassment.

"there's no point in prolonging this, is there ?" you spat out in spite, opening the door for death who stood at your doorstep.

your eyes were always so full of challenge, malachi wanted to rip that away from you. he had always wanted to see you with a different expression; whether it was fear or something more.

"a shame," he slightly lowered the gun in his hand, now pointed right where your heart lies. "i've grown quite fond of you, journalist." malachi shamelessly confessed.

something you two had in common was being highly driven by your work. unfortunately for you, malachi still had a job he was committed to.

‘ bang! ‘

he didn't fret over the possibility of the gunshot being heard by a passerby. if anyone were to investigate the source of the sound, he would simply dispose of them too.

malachi watched intently as you dropped to the ground.

and there it was. your fearful expression.

your eyes were wide with tears as you clutched your side where the bullet lodged itself, your breathing laboured as your mind quickly worked to try and numb out the excruciating pain you felt. curses left your lips, the warmth of your own blood trickling down your wrist.

he wasn't quite contented in ending things there. normally, he would go for a swift kill and dispose of his victims afterwards. however, he had purposely shot you in a spot that didn't instantly put you to rest.

the sound of footsteps nearing your fallen form reached your ears before your hand was forcefully ripped away from your bleeding side and pinned beside your head, leaving you more vulnerable than you intially were as your killer straddles your bloodied waist.

malachi's eyes scanned your tearful expression with a hint of content. absentmindedly, his free hand moved to caress your open wound.

"!!" an excruciating scream left your lips when malachi suddenly dug his finger through your bullet wound.

his grip around your wrist tightened when you started to thrash around under him, your survival instincts kicking in. you tried to throw him off of you, but your frantic movements only caused your wound to open up more.

malachi clicked his tongue in disapproval, removing his finger from your wound. "now you're just making things harder for yourself."

“HN!– ha.. f.. uck you,” you curse him through gritted teeth. your expression hardened as you shut your teary eyes tightly, trying to minimize the pain.

he leans down to move his face close to yours, examining the tears that slid down your reddened cheeks and the saliva that trickled down your chin. malachi drew his hand that was stained with your blood, brushing it under your eye and leaving a streak of crimson red.

"you know," he starts softly, feeling you tremble underneath him. "this look suits you better than the stoic one that you always wore.”

"i bet i can make you show so much more than that," malachi chuckled darkly, his words holding anticipation. "consider this a parting gift for my dear journalist."

the male roughly grabbed your cheeks to prevent you from struggling when he leans in to capture your lips into a forced kiss. his other hand left your limp wrist to rest, slipping under your bloodied shirt and brushing over the bullet wound up to your chest.

his touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the tight grip on your cheeks. anyone could tell that malachi was, to some degree, fond of the man under him.

he soon broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck. his lips land on your shoulder where he suddenly bit down to leave his mark, making you flinch and let out a pained groan.

malachi pulled his lips away and gently licked the bleeding bitemark to try and soothe you in a way. he straightened back up to examine his handiwork.

your eyes seemed to be in a daze, your breathing slowing down. it was a clear indication that your conciousness was beginning to slip. but before life could completely escape you, malachi lands a harsh slap to your cheek.

"don't be so ungrateful, y/n." he warns, grabbing your cheeks roughly once more, his hand that was under your shirt leaving to grasp onto your thigh. "leaving without accepting my gift. no, no. i won’t let you do that.”

malachi released his grasp on your cheeks by roughly tossing your head to the side, he worked to unbuckle your belt before slipping your trousers down to your knees. he was seething. you couldn't leave him just yet, not without him seeing your expressions as he's (literally) fucking the life out of you.

your vision swayed as the blood loss eventually made you cease your struggles. the light in your eyes was slowly fading and so was your warmth.

but that didn't stop malachi from getting his entertainment. after pulling down his own trousers, malachi rammed himself into you in one single thrust, leaving you with no preparation as you jolt at the sudden intrusion.

you weakly claw at the male's clothed chest. there was just so much pain, from the bullet wound on your side to the bitemark on your shoulder, and now the size that stretched you out dry. you could feel something warm trickling down your thighs, a a texture you could recognize.

