#With a romantic not-so-off-to-the-side plot
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All is Fair | JJK

Summary: The Dragons, led by your brother, occupy the East side of the city while the Wolves occupy the West. There is only one rule, and technically, you didn't mean to break it. Stay away from the Wolves.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Namjoon x Seokjin (only by reference)
Genre: Biker Gang AU, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, Romeo and Juliet, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smut, Fluff (if you close one eye and tilt your phone)
Word Count: 20.4k+
Warnings: minor character death, major character death (not jk or oc), murder, graphic suicidal ideation, dead bodies, depression, reference to drunk driving, orphans/orphaning, running away from home, stealing, beatings, punching, kicking, screaming, crying, nightmares, night terrors, stitches, punctured lungs, major physical injuries, facial scars, hospitals, piercings, tattoos, graduate school, libraries, studying, blood, guns/gunshot, knives, gang violence, motorcycles, gay men(?), rivalries, drinking, pet names (baby, pretty, bug (non-romantic)). SMUT: kissing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (she's on bc), cream pie, coming on skin, cum eating/feeding, choking, spanking, spitting, dick riding, missionary, doggy, big dick!jk bc I always strive for accuracy, masturbation (m), grief sex, semi-public sex, ok that's all folks lmk if I missed any.
Authorâs Note: I actually cannot believe I didn't write for two years and then pumped out almost 40k words in a single week. My fiancĂ© misses me, you guys. But anyway this fic... oh this fic. It's very heavy but my entire heart is buried in this so I really hope you take the time to read it. Every single character (member?) means so much to me and I hope you come to love it as much as I do. P.S. for plot reasons JK doesn't have any hand tattoos you'll see what I mean. OK pls lmk what you think it makes my heart so happy bye love you :)

When you inevitably fail your exam, no one will be to blame except your brother and his delinquent friends. The noise-canceling headphones he gifted you last Christmas are doing fuck all against the pounding bass of their music downstairs. Theyâre the expensive kind, too. You know because they still had the security tag on them Christmas morning. He broke it off with pliers before handing them back to you with a dimpled smile.Â
Finally having enough, you stomp down the stairs to confront your irritability at the source. Not many of them are home tonight. Just Namjoon and his three closest underlings: Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok. Heâs the youngest among them and somehow still wound up the leader.
The Dragons, your brotherâs notorious motorcycle gang, are far greater in number than the four downstairs. Ten bikers live here at the house with you, but when the gang rides in total thereâs about twenty five men. There are some drifters, but no matter the number they are a force to be reckoned with on the road.Â
âHey,â you yell over the music.Â
Namjoon gestures for Hoseok to turn it down and ushers you forward with a wave of his hand.
âWhatâs up, bug?âÂ
âCan you please keep it down? Iâm trying to study,â you answer.Â
âOh, weâre sorry,â Seokjin responds. âYou were so quiet we forgot you were up there. Youâre usually down here annoying us.â
You roll your eyes. The four of them have been friends for the better part of a decade. Theyâre the only gang members allowed to tease you. If someone else tries it, Namjoon takes their head.Â
Your brother is extremely protective of you without being controlling. You appreciate his ability to recognize your adulthood while still wanting to keep you from harm. You can attest without a shadow of a doubt that Namjoon will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. His determination to protect you is how you wound up with the Dragons in the first place.
âWhy donât you go over to your study buddyâs house?â Hoseok suggests.Â
Right⊠your study buddy they still believe is a woman. The study buddy they assume helps you study instead of fucking you dumb.Â
âWe donât study at her house. We study at the library.â
This is a partial lie. You âstudyâ at the library, in his car, in the school janitorial closet, and anywhere else he can get his hands on you. Ironically, your grades have never been better. Call it a lack of stress.
âWeâll keep it down, bug,â Namjoon assures you. âSorry.â
Once you communicate your appreciation, you travel upstairs again to continue studying. You hear the music turn back on, but this time at a much lower volume.Â
Phone lighting up on your desk, you lean over to see a familiar name. Jungkookâs ears mustâve been ringing because thereâs a photo of his finished study guide on your screen. You reply to his text complaining that youâre not even halfway done yet before turning your phone over so you can actually focus.Â
You didnât predict meeting someone like Jungkook this year, or ever, really. When this semester of your Masterâs program began you werenât looking for anything, especially not a fuck buddy. You only ask Jungkook to be your study buddy in the first place because heâs the smartest person in your class by a long shot. Coincidentally, you only spend the early months of the semester as study buddies before advancing to fuck buddies. Sometimes you still actually study together, but itâs few and far between.Â
Despite Jungkook thoroughly wrecking your body every time he touches it, heâs probably the nicest guy youâve ever met. No matter the hour heâll answer questions about assignments or explain complex topics you canât wrap your head around. He lends pencils to strangers and one time you swear you saw him saving a cat from a tree.
You still remember the first time you laid eyes on him.Â
Itâs brutally hot for the first day of class. The city is scorching with record-breaking temperatures even in September. The vents are located at the back of the large classroom so you find an empty desk in the back corner to occupy.Â
Youâre preparing for the first lecture by placing your essentials on the desk and plugging in the charger for your laptop. Distracting yourself with color-coordinating your highlighters, you miss most people entering the room.Â
Someone upstairs is looking out for you, though, because when you glance at the entrance itâs at the exact moment an absolute Adonis is walking in. He has wavy black hair that just kisses his cheekbones but is longer in the back, huge starry brown eyes, a button nose, and pretty pink lips accompanied by a tiny mole just under the bottom one. Heâs wearing a long-sleeve white shirt, baggy jeans, and big black combat boots. To make matters worse heâs sporting black half-rim glasses.Â
You quickly realize your mistake in gawking at him because he makes eye contact with you, thus giving him permission to take the seat next to you. Precisely as the unspoken rules of classroom etiquette dictate. Â
He greets you with an amicable bow before plopping in the chair that shares your desk space. Using your peripheral vision you watch him lay out his supplies and open his laptop.Â
Youâre wearing a crop top and are still too warm, so youâre downright shocked at his outfit choice. He doesnât even roll his sleeves up.
âAre you hot?â
The words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them.Â
Your companion looks at you, eyes wide, questioning whether youâre talking to him or not. When he realizes you are, he glances down at his attire. Then he chuckles.
âThatâs a bit forward, donât ya think?âÂ
If you could crawl into a hole and die, you would.Â
âI didnât mean it like ââÂ
Heâs cutting you off with a wave of his hand as he laughs off the miscommunication. Thereâs an awkward silence before he continues the conversation.Â
âTo answer your question, yes I am,â he says. âNot like that, though.â He winks at you and it takes everything in you not to audibly moan.Â
Despite him admitting to being warm he does nothing to remedy it. Youâre not his mother nor his girlfriend so you donât question him.
Thatâs the last time you speak that day, but over the course of a few weeks you partake in small talk and learn each otherâs names.Â
You initially ask him to study together the week prior to your first exam. He enthusiastically agrees and you settle on a time before exchanging numbers. The study sessions continue on a weekly basis even once you take the exam.Â
The night your relationship shifts into uncharted territory is one youâll never forget.Â
Jungkook is sitting beside you as he copies notes from a PowerPoint lecture into his notebook. The sound of his pencil scribbling on the paper is familiar now. You're absentmindedly scrolling through last weekâs readings to find your previous highlights. The professor surprised you today by announcing there would be a quiz on the article and now you need to re-familiarize yourself with it.Â
Leaning back in the chair with a huff, you cross your arms over your chest. Jungkook peeks at you from behind his hair. He chuckles before setting his pencil down.
âWhatâs wrong?â
âDonât wanna do this anymore,â you pout. Jungkook coos at you sarcastically and you hit his arm with your shirt sleeve in protest. âShut up, nerd.â
âWhat do you wanna do instead, huh?âÂ
You eye him from your position until you find an answer. Rather than verbally replying you lean forward and gently steal the glasses from his face. You slip them on and glance around the library to see if you can tell the difference.Â
âDamn you are â oh.â
Any semblance of thought dies within you the second you look at him again. Like an actual comic book character, removing his glasses magically gives him a Clark Kent to Superman-esque makeover. Heâs sitting taller with his shoulders back, his doe eyes are sharp and dark, and instead of his normal dorky smile heâs smirking at you. You actually look around again to see if he stood up and someone took his place.
To be frank, you arenât entirely sure what happens next. One moment youâre at the table together and the next youâre in the Historical Fiction section and Jungkook is on his knees pushing your skirt up and pulling your panties down so he can make out with your cunt.Â
The worst part is that amongst the chaos, youâre still wearing his fucking glasses. In fact they rest on your nose through the whole ordeal, all the way until youâre coming on his tongue with a cry of his name. He doesnât take them back until heâs rising to face you and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.Â
Thus begins your first ever situationship, although that doesnât seem entirely correct. You and Jungkook arenât in that weird headspace where neither of you know what the other wants. You mutually agree itâs just sex until someone decides to either move on or move up to boyfriend and girlfriend status.Â
The latter option is definitely tempting. Jungkook treats you well and fucks you even better. Which are pretty much the only two prerequisites you have for a relationship. But your current dependence on the Dragons prevents you from choosing that route.Â
Thereâs a knock on your door which pulls you from your reverie. Namjoonâs face peaks around the corner.
âWeâre heading out to deal with some Wolves. Be back soon,â he informs you.Â
âBe safe,â you reply.Â
He assures you that he will before shutting your door. Anxiety flickers awake in your stomach and travels through your nervous system. Of all the gang activity that surrounds you, this is the shit you hate the most. Stupid boys doing stupid boy things.Â
The Dragons occupy all the territory East of the large river which slices your city in half. The territory on the West side of the river is owned by the Wolves. There are straggler factions and out-of-towners who sometimes come into the fold, but theyâre nowhere near the size of the two gangs. Naturally, the Dragons and the Wolves despise one another and their history dates back long before Namjoon became the leader. He inherited the rivalry amongst many other responsibilities and now he perpetuates it without knowing why it exists in the first place.
You already know when you see Namjoon tomorrow heâll have split knuckles and bruises on his skin. It makes you sick to your stomach. This life is far beneath what your brother deserves and what heâs capable of. You want so much more for him and for yourself as well. Getting your Masterâs degree is the first step in liberating you both from all the violence and decay which surrounds you. Namjoon risked everything to save you as children, and you vow to return the favor one day, even if it kills you.Â
Contrary to popular belief, you donât fail your exam the next day. In fact, you leave the classroom with a spring in your step now that your stressor is behind you.Â
Jungkook watches you ahead of him with a twinkle of admiration in his eyes as you skip towards the parking lot.Â
âYou know, weâve been doing this for a while now and Iâve never even been to your place,â you say.
âMy placeâŠâ Jungkook clicks his tongue. âI donât think youâll like it very much.â
âWhy not?â You stop short and cause Jungkook to barrel into you. âHold on, you donât have a girlfriend, do you? Or wait, do you still live with your mom or something?â
âNo, momâs gone,â he answers.Â
You turn around to face him when you hear his response. Heâs saying it nonchalantly but his eyes are swimming with sadness and maybe even guilt.Â
âJungkook, Iâm so sorry,â you reply. He shakes his head, waving your condolences away before reaching out to pick a fallen leaf from your hair.Â
âItâs okay. It was a long time ago,â he adds. âAnd no, no girlfriend. Only you, pretty.â
âSo thenâŠâ You rock back on your heels. âCan I see your place? I promise Iâm not judgmental like that. I mean, thereâs a reason youâve never been to my place, either.â
Jungkook thinks it over for a moment as he drags you by the hand towards his car.Â
âNot yet,â he finally answers. âSoon, hopefully.âÂ
You accept his response albeit a little disappointedly. Itâs not even about you getting into his business like that, youâre just sick of the tight spaces the two of you are forced to hook up in. Youâve never even seen the guy fully naked before because youâre always pulling your clothes aside just enough to get the job done.Â
He denies it but you know heâs got abs under there and youâre dying to finally get your mouth on them.Â
Sure, you complain, but when he opens his car door for you to climb into his backseat youâre doing so without another word.Â
You donât fuck right away because the parking lot is still packed and youâre not trying to catch a charge. Namjoon would kill you before you even get the chance to stand before a judge.Â
Instead, Jungkook shows you his newest PokĂ©mon game on his Switch and hands it over to you so you can play. You giggle as your adorable water type does its victory dance after demolishing your opponent. Jungkook watches over your shoulder and directs you when to block and which attacks to use. Somehow, it all feels more intimate than when his cock is in your mouth.Â
Which is precisely where you two end up about an hour later when the surrounding cars have all left.Â
Jungkookâs backseat isnât big enough for you to kneel on the floorboards so heâs lounging across the seats with you kneeling between his legs. You honestly prefer this position because the leather is far more forgiving to your knees than the carpet. His pants and boxers are around his thighs as you bob your head up and down his beautifully large and veiny cock.Â
Your man is a head pusher through and through and so you welcome the familiar feeling of his fingers against your scalp as he guides you deeper until your nose is brushing his pelvis. He doesnât force you down around him or fuck his hips into you. The grasp on your hair is moreso for control and because he loves to feel you while you pleasure him.Â
You gag when his tip touches the back of your throat and you stay there for a moment, letting him feel you swallow around him before returning to his tip and swirling your tongue around it. Keeping your tongue out so it caresses the underside while you move up and down, you continue your movements at a steady pace.
Jungkook groans, his head hitting the window with a dull thud.Â
âOh, pretty, you have no idea the things you do to me,â he praises. He uses his grip on you to make you look at him. You moan around his cock when your eyes meet and he yanks on your hair in appreciation. âSâfucking good.â
This man loves a good blowjob and you love to please him. Every time youâre on your knees for him he praises and worships you and your sweet mouth for the euphoria they bring him. He tastes delicious on your tongue and if not for your human need to inhale, you would go all night.Â
It only takes a couple more messy slides of your tongue down his shaft and your hand playing with his balls before heâs coming down your throat in thick, hot spurts of white. You swallow every last drop, continuing to move your mouth from his head to the base, before finally coming up for some much needed air.Â
Sitting back on your heels, you place your hands in the space between your knees and bat your eyelashes at him. You know he likes it when you look all innocent despite the nasty things you do together. If things were different, if you were able to be with him in the confines of a bedroom and savor your time together, youâd put on a pretty white set with bows all over just to drive him crazy.Â
Jungkook clocks your behavior with a tilt of his head, his tongue pushing against his cheek before he yanks you back and flips you over so your ass is facing him. His hand slowly traverses your back before stopping between your shoulder blades to push your face into the leather. You arch your back for him and wiggle your ass to really get him going. You canât see him anymore but you hear the fond, deep chuckle. He pulls down your tights and panties in one go before flipping your skirt up so he can see you properly.Â
He grabs your ass in his big hands and pulls your cheeks apart to spit on your hole. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of it dripping down your folds. Hips pushing back against his hands, Jungkook just laughs at your neediness before slapping your ass.
âOh fuck,â you curse.Â
He tsks at you disapprovingly.Â
âYou that cock drunk, pretty? I havenât even touched you yet,â he says.Â
âI know,â you say through gritted teeth.
He bends down to lay across your back and bites on your earlobe before soothing it with his tongue.Â
âCâmon, baby. You know I always take care of you.â
He doesnât allow you to reply before heâs thrusting his cock in and nudging his head against your cervix. Your hands clutch desperately at his seats, fingernails making indentations in the leather, as he rears back before doing it all over again. This man makes you fucking delirious and you wonder if youâll ever get enough. Lord knows no other man will ever successfully replicate the pleasure he provides you.
Jungkookâs pace is relentless and steadfast and it isnât long before the friction of his cock sinking in and out of your walls brings you to a climax. Heâs an overachiever, though, and he doesnât let up even as he feels your pussy pulsating around him as you come. He soldiers on, tilting your hips to make you arch even further and send his cock deeper inside you. You feel him in your stomach and it has you drooling where your face is crushed against the seat.Â
You pathetically moan out a sound that closely resembles his name as he abuses your hole.