you sobbed quietly as the pain doubled when malachi started to move without giving you the time adjust to his size. the tip of his cock worked its way on your insides, trying to find the spot that would make you melt under him.

his eyes watched as your pained expressions turn into one of hesitance. readjusting himself, malachi sets his pace. he knew that he finally found the right spot when he felt your thigh twitch in his grasp and your walls tighten around his dick. lo and behold, your look of hesitance contorted into a disturbed one as you quickly throw an arm over your face to cover yourself.

a shameful moan escaped your lips as soon as he finally hits the spot that broke it all for you. it wasn't long before you turned into a hot mess under him. your chest rose and fell in a rapid rate as you whimpered and moaned under him.

malachi's free hand roughly removed the arm that covered your slutty expressions. you looked so lewd with his cock inside you, drool spilling from your lips and your eyes rolled back in undeniable pleasure.

now this was the sight he had been longing to see.

the pain from your wound was long gone as intense pleasure eventually replaced it. malachi quickened his pace when he noticed how your cock twitched, indicating that you were near your climax. he wasn't that cruel to deny you of orgasm in your last moments.

or maybe he was.

before the knot in your lower abdomen could come undone, malachi grabbed a hold of his gun and shot you straight in between your eyes, lodging a bullet through your skull and finally putting you to rest.

your warm blood stained his lower abdomen, trickling down to his cock that continued to drive into you who had long went limp under him, your eyes deprived of life.

he gave a few more thrusts before finally spilling his warm seed inside of your ass. his breaths were heavy as he kept his cock buried inside your now freezing and stiff body.

malachi soon pulled out of your corpse, fixing his trousers and standing back up. he sheated his gun back on its holster as he gazed down at your limp body.

he knew he was fucked up, but this was on another level.

he smiled smugly.

maybe you should've picked another job in the first place.

#male reader #yandere x male reader #x male reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere #kiahndere

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eccentricallygothic · 6 months

Note

Since I don't see much of it,may I request a dark robber Bucky AU? That turned soft dark? It can be a home robbery. Or a bank robbery. Whichever's easier for you. But I feel like a bank robbery would be way more thrilling. Maybe he held her as a hostage and had his way with her. But then decided he wants to keep her for himself after all and add kidnapping to the list <3 Ski mask and all. Like the one Seb wears for his role in that Destroyer movie with Nicole Kidman. Except I want to request the long haired Civil War Bucky looking Bucky in this one. Just imagine how hot it is when he takes off his ski mask & reveals himself to her in all his glory with his long hair falling to the sides of his face and framing it perfectly. And reader is just stunned,because he's too beautiful. Again,if you want to do a home robbery instead,it's fine too. He went to rob a house but wasn't expecting the pretty little thing hiding under the blanket/in the closet. Decided to have some fun on his "quest" and had his way with her but had a change of mind and decided to correct his way, "moves in" with reader in her home and get a proper job now so he can finally marry her in the near future and propose to her with a diamond ring,one that doesn't belong to reader's mother/grandmother/aunt lol. And finally have that break,that normal life he's been craving for so long now and a beautiful wife by his side to spend his whole life with. Sorry if this request sucks,just haven't seen much robber AUs of Bucky so I thought why not? Okay,that's all I got. Whether you want to take it up or not,thank you so much <3 I'll keep enjoying your other works :D

so… um… idk if you know me or not but i am kinda known on here for being a mad slut… i hope you like it and please don't hate me if you don't i know i am greedy af. ill redo it with one of the scenarios if you don't like it <333

| Small World |

Pairing: Dark-Soft-Dark Robber!Bucky Barnes | Naïve!You.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, Dark!Bucky, bank robbery, violence, knife play, gun play, fear kink, unprotected p-in-v sex, missionary, doggy style, corruption kink, sir kink, power imbalance, Daddy kink, stockholm syndrome, he's lowkey mean, size kink, naive!Reader, virginity loss, fingering, spanking, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact.

MASTERLIST

Panicked and horrified eyes turn to stare at you when you are pointed out of your group of hostages to stand up from your position on the ground. Some of your colleagues look at you with pity, others with hope and plea in their teary eyes.