Your next orgasm hits you much faster, riding the wave of your first to bring stars to your eyes yet again. Your cunt squeezes Jungkook impossibly tight when you come and it causes him to shoot his load inside you and stuff you full of him. This manâs cock is too good to ever be obstructed by a plastic barrier. Youâre on birth control and neither of you sleep with anyone but each other, so raw it is.Â
When you exit the car to move to the front seat, the stars have appeared in the sky. Jungkook drives you home, or what he believes is your home, and bids you goodnight. Once his car is out of sight, you pivot and walk the familiar route to your actual house.Â
Itâs normal for you to arrive home this late, even before you met Jungkook. Namjoon never questions where youâve been or you were with, which you appreciate. He understands you need independence and will contact him if youâre ever in trouble. He doesnât need to study your every move when he only has one rule for you, anyway: stay away from the Wolves.
The next day you're lounging in the living room with your ankles crossed where they rest over the arm of a chair. Youâre reading for a different class than the one you share with Jungkook, trying to get the assignment done now so you can enjoy your night.Â
Your peace and quiet is disturbed when Namjoon walks in looking supremely pissed off. His jaw is clenched and since his hair is pushed back you can see the veins popping out in his forehead.
âJoonie?â You call for him as you sit up. âWhatâs going on?â
âFucking Wolves,â he growls. He paces back and forth a couple times before stopping in front of you. âWeâre meeting at the river tonight. You need to come.â
âWhy?â
âBecause word on the street is theyâre going to use the meet-up as a distraction to raid the house,â he answers. âI need you with me so I know youâre safe.â
âWouldnât it make more sense to call off the meet-up?â You argue.
âNo. I want them to come. So I can rip them to fucking shreds and send those assholes a message,â he explains.Â
You have no reason or room to question him, so you head upstairs to change. Whenever youâre going to be in the presence of gang members, whether Dragons or Wolves, Namjoon prefers you dress a bit tougher than your normal girly outfits. He knows these men and the way they think, so anything, no matter how small, to show them you mean business is a good thing.
Throwing on cargo pants, combat boots, and a leather jacket over your t-shirt, you use the darker half of your eyeshadow palette and put your hair up. All for show.Â
Youâre exiting the house as the sun sinks behind the clouds. Namjoon hands you the extra helmet before swinging his leg over his bike. He watches you put it on and adjust the strap before he slaps your eye shield down with a laugh. You shove his arm before swinging your leg over and joining him on the motorcycle.Â
The familiar thunderous sound of the Dragonâs motorcycles coming to life is deafening even through the helmet. Itâs about fifteen bikes in total and the remaining gang members will guard the house and catch any Wolves trying to break in.Â
Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok are directly behind you and Namjoon. One by one they signal to your brother theyâre ready to go. You adjust your placement by scooting closer to your brotherâs warmth and wrapping your arms around his middle. Your fingers twist around the zipper of his open leather jacket to hold onto him. The engine roars to life and you feel the bike kick beneath you as it rears to go.Â
âGood?â He asks.
âReady as ever,â you confirm.Â
Kicking up the stand with his heel, he signals with his hand before leading the bikers away from the house and onto the dark pavement of the road. The wind sweeps over your bodies in waves as Namjoon speeds down the backstreets leading into the city.Â
You donât ride much anymore, but whenever you do itâs always exhilarating. The heat of the bike beneath your legs, your brotherâs comforting presence in front of you, and the air wiping around you as it nips at your clothes. Tipping to the right along with Namjoon as he takes a tight corner, you watch as the city grows closer. The monumental buildings and yellow lights along the river make it look beautiful and more peaceful than you know it is.Â
When you reach the river, the Wolves are already there waiting. The rival gang members lounge on their parked motorcycles as they speak to one another. It canât be all of them, since you know their numbers closely rival your own, and there aren't more than twelve here. It pisses you off when you realize they really are planning to raid the house tonight. If you find out a Wolf was in your room there will be hell to pay.Â
Namjoon kills the engine and removes his helmet, shaking his dark hair from his eyes. You follow suit and step off the bike as he pushes the stand back down. Your brother shoots you a look you already know means âstay close to me.âÂ
The agreed upon location is just outside an abandoned warehouse where everything in sight is slowly deteriorating. The road has gigantic potholes and cracks and if you go close enough to the water some of the gravel has already caved in and is eroding. The two gangs congregate near the waterâs edge where it laps against the shore and sprays water onto the road.Â
When the dust settles, Namjoon stands ahead of his gang where he is toe-to-toe with the Wolvesâ leader, Bangchan. You move quietly through the rows of Dragons until youâre off to the left, farthest from the water. The position hides you enough to avoid unwanted attention but is still close enough to Namjoon in case of an emergency. Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok stand at the back and sides, respectively, creating an invisible wall of your brotherâs closest allies.Â
Your eyes maneuver over the crowd of Wolves one at a time. Without their leather biker jackets which bear the insignia of each group, it would be impossible to tell them apart. Theyâre just a bunch of boys pretending to be men.Â
None of them particularly stand out to you except âÂ
Head whipping back for a double take, the movement is so quick your ponytail snaps harshly against your skin. Your eyes slowly open wide, your mouth dropping open just enough for a sharp intake of air. Because amongst the crowd of Wolves, off to the left next to a shorter blonde guy isâŠ
Thereâs no way.Â
He certainly looks like Jungkook. His hair is falling down in soft waves just like Jungkookâs does and his unmistakable doe eyes are front and center without his glasses on. But this guy has a lip piercing and eyebrow piercing. His ears are decorated with pretty silver hoops and a dangling chain. The doppelganger is wearing a navy blue cut off, which reveals to your eyes that his entire arm, from wrist to shoulder, is covered in tattoos. Dark, colorful, intricate tattoos that look like they took years to build into the sleeve it is now. This canât be the reason Jungkook only ever wears long sleeves and weirdly refuses to ever roll them up⊠can it?
You squint to make sure youâre seeing him correctly in the dim light. Jungkook must have a twin he never told you about, right?Â
But no, that isnât the answer, because his eyes land on you and widen dramatically. His mouth drops open before it snaps shut and his jaw clenches. From across the concrete where you stand you can see how his entire body is taut with tension.
What. The. Fuck.Â
The blonde guy next to him notices the change in the air, nudging him with his elbow. Jungkook shoots him a hard glance before returning his gaze to you.
Part of you wants to cry, and part of you wants to scream. All of you wants to run to him and demand an answer. This guy is a straight A graduate student. What the hell is he doing running around with a bunch of delinquent motorcycle gang members?
The sound of your brotherâs voice steals your attention away.
âThatâs not what we do here,â he says to Chan. Youâre unsure what itâs in response to.
âHmm,â the man opposite him muses. âNo I guess not, but you bring your girl around? Thatâs a little dangerous, donât you think?â
Namjoonâs jaw ticks and his teeth grind together at the mention of you, but he hides it well. You only notice the movement because you know what every tick and twitch of his means. Â
âNot my girl,â he corrects.
âOh thatâs right, I heard you have a baby sister,â he replies. âWhatâs your name, sweetheart?â Your eyebrows lift when he calls out to you, but you know better.Â
âDonât speak to her,â Namjoon responds in your stead.
When you glance at Jungkook again he looks irrevocably angry, a deep frown messing with his pretty features. His fellow Wolf seems concerned at his mysterious attitude.Â
Right now, youâre telepathically begging Jungkook to make eye contact again. To offer some explanation even with just his eyes. Sure, you donât know much about each otherâs lives outside of school but the feeling of betrayal slinks under your skin nonetheless. Mostly because of the fucking tattoo sleeve heâs been hiding from you.
His eyes do eventually meet yours, but his expression is cold. Is he upset at you for keeping this part of your life from him, too?Â
The low grumble of taunts and heckles from both gangs indicates their playtime is over. When you look across the street, Jungkook is already climbing on his bike and putting on his helmet. You know without uncertainty now that it is in fact Jungkook, since a large purple âJKâ emblem is painted onto his helmet.
Namjoon is quick to gesture you over to him. Your eyes meet Bangchanâs as you walk to the bike, and it disgusts you how he drinks you up and undresses you with his eyes when you pass by.
You scoff before getting back into position behind your brother and securing your helmet in place.

Jungkook is fucking reeling. He barely waits for the rest of his gang to peel away on their bikes before heâs taking off down the street. Jimin follows close behind him, the older biker probably still wondering what the fuck is going on.Â
Rides are normally Jungkookâs way of clearing his head, but tonight all he can think and feel is his blood pumping with adrenaline. You are the last person he ever expected to be involved with a gang. Itâs almost enough to make him laugh; all you wear are sexy little skirts and shirts with cartoon characters on them. Youâre girly and adorable and should be spending your time at the mall, not in the underbelly of this messed up city. Although, if your involvement begins and ends with your brother, he imagines you donât have much choice.
Jungkook makes it back to the house in record time, leaving everyone else in the dust. He is quick to cut the engine of his bike and toss his helmet aside so he can get inside. His hands run through his hair over and over as he trudges into the house, pulling at the ends as he grits his teeth.
The door slams shut behind him and he yells into the air with his head thrown back. Taehyung is rounding the corner from the kitchen when he hears it. He should be at the Dragonâs Lair right now ransacking the place, but Chan called it off when he found out the Dragons knew what they were planning.Â
âUh, you good?â
âNo,â Jungkook sneers. âNo, Iâm not fucking good, Tae.â
Taehyung is about to probe him with more questions when Jimin flies through the door.
âWhat the fuck was that, kid?â Jimin sets his helmet down on the table and walks over.
âYou guys remember the girl I was telling you about?â He asks. They both nod. âYeah, well. Sheâs the leader of the Dragons fucking little sister.â
âOh, fuck.â
âHoly shit.â
âJungkook, what the fuck are you doing sticking your dick in someone involved with the Dragons?â Taehyung accuses.
âI didnât know, Tae! I didnât know until I saw her at the meet-up tonight,â Jungkook explains.Â
âAnd she saw you?â Jimin asks.
âOh yeah,â Jungkook laughs incredulously. âShe looked shocked as hell and like she was about to cry.â
Taehyung and Jimin share a look while Jungkook practically rips his hair out from how much heâs combing his fingers through it.Â
âYou know you⊠canât see her anymore, right?â Jimin poses the question cautiously. âIf Kim Namjoon ever found out youâve laid a finger on her he will fucking end you.â
âI know,â Jungkook grunts out. âI fucking know, Jimin.â Jungkook paces the room a couple times. âFuck!â He slaps his hands against his face before groaning into them.Â
âI mean, I know the pussy was good but it will be fine, right? Itâs not like you were dating her,â Taehyung adds.Â
Jungkook just glares at him from between his fingers. He doesnât think he can talk about this anymore without losing his goddamn mind. He tells them goodnight without any further explanation before trudging down the stairs.Â
He slams his door and chucks his leather jacket on a chair once heâs in the confines of his bedroom. He wants to scream again, but he doesnât, tries to take deep breaths instead. The air feels thick and his shirt is suddenly too tight.Â
His head is pounding with a headache that just sounds like you, you, you.Â
The same you who is always on his mind, day or night. The girl he never rushes when you study together because he likes to watch the gears turn in your pretty little head. The girl he admires from his periphery as you doodle in your notebook. You, who he wants to kiss more than anything but he doesnât because heâs terrified of scaring you away.Â
Jungkook falls to his bed and covers his face with his hands. Heâs in pure, unadulterated agony. His knuckles press into his eyelids as he groans. Lately, heâs been picturing so much for you and him. He daydreams about holding your hand and taking you out on dates and making love to you in his bed. It feels like thereâs so much potential now shot in the face and gone in an instant.Â
He knows he canât continue on with you. It would be dangerous and reckless. Yet he wants to, he wants to so badly he can feel the need in his bones.Â
He punches his pillow once, twice, and then sits up. He shakes his head as if that could dispel his thoughts of you. No, nothing will ever bring him to forget your brilliant smile, your sparkling eyes, your soft skin. Or the way you moan, whimper, and cry when heâs making you come and fucking you nice and deep. Jungkook doesnât think heâll ever be able to fuck someone who isnât you again. No, youâve completely and utterly ruined his body and mind.Â
âGod fucking dammit, Y/N,â he groans into his hands.Â
He rips his shirt off over his head before falling back again. His chest is hot with anxiety and his nerves crackle with fear of the unknown. His heartbeat is thumping like a beast in a cage.Â
Jungkook decides to let his frustration out in the best way he knows how. He kicks his pants off and pulls his boxers down, spitting into his hand to lube himself. A sigh of relief breaks from his chest as soon as he feels his hand around his cock.Â
Heâs not hard yet, not even close. But itâs stupidly easy how fast he gets his blood rushing down to his cock by merely thinking of you. The memory of your voice alone is enough to make him throb.Â
You looked so gorgeous tonight he thought he was going to totally lose it when he first saw you. The smokey makeup and ponytail were a first for him. He loves the way you look normally, but your sultry eyes and grungy outfit made him want to do nasty fucking things to you. If he could've, he would've bent you over his bike and took you right there in front of everyone. Your goddamn brother included.Â
His hand falls into a familiar rhythm as he strokes himself. He grunts when his thumb presses down on his head and swipes his precum across it. The rough skin of his hand is nothing compared to your mouth or pussy, but itâs enough to satiate him for now.
âOh, pretty,â he moans into the air.Â
His mind conjures images of you for his pleasure. Just yesterday when you were on your knees for him and the other week when he fucked you against the rattling bookshelves of the library. Finally, the first time he ate you out and you cried his name into your hand to keep yourself quiet. You were wearing his glasses that night and he remembers thinking even then that youâd be the end of him.
âMy baby.â
Jungkook is coming all over himself before he knows it. He grunts and pants as he fucks himself through his orgasm. Your name leaves his lips in a desperate huff as he finally lets go of his cock and wipes his hand on a nearby towel.Â
Thereâs two days before heâll see you again in class. Jungkook has two days to decide whether or not heâs willing to go up against Dragon fire for you.

Your leg bounces anxiously beneath the desk as you wait for Jungkook to enter the classroom. Itâs been two days since you found out heâs a Wolf and your mind has done nothing but spiral. Youâre unsure how to feel or even what you have the right to feel.Â
Is it technically a betrayal when neither of you knew about one another? Itâs not like you asked him if he happens to be affiliated with any gangs. You shouldâve. You freaking shouldâve because now itâs biting you in the ass.
When he does finally enter, he looks like the normal Jungkook again. No piercings. Tattoos covered. Sexy nerd glasses on. It pisses you off more than it should.Â
He doesnât say anything to you as he takes his seat and you donât dare to steal a glance at him. The two of you move in tension-thick silence before the professor starts the class.Â
Itâs a grueling hour and a half as you refrain from looking over or touching him. Normally, he forces his leg up against yours until you finally give in and play footsie with him. If not that, you gently graze his arm up and down, absentmindedly, as the professor drones on about whatever topic heâs covering that day.Â
Class ends as your professor erases the chalkboard behind him. You stand abruptly and speed walk out of the room. If he doesnât want to talk to you, then you wonât talk to him. Itâs simple, and you pretend your heart isnât shattering in your chest.Â
The call of your name stops you in your tracks. When you look back, Jungkook is jogging after you. When he reaches you, he stands at an awkwardly long distance away. Your eyebrows lift and you gesture with your hand for him to get on with it.
âCan we talk?â
You donât reply, just turn on your heel and walk in the opposite direction. That is, the direction of the parking lot. He follows behind but leaves an obnoxious amount of space. Itâs infuriating how his obvious respect for your boundaries gives you butterflies. He unlocks his car with a click and you aggressively plop down in the front seat. Making a show of crossing your arms over your chest and flipping your hair from your eyes.
Jungkook slides into the driverâs side with ease and turns on the heat before turning towards you. You look at him expectantly but he gestures for you to start.
âYouâre in a gang,â you state matter-of-factly. âYou have tattoos, an entire sleeve, I might add. You have piercings. Youâre a fucking Wolf.â
Jungkook nods, licking his lip before he responds.Â
âThatâs all true, yeah,â he says.Â
âWhat the fuck, Jungkook?â You finally face him. âYouâre a graduate student with your entire life ahead of you. What are you doing running around with those losers?â You groan in frustration. âI mean, youâre like a delinquent Hannah Montana or some shit.â
Jungkook smiles at that. He does a once over of your face before inhaling.Â
âWhen my parents died I didnât have anywhere to go. I was already 18. I grew up with Jimin and he offered me a place to stay at the Wolfâs Den. Rest is history,â he explains. You watch his eyes as he tells his story. âI didnât plan on going to college. I barely passed high school, anyway. But my parents left me money and put instructions in their will that it was to go to my schooling. I couldnât let it go to waste. Couldnât let them down.â
Your hand is grabbing his before you register yourself doing it. Rolling up his shirtsleeve to his elbow, you finally reveal his tattoos before your own eyes. Your fingers trace the intricate details of the artwork. He grabs your wrist in return and you feel his hand shaking.Â
âHow did they die?âÂ
âDrunk driver,â he answers.Â
âIâm so sorry,â you whisper. You pull his shirt back down and lace your fingers with his. âBut Iâm sure theyâre very proud of you.âÂ
âIâm not so sure about that,â he admits.
You take his face in your hand and force him to look at you.
âJungkook, you're the top of our class. You can be anything you want to be or do anything you want to do.â you say. âIf thatâs not something to be proud of, Iâm not sure what is.â
âIt doesnât matter. Itâs not leading anywhere after this,â he replies.Â
âWhy not? Do you seriously want to be involved in this stuff forever? The violence and the rivalries and all the bullshit,â you ask as your voice raises.Â
âIâve never known a life other than this, Y/N! The Wolves are my family. I donât have anyone else,â he matches your volume.Â
You pull away from him with a huff. Youâre not sure why youâre so determined to convince him to do something more with his life. But if you have to guess, you imagine itâs because youâre trying and failing to do so yourself.Â
âYou have me,â you admit quietly into the air between you. Itâs a weighted confession. A piece of your true feelings on display for him to see.
Jungkookâs hand cradles your jaw and he looks at you so adoringly that you want to shy away. His thumb is brushing back and forth across your cheekbone. Itâs the most gentle affection heâs ever shown you.Â
âYeah,â he breathes. âI have you.â
Heâs kissing you before you even register it. You moan happily against his lips as they move delicately across your own. Jungkook usually handles you like wants to break you, but the way he kisses is the exact opposite. His mouth and his warmth are mending things he wasnât the one to break. Your hands snake around his neck to pull him closer and he moans when your fingers thread through his hair.Â
Itâs only your first kiss even after all the time youâve spent together. Itâs magical and romantic and you never want it to end.Â
Jungkook grabs you by the waist to pull you into his lap. Your back hits the steering wheel and the horn honks. You giggle into each otherâs mouths but never once stop kissing. Youâre both smiling and it causes your teeth to clash, but not even that stops you.Â
Jungkook deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before slipping it into your mouth. It tangles with your own as he pulls on the hair trapped between his fingers.Â
âI shouldnât be doing this,â he admits against your lips. âYour brother⊠heâll kill me.â
âThen why are you?â You murmur before trailing kisses across his sharp jaw.Â
âBecause I want you too bad to stay away,â he answers. âI want you all the time, baby.â
Your lips meet his again and the kiss grows desperate. Shifting in his lap to move closer, you run your hands up and down the planes of his chest.Â
âYou have me, Jungkook. Iâm yours,â you reveal.Â
He pulls back with a shake of his head.
âNot just like this. Not just sex. I want movie dates and sleepless nights. I want to hold your hand and take you out to dinner. I want all of you, Y/N.â He pushes your hair from your face. His eyes are brimming with adoration and melancholy. âBut I donât know how to do that when you are who you are.âÂ
Your hands grip his shirt as your head falls against his chest. You release a shaky exhale as your mind shuffles through the millions of emotions in your head. It settles on sorrow. Jungkook holds you close to him, cradling you in his arms.
âI donât want to lose you,â you confess. âI care about you so much.â
You feel Jungkook pressing a kiss to your hair and it makes you squeeze your eyes shut in pain. Heâs everything you could ever want and yet nothing you can ever have.Â
âI care about you, too, pretty,â he whispers. âSo, so much.â
âIf this is the last timeâŠâ your voice trails off, but Jungkook understands.
He maneuvers you over him and works to move both your clothes out of the way. All while kissing you again and again anywhere he can reach. Your lips, cheeks, nose, jaw, chin. Heâs trying to savor this and commit it to memory before itâs gone forever. Before youâre gone.Â
His fingers move along your slit, gathering your wetness before bringing it up to your clit. You moan into his mouth and buck your hips against his hand. He expertly massages your pussy in a way only he knows how until youâre wet enough to take him.Â
Jungkook stops kissing you momentarily so he can see what heâs doing when he lines himself up. His cock enters you slowly, but you can feel every ridge and curve of him as you sink down deeper into his lap. He kisses your neck as you begin to bounce on him. Your nails bite into his skin as you use his shoulders for leverage.
It doesnât take long for you both to come, Jungkookâs seed warming you from the inside and bringing forth your own orgasm. The entire time you never once stop kissing, because youâre making up for lost time and saying goodbye all at once.Â
Except the goodbye never comes. Thereâs an attempt, and you go one time seeing each other without hooking up, but thatâs the only time. The next time youâre in class together, almost the very second it ends, Jungkook is pushing you into an empty classroom. He kisses you until you canât see straight, then eats you out and fucks you on the professorâs desk. After that, you both realize youâre too weak for each other to ever stay away.Â
Things go on like that for a while, a few months at most. You donât talk about the massive elephant in the room when youâre together. Just touch and kiss each other to your heart's content like it isnât the most dangerous game youâll ever play.Â
The realization that Namjoon is aware of your entanglements comes after he suggests a ride together down to the bay, a familiar place you used to go as teenagers. You donât question it because itâs been a while since youâve spent some real time together and your brother is a bigger softie than anyone is allowed to know.Â
You ride along the shoreline together before he stops the bike in the middle of some abandoned buildings a few yards from the bay. Ships are docking for the night and some children play around the rocky shore with their parents close by.Â
âArenât we going over there?â You ask, pointing to the usual spot.
Namjoon shakes his head.
âGotta show you something first,â he tells you.Â
Taking your hand, he leads you towards one of the buildings. You watch him quizzically as he pries open one of the rusted doors and holds it open for you. He stands back to allow you to take in the scene.
You donât realize itâs him at first because his head is down. All you notice is two Dragon lackeys holding someone taut between them as they wait for instruction at the center of the room. But then he pushes against their restraints, grunting and tugging on their arms as hard as he can and you gasp in horror.
Youâre running to him before you can think twice. Your hands instinctively reach out for his face, lifting it so you can see him properly. He already has a swollen black eye and a busted lip.
Your pupils shake as tears form in your eyes.Â
âLet him go,â you command.
Namjoon walks in slowly and takes his time examining the scene before him. Maybe this is a test to see if the rumor he heard was true. Clearly, you failed.
âCanât do that, bug,â Namjoon says from behind you. âWolves who touch what doesnât belong to them pay the price.â
âItâs not like that, Joonie,â you snap. You push some of Jungkookâs hair away from his face. Heâs looking at you like youâre the only thing giving him air to breathe. You shake your head, hoping he can read your mind that is screaming Iâm sorry.Â
âWhatâs it like then?â Namjoon crosses his arms across his chest.Â
âHeâs in my graduate class. I didnât even know he was a Wolf at first,â you say.Â
Namjoon steps forward so heâs next to you and tugs on your arms so you let go of Jungkook. You take a tentative step away, not recognizing the look in your brotherâs eyes.Â
âHmm, and when you found out⊠what did you do?âÂ
âIâŠâ
âWhen you found out the man youâd been sleeping with was a goddamn fucking Wolf, what did you do, Y/N?â He shouts.Â
Heâs never spoken to you like this. Has never even raised his voice at you. You donât have an answer for him. You canât look him in the eye and admit you willingly betrayed him.Â
Namjoon sneers at your silence. He motions for the men to drop Jungkook and he falls to his knees with a grunt. Your body involuntarily steps towards him until Namjoon shoots you a murderous glare.Â
Jungkook looks up at the leader of the Dragons from where he kneels before him. You canât see his expression, but you can tell from his body language heâs resigned to his fate.Â
Your brother throws a punch to Jungkookâs face and it connects with a crack. You canât stop yourself from looking away and snapping your eyes shut. Jungkook spits out blood before Namjoon is forcing him by the jaw to look up at him again.
âYou really thought you could get away with it, didnât you?â Namjoon punches him in the same spot again and you bury your face in your hands.Â
Your brother is relentless in his assault. He just punches and punches until his knuckles split and Jungkookâs face is covered in blood and open wounds. You donât look up. Your head is too heavy with the guilt to even attempt it.Â
Youâre sobbing into your hands as you listen to the bone-crushing noise. It repeats and repeats like Satanâs broken record. Youâre completely helpless to do anything but stand by in terror.Â
Namjoon lets go of where heâs holding him by his shirt and Jungkook immediately falls over, catching himself with his hands as he pants and tries to inhale through his busted nose and mouth.Â
Instantly, youâre on your knees in front of him, cradling his head to your chest as you try to wipe the blood with your shirt.Â
Jungkook groans into you, his hands weakly coming around your waist to hold onto you. Youâre crying so hard you can barely see straight, but you force yourself to do anything you can to help him.Â
âY/N,â Jungkook moans against your shirt and you bend your head to kiss his hair. âSâokay.â His words only bring forth more tears.
âNo, itâs not,â you sob.Â
Namjoon pulls you away from him by your arm before nodding at the two men. The Dragons begin to kick and punch Jungkook in his ribs, chest, and stomach. It only takes a few hits before Jungkookâs weight gives out and he crashes to the floor. They continue relentlessly.
âNo! No, please!â You turn towards your brother while still on your knees. The sound of Jungkook being beaten is piercing your eardrums and throwing off your equilibrium. âPlease, Joonie, make them stop.â You grab onto your brotherâs legs and sob against him. âPlease, Iâll do anything. Just stop hurting him.â
Namjoon forces your head up. He looks so disgusted at your pathetic display of affection for someone heâs raised you to hate.Â
âWhy should I?â His voice is pure venom.
âBecause⊠because I love him, Namjoon,â you admit for the first time out loud.
Your brotherâs eyes turn razor sharp. He gazes towards where his men are still having their fill with Jungkookâs battered body.
âStop,â he orders them. The room goes eerily quiet. Your heart only continues beating because you can hear Jungkook wheezing out breath. Heâs still alive. Thatâs all that matters. âIâll stop if you swear to me youâll never see or speak to him ever again.â
âI swear, Namjoon,â you reply without missing a beat.Â
âIf you disobey me,â he threatens. âI wonât have a choice, do you understand?â You nod. âSay you understand, Y/N.â
âI understand,â you shout back.Â
He steps away from you and you collapse onto your hands. Grabbing you by the shoulder he yanks you up and orders his men to leave first. You donât look back as he drags you from the warehouse and shuts the door behind him.
When you return home, you run upstairs to the safety of your bedroom. Cradling your phone in your shaky hands, you find the number Jungkook input for emergencies only. Namjoon deleted Jungkookâs contact from your phone as soon as you left the warehouse, but he doesn't know you have a different Wolfâs number, too.
The phone rings three times before someone answers.Â
âHello?â Youâve never heard the voice on the other end before.
âIs this Jimin?â
âWhoâs asking?â He sounds rightfully suspicious.
âListen, I know Iâm probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but you have to go to the warehouse district by the bay. Jungkook heâs⊠heâs hurt really bad, okay? He needs your help,â you explain through fresh tears. âPlease, you have to help him.â
âIs this who I think it is?â
âPlease, Jimin. Heâs in the building with the blue door and green-tinted windows,â you tell him. âHurry.â
You cut the line before he can ask you anything further. The only thing you can do is fall into your bed and wail as you pray his friends make it in time.Â

Jungkook canât move from his spot on the cold concrete floor. He tries; tries using his hands to pull himself up but he just falls back with a thump. His breath is coming out of him in thin wheezes and every time he inhales he feels a sharp tug as his lungs. He knows heâll die here if someone doesnât find him, which is highly unlikely.Â
Despite his injuries causing every nerve ending in his body to sizzle and burn, all he can think about is you. Your sobs and pleas and how quiet your voice was when you admitted you love him. Itâs pathetic how undeniably happy he was in that moment even as his lungs were caving in and his ribs were splintering.Â
You love him enough to let him go. Jungkook doesnât know if he himself is that strong. If in your place he would be able to swear the same way you did. He hopes so, that somehow a piece of your virtue has rubbed off on him through your time together.Â
He hears the door creak open and his first thought is that Namjoon sent his goons back to finish the job. But then heâs being lifted from the floor and familiar voices filter in through his waning consciousness.Â
âFuck, kid,â Taehyung curses as he rolls Jungkook over to examine his injuries. âWhat did you get yourself into?â
Jungkook grasps at his side as the pain splinters across his back and chest. The pain is scalding and it radiates across his entire body in waves that threaten to pull him under.Â
âIs he breathing?â Jiminâs voice rings out.Â
âYeah. His eyes arenât open, though. Donât know if he even can with how bad his face is,â Taehyung explains to his companion.Â
Jimin curses when he sees his younger friendâs condition. He has to look away for a moment, unable to tolerate seeing his little brother like this.Â
âIâll fucking kill those bastards,â he grits his teeth, sneering.
âNo, you wonât,â Taehyung sighs. âThis is penance. Jungkook is lucky heâs alive right now.â
The two men end their conversation to help Jungkook up from the floor. It isnât easy. Thereâs blood everywhere and Jungkook screams in agony as they jostle his broken body around to carry him. Heâs heavier than both of them combined and if it werenât for Taehyungâs recent time spent at the gym, it would be physically impossible.Â
Taehyung ends up carrying him back to back, with Jungkook lying as flat as possible while Taehyung takes slow, heavy steps towards the door. Jimin carries his feet gently behind them since their similar heights leave the bottom half of Jungkookâs legs dragging on the floor.Â
Somehow, they make it out and get him into the backseat of the car where theyâve laid towels and sheets down to soak up the blood. Jungkook groans endlessly as the car flies through the city streets towards the hospital.Â
His friends know he has an emergency fund set up by his parents they can use to pay for his admission. If he didnât, his fate would be up to whatever member of their gang has the most medical experience.Â
Jungkook spends the next two weeks in the hospital. By the time heâs discharged he still canât open his left eye, has more than 100 stitches, and is wrapped up like a mummy to help his bones and muscles heal. His ribs punctured his lungs so heâs on medication to insure he can breathe properly. Heâll be sequestered to his bed per doctorâs orders for at least two months. Luckily, the semester just ended, so he wonât miss any classes while heâs recovering.Â
His gang members take care of him and help him in any way they can, but they can only assist with his physical injuries. Thereâs nothing anyone can do about his broken heart.Â
He lies in bed day and night, just staring at his ceiling as he daydreams about you being here to care for him. Your warm hands brushing his hair out of his face and your lips pressing a peck to his cheek. Jungkook swears he can hear you giggling as you tell him he âstill looks handsome, even like this.âÂ
Jungkook knows in his bones that you were a mistake. He shouldâve cut things off when he had the chance after he found out who you are. And yet, he canât bring himself to think of you as such. Itâs impossible for him to regret even a single moment of the time he spent with you.Â
Every minute heâs awake he wonders what youâre doing and if youâre alright. Are you enjoying your time off from school? What activities and hobbies do you enjoy when youâre alone? Are you missing him the way heâs missing you?
Itâs ironic, but he also hopes you arenât still angry with your brother. Being a leader means doing what you have to do and Jungkook hopes you can forgive him. He knows how much Namjoon means to you and he canât live with himself knowing heâs the thing thatâs driving a wedge between you.