Please, do it for us.

The greater good, and all.

Before you can decide whether you are the sacrificial lamb type or not, the masked man who has called out for you wraps one of his gloved hands around your arm and tugs you away from your group. Your meek and wheezed out requests fall on deaf ears as you are marched down the main hall.

“P- Please!” You turn your head to look back at his covered face with tear stained cheeks, head slightly shaking as your hands tremble beside it from their position in the air.

“I won’t repeat myself” the soft volume of the man’s voice can easily be easily mistaken for mercy if not for the menace in his tone. And the fact that he has the biggest stature out of his entire group –practically a giant- does not help your case. “Get the fuck inside or I’ll make you” he nods towards the door of the manager’s office, gun trained at you threateningly. “Move it.”

Within the next few moments, the man has you pressed up between him and the heavy wooden desk while he towers over you, toying with the loose strands of your hair with a little pocket knife that he has brandished out of his leather jacket.

“Please…” You helplessly plead in vain, thighs quivering from the way he rests his gun between your legs. Your shaking thighs tightly hug the barrel as the tip presses into the table.

“Aw, honey” he is relaxed and unfazed, almost as though he is unaware of the severity of the situation. Or perhaps this is more natural to him than you can ever know. A chill rises in your back as realization hits you. He cannot care less. “Why are you crying?” The man gathers a drop of your panic on the tip of his blade before bringing it to his mouth and taking a lick before humming at the taste. “I just wanna be friends… don’t you wanna be friends?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you shake your head stupidly.

“P- Please lemme go join the rest…” He sighs at your sob, disappointed.

“Out there with all those average Joes?” His teal eyes watch you from behind the mask as he traces the shape of your clothed boobs with the knife. “Oh, come on, pretty girl” terror fills you when you feel his hard-on rubbing against one of your knees. “You’re too special to be out there with those lowlifes, baby” your body freezes when the knife trails its way up your chest to rest on your bottom lip.

“P- Please…” A whisper shudders its way out of your still lips while your widened eyes watch the blade trail along the opening of your mouth. “D- Don’t hurt me, s- sir…”

“I won’t have to if you behave…” The tip of the weapon clinks against your teeth as the crown of his gun caresses your intimate part at the same time; having found its way into your pencil skirt. “So say, doll. Will you behave for me?” You would be a fool if you think that you have any other choice than to nod. “Use your words now, come on” his muffled coo is so soft it nearly triggers something inside you.

But before you can ponder over it, his hand thumps against your cheek to bring you back to the present moment and you find yourself instantly nodding again. "Y- Yes, sir. I- I'll behave for you…" Something scratches at you from deep inside, but the sickening stimulation that you're being subjected to keeps you bound in the present moment.

"Good girl" you let out a relieved exhale when he pulls the blade from your lips and now brings it to the buttons of your blouse. "Tell me, honey. Do you have a boyfriend?" Your cheeks flush despite the situation and you gulp, lowering your eyes to watch him bounce the stitch holding your button together against the sharp metal. "Or… maybe a little girlfriend?" You can't help but loudly gasp when the thread finally comes undone and your swells bounce into his view.

"P- Please, sir…" The man tuts and shakes his head.

"Remember, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you are nice to me…" As if to put emphasis on his words, he straightens the knife and softly pokes one of your boobs by sliding the tip inside. You can't see it but your hurried apology makes him smirk under the mask. "Now, then. Where were we…?"

"N- No, sir…" You softly sob, unable to control your tears. "I d- don't have a boyfriend…"

"Good girl" he speaks as if he knows you and like you owe it to him, his gun-holding hand disappearing inside his jacket to put the weapon away. Though the relief that washes over you at the sight is short-lived because said hand then comes to grip and caress one of your thighs… under your skirt. "You're too good for silly little boys" your mouth falls agape when he suddenly catches two more of your buttons in a single strike, making your boobs jerk downwards due to the sudden change in pressure.

"Please–!"

"Shhhh" his rough hands yank you closer and against him by the help of your ass, your clothed core colliding with his bulge as he now presses the wider part of the knife against your lips. "I won't remind you again, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you shut up and behave like a good fucking girl" his eyelids flutter a little when his hips move against yours. "Because you'll look just as pretty to me without a tongue as you do now, so make your choice" you freeze as blood drains from your face.

The man gives you a few moments to try him and then he hums in satisfaction when you don't dare.

"See, that wasn't so fuckin' hard, was it, baby?" Your eyes sting from how tears keep spilling out and down your face in thick streams, the saltiness pricking at your lips as you feel his knife cut your skirt open from the middle before he tears an opening in your pantyhose, groaning at the sight of your pussy before you feel the leather of his gloves tease your folds. "Fucking hell, honey. You've such a cute little pussy on you" you can no longer clearly see what he's doing due to your blurry vision, but the violation of your intimate parts leaves you devoid of any desire to do so.

Your mind screams at you to stop him.

No one should touch you.

You don't know why exactly, but every fiber of your existence is screeching at you to run.

Not so much to escape, instead to avoid being defiled.

But what match are you to an armed man who is thrice your size?

"It's so tiny and fragile, do you think she can handle me, huh baby?" His voice is heavy as he now pumps his huge leaking cock with one hand, hissing when he touches the tip against your opening to gather some of your slick before spreading it on himself. "You can cry as many of those pretty little tears as you want, angel. Your naughty little pussy is telling me everything I need to know" a sob leaves you at his words as you helplessly sit wide legged with your head hung low, hands resting flat on the table behind you like you had been instructed to do so a few moments ago, now awaiting the inevitable.

"Fuck" he can't help but roughly curse when your opening refuses to accommodate him and his thick tip slides off it a couple times. "A feisty one" he snickers casually like this is the most normal thing ever. "Good thing I am in the habit of taming–" his words abruptly disappear into a grunt that is accompanied by a jerk of his hips, the action eliciting a loud moan of discomfort from you, "–silly brats like this sweet little pussy here" your back arches as your features scrunch in discomfort, nails pressing against the wooden tabletop. Your pussy squelches around his cock as it is being pried open by his thick girth.

"Ohhh, sir!" You grunt and more tears escape your eyes. "N- No, no…" Your thighs tremble as you shake your head in horror. "N- No… This is wrong…" Your voice is barely a whisper but he seems to understand you clearly.

The man cruelly chuckles, the action causing vibrations to travel up your body from where they are connected. "But it sure feels fucking great, don't you agree?" The flat part of his knife digs into the side of your leg as he tightens his hold on your thighs and settles on a rhythm, hips rocking back and forth between the space of your legs.

Your arms give out and buckle in, causing you to land on your elbows as the loud squeaks of your pussy squeezing at the skin of his cock before letting it go with humiliating clicks only for it to repeat fills the air.

Your lack of response makes him snort. "What, you don't agree?" When you still don't say anything and just continue to stare at his ski mask, a competitive glint appears in his teal eyes. He brings the knife to your lips and holds it against them. "Kiss it" when your shoulders shake with silent sobs, his hips speed up and the blade presses harder against your skin. "I said, kiss it!" The harshness of his tone forces you to succumb to fear and you obey, nearly sliding up and down the table as you peck the metal. "Now thank me for fucking you" your lips wobble against the weapon but he is relentless as he pants for air in the mask, one hand tightly curled around your knee as your other leg dangles from the table.

"T- Thank you for fucking me, s- sir…" He twitches inside you with a satisfied growl, each thrust fucking into you deeper and deeper.

"Now tell me I am the best cock you've ever had" your head is splitting. You feel as though you are being pulled in two opposite directions. A chaos has erupted in your mind and you can barely register his demands anymore. "Do it!" The slap he lands on your boob breaks your train of thought but the hit triggers something inside you and you speak before you can think it over.

"Please, sir! He won't like it! I can't!" You have no idea who you are referring to and the way his eyes narrow down at you signals that he doesn't either.

Just what the hell is going on?

The entirety of today feels like one big Deja Vu.

"Who won't like it?!" His thrusts have turned animalistic but his voice is much less nonchalant than before. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend!"

"I don't!" You squeak out through your tears as your pussy clenches around him and your stomach flips over, the overwhelming sensation in addition to the cruel way in which his hips snap causing your elbows to give up at last.