When heâs asleep, he dreams of you, and there are varying types of them. There are beautiful, soft, soothing dreams where he just gets to hold you and listen to your voice talk about nothing at all. Ones where he gets to confess that he loves you, too, and that he wants to be with you more than anything in the world. Then thereâs the sexy, unbridled, wet dreams that have him gasping and sweating when he wakes up. He dreams of you on top of him as you whisper how much you need him into his ear. Thereâs another where heâs pounding you into his mattress as he kisses your neck, shoulders, and tits. He doesnât even know what your actual breasts look like; he never got the chance to see you like that. One night his mind combines both the hard and soft and he dreams up an entire day spent with you. Where he takes you out for dinner and a movie, then brings you back to his place to worship your body, falls asleep with you on his chest, and then wakes up to do it all over again. Jungkook wonders if he should just sleep all the time so he can be with you.
His reality without you is bleak, grave, and dark. Thereâs no light in his world anymore and he doesnât know how long he can go without seeing you or hearing your voice.Â
Jungkook makes a full recovery before the next semester starts. Luckily, he doesnât have too many scars on his face anymore from the incident. When he looks in the mirror, it finally looks like him staring back again.
On the first day of classes Jungkook prays youâre in the same one again, but he doesnât see you anywhere. His eyes constantly scan the hallways and classrooms for any sign of you, but to no avail. Itâs killing him not knowing where you are.Â
He spends his days anxiously bouncing his knee below the desk as he attempts to listen to his professors. Sometimes, heâll see a glimmer of someone who could be you, only to find out itâs not, and fall back into his usual disappointment.Â
By the time he does see you again, six months have passed. He wishes the reunion had been happy, or that it was even a reunion at all. Instead itâs just him, standing at the entrance of the building as he watches you race in the opposite direction before hopping into a car with a Dragon.Â
When he gets home he enters with his head down. After getting his first glimpse of you in six months, he isnât ready to converse with anyone from his gang.Â
But he doesnât get the chance to head downstairs right away.Â
His gang is congregated in the living room. Thereâs an intense tension in the air Jungkook doesnât know how to name. He steps into the room and it feels like the air gets sucked out of it. As if everyone is suddenly statues in a graveyard. Jimin and Taehyung eye him carefully as he walks forwards towards their leader.
Bangchan is conversing intensely with some of his right hand men, but he turns towards Jungkook when he notices him approaching. Chan clears his throat and grabs the younger manâs shoulder, then he speaks a truth that has Jungkookâs heart sinking in his chest.Â
âKim Namjoon is dead.â

Youâre a zombie among the living and you have been for some time now. Ever since Jungkook was forcefully ripped from your life, youâre a shell of the woman you once were. The time off from school moves like honey dripping from a spoon as you spend every waking moment wondering how heâs doing. You donât even know if heâs alive or not.Â
Thereâs a tsunami of relief that moves through you when you find out heâs alive and fully recovered. You only know because you hear some girls in the library talking about him once classes start back up. The jealousy from their whispers about him doesnât have anywhere within you to take root. The soil of your heart is salted and rotting.Â
Every single day you fight the urge to go to him, but you refuse to risk his life again. The pain of missing him is incomprehensible. You feel it in your heart and lungs as they work overtime to soothe the ache of being apart. But none of it even comes close to the nightmares and memories of hearing his bones break and his breathing wane. Night terrors overtake you for months following the incident. Images of him bleeding and broken in a heap on the floor while you stand helpless to stop it.Â
You havenât spoken a single word to Namjoon since that night. He tries, but you shut yourself in your room or leave the house entirely. You havenât heard your brotherâs deep and melodious voice in six months now. Youâre uncertain if you have the strength within you to forgive him. Maybe one day, once the Dragons and the Wolves are just a distant nightmare you never have to experience again.Â
The day starts like any other. Yoongi drops you off at the university and you thank him before heading to class. The topics and lectures are boring, per usual, as you doodle in your notebook alongside the actual notes you take. Youâre out of focus these days but you manage to keep your grades up. Itâs hard without your study buddy.Â
The call comes a little before your last lecture is supposed to start. Itâs Seokjin, and you know something is wrong as soon as you answer.Â
âYou need to come home. Somethingâs happened,â he says.Â
âSeokjin, I donât ââ
âItâs Joonie,â his voice breaks.
Your heart sinks into an abyss so deep youâre certain it will never rise again.Â
Youâre running before the call even drops. The last thing Seokjin tells you is that Yoongi is waiting for you at the entrance. Propelling your feet forward even though you want to collapse, you bolt out of the building and make it to Yoongiâs car in an instant.Â
Yoongi is speeding off before the door has had time to shut. He doesnât say anything. Just stares straight ahead with tears rolling down his face like rain.Â
When you reach the house, the silence seems to stretch infinitely. There are no birds chirping or trees billowing in the wind. Itâs absolutely stone cold silent. You wonder if the apocalypse came while you were in the car. The door to the house creaks open and the sound of people breathing and the AC blasting is somehow deafening in comparison.Â
Your feet move on their own because your mind is too busy hiding from what it knows is about to come.Â
Namjoon is lying on the couch with one arm falling limp over the edge of the cushion. He looks like heâs taking one of his infamous naps. The ones that always happen after heâs been reading for too long. The only thing missing from the scene is an open book lying across his chest. You stop a few feet away and stare at his chest, the one you spent your entire childhood lying on and slapping whenever he made you angry. You will it to move with your mind, imagine it rising and falling and attempt a manifestation of the sight into reality. After counting to ten without seeing it rise, you collapse.Â
A scream rips out of your throat as you bring your forehead to the hardwood floor beneath you. Your entire body is shaking so violently that the zippers on your clothes rattle. Someone who smells like Hoseok comes behind you, holding you up against him as you sob hard enough to make yourself sick.
âNo,â you wail helplessly into his shoulder.Â
Hoseok releases you when you begin to push against his hold. You crawl towards your brother on your hands and knees. When you reach him you caress his face and push his hair out of his eyes. He hates it when it gets in his eyes.Â
âJoonie,â you whisper to only him. âJoonie, you gotta wake up.â You gasp for air. âI need my big brother. Please, please, for me, you have to wake up.â
He doesnât respond. You already know he canât. It doesnât matter. Youâll speak nonsense to him until his body begins to decay.Â
Throwing yourself on top of him, you cry into his bloodstained clothes. Heâs still warm even though heâs hard to the touch. You arenât sure if thereâs a scientific explanation or if your brotherâs soul is just so warm that it left behind a signature.Â
No one moves. Every member of the Dragons just watches in agony as you mourn your brother. Their beloved leader.Â
You want to die. You want to take one of the switchblades amongst the men in the room and slit your throat. Let your blood congeal with your brotherâs and have them bury you together.Â
Namjoon probably wants to force his way out the afterlife, barreling through anyone in his path, even God himself, just to yell at you for even thinking about it. He raised you to be strong, but you donât know what strength is without him.Â
His three best friends help you up once your cries subside into dry whimpers. They help you walk, one with his arm around your waist, the other two with their arms around your shoulders and arm, up the stairs to your room.Â
As gently as three gang members can, they lay you in your bed. Yoongi takes your shoes off for you and Hoseok pulls the blankets over you.Â
You grab Seokjinâs hand before they have a chance to leave.
âPlease donât⊠donât move him yet,â you croak through your sore vocal chords. âI need to be there. It should be up to me how we⊠how we bury him.â
Seokjin assures you they wonât as tears fall from his eyes. The two of you share a meaningful glance. A secret only the three of you shared and will be buried along with your brother.
Your tears put you to sleep. Itâs completely dreamless. Just black, empty darkness that feels infinite. You wonder if this endless void is your new reality.Â
The sound of knocking is what wakes you up. Youâre still in delirium as you sit up and attempt to find the source of the sound. When you do, you gasp, pulling the covers away and springing from the bed.
You push your window up, reaching your hand out for the guest hanging onto your ledge with his fingertips.Â
Jungkook steps into your room one leg at a time, ducking down so he fits through the opening. When he stands to his full height, you think youâre still dreaming. It isnât until he speaks that you realize you arenât.
âIâm sorry,â he whispers. âI had to see you, I couldnât ââ
Your mouth clips his sentence in half. Hands tugging at his shirt, you pull him into you as you kiss him. Heâs still as a statue at first, confusion evident in the way his brow creases. But then you feel his hands on your waist and he pulls you closer, matching the rhythm of your mouth against his.Â
Your foreheads touch as you exhale into the air between you. Eyes still closed, you let the feeling of him and his warmth take you under and into his current.Â
âI missed you,â you say. Jungkookâs hands squeeze your hips. âI missed you so much, Jungkook.âÂ
Your head drops to his shoulder as you cry. He pulls you into him and holds you there with his hand against your head. He combs his fingers through your hair and kisses down the side of your face. Anything he can think to do to bring you some sort of comfort.Â
âIâm here, pretty,â he tells you. âNot going anywhere.â
He guides you over to your bed as your breathing levels out again. You sit next to one another and Jungkook caresses your hand. Every once in a while bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles one by one.Â
With your free hand you grab his chin, turning his face back and forth before you breathe out a laugh.
âYouâre still so handsome,â you say after analyzing his features. The scars embedded in his honey skin are faint. âI almost forgot how handsome you are.âÂ
Jungkook shakes his head.
âI knew youâd say something like that,â he responds. He pulls you closer so your knees touch. The silent moments between you are comfortable. You donât need to speak, just be near. After a while Jungkook licks his lips and says, âIâm so, so sorry about your brother, Y/N.â
Your hand grips his fingers harder as reality slowly creeps back in.Â
âIâŠâ you have to inhale before you can continue. âThe last time I ever spoke to him was that night.â
Jungkookâs eyes widen and then soften into something that looks like guilt. As if him being brutally beaten was his own doing.Â
âBaby,â Jungkook calls to you.Â
You shake your head. There is no going back now and you arenât sure you would if given the chance. Maybe just to tell Namjoon you love him one more time, but nothing further. His death doesnât take away from him hurting you.Â
âI didnât know if you were dead or alive until classes started again,â you tell him. âI had nightmares every night about what they did to you. The way your bones sounded when they ââ
âHey, donât do that. Iâm right here. Iâm fine,â Jungkook reassures you.Â
âYou werenât fine, though,â you snap. âI wasnât fine. He took you from me, Jungkook.â You wipe the tears from your cheeks. âI told him my feelings for you and he still made me stay away.â
Jungkook doesnât have a response because he knows everything youâre feeling isnât black and white. The grief is mixing with the anger and the sadness into a devastating combination of emotions. So he holds you instead, pulls you across his lap so your thighs are resting on either side of him. Brushes his fingers up your back in a soothing pattern while you rest your head on his shoulder.Â
After a while of comforting silence, your lips find the mole on his neck. Itâs just a tentative kiss at first, but then youâre kissing him harder and sucking on the sensitive skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. His hands caress your hips tentatively, fingers reaching up and brushing against the skin beneath your top.Â
âPretty,â Jungkook sighs. âWe donât have to ââ
âI need you, Jungkook,â you say as you face him. You donât mean it sexually, even though sex is exactly what youâre asking for. The need to feel him close is just so great, that his touch is the only thing that can quell it. Itâs been so long since youâve seen him, heard him, or touched him, and youâre desperate to feel his heartbeat beneath your fingers just so you know heâs here and heâs alive. âPlease, baby.â
Jungkook nods and kisses you slowly, tasting you on his tongue as your hips begin to grind against him. His hands guide you across his lap in slow circles. You feel him growing hard, causing you to moan into his mouth. He deepens the kiss with his tongue, cradling your neck to keep your head still as he chases your lips.Â
Your hands find his shoulders and use the leverage to grind down harder against the evident bulge in his pants. You groan at the feeling of it rubbing against your clit through your clothes. Jungkook growls deep in his throat when you pick up the pace. His lips are all over you. He kisses down your face and across your jaw. Sucks on your neck and drags his tongue along your hot skin before biting into your jugular. Your gasp slowly morphs into a moan.Â
Jungkook moves away for a split second so he can tug your top over your head. His eyes drop down to your covered chest to see what heâs been dying to all this time. He cups your breasts in his hands, massaging and pushing them together before bending down to kiss the tops of them.Â
You reach back to unclip your bra and Jungkook moans as it falls away. Heâs never gotten to see you like this before; feel your soft skin under his hands like this. Now unimpeached, Jungkook takes one of your nipples in his mouth while twisting the other between his fingers. You throw your head back as you pant in ecstasy.Â
âJungkook,â you whine as he gives your other breast the same attention. âFeels so good.â
When heâs done, he kisses his way back up to your lips. Your hand tangles into his long hair and your nails scratch at his scalp. Your free hand tugs at the hem of his top. Jungkook chuckles at your silent signal before removing his shirt with one hand.Â
Seeing him unobstructed for the first time is pure heaven. Hands tracing over his shoulders and down his chest, scratching your nails across the abs you knew he had. When he pulls you close, the skin to skin contact youâve been aching for is like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day.
Jungkookâs warm hands are sprawled across your back as your pussy moves expertly against him. Part of you wants to just keep going like this until you both come in your pants, but most of you wants him naked and beneath you in your bed.
Jungkook obliges without needing to be told. He lifts you enough to lie you back and crawls over you, pushing your thighs apart with his knee. You reach for him and he kisses your fingers before meeting you again at your lips. His hands are working your jeans off you while he ravishes your lips and jaw.Â
When theyâre off, he sits back on his heels to look at you. This is the sight heâs been waiting for and he doesnât want to miss a second of it. His hands grip your thighs and he squeezes to watch your flesh move between his fingers.Â
âSo beautiful, baby,â he praises you. He starts kissing you again at your collarbones before inching down slowly. After his mouth leaves your breasts he kisses down your stomach. âI love you,â he whispers directly into your skin. You arenât sure you heard him right, but then he repeats himself as he kisses across your hips. âI love you⊠I love you⊠I love you.âÂ
It comes out of his mouth like a prayer and youâre his only deity. Bittersweet tears roll down your cheeks at his confession. Your fingers thread into his hair as he finally reaches your pussy. He kisses you once on your mound before pulling your underwear down your legs so he can taste you.Â
He kisses you slowly, reverently. At first itâs so soft and light you barely feel him, but then his tongue swipes across your folds and you moan desperately. His hands grip the back of your thighs to pull you closer, burying his face into your cunt. He groans in pleasure, his mouth and tongue alternating between licking and kissing you while his nose teases your clit.Â
âFuck, I missed you,â he grunts as he dives back in for more.Â
Youâre a complete mess above him. Hair strewn haphazardly across the pillow, nipples swollen and erect, panting out breaths with dried tears all down your face.
Jungkook moves to suck on your clit and then kitten licks at it, using a finger to push your hood back and drive you into oversensitivity. You cover your mouth with your hand to scream into it. Your hips chase his mouth and he lets you. He just moans into your cunt as you ride his face.Â
Jungkook grips you tighter to still you, not letting you grind anymore so he can go into overdrive against your hole. He fucks you with his tongue and then licks all the way up to your clit before staying there. He flattens his tongue against the nub and moves his face back and forth. Pulls back and spits directly on it before rubbing it in with the tip of his tongue.Â
Your orgasm pulls you beneath the waves of ecstasy and you welcomely drown in it. It happens without warning, but Jungkook already knows. He knows your body like itâs his own and he growls as you come on his face and he drinks every last drop.Â
Gasping for any air you can find, Jungkook kisses across your thighs and bites at your flesh. You grab him by the shoulder to bring him back to you. You taste yourself on his lips, your cum smearing across the bottom half of your face.Â
Your hands are quick to undo Jungkookâs belt and pull down the zipper of his jeans. You start palming him through his boxers before his pants are fully off. He groans into your mouth before kissing your neck and biting at your earlobe, letting his tongue trace the perimeter of it.Â
You want to see him fully and appreciate him in all his glory, so you use your legs to wrap around his own and flip him onto his back. He looks a little shocked at you doing anything even remotely dominant, but the fire in his eyes tells you exactly how much he loves it.Â
His neck is your first target as you lick the sweaty skin and press wet kisses all over his throat and shoulder. As your lips move down his torso, your hands follow closely behind, digging your nails into his skin and creating red marks in their wake. He grunts and bucks his hips as you finish your assault on his delicious abdominal muscles. Your eyes roll back when you count eight of them.Â
You pull his boxers down and off, all without ever breaking eye contact. Crawling back over him, you take in his entire body laid before you for the first time. Heâs so beautiful you could cry.Â
Pumping his cock with your warm hand, you move to taste him when he stops you with a hand to your shoulder.
âNo, pretty,â he starts. âItâs not about me tonight. Just wanna make you feel good.â You pout and he soothes you by sitting up and pushing your hair away from your face. âWill you let me?â He kisses you softly, but with all his devotion. âLet me make love to you?â
You close your eyes and nod. He kisses the skin of your eyelids adoringly before lying you beneath him again. Jungkook doesnât waste any time. His cock is teasing your clit while he swipes through your folds to lube himself with your cum. He thrusts into you slowly, letting you adjust to the feel of him again after so long apart.
Your nails rake down his back and across his shoulders as he splits you apart on his cock. You can feel him throbbing deep inside your walls and itâs as though your entire body was created for this very moment.Â
When you donât show any signs of discomfort, Jungkook begins thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. He lays on top of you with his forearms carrying his weight. His body is so familiar and yet everything feels brand new.Â
Your legs wrap around his stupidly tiny waist and an actual laugh escapes you. His questioning eyes find yours.
âWhat do you have such a small waist for, huh? Itâs unfair. Itâs smaller than mine,â you explain.Â
Jungkook tsks at you before kissing your cheek.Â
âYour waist is perfect,â he says. âYouâre fucking perfect.â
His thrusts are slower than normal, but just as deep. The motion pushes you up the bed each time he enters your pussy and Jungkook has to use his hands to protect your head from hitting the headboard. He grinds his hips down in conjunction with his strokes and it forces his cock right into your g-spot.
Your moans are just one endless stream of sound because it feels too heavenly to do anything else. His name filters between them to create a melody meant only for his ears.Â
His body is bringing you forms of pleasure youâve never experienced with anyone else and yet you care more about the feeling of his warm body against yours. Itâs his skin and sweat, the goosebumps on his arms, his hair tickling your face, that truly means the most to you. Heâs here in your arms, heart beating up against your own and it almost brings tears to your eyes again. You almost lost him.
You arenât able to focus on your sentiments for much longer because he pulls back and lifts your ankles to his shoulders and then bends you in half, the back of your thighs touching his chest.Â
âOh fuck, baby,â you gasp. The push and pull of Jungkookâs dick at this angle has your nails nearly puncturing the skin of his shoulder.Â
âI got you, pretty,â he states.Â
He kisses your calf next to his face and you feel warm all over. Through your legs you can see the way his thick cock comes out coated in your essence before it disappears into you again. Jungkook is watching the same way you are, his mouth open in awe of how well your pussy sucks him in over and over.
The position is too good for your mind to fully comprehend, but you need him closer. You want your skin pressed together as one in every possible place it can. You grab at him and he gets the message, letting your legs fall back to his hips. His elbows are next to your ears as he stretches your hole open for him repeatedly.Â
His cock fills you so perfectly that you feel every ridge and vein against your velvet walls. The friction is debilitating and sends your mind into a frenzy. Youâre crying tears of pleasure that Jungkook kisses away before devouring your mouth. Gripping his ass, you thrust up against him in an attempt to sink him deeper inside you even though you swear you feel him in your stomach already.Â
Itâs not enough. Nothing with Jungkook will ever feel like enough when your body wants him so insatiably. But right now, you need more.Â
âJungkook,â you pant. He makes a sound of affirmation as he mouths at your jaw. âStop playing nice.â
Jungkook lifts his head to look at you. He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to give you a chance to take back your instruction. You stare him down with a matching intensity instead.
The sound of his deep chuckle is right next to your ear and your heart races in anticipation.Â
In an instant, your hands are forced above your head by one of his own, crossing your wrists over each other and lacing his fingers between the ones he can reach. He pushes at them once, as if telling you not to try anything. When you open your mouth to moan, Jungkook crashes into your lips and spits into your mouth. Youâre gasping as you swallow his saliva. His free hand teasingly traces your skin from your hip to your knee, creating fiery goosebumps along your flesh, before he grabs you by the knee and forces your leg up higher on his hip, creating an even closer angle.
He rears back slowly, leaving just his tip in for a lingering moment. Jungkook waits until you whine pathetically at the emptiness, your hips bucking up in desperation. Your pussy clenches around nothing as it begs for him to come back home. Once there are tears pricking at your eyes and he thinks youâve waited long enough, he slams into you so hard your vision goes out.Â
He clasps his hand over your mouth before you can scream. His pace is downright fucking demonic as he pistons his cock into you. Youâre screaming and drooling against his hand as tears wet your cheeks. You cannot comprehend how this is the same man who kissed his love into your stomach and hips. You worry youâll look up and his eyes will be glowing red with the fires of hell.Â
This is months of being separated coming to a head. All the fear, rage, depression, and guilt pooling in your stomachs and physically manifesting into a miasma of pleasure. Every thought and worry you felt for one another is pouring over your bodies like acid, burning you in a scorching heat that only the other can quench.Â
Youâre close and Jungkook can tell by the way your cunt flutters around him. His mouth replaces his hand as he kisses you, letting go of your hands above your head so he can grasp your hips. Your arms snake around his back and into his hair, tugging on the strands to pull him away so you can kiss the veins popping out in his neck.Â
âNeed to feel you come, pretty,â he grunts.Â
A breathy moan is your only response because words are failing you. Jungkook angles your hips up so his tip is kissing you in just the right spot. His thrusts have slowed again but are deeper than ever, so passionate in his pursuit to pleasure you that your orgasm pulls you into a different plane of existence entirely.Â
Your hand grips Jungkookâs hair impossibly tight as your pussy spasms around him. Jungkook groans loudly, his head tipping back as you come around him.Â
Jungkook usually loves to fill you up and watch it drip out, but for some reason the need to paint you in his seed overwhelms him. He pulls out and fists his cock as hot spurts of cum fall across your stomach, tits, and thighs.Â
You moan appreciatively at the feeling and watch in awe at the way it drips from his tip and onto your skin. Instinctively, your mouth opens as you stare into Jungkookâs fucked-out eyes. He hears your message loud and clear, using his fingers to scoop some of his cum from your belly before feeding it to you. You suck it off his fingers without breaking eye contact until you roll your eyes and moan at the taste of him.
Jungkook is panting, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths as he stares at the mess he made of you.Â
âFuck, pretty,â he exhales.Â
You sit up on your elbows and smile at his artwork across your body.Â
âYou could always lick it off of me, ya know,â you suggest.Â
Jungkook laughs.
âDonât get me going again, my love,â he responds. âIâll fucking ruin you.â
âIs that a threat or a promise?âÂ
Jungkookâs eyes darken and he runs his hands through his hair. After taking a moment to stare you down, he steals your hands and pins them above your head. His lips are touching yours by just a hair when he responds.Â
âItâs a promise⊠for another day,â he states.Â
You pout and he kisses it away before finally leaving you to find something to clean you with. You nod your head towards your en-suite bathroom and he comes back with a warm towel.Â
You run your fingers through the front of his hair as he delicately wipes his own cum from your soft skin. When heâs done he bends down to kiss your stomach before returning the towel to the bathroom.Â
When he returns youâre sitting up and pulling a baggy shirt over your head. Jungkook slips on his boxers and sits next to you, pulling your feet into his lap and caressing your ankles.
Fingers fiddling in your lap, you chew on your lip as you think about the path that lies ahead. There is still so much left unanswered and it terrifies you.Â
You have to bury your brother and the Dragons need a new leader. Your only tie to the gang is now gone. The gang would never kick you out of the house, but without Namjoon you have no reason to be involved in this world. But you also have nowhere else to go.Â
Then thereâs Jungkook, who is a longstanding member of the very gang who is probably responsible for Namjoonâs death. Itâs not like they would welcome you into their fray even with him gone. Everyone knows youâre his sister. You love Jungkook and you want to be with him more than anything, but you donât know a way around all the obstacles still in your path.Â
Jungkook gently tucks a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes silently questioning if youâre alright. You affirm him with a nod.
He leaves soon after because you still have so much to sort out. Although, not before putting his number back into your phone and kissing you goodbye. He tells you heâll see you at the university and you can talk more then.Â
When you return downstairs, Namjoon is covered by a white cloth. You, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok sit in the kitchen and discuss burial plans. Yoongi has a family friend who runs a funeral home. You finish deciding on the details and a quiet tension fills the room as you all realize what you need to discuss next.Â
âSo, how do we go about finding out who did this?â Hoseok starts the daunting conversation.
âIt was obviously the fucking Wolves,â Yoongi snarls.
âYeah, but not all of them,â you say. âThe gang as a whole would never do something so stupid and reckless.âÂ
âYou think it was some rogue member?â Seokjin asks.
âThat or a small faction who is itching to start a war,â you respond.Â
âWell they got what they wanted,â Yoongi says as he crosses his arms. âIâm going to Bangchan tomorrow to challenge them to a brawl. On the condition that if they give up the coward who did this, no one else gets hurt.âÂ
âYou think it will work?â Hoseok questions.
âWait, you want more people, our people, to possibly get hurt?â You donât see the logic in it. The Dragons are already down and out without your brother. A massive brawl between the two gangs will only make things worse.Â
âSomeone has to be punished, Y/N,â Yoongi answers. âIâll let them decide if itâs one or all of them.âÂ
You know that Yoongiâs decision is final. He was Namjoonâs right hand man and is most likely to take over as leader. But that doesnât mean you wonât do whatever it takes to stop it from happening.Â
Jungkook finds you after your classes end for the day. You run straight into his arms when you see him, wrapping yourself around his neck and inhaling his familiar scent. His hands sneak below your shirt and rub soothing circles on your waist and back. He kisses you before you go somewhere private to talk.
Sitting down outside the large double doors of the university, you reach across the wooden table to take his hands. It feels odd, but soothing being here together again after months of not crossing paths. When you glance around, you see the same path you took as you were skipping ahead of him after taking an exam. In the opposite direction, thereâs a small cove where Jungkook fingered you and kissed you like he needed it more than oxygen. That was shortly before the incident with your brother. The prettier memories of your relationship are all around you.
Inhaling deeply, you squeeze his hands before telling him everything you know.
âThereâs going to be a fight in three days unless the Wolves give up the person or people responsible for Namjoonâs death. If they do, the brawl is off,â you explain.
Jungkook is playing with your fingers as he listens to you.
âThat wonât work,â Jungkook states. âWe would never give up one of our own even if he did do something as cowardly as murdering someone in cold blood.â
âI know,â you agree. âThatâs why we have to figure out who did this before then and give them up ourselves.â
âIt wonât be easy, pretty,â Jungkook admits. He lets go and leans back before sighing and running his fingers through his hair. âEveryone knows about you and I. They wonât let anything slip around me or my friends.â You chew on your bottom lip as you contemplate your options. Jungkook watches you before taking a deep breath. âIf the brawl goes down⊠you know Iâll have to be there, right, pretty?â
You nod with a far away look in your eyes.Â
âI know. Thatâs why it has to work. I canât lose you, too,â you whisper without looking at him.
Jungkook kisses the back of your hands, tilting his head to bring your attention to him. His pretty doe eyes are hesitant, not wanting to leave you like this, but you assure him youâre fine before standing.Â
He still drops you off at the same spot to avoid any unnecessary tension if heâs spotted near the house. You kiss him goodbye through the driverâs side window before venturing home.
Upon returning home, you notice the classical music playing from the stereo before anything else. You recognize the song and already know whoâll be there before entering the room. Seokjin sits with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass of ice in the other. Everyone else must either be out or in their rooms. You sit next to him and gesture for the bottle. He passes it unceremoniously over to you.
âWe swore Yoongi in tonight,â Seokjin tells you.Â
âHeâll do good,â you reply. You look at the bottle and swirl the liquid around inside. âHeâs always been prudent.â
âYeah,â Seokjin sighs.Â
You put the bottle down and reach for Seokjinâs arm instead. Squeezing it, he looks at you with glassy eyes.
âI miss him already, too,â you breathe.
Seokjin flashes you a hollow smile.
âThere was still so much we wanted to do together,â he muses. Seokjin looks down at his hand, stretching his fingers out and flexing it. âHe just bought us matching rings. We were gonna wear them on different fingers so no one caught on.â
âBought? My brother?âÂ
Seokjin genuinely smiles at that.
âCan you believe it? He said he didnât want something like that to be stolen. That I deserve to be paid for,â Seokjin explains.
You relax against the chair.
âYeah, that sounds like him,â you say.Â
âI know you two werenât on good terms at the time, but it doesnât change how deeply he loved you,â Seokjin continues.Â
âI know,â you reply.
âHe didnâtâŠâ Seokjin sighs, mulling over his next words carefully. âHe was pissed about you sleeping with a Wolf, donât get me wrong, but he didnât do what he did out of cruelty. He was our leader. If he looked the other way and people found out, they would've started to doubt his ability to do whatever necessary for the gang.â Seokjin sits forward to meet your eyes. âI know that doesnât make it any better, but I wanted you to know. He only ever wanted two things for you, Y/N. To be happy and to be safe.â
âJungkook does both of those things for me,â you say.Â
âGood,â Seokjin smiles.Â
You squeeze his arm one last time before leaving him alone with the whiskey bottle.Â
Time soldiers on with each tick of the clock, every second bringing you closer to the inevitable truth that this brawl is going to happen. Jungkook tells you heâs doing his best, but the truth is harder to scrounge for than originally anticipated.Â
The truth comes too late.Â
The night of the brawl, you do what you swore you never would and drive Namjoonâs motorcycle down the unfamiliar streets to the Wolfâs Den. Youâre wearing his biker jacket, too. The Dragons had it cleaned and the patches re-embroidered before gifting it to you.
Jungkook meets you at the back of the house and sneaks you into his room in the basement. Despite your terror about tonight, finally seeing his room brings a smile to your face.
âI like it,â you say as you run your fingers down the leather jacket on his chair.
Jungkook takes a seat on the bed while your eyes comb over the pieces of him scattered around the room. A picture of him and his parents, a drawing of an adorable white dog who looks like a cloud, his boxing gloves. Itâs comforting being so entirely surrounded by him.
Pulling you by the waist, Jungkook brings you to stand between his legs. His hands caress you from your thighs to your stomach before he leans in and kisses your navel, then rests his forehead against you. You comb your fingers through his hair, admiring the pretty black strands. He hums peacefully at the feeling. Being with him like this makes it easy to forget reality looming on the other side of the door, lying in wait for you to return to it.Â
âYouâll stay back as much as possible, right? Avoid the big guys?â You ask him.
Jungkook sighs, leaning back on his hands and tracing over your features with his eyes.Â
âPretty, you know I canât do that,â he responds.Â
Nodding with your lip between your teeth, you avoid his eyes. Anger and fear mix together in your stomach and make you want to be sick. Your brother is dead and now the man you love is on the precipice of the same fate. You already lost him once and you refuse to do it again.
âSo, you justâŠâ your sentence dies in your throat. There arenât enough words to explain the heaviness you feel.
Jungkook stands and brings you to his chest. You hit him to make him let you go, but your body is already betraying you and melting into his embrace. You bury your face into his shirt, inhaling his scent and letting it envelope you in familiarity.Â
âPlease, donât go,â you beg him. âI love you, Jungkook. I canât â,â you cut yourself off before your emotions can drown you. âJust⊠please.â
Jungkookâs fingers use your chin to bring your lips to his. Itâs a quick kiss, barely a peck before he moves to kiss the corner of your mouth and then your cheek.Â
âI love you, too, Y/N. I love you more than I can even comprehend, but this is my family weâre talking about. I have a responsibility to them, too,â he tells you.Â
You donât fight him on it anymore. Thereâs no strength left within you to do so. Your mental fortitude is cracking and crumbling into ash all around you. Most of all, you donât want what could possibly be your last moments together to happen in anger.Â
Harsh banging forces you apart as someone tells Jungkook itâs time to go. He cradles your face in his hands and kisses you ardently. It feels like goodbye and tastes like grief. You use his lips as an altar and pray to the angels and the saints and maybe even the demons to keep him safe and bring him home to you unscathed. You promise them youâll be joining them soon if they donât.