"Then who the fuck are you talking about?!" Your shoulders knock over the stationary holder as you shake your head helplessly.

"I- I don't know!" His hot seed explodes in your tight cavern as you whine loudly, desperate to get away from the assault his cock is inflicting on your worked up gspot. "I don't know! I don't know!" You are at a puzzling loss of words. "But he won't like it! He won't!"

His concluding thrusts feel almost angry -not that they were much tender in the first place- as a string of muttered curses release from his clenched mouth, the man's long dark hair swaying over his broad shoulders every time he moves.

"Fucking hell, angel" he rasps once he has finally stopped, though he still remains inside you. "They really did do a number on you, didn't they?" His mask is nearly snatched off his face in the next moment to reveal the most handsome man you have ever seen.

Utterly remarkable features accompany the teal eyes that watch you angrily, shiny long strands framing them in the most attractive way as the wide shoulders of the man rise and fall with each furious exhale of his flared nose. His sharp jaw that is covered in light stubble is tightly set as he scans your face, fingers tightening around your flesh more and more with the passing second.

You feel your nether region blink against his cock as you numbly take notice of every detail that he has to offer. Your eyebrows furrow after a few moments when you realize just what you are doing. Then as your eyes begin to widen and palms find the surface of the desk to press against it in order to hoist you up, the realization of why you are doing what you are dawning upon you.

Your face is next to his within the next second, the discomfort of your joint bodies long forgotten as you reach a finger out towards his face to touch it.

"Oh, my God…" You whisper as you slowly trace out what the mask had been hiding and like a dam broken, a barrage of memories hits you so hard your vision falters momentarily. "No way…" Your hand falls limp at your side in shock.

"Small world, eh?" His grin glints in the dim lighting of the room.

. . .

A loud thump sounded right outside the door of your wardrobe and you couldn't help but whimper, the sound making you widen your eyes before you hurriedly buried your mouth in your fuzzy yellow blanket.

It was an ordinary Saturday night and you had been watching a movie when you had run out of snacks. So you paused it and got out of bed to grab yourself something from the kitchen but faint unexpected footsteps in the hallway leading to your room forced you to halt your quest.

Thankfully, you had made it into your current hiding spot just in time before the door to your room slowly opened and a huge figure stepped in, peeking around the room before it stilled in front of the TV. You watched through the slits of the doors as the mysterious man had put two and two together before beginning his search.

For you.

You slowly shifted a little to see better when he disappeared momentarily, but then he suddenly walked by the wardrobe and you had to stuff the blanket in your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. The man paused and scanned the room again. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as he turned towards your bathroom and vanished from your field of vision again. A door opened before clicking close and you sighed in relief.

Letting a few moments pass before slowly opening the door to a crack, you half turned to grab Kiki, your cuddle buddy and favorite teddy in the entire world from where she had fallen off your lap a moment ago. Though when you went to exit the wardrobe to find your phone and figure out your next move, you found a pair of teal eyes watching you from the crack you had just created, the shock causing you to jump out of your skin and land against the wall behind you with a loud gasp.

You clutched your blanket and teddy close to your pounding chest as you hid your face in your knees, shaking in fear as your heart hammered against your ribcage.

Some moments passed in complete silence before you felt hands tugging at your cocoon. "Please, please, please!" The most soothing voice you had ever heard responded to them.

"I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me" his words were the most convincing you had ever heard. "What do you say, angel?" You raised your head just enough to see a metal arm extended towards you.

"Please don't hurt me" you whispered through a wobble of your bottom lip.

"I won't have to if you behave yourself" his form towered you like a vulture hunching over its prey. "You're a good girl, aren't you?" Your furniture had given him some idea of the kind of person that you were.

And the rest Bucky wanted to find out for himself.

He had decided that he would have you before he had even stepped inside this room when the framed pictures of you with friends and family decorating the living room had caused a tent inside his pants.

"Use your words for me" you whimpered before slowly nodding your head.

"Y- Yes, sir. A- Am a good girl" he hummed before thrusting his held out hand in your direction.

"Come on, then. Don't make me repeat myself" the menacing edge to his tone made you gulp and comply before the minute's end.