Jungkook sneaks you back out as the Wolves gather in the road on their idling motorcycles. He leaves you with a final kiss to your lips and forehead, where he whispers how much he loves you one more time.
You watch helplessly as your eyes trace his figure moving further and further away from you. He throws an arm around who you can only assume is Taehyung as Jimin follows closely behind. You donât look away until youâre unable to follow him any longer. His bike carrying him away from you along with the rest of his gang.
A twig snaps, or maybe fate pulls at your shoulder, and you look up just as a few stragglers are heading to leave. You recognize the familiar face as though you last saw him yesterday, and not over a decade ago. The blood in your veins courses through you at sub-zero temperatures and freezes around your organs.Â
Realization slams into you with the force of a brick wall. You need to tell the others that you know who took Namjoon from you.
Running across the yard as fast as your legs can carry you, your hands shake as you work to secure your helmet. Your leg swings over the leather seat and you throttle the engine. The bike roars to life and you donât waste a second before taking off down the street.
One motorcycle can get somewhere a lot faster than twenty five can, but they already have a decent head start.Â
Your heart is pounding so loud you can hear it in your ears as the buildings fly by in streaks of blurry light. It rained earlier and the water from the road is whipping up at your legs. All of your senses feel overloaded by the anxiety taking root within you.
You have no clue what youâre going to do when reach the gangs, and if the fight has already started, it will be too dangerous to intervene.Â
Jungkook flashes across your mind, and you can already picture the expression of worry and concern heâll have when you arrive. Heâs going to be so angry with you for putting yourself in harmâs way, and Yoongi, Seokjin, and Hoseok will be the same. You canât concern yourself with their potential anger right now. All that matters is getting to them.
The brawl is taking place at the old salt mill which still stands on the edge of the city. Itâs a massive open air factory built on acres of farmland. The last time you saw it, the steel walls were beginning to tear and the foundation cracking.
Despite its dilapidation, itâs the perfect location for fifty or so men to beat and kill each other without anyone noticing.
The monumental building comes into view in the distance and as you approach you see all the motorcycles lined up along the road.Â
Parking next to the familiar motorcycles belonging to the Dragons, you grant yourself the reprieve of a single deep breath before diving headfirst into the danger ahead.
The engine has barely begun to cool when you throw your helmet off. Your feet propel you forward across the wet pavement towards the factory. Your shoes meet puddles as you run and the water splashes against your bare legs.
Looking down at your attire, you almost scoff. Namjoon would be so mad at you for not looking the part. Youâre about to run into a room of fifty armed men wearing a pleated skirt and frilly pink blouse. At least Namjoonâs jacket still resting on your shoulders makes you look a little bit tougher.
You can just make out the figures amongst the processing equipment and huge piles of salt left behind by the manufacturers. The mountains of salt surround the two gangs and make it look as though theyâre in the center of an arena. As you move forward, you see Yoongi and Bangchan standing in the space between the two gangs.Â
Theyâre probably discussing the ârulesâ and deciding which weapons will be allowed. Itâs a pointless conversation to make themselves feel better. Youâre certain that every man in there brought a gun to this knife fight.Â
âWait!â You shout when youâre in earshot, traversing over rusted machinery and scattered salt. You speak again once youâre inside. âStop!â
Yoongi is looking at you incredulously, his eyes burning with a protective fury. Seokjin and Hoseok mirror his expression from where they stand on the far right and left of the Dragons. Your eyes catch motion in your peripheral vision, and you see Jungkook already moving through the crowd to get to you.Â
Yoongi grabs your arm and tugs you back into the crowd of Dragons, standing so that his body is shielding you from the Wolves across the room. He opens his mouth to no doubt scold you and demand an explanation, but he doesnât get the chance. A cacophony of noises and voices stops him.
âHey ââ
âGet off me.â
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â
âDude, what the hell.â
âHeesung ââ
Your eyes widen in horror as you take in the scene over Yoongiâs shoulder. He sees your expression and turns to follow your gaze.
The Wolves have all moved back into a U shape which highlights two figures standing to the left, next to a massive pile of salt. The flood lights on the ceiling bounce off the bright white and bathe the two of them in an unnatural light.
Jungkook jerks his right arm back to get the man holding him across the shoulders to let go. He grunts and tries to elbow him in the stomach, but stops short when he feels something cool and sharp press against his jugular.
Thereâs a silver glint from where the light catches on the blade pushing against Jungkookâs throat. Your eyes snap shut involuntarily as a paralyzing fear overtakes your nervous system.
âY/NâŠâ The man sing-songs in a tone so eerie it creeps up your spine like weeds.Â
You didnât think this through. Didnât account for what Heesung would do when heâs backed into a corner.
âHeesung, please let him go,â you beg cautiously, not wanting to make a single miscalculation. âHe doesnât have anything to do with this.â
A wave of confusion crosses over Jungkookâs face at your familiarity with his fellow Wolf.
Heesung laughs at your plea and the knife presses harder against Jungkookâs skin. A single bead of blood trails down his throat.
Jungkook knows heâs stronger than Heesung, that he can overpower him with ease, but he canât bring himself to fight when he sees you across the room. Youâre shaking, your eyes so sorrowful it breaks his heart, and your lip trembles where itâs clenched between your teeth. He has something to live for now, someone to come home to, and he canât risk Heesungâs knife going anywhere it shouldnât.
âDoesnât he?â Heesung retorts. âHe is your lover, yes? So I should kill him, too, just like I killed Namjoon and leave you with no one so youâll be just like me.â
His confession permeates through the air, stunning both gangs into a weighted silence. You feel Yoongi go stiff by your side.Â
âNo,â you whimper. âYou can just take me instead. That would be enough, right? Enough revenge? Enough penance for what we did to you?â
âY/N,â Jungkook snaps at you, but Heesung shushes him.
Heesung studies you for a moment before shaking his head, the knife pressing down again and making Jungkook gasp for air.
âNo, Y/N. Nothing will ever be enough,â Heesung snarls.
Time seems to slow once the words leave him, because before anyone in the room can even take their next breath, a gunshot rings out.Â
âNo!â
Your scream is nearly simultaneous with the gunshot itself, following it by only a millisecond.
Your view of Jungkook and Heesung gets forcefully taken from you in an instant. The only thing you see is blood splattering and dispersing into the air where their heads were a moment ago. The ricochet and a body falling to the floor sends salt up into the air and covers the entire scene in a white cloud.Â
There are no words for the emotions that overtake you in the moment before the blood and salt settle. It feels like fear at first, but the word is too small in comparison. Panic, terror, dread, none of them are heavy enough. Grief moves in like fog across the morning air. You wait with bated breath to see if it will break and the sun will peak through the clouds.
Someone coughs, and then they stumble out from the cloud of salt with ragged breaths and wide eyes. Heâs covered in blood splatter, the thick liquid matting down his hair and soiling his shirt, but itâs clear none of it is his own.
âJungkook!â
Your feet canât bring you to him fast enough. When they do, you throw your arms around his neck as your entire body shakes. Jungkook is still delirious, the gunshot throwing off his equilibrium. But then he feels your warmth against him, grounding him, and his arms latch around your waist.
âItâs okay. Iâm alright,â he assures you. His hand sinks into your hair as he pulls you closer, causing your back to arch into him and your heels to lift from the floor. He kisses across your temple, cheek, and hairline.
Your very soul releases a sigh of relief as you sink deeper into his embrace.
The sound of a pistol chamber clicking back into place catches your attention. As the salt slowly falls to the ground like snow, you turn your head to see Seokjin standing behind it. Heâs cleaning the gun with a rag as he looks at the body before him in disgust.
âSeokjin,â you say to grab his attention.
He looks up at you with the tiniest of smiles on his lips. If you didnât know the features of his face you wouldnât be able to notice it. Itâs solemn and peaceful, like heâs finally laying something to rest.
âDidnât mean to ruin the fun, but that asshole was really pissing me off,â he states. âCan we call this an eye for an eye and be done, Bangchan? Iâm not sure you want someone willing to kill one of his own in your ranks anyway.â
Bangchan looks so utterly confused at the whole display that he has to shake his head before gathering his thoughts.
âYeah,â he finally answers. âWeâre done here.â
His words give way for the Wolves to mosey out of the factory, their whispers of confusion following them out to the road. Yoongi tells the Dragons to get home, too, before making his way over to where youâre still clinging to Jungkook.
âYou want to tell me what the hell just happened?â
Jungkook squeezes your waist, nods and tells you itâs alright, before letting you go and joining Taehyung and Jimin near the exit. You watch Jimin grasp his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. Taehyung messes with his hair affectionately.Â
You ride home on Namjoonâs motorcycle while his friends lead the way. No one speaks until youâre sitting in Yoongiâs room together, passing a bottle of whiskey around. You only begin to talk after taking a slow, poignant sip of the liquor.
âYou guys already know Namjoon and I ran away from home because our parents were physically and verbally abusive. But we swore never to tell anyone about what happened the day we left. Namjoon couldnât bring himself to say it out loud even if he wanted to,â you begin before taking another burning sip of alcohol. âWe left just after midnight and snuck out of the house down the fire escape. Our neighbor, Mrs. Lee, spotted us as we were climbing down. She realized what we were doing right away, so she grabbed me so we couldnât run. I fought against her so hard, but she just wouldnât let go.â You place your hands between your knees to stop them from shaking. âNamjoon shot her so we could get away. He didnât have a choice. Our parents wouldâve killed us that very night if he hadnât.â You exhale somberly. âWe only realized as we were running down the street that her son was outside and saw the whole thing. We grew up with Heesung. He was our friend. It⊠it was never meant to happen that way.â
âOh, Y/N,â Hoseok grabs your hand and it makes you smile just a hair.Â
With Heesungâs death comes relief, and your hunger for vengeance is satiated, but the cruelty of fate still nips at your subconscious.
Heesung and Namjoon are two sides of a tragic coin. Neither one deserving of the cards they were dealt, and bound by the lingering strings of a tragedy which became their demise. The domino effect of a lifetime worth of decisions now ends with you, the last one standing.
âYou and Namjoon both endured far more than you deserve,â Yoongi says. âBut thatâs all behind you now, and that Wolf of yours seems to make you pretty happy.â
You laugh and it feels real for the first time in a while.Â
âI think we can make an exception to the rules, donât you?â Seokjin asks his new leader.
âYes, I believe so,â Yoongi agrees.Â
Yoongi tells you Jungkook can visit as long as youâre with him the entire time, and he doesnât leave your room. He allows it because youâre his best friendsâ little sister and he loves you like his own. Youâve been through so much in your life already, and he isnât going to keep a source of happiness from you. Youâre so thankful that you force him into a tight embrace, which he pretends to begrudgingly accept, when heâs actually more than happy to return the affection.Â
Jungkook comes over, with permission this time, the very next day. You lie between his legs on your bed while he shows you how to drift in Mario Kart. Youâre downright terrible at it, and he has to place his fingers over yours to prevent a loss on his account. When you inevitably do lose, and his overall ranking drops, his tongue presses to his cheek as he stares you down.Â
The next thing you know, heâs taking the Switch from you and gently setting it down on the nightstand before turning his attention back to you. He moves his hands down your body from your hips until he reaches your inner thighs and tugs your legs apart. His fingers are quick to find their way to your folds, touching you over your underwear. Your head falls to his shoulder as you moan softly.
âI should piss you off more often,â you muse.Â
His fingers are just running up and down your slit over the lace of your panties and itâs both not enough and too much simultaneously. He pushes down, causing the fabric to rub against your clit and you gasp, your hand gripping his arm to keep yourself steady.
âI wouldnât try it,â he warns. His lips are right against your ear and the deepness of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Then heâs kissing your neck and your mind becomes too hazy to reply.
Jungkook moves your underwear to the side as heâs sucking on your neck and pushes into your cunt without warning. Your other hand curls around his head and grabs onto his hair. Itâs pathetic how wet you already are, but the squelching sound your pussy makes as his fingers pump in and out is worth the embarrassment.Â
Youâre restless, needing more of him than heâs currently providing you.Â
âWanna ride you,â you tell him between your moans and sharp intakes of air. Jungkook is more than willing to oblige your request.Â
Which is how you end up on top of him, his cock meeting your cervix repeatedly as you alternate between bouncing up and down and grinding against his hips. His hands are everywhere at first, tracing your outline and massaging over any skin within his reach. But then his right arm, which is so beautifully decorated in tattoos, traverses the familiar path of your chest, stopping to pinch your nipple, before wrapping around your throat.
âOh, fuck,â you moan as your head tips back. The position gives you such a beautiful view of him and his tattoos. You remind yourself to ask him about them soon. A pretty tiger lily is staring you in the face, but then Jungkook squeezes your throat and it becomes a blur of orange and black.
âAlways so good for me,â he whispers while sitting up. His lips find yours, his arm securing you to him so you can bounce on him easier. His hand is still on your throat, softly squeezing the sides of it to pleasure you without harm. âMy pretty baby,â he says once he moves to sucking on your earlobe and down your neck, just above his own fingers. "Always take my cock so fucking well."
He makes you come twice, because he just loves you that much, before fucking his cum into you as he thrusts his swollen cock into your cunt.Â
Once your pussy is battered and filled to the brim with his cum, you fall over onto his chest. You can feel him softening inside you, but donât want to lose the feeling of him just yet.
Jungkook kisses you slowly, licking across your bottom lip and pulling at it with his teeth. You lazily make out as your hands traverse his naked chest. His fingertips create goosebumps where they skim along your spine. You could stay like this forever without a single complaint.
âI love you,â he whispers on your lips. He says it so quietly, as if heâs trying to hide the proclamation from the rest of the world and keep it just for you.
Youâre smiling when you kiss him again.
âI love you,â you parrot.Â
After he finally does pull out, you lie naked together under the covers as Jungkook plays with your hair, twirling it and attempting a makeshift braid while you draw shapes on his skin with your fingers. Itâs quiet and peaceful inside your mind for the first time in a long time. Jungkook kisses your forehead and you look over at him with a smile.Â
Jungkook licks his lips and pulls you up with him until your backs are against the headboard. He finally asks you to enlighten him about why he had a blade to his neck the night prior. You relay the story to him as you did with your brotherâs friends.Â
Jungkook looks rightfully shocked, but he processes his own emotions quickly to offer you comfort instead.
âIâm so sorry you had to go through that, pretty,â he says. âIf you ever wanna talk about it some more, you know Iâm always here, right?â
âI know,â you affirm. âIâm here for you, too.â
âGod, weâre both fucked up,â Jungkook chuckles.Â
You nod in agreement.Â
âIt doesnât have to stay that way, you know,â you propose. âWe graduate next year and with Joonie gone there isnât anything left for me here. Iâll stay until I can afford a place of my own, but then Iâm putting this life behind me.â You readjust so youâre looking at Jungkook directly. âAnd I want you to join me. Youâre so fucking smart, Jungkook, and anywhere would be lucky to have you.â
Jungkook hums, tilting his head as he thinks over your words.
âI donât know what I want right now, pretty, but I do know that I wanna be wherever you are,â he confesses. Youâre smiling at him as though he hung the stars in the sky himself. âIs that enough for now?â
Your eyes flit over all the details of him. His wavy black hair, big chocolate brown eyes, and the piercings decorating his pretty lips and eyebrow. He looks so different from the boy you met at school and yet everything is so irrevocably him. You smile, bending down so your noses touch.Â
âItâs more than enough,â you tell him.

#bts#bangtan sonyeondan#army#jeon jungkook#bts jk#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook fanfic#ot7#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook smut#kim taehyung#park jimin#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#jung hoseok#min yoongi#namjin#angst with a happy ending#jungkook fic#bts fic#bts smut
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The problem with people who vehemently hate Jinshi and Jinmao is that they desperately want the author, story, and other people to view him and the ship like they do. This is why they spread misinformation about the story, precisely because the story never treats Jinshi as a villain or a monster for any of his mistakes or blunders, even when he is shown to be in the wrong. There is a clear line the series draws regarding actions like r@pe, child abuse, pedophilia, assault, etc. (compare how the previous emperor is depicted, the question of how to lower a courtesanâs value, or Lakanâs initial appearance to how Jinshi is treated).
I always see the mentions of âMaomao is forced to oblige because of statusâ and that âshe could get her head cut off if she refuses him.â There is commentary about power imbalances throughout the story, and their relationship is no exception. However, that is not to say that these comments are accurate.
People always say that Maomao cannot refuse Jinshi, and sure, in theory that is true â someone of her status cannot refuse someone of his, or *shouldnât* be able to. As she gets to know him throughout the series, it becomes increasingly clear to her that he would not harm her, rejection or not. Take the honey scene for example: itâs very early on in their relationship, and Maomao here has reason to believe she would face punishment for refusal. Even with that in mind, she still makes it very clear that she was uncomfortable with his advancements. The author makes it easy for the audience to understand when Maomao does not approve of something (honey scene, Lakan, etc.), so we have all the reason to believe that if Maomao felt the same way about Jinshiâs other advances (frog scene, LN 5 epilogue, etc.) that the author would make it known in some way or another. Instead, there are often conflicting feelings present when it comes to his serious advancements.
Maomao fears deepening her connection with Jinshi because of all the trouble it could bring her way. She also fears abandonment and worries that, if she makes the decision to be vulnerable and honest, that she will suffer the same fate as her mother and many other women did; she feels that she cannot let herself love or be loved (both romantically and platonically). She does not truly operate as someone who fears or detests him.
This becomes especially evident when you compare Maomaoâs interactions with other people of higher status to those with Jinshi. Even with those who favor her, she maintains a polite and professional atmosphere, yet treats him with what would be taken as disrespect by anyone else in his position.
The refusal to accept that the romance subplot â something decided upon years ago that has unequivocal development on both sides of the relationship â is very much there and crucial to the story colors takes on the authorâs intent with their scenes.
Natsu Hyuuga has said that her favourite scene to write was the frog scene. If it was meant to depict assault, and not to show two individuals pushing each other's buttons, then would we say that she was happy to write about a man assaulting a woman? Nothing about her clear depictions of assault and its effects within the story vs. how Maomao and Jinshi moments are depicted suggests that they are remotely the same or should be taken as such.
While the frog scene drives the plot forward (Maomao gets full confirmation that Jinshi is not a real eunuch) it also has romantic and comedic undertones that cannot be divorced from it (regardless of how the scene made some feel on a personal level). Just because the writing for a romance does not cater to one's personal tastes does not mean that the romance in these scenes are not present.
It's also a show of vulnerability (romance aside) on Jinshiâs part in wanting to share his secret with Maomao. She expresses worry, not in fear that he would harm her, but rather because she does not want to deal with the baggage that comes with being privy to what she perceived to be a crime in that moment (uncastrated man in the rear palace).
This is not to say his behavior in the scene was okay, and the series acknowledges this by having him apologize. Maomao also apologized as she was also not entirely innocent either.
Disliking him and the scene is fine, but the story not once paints him as the evil r@pist people try to make him out to be, and they must accept that. Donât expect the story or author to validate such claims / feelings.
He is a multifaceted character, much like Maomao. You are not meant to agree with his every action, but he is painted as a genuinely good person overall. Their emphasis placed on him being too kind and caring to be emperor (a sentiment Maomao holds) suggests as much.
Also, those who say that the author actually wanted to write romance between Maomao and any other character in the story tend to use the author not initially planning a romantic subplot as justification for why the main ship of the series is bad or âforcedâ. If she wasnât planning on making Maomao fall in love with anyone, how can one say that she actually wanted to make her fall in love with xyz? It would be one thing if the logic used was consistent. I promise that it's okay to hate things because you donât vibe with it.
Genreally speaking, the lack of reading between the lines in this fandom gets rather annoying and does a disservice to both the author and her work.
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Marionette (Doflamingo X Reader)
Chapter Forty-two
Plot: When the Straw Hat crew got separated, Kuma sent her to the kingdom of Dressrosa. Unfortunately for her, she caught the eye of none other than the king himself. Donquixote Doflamingo.
It had been days since the two of them had spoken. More like it had been days since she spoke to him. (Y/N) had been giving him the silent treatment for almost a week, and it was driving him up the wall. Heâd apologized multiple times to her, yet she would only give a soft, dismissive hum in return, a grunt if he was being particularly annoying.Â
Doflamingo brought her a bundle of roses, boxes of chocolate, wine, and even weed. She took all of his gifts with an unappreciative âhmphâ and would crinkle her nose up at him before tossing her present to the side. He didnât know how to make her forgive him. He wasnât the kind of man to grovel or beg for forgiveness, and here he was playing the apologetic ex, begging for some kind of attention.Â
He wished sheâd scream in his face. To tell him how vile of a creature he was. He wanted her to put her hands on him again. To strike him across the face. He didnât care, as long as her undivided attention was on him. Doflamingo craved her defiance. Now she didnât even argue. She would just sit blankly, brushing off his advances nonchalantly, not a single insult left her lips. It ate him alive.Â
She wasnât broken. Just pissed. She wanted to hurt his feelings. To make him fall at her feet. (Y/N) wanted to see the pathetic sniveling man that she saw on his birthday. The one who was laying his head in her lap, grasping at the dress he picked out like it was his lifeline. And she wasnât backing down until she got what she wanted.Â
Over the days that she was ignoring him, she needed someone to vent to that wasnât Karma. Her only other option was Violet. She knew that she worked for him, that she was obligated to run back to her master. (Y/N) didnât care, however. As a matter of fact, she couldnât care less if Violet went and told Doflamingo what she was saying about him.Â
He could find out what a scumbag he was without having to do it herself.Â
The day after he humiliated (Y/N), she was shit talking him in the library, loudly at that, with none other than Violet who nervously chewed on her nails as her eyes flipped between (Y/N) and the door, fear pulsing through her as she anticipated Doflamingo to hear.Â
âFuck him, I hate him. I wish I could leave.â (Y/N) complained, pacing the library as she spoke animatedly. âI mean who the hell does he think he is?â She glanced over at Violet briefly, looking for her reaction, âItâs not like I wanted it, or him. And whose business is it anyways? Not the whole damn family thatâs for sure!â She huffed, slamming her body down into an armchair beside Violet.Â
âI canât believe you hit him and livedâŠâ She murmured, shaking her head, âIâve never seen him be so lenient with anyone before. Not even those he's close to.âÂ
(Y/N) scoffed, brushing off her reply. âI donât know what his issue is, he gets what he wants then immediately fucks it up. Talk about self-destructive.â She rolled her eyes, exhaling deeply.Â
âYes, destructive is one word for it.â Violet gave a small nervous smile.Â
This time Violet didnât run back to Doflamingo. She didnât need to. He didnât ask either. He knew better. He knew he had already pissed (Y/N) off enough with his manipulative actions. Instead, he followed her around. Hiding behind corners and doors to listen and watch.Â
He wanted to give her the space she desired but not fully. He couldnât let her get too far out of reach. Doflamingo knew she had nowhere else to go, but yet something deep in his heart made him fear that sheâd take off on an impulse if he pressed her too far. So instead, he watched from afar. Â
He could have easily used Pica to observe her but no, he wanted to do it himself. He felt it was more romantic that way. It showed how passionate and devoted he was to her. He stayed to listen when she talked poorly of him. Those were the times he was most interested. It was the most he heard her speak since she arrived months ago. It was exhilarating to hear her speak about something she was so passionate about, even if it was her hatred for him.Â
The fire in her eyes when she called him a âfucking lunaticâ, made his heart dance between his ribs. The way she would throw her hands up in dramatics made his stomach flutter. All the while, slurred curses flew from her lips, aimed in his direction. Part of it hurt. He couldnât ignore the sting of her words. But it was worth it just to see that much emotion pour from her soul.Â
Doflamingo knew that this dynamic wouldnât work between them. He needed to mend their relationship. He couldnât live with her silence forever. He missed her terribly. He wouldnât admit it to himself or her, but he regretted what he did at breakfast that morning. It was his pride talking. He had done it with every woman heâd been with. It was in his nature to gloat. Especially when he finally got his hands on her.Â
Doflamingo needed to come up with a plan, and quick. After about a week of being ignored, he had finally had enough. While drunk off whiskey in his office, he finally thought of something. At the sudden idea, he shot up out of his chair and stumbled his way to the library. It was late and the library was empty. (Y/N) had already gone to bed, so he didnât have to worry about her catching him. Â
He scoured through the fiction section, running his clumsy fingers across the spines of each book until he stopped at the one he was looking for. This book in particular stood out to him. It wasnât as dusty as the others, hinting that it had been read recently. He carefully pulled it from the shelf, flipping it over to look at the cover. It was that shitty romance novel that he saw her reading weeks ago.Â
Doflamingo began to flip through the pages, skimming the words with a grimace on his face. There had to be something in it that would give him a clue. What could he possibly do to fix what he had broken? As he fumbled through the pages, something caught his eye. In the story the romantic interest had written the main character a well-written love letter. It surely would make any womanâs heart swoon. That was it. Thatâs what heâd do.Â
With fervor, he practically sprinted back to his office, book in hand for reference.Â
Once inside, he clicked the lock behind him and plopped down in his chair. Once seated he pulled out his favorite quill and a beautiful red ink. He poured himself another glass of whiskey, downing half of it in one gulp before readying himself. He had a million things to say and yet had no idea how to say them. He tapped his fingers on the desk, unsure of how to start.
HIs eyes suddenly lit up as an idea crossed his mind. Immediately he began scratching the quill against the parchment. He wrote so fast that he couldâve swore the paper would ignite. Once finished, he held the page up, examining his hard work with a toothy grin on his face. This would surely make her want him again. He carefully folded up the letter and placed it in an envelope. Once inside he sealed the envelope with wax, stamping it with the Donquixote crest.
He stood from his chair, feeling rather confident in his work. The plan was to sneak into the room, careful not to wake her, slip the note under her pillow and be gone before the morning. He couldnât be there when she opened it. Itâd ruin it. And thatâs exactly what he did. Doflamingo crept into the bedroom. (Y/N) was soundly asleep, lying on her stomach, completely sprawled out, face buried in the pillows. Gently, he slipped the envelope under the silk covered pillow before removing his coat and shoes and climbing into bed beside her.
 The next morning, (Y/N) awoke to the feeling of something soft, gently rubbing against her cheek. She groaned, scrunching up her face. She assumed it was Doflamingo, but when her heavy (E/C) eyes fluttered open, Karma sat atop her chest, rubbing her furry face against her cheek, purring loudly. She sighed, scratching under Karmaâs chin before sitting up and removing the cat from her chest.Â
The morning sun glared into her eyes, blinding her momentarily as she sat up. (Y/N) quickly glanced around the room, looking for her captor but he was nowhere in sight. She let out a breath she didnât know she was holding in. It was relieving to not have to wake up next to his villainous grin on the pillow next to hers.Â
(Y/N) huffed, flopping down on her back once more. As her head hit the pillow, she heard a crinkle from underneath. She flipped over, shoving her hand under. She felt the envelope he placed there. She pulled it out, her fingers grazing the corners before tracing the crest embedded on the letter.Â
âFuckâŠâ She breathed out, rolling her eyes as ripped open the envelope.Â
She had a feeling she knew what this was. And she was right. The page was filled with his scribbled, messy words. The letter wrote:
To mi pajarito,Â
I know what I did was unforgivable. No amount of apologies can fix my betrayal. My heart aches for you. Iâm desperate. I need to hear your voice, to feel your heart beating beneath your breast.Â
I crave your warmth. Your presence. Abuse me, use me. As long as your attention is all on me, I donât care. Iâd let you rip my heart out with your bare hands if it meant youâd say, âI love youâ.Â
I yearn for your body against mine. I want to feel your breath against my neck, your teeth sinking into my flesh. Our souls are intertwined, whether you want to admit it or not. I know you feel it too. I can feel my heart break each time you turn me away. It shatters only for you. No one has ever captivated me like you.Â
Your eyes, your lips, your body. Itâs all mine, just as mine is yours. I see the way you look at me. How you canât decide whether or not you hate me or want to fuck me. Itâs destroying you. Just give in. Let me have you. All of you. Devour me. Swallow me whole. Make me beg for mercy. Bring me to my knees. Youâre already mine, just give in, let me be yours.Â
If you ever leave me, Iâll burn down the entire world to get you back.Â
Yours always, DoflamingoÂ
(Y/N) gripped the letter with both hands as Karma attempted to nuzzle the paper from her hands. His possessiveness was evident in the letter, and she felt it. She knew he meant what he said, yet he didnât say everything he meant. He was holding back.Â
âFucking coward.â She grumbled, folding the note back up and shoving it in her nightstand.Â
She wasnât ready to see him. Not yet.Â
Doflamingo sat at the head of the dining room table. The seat beside him was empty. Her seat. He didnât know what he was expecting. Itâs not like she was going to burst through the doors, begging him to take her right then and there. Instead of that, he just sulked. He hardly spoke, didnât smile, didnât jibe. Nothing. Just hums of agreement whenever he was acknowledged.Â
This behavior didnât go unnoticed by the family. Trebol and DiamantĂ© kept shooting each other with troubled looks. Whereas Violet was more concerned with (Y/N)âs absence more so than his soured mood. After some time, (Y/N) came traipsing into the dining hall. She was still in her clothes from the night prior, her bare feet slapping against the marbled floor. Quietly, she took her seat, pouring a cup of coffee without even looking in his general direction.Â
âDonât even look at him.â She thought to herself, keeping her eyes firmly glued to the table.Â
She could feel his eyes boring a hole through the side of her head, but she didnât give him the satisfaction.Â
âIâll just pretend like I didnât see it.â She thought, âIâll just let him bring it up.â
(Y/N) didnât want to eat. Her nerves were already eating her. Doflamingo on the other hand didnât touch a thing. He just stared at her, waiting for her to say something. Anything. Heâd even be pleased if she screamed in his face. Told him he was a disgusting fucking freak and that he should kill himself. As long as her attention was on him.Â
Yet she didnât say anything. And that drove him mad. Just as he was about to reach out and break the unbearable silence, she stood. Without a word she exited the room, all eyes on her form as she deserted him. He huffed to himself as the door slammed shut behind her.
âNow what?â
#doflamingo one piece#doflamingo x reader#donquixote doflamingo#one piece#doflamingo smut#doflamingo x y/n#doflamingo x you#op doflamingo#ao3fic#doffy
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not even joking I think Iâm gonna start working on my book again. The first draft has been done since april but dammit the urges to revise and finalize are hitting hard
what happens if I lose my mind and post about my book for an unknown amount of time? /hj
#author#writers on tumblr#txt post#I feel like at least a few of you would enjoy it#Itâs a superhero/villain mlm story#With a romantic not-so-off-to-the-side plot#My villain character is hot and italian does that do something#I love my characters
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It's Nice To Have A Friend



Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader
Synopsis: Remus' childhood best friend is the only person he is comfortable showing unrestrained affection towards â until he one day gets in his own head about it.
Words: 14.4k
Warnings/tags: there are some suggestive remarks, brief references to "shagging" and implied underage drinking, but i would classify it as safe for minors! fem!reader, use of y/n, childhood best friends to lovers (thus you grew up in wales and use welsh terms, but you aren't said to be welsh), you are in ravenclaw (only for one plot point, not personality), platonic physical affection, romantic physical affection, kissing, "it was revealed to me in a dream" trope, some miscommunication trope, deep yearning, remus' pov (meaning loads of self-loathing and overthinking), panic attack-ish, remus cursing like a sailor and joking about jumping, kind of shy/reserved!remus, some angst, happy ending ofc, background jilypad
Note: phew this was intense but sosososo much fun to write. it is very much a fluffy fic tho, don't be worried<3 i fucking love this story/dynamic so much
a blurb about their happily ever after

It is an ill-kept secret that Remus John Lupin struggles with romantic public displays of affection.