You were slowly and carefully helped out and onto your feet. The stranger's silky hair rushed forth to frame his face when he lowered it to look at Kiki as she landed with a thump on the floor.

Holding your hand in a firm grip, the man bent to pick her up but didn't hand her back to you.

"And who is this?"

"K- Kiki, sir."

"Is she your… friend?"

"B- Bestie, s- sir…" Unbeknownst to you, his cock hardened at your choice of words.

Fuck.

"Do you want her back?" You slowly nodded with pleading eyes.

He hummed again before speaking. "There's a condition."

"C- Condition, s- sir?"

"You will be quiet and obedient."

You agreed, not that you had much of a choice but Kiki's wellbeing was your top priority.

The stranger placed you on your bed within the next few moments, pulling your blanket away and giving you a pointed look before threateningly waving the poor teddy in the air when a low whine escaped you. The warning was enough for you to shut your mouth as you curled your toes, flushing under his violating gaze that scanned your underdressed form.

You were clad in nothing but a tank top and some strawberry pattern underwear. The sudden shift in your body temperature due to the lack of a blanket made your nipples harden against the sheer material of your shirt and the man cursed under his breath before his free hand traveled to his bulge.

"Why don't you show me how well you and Kiki get along, huh, angel?" You eagerly nodded when the teddy was finally allowed back in your safe hold and you protectively hugged her before going to speak but his next action had you gasping in shock instead.

"Sir–"

The man clicked his tongue. "One little peep and you can sweep little Kiki from the hearth tomorrow morning" your eyes became glassy at his words, bottom lip wobbling. And then you inaudibly vowed upon your teddy's safety.

"S- Sorry, sir."

"See?" His breathing was labored when he stripped you of decency, spreading your legs to examine what was between them and inaudibly grunting at the sight. "That wasn't so hard now, was it, baby?" You shuddered and exhaled heavily through your mouth when his hand curved over the shape of your pussy, thumb swiping over your moist folds.

"N- No, sir." He clicked his tongue.

"You're too little for that, honey. Call me Daddy." Though questions emerged in your mind, you kept them to yourself for Kiki's sake. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow as his digit found its way to your entrance and he poked at it, the sensation causing you to jump up in shock.

But you knew better than to express it.

"... Y- Yes, Daddy…" The word felt foreign and awkward in your mouth, but the intrusion of your private areas overpowered every other feeling.

"Tell me how it feels, honey" the man's tone turned into one of coaxing as the tip of his thumb glided up and down between your folds before circling your entrance. But he kept it from invading your privates for now.

Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together as you whined, nuzzling your face into Kiki. "W- Weird, Daddy" that seemed to please him, and he hummed in approval.

"Good girl" a loud and confused squeak escaped you when he pushed the tip of his digit up your glistening slit next.

"S–" the click of his tongue stopped you and you corrected yourself just in time. "Daddy!"

"It's okay, honey. Daddies are supposed to take care of their little babies like this" his thumb was soon replaced by his middle finger and you couldn't help but let out a moan when it began to toy with the hood of your clit now, his finger working you open all the while. "See, getting better, isn't it, angel?" It was nothing but strange for your inexperienced body. Your hips tightened but you had no idea what it meant or led to.

And the intimidating visual was not helping the puzzle.

"L- Looks so scary, Da- Daddy" your bottom lip jutted out as you sniffled, unknowingly clenching around his finger and making him twitch inside his pants in turn.

"Aw, baby" he could swear you were the most precious thing he had ever come across. "Too much for your innocent eyes to handle, is it?" He had to have you. "Daddy can help you with that" his finger plopped out of you and your hole retracted, a shudder running down your spine at both the feeling itself and the loss of contact.

A small pout made its way on your face as you snuggled into Kiki, subconsciously missing the penetration.

Bucky moved further onto his knees and grasped your naked thighs in his strong calloused hands. "Turn around for Daddy, angel" you were moved to your knees in front of him. He spread your legs apart before moving back to undo his own pants, admiring the handiwork that he had made of you all the while.

Then he told you that it would feel a bit strange at first, that it may even hurt, but then it was sure to feel good.

You panicked when he entered your narrow opening as he hissed out curses, his metal hand curling around your thigh while the other rested on your ass cheeks that it fondled every now and then.

His words that you had initially suspected turned out to be true the more he moved inside you. Your tight, warm channel of moist flesh gripped at his cock in the same way your arms bracingly choked Kiki, whines drawling their way out of your gaping mouth as you nuzzled your flushed face in her soft body, feeling a small flame ignite in the base of your stomach.

"Hnnng owwhh, Daddy!" You whined as stars clouded your vision when his thick tip hit you deep up your cavern in a certain tender spot.

"You're so fuckin' tight, angel" his breathing was laboured as his muscular thighs slapped against yours, the collision causing your skin to sting as well as fill the room with a loud clapping sound which was occasionally accompanied by a squelch or two. "It's like you were waiting for your Daddy all along, huh?" You winced when one of his hands wrapped around your hair to pull you back as gently as he could manage. "Tell me you were waiting for me to come along and fuck this pretty pussy broken" you yelped when his free hand landed a harsh smack to one of your ass cheeks. When you didn't respond, he gave a demanding yank to your head. "Don't make me repeat myself, now."

Bucky could see that you had some difficulty with carrying out orders.

So he added that to the list of the things that you would have to work on.

"I- I…" Your chest ached as you struggle to breathe, feeling your senses battle between pain and pleasure. "I w- was waiting for you to co–" your words dissolved into a moan as your form swayed under his rough fucking, "come- come, come and–!" Your fingers tightened around Kiki to brace yourself against the influx of sensation that burst out between your legs when he spanked you one last time before trailing his fingers down your pussy.

"Go ahead, baby" his lips found the crook of your neck before his sharp teeth grazed against the skin. "You're doing so well for me" your back arched when he pecked your skin right before biting down on it.

And all of a sudden, the sensory overload was too much for your fucked out mind to handle. Your hips clenched and a lava of what you could only classify as pleasure exploded between them, your vision paling and hearing becoming muffled, mouth falling open to let out raspy stomach churning moans. Suddenly, the intensity of every stimulus that had been tearing its way into your body decreased and a faint ringing swam in your ears. The skin piercing hammering of your heart morphed into heavy thumps and your body went limp as it hung from the robber's cock, being held up solely by the tangle of his arms that encircled your body.

Bucky felt himself twitch when your orgasm gave way to obedience and you guzzled out your words to fulfill your command. "W- Waz wai'ing for D- Daddy to come along and f- fuck my pussy b- broken" his curse went unheard by you due to your temporary vertigo.

"Now tell Kiki that" he had to tap one of your cheeks to bring you back to the present. "Look at Kiki and tell her that" the sternness of his words fueled the overstimulation that your core was suffering, the hypersensitivity causing you to clench hard around his girth that pounded into you at a barely registerable pace, your knees shaking uncontrollably.

"K- Kiki…" Your arms were jelly as you forced them to wobble the pink teddy up in your sight since your head was locked in place by the grip he had on your hair. "I- I…" You whined out a loud moan. "W- Waiting on D- Daddy to c- come and b- break l- little pussy o- open" the brokenness of your voice coupled with the omission of words reached out for his climax and pulled it through. Bucky loudly cursed out in between moans as he rammed into you animalistically, his seed searing into your worked up walls and coating the flesh pale.

You had never been praised the way you were that night when the man– Bucky, he told you once he had placed you in the comforting bath he drew for you, cleaned and washed you thoroughly as he pressed reassuring kisses to your tear stained cheeks. When he declared the next morning that he was moving in, you did not say much for he still intimidated you but you had your suspicions. However, as time passed and you two grew closer than ever, you realized that the transition had been much easier and natural than you had expected.

Your lover excused you from your outdoor obligations and gave you a list of rules to abide by to make sure you would well fulfill your role as the homerunner. He made a promise with you to mend his ways and he actually did it by finding himself an honest job that paid well enough for your household. Then, even though you reassured him that he could just give you your grandmother's ring to propose, he was adamant on buying you one with a big rock. One that would match the shine of your pretty eyes, he said.

In other words, everything was going well.

Yes, the beginning of your relationship had been unconventional to say the least.

But fate had a strange way of bringing people together.

That eventful night had been your share.

What did such silly things matter when the both of you loved each other so much?

That was, until one day…

. . .

"I told you, angel. I'd always find my way to you" the man speaks as he fixes his pants while keeping a vigilant eye on you.

Your mouth is wide as tears wet your cheeks like an unceasing waterfall. "Daddy…"

"Yes, Daddy" passive rage drips off his smug words. "You thought you could report me and flee the country and that'd be the end of it?"

You shake your head vehemently and sputter out all the words you can manage in your honest defense. Your labored breathing turns into sobs as you grab at his hands and plead your case desperately.

You hadn't reported him. You could never do that to your Daddy and future husband!

Not even in your worst nightmare!

What had actually happened was that you had been tending to your daily tasks as usual when some strange men with badges you did not understood had shown up to your house while he was at work. They were mean but they had not hurt you. Instead, they had thrusted all kinds of files and records in your face, saying unbelievable things about your Daddy that simply could not be true and then demanding you tell them where he worked.

But you were too little to know those things.

So they ransacked your house before one of them found a piece of paper from one of Bucky's jackets before showing it to the rest. Their boss had turned back to look at you one last time with pity in his eyes before he called someone on his phone and joined his fellow men in one of the sleek black SUVs that they had arrived in. Your Daddy had not come home that night. Instead, your sobbing mother who lived in a different city had approached you where you had been waiting for Bucky out on the front stairs of the house.

She had forced you away from your home. You kept telling her that you had to inform your Daddy of what had happened and that he never ate without you and that he would be looking for you. But your sweet mother had become a tyrant with your safety -like you needed it- and you just could not understand the hysteria until she placed you in therapy that you thought you did not need.

But when you finally did start responding to the kind lady at the funny smelling clinic, you had slowly understood your mother's manic behavior.

"... And she said you were a terrible man that I best forget all about and move on in my life, Daddy. I didn't mean to blank you out!" You finish your speech, squeezing his fingers earnestly as your eyes beg his to believe you. "I didn't want to. But they said you were bad and a criminal and, and– I didn't have a choice" you sob and shake your head desperately, the awareness of just how hurt he must have felt when you disappeared choking your heart out. "And they wouldn't listen and they kept saying that you kidnapped me and–" he doesn't interrupt you. In fact, he hasn't done much of that in the past few minutes.

But then a heavy bell goes off in your head all of a sudden and you understand why he has been quiet, the horrific realization causing your muscles to freeze and shrivel as you feel foam rising in your mouth. Your eyes widen to the shape of saucers as the pattering of your tears literally becomes audible in the quiet room. "... But… Y- You…" Your clammy fingers try to yank themselves out of his. "You… did kidnap me after…" Terror grips at your throat.

Unreadable emotion passes by his teal orbs faster than you can process. Bucky lowers his head as he restricts your hands from pulling out of his by interlocking them in an iron-strong hold. Heaving in a deep sigh, he snickers to himself humorlessly, the long strands of his hair falling over his face as his shoulders shake.

"Oh, angel" he looks up once he finally gains composure over what had turned into sneering chuckles. "You will have to relearn everything all over again, won't you?" Your body feels petrified as the graveness of the matter sears into your muscles. He tugs his gloves off before cupping your face with his metal hand. "Good thing we have the rest of our lives with no one left to trouble us this time, huh?" With a promising kiss to your lips, he pulls his mask back down and fishes another one out of his jacket before slipping it over your face. "Come on, let's go home" Bucky effortlessly hauls you onto one of his massive shoulders after he swipes your nose with his thumb on which he had poured a strange substance out of a vial. The liquid instantly numbs your mind and your eyes go heavy, not that your terrified body was moving much in the first place.

The next few things that you feel through your melting senses include Bucky pulling your tattered skirt down before giving a powerful smack to your ass, turning in the opposite direction of the way you had come here after exiting the Manager's office, descend the fire escape that he chooses to exit the building through before briefly jogging to what you figure is probably a vehicle since you hear the beeping open of a lock.

And then everything goes dark.

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