It was something his best friends had teased him relentlessly for since the first time he was given a Valentine Dayâs card in year two by a boy that he didnât even have a crush on mind you, and became a stuttering, spluttering mess. He could still hear James and Siriusâ barks of laughter the second that Hufflepuff was out of view and could still feel the bench shake from when Peter fell off it, clutching his stomach. Remus had been sure his cheeks would be permanently dyed red from the shame.
His one friend who did not betray him in such a manner was his oldest, namely you. Remusâ sweetheart, as Sirius called you, his childhood best friend from back home who he broke the statute of secrecy for when he was too young to realise what that meant, but who thankfully turned out to be a witch too. Something you both wept tears of joy for, as you did not have to be separated when he went off to Hogwarts.
On that horrid day, you only pinched his darkening cheeks and laughed quietly â still teasing, but in a way that felt more like admiring and less like humiliating. He faintly remembers scrunching his nose at you in response, a look you immediately mirrored before you went to hide him in the crook of your neck and gave the others a faux scolding for âembarrassing poor Rem when he is wholly capable of doing so himselfâ.Â
His makeshift pack of friends kept that routine up for the rest of his school years, consisting of James and Sirius poking constant fun, Peter enjoying it all a tad bit too much, and you âprotectingâ him while laughing all the same. His affliction only worsened throughout his time at Hogwarts, but if one of his afflictions were to be the butt of a joke, he supposed he was grateful it was this one.
In moments like these, it was a tad bit difficult to keep that sentiment up, though.
âYou should have seen the look on his face, doll!â Sirius made out through a laugh as the group made their way back from Hogsmeade.Â
He was recounting Remusâ dance on the Three Broomsticks dancefloor with one slightly-more-rowdy-than-normal Emmeline Vance who all but dragged him out there despite his quiet sputters. You had been off on some endless errands that Remus had passionately attempted to join you for before Sirius all but bolted him to the bench because âyou owe me a round, you mangy wolfâ.
âI believe I have seen it many a time, Siri,â you laughed out, yelping slightly when Remus pinched your side from where he had his arm around you. âHey!â you scolded him half-heartedly, point diminished by your grin.
âCheeky minx, donât side with the devil!â Remus conspired with you through a stage-whisper while glaring at Sirius, whose laughter only doubled in intensity.
âYou canât ask me to lie for you, del,â you replied in the same tone of voice, leaning up to kiss his cheek as if to apologise for your treachery. An apology that was wholly accepted as Remus tugged you closer into his side and allowed for the laughter around him to continue with a sigh.
Because therein lies the one exception â Remus Lupin was pathetically incapable of public displays of affection, unless they were with you.
His problem with these displayals was the insinuation behind them and the attention that was brought to him because of it. If Emmeline dances with him, leaving a scandalously little amount of room between them, he knows what she wants from him and everyone else does, too. If his current romantic partner kisses him in the hallway, it is a glimpse into something that otherwise occurs behind closed doors, a reveal of his private life that he does not enjoy. He wants that part hidden, and embarrassment flares through him like a rocket at the thought that others bear witness to it â and then the flames are stoked when they notice that he knows and has enough dignity to be embarrassed, which just fuels an eternal evil cycle.
You, however â your wonderful self he has known all his life, you who refused to ever leave his side despite his lycanthropy and subsequent grumpy, isolationist persona, you who are his absolute better half and light of his life â there was no reason that affection should be hidden. There was nothing secretive nor fragile in your relationship, it was the purest thing he had ever had the pleasure of having.
There was nothing insinuative or blasphemous about it, there was nothing to be held against him. He would hold you, hug you, even kiss your shoulder, cheek and forehead, because he and all else around knew that it meant nothing more. It was nothing out of the norm, nothing for others to point out and bring attention to. There was no glance into something hidden away, there was no line being overstepped. It was just two best friends, aware and proud of how much they meant to one another.
So Remus never had any hesitations about leaning into your touch, about seeking yours out, about lips identifying exposed skin and staying there for a moment or two. It was something he began doing before he truly knew what embarrassment entailed, it was muscle memory as much as instinct these days.
And if others did not understand it fully, that was an issue Remus for once felt no confinement to public opinion on. If people made assumptions or threw glances, it held no importance to him. Even his Marauders, Sirius especially, raised their eyebrows at your proximity when you all first met, but they understood the routine of it all quickly. That these two first years before them were a package deal in every form of the word. It was quickly accepted within your little pack, albeit fondly commented on every now and again. James had Sirius in that same unrestrained way, bodies strewn across each other at any given opportunity, so why couldnât Remus have you? Why wouldnât he?
Never mind that Sirius was officially brought into James and Lily's relationship at the end of last term.
âWell, James would hug anything that moved and seemed like it might need it.â Sirius had argued one night many years ago, not needing to add the and I need it.
âAnd isnât that lovely for Prongs,â Remus had drawled in return. âBut I need a few years to get there, and Y/N happened to be more strategic than you lot.â
âBy knowing you first?â
âPrecisely. Also, sheâs lovelier than you.âÂ
It had earned him a snort and a pillow to the face, but it was accepted without further questioning. With the exceptions only occurring in a drunken babble here and there from Sirius, alone in their dorm after a party. Remus is quite certain he couldnât string together a coherent sentence if his life depended on it in those states, and so he never took it to heart.
Remus revelled in having something of his own, someone only he understood on that level, and his heart always warmed when he thought about how lucky he was that that someone was you.
He subconsciously pulled you even closer at that thought, content and comfortable to do so whether that be around his marauders or in front of the whole Great Hall; there was nothing more to it to be embarrassed of. It was just you; just Y/N and Remus. Like always.
âYou occluding yourself away from your menace of a dorm mate?â you whispered to him then, and he angled his chin down slightly with a smile to find you looking at him curiously.
âOh, yeah,â Remus agreed with a solemn nod. âMust prepare for being locked up in a room with him all night. Itâs tedious work, you know?â
âMost certainly.â You attempted to match his faux severity, but a giggle escaped you nonetheless â a beautiful one that Remus decided to mentally save for the night, should Sirius become unbearable.
Speaking of; âI take great offence to that,â Sirius proclaimed from the few strides ahead he was, pointing his finger in Remusâ direction without turning around. âDog-like hearing, Moony, donât think you can get away with badmouthing me here!â
âDog-like he says,â Remus whispered to you, earning him an indignant âoi!â as Sirius finally turned around.
âGorgeous, would you tell your worse half to knock it off?â
âI sure will,â you declared, turning your body more towards Sirius in Remusâ grasp. âSiri, sweetheart, would you knock it off?â
Within the second, Siriusâ offended expression transformed into one of giddiness. âAwe, princess, you think of me as your other half?â
âWorse half, Pads,â James interjected, looking over his shoulder bemusedly.
âDo keep up,â Remus added with a half-hearted glare.
âIrrelevant!â Sirius threw his hands up and spun around in celebration. âI have won the title of her other half, you can get lost Moons.â
Remus used his arm around your shoulders to angle you back away from Sirius. âI think not. Iâve been keeping this friendship for so long, sheâll need a lawyer to get rid of me,â he stated matter-of-factly, looking down at you at the last bit. âCapiche?â He tilted his head at you.
You hummed through a poorly-withheld smile, as if you were considering it. âSure thing, cariad. Meet with our lawyers tomorrow after lunch?â
Remus gasped as you ripped out of his grasp and stuck your tongue out at him. Flashbacks of your younger days chasing each other down dirt roads came to his mind and widened his grin as he saw you back away from him, eyes trained on his expression.Â
âMinx,â he breathed out through a laugh just before you sat off running away from him; Remus hot on your heels, laughter escaping him freely. Sirius began running with you, though he was slowed as he twirled around and hollered, surely waking the entirety of the mountaintops surrounding the castle.
James had been minding his own business for once as he engaged in quiet conversation with Lily and Pandora, but his eyes twinkled as he eyed his three running friends, exchanging a knowing look with the redhead.
âYoung love,â Pandora sighed dreamily, though James could never be certain if she was looking at the loud, carefree forms before them or at something entirely different.
Remus saw you stopped running while still some dozens of metres away from the castle, still facing away from him, but arms opening to accommodate for the impending crash of his body against yours. It does something funny to his heart to think about, but he just lets it widen his smile as he did exactly as expected â let his arms loop around your waist and twirl you around as he caught up to you.Â
Your out-of-breath giggles permeated into his ears as his face was tucked in between your neck and shoulder as he slowed down, laughter calming in his own chest.
âCaught you,â he whispered through his own breathlessness. âHappy now?â
You turned in his grasp, squeezing at his shoulders both to show affection and seemingly to steady yourself as your chest still heaved; Remus held you tighter to help you in the latter endeavour. âShook off Sirius for a bit, so yeah, I am. As should you be.â
He dropped his head laughing at that, glancing behind him through his hair to see Sirius bent over, hands on his knees as James had already caught up to him and was patting his back in sympathy. Any other time of the month, Remus would likely have been right there with him, but this was a good week and you always seemed to be able to find some semblance of energy within him, even if he thought he had none.
âI take back my calling you minx, then.â He looked at you with a smile. âThat was strategic.â
âAre you saying minxes canât be strategic, Loopy?â You raised your eyebrows at him teasingly, pulling slightly out of his grasp to breathe better.
âIâm sayingâ donât call me Loopy.â
Your smile became almost taunting at that, and Remus knew his comment likely only worsened the likelihood of you using that nickname now. âI just remembered how I used to call you that the other day actually,â you mused, putting on an innocent smile. âI donât remember why I stopped, I just forgot about it. I think it might be time for a renaissance.âÂ
âI think Iâm too out of breath for you to say things like that. I canât chase you any further, but that deserves to be chased.â
You shoved lightly at his shoulder at that. âYouâre getting too old, youâre no fun.â
âIâm super fun. Textbook definition,â Remus harrumphed, gleaning when you rolled your eyes through a burst of laughter.
âNo one who references textbook definitions is fun, Moons!â James called from where the group was catching up to you two, finally within earshot.Â
Sirius was practically draped across Jamesâ shoulder, breath still coming heavy. He pointed yet another accusatory finger, this time at you. âYouâll be the death of me, dollface. Merlinâs tits.â
âDonât blame me for your own inadequacy, gorgeous,â you quipped back. It made Remus rather proud, especially when Sirius groaned dramatically in response.
âTime to get some beauty sleep then, yeah?â James coaxed, giving Siriusâ cheek a peck as he continued effortlessly dragging him in through the entrance of the castle.
Lily hummed in agreement, poking one of her boyfriends in the side. âYeah, Sirius seems to need it.â
âYou think Iâm so sexy, Red, donât lie to yourself,â Sirius mumbled, petulantly remaining worn out over Jamesâ shoulders.
Remus smiled at his friends, hand reaching out behind him blindly, knowing youâd find it. Surely enough, your fingers intertwined with his own and gave him a little tug to hasten his gait down the hallways.
Moving up the staircases with surprisingly little trouble, the group finally found themselves outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, ready to split up with you and Pandora heading to Ravenclaw and the rest clambering inside.Â
You made your goodbyes, quick hugs and kisses on cheeks with Lily and James and a kiss to the hand from Sirius who had decided to lay down dramatically on the floor. When you turned to Remus at last, just a tad bit away from the others, he enveloped you in a warm hug, breathing you in as he settled his chin on your shoulder.
âLet me walk you?â he asked, already knowing you would say no.
âNice try Loopy, but Iâd rather you go inside to the warmth and head to bed,â you murmured into his neck. âThank you, though.â
You always said no. He always asked, anyway. Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly protective or otherwise missed you too much, heâd go with you anyway. Today he decided to respect your wishes.
âTell me again why you had to be an independent person and get sorted into your own house?â he grumbled against you, smiling when he felt your chest rumbling beneath him. That same smile softened when your grip on him grew just the slightest bit tighter.
âSomething tells me youâll survive.âÂ
He tightened his hold on you in turn, one arm around your waist and the other stabilising your neck, before he spun your body around twice, twirling along the hallway. He relished in the laughter that escaped you and ensured to stamp a proper kiss to your hair before he released you back down to the floor.
âSleep well, dove.â
âGoodnight, cariad,â you said through a soft smile, giving him and the others a small wave before turning around to where Pandora was waiting, grabbing her hand as you two all but skipped down the hallway together.
With his eyes still glued on your disappearing form, Remus nearly yelped as Jamesâ hands came up to settle roughly on his shoulders â albeit somewhat careful of his joints â steering him through the now-opened portrait, who was rambling on with complaints about students taking up the space in front of her for too long.
âFunny that,â James started.Â
Remus gave him a puzzled look. âWhat, Prongs?â
âJust that you danced with one Ravenclaw at the Three Broomsticks for two minutes and gained the colour and conversational skills of a tomato; but when you twirl and kiss this Ravenclaw, all youâre left with is that goofy grin of yours.â Jamesâ comment seemed off-handed, said over his shoulder as they walked through the empty common room.
âFirst of all, itâs Y/N weâre talking about and not some Ravenclaw,â he started, confusion laced in his voice. In the meantime, James and Sirius kissed Lily goodbye, the latter giving her bum a light tap as she moved up the stairs to the girlsâ dorms. âSecondly, itâs Y/N. Sheâs my best friend, and one of yours, mind you. Whatâs there to go all tomato for?â
âSome would argue, there is never any reason to go all tomato,â Sirius taunted, ducking the smack Remus aimed towards him.
âYeah, yeah, I know,â James laughed, literally waving it off. âJust pointing out the parallel. Ironic, innit?â
âDonât see why it would be,â Remus grumbled petulantly in return. Sirius reached up to ruffle his hair somewhat roughly before entering their dorm, where Peter was already waiting for them, tucked into bed.
âWhatâre we laughing about tonight, fellas?â he questioned without looking up from the magazine he was reading through. Remus was fairly certain he had seen Mary reading through that very same magazine last week.
âOh just at Remusâ peculiarities with birds.â Sirius felt emboldened with his comment from where he was crouched behind his bed â ample distance to protect him from Remus, he surely gathered.
âSo, nothing new? Nice.â Peter returned his attention to the magazine it never really left.
âYeah, donât worry Pete â your friends are just as big arseholes as on any other day.â Remus bent down to pat the boy on the shoulder before moving over to his own bed, between Peter and Siriusâ.Â
âHey, I donât mean to be an arsehole,â James complained with almost a full pout across his lips within a second of Remusâ comment. âWeâre just having a bit of fun psychoanalysing you, sâall.â
âWhich, of course, is a generally accepted polite thing to do.â Remus nodded as if he was gravely understanding, only flipping James off when the other boy didnât catch his sarcasm.
âNo, Remmy, what would be rude is to point out how you are desperatelyââ Sirius began with taunting mirth plastered all over his face, but he was cut off as James all but jumped on him to cover his mouth.Â
The black haired boy looked up at his boyfriend first with some offence and then a look Remus didnât want to witness.
âHow about we leave poor Moony alone for the night, huh baby?â James questioned, moving his hand away from Siriusâ mouth as the other boy nodded almost dumbly, still staring up at him.
âWhoâs turning red now?â Remus whispered to himself as he looked through his trunk for his pyjamas. He barely had the reflexes to catch the pillow Sirius hurled at him, tossing it back with a loud laugh that was quickly reciprocated by his best mates.
As if a miracle had been awarded them by some forgiving gods, the boysâ dorm room quieted down fairly quickly after that. Sirius and James settled in Siriusâ bed for the night, barely fitting themselves onto the mattress that was almost too small for one boy, let alone two. Once in each otherâs arms, however, it was an easy thing to drift off. Peter was asleep before the other three had even brushed their teeth.
Remus was the only one tossing. Not unusual, but he couldnât really understand why that was tonight.Â
His sleep cycle often closely followed the moonâs, and he was almost two weeks away from the full moon, a perfectly decent time for falling and staying asleep. Tonight, though, his body was once more fighting him. He kept replaying the night, the conversations, the interactions, trying to pin his unrest on something. He supposed that dance with Vance had been unexpected and the adrenaline spike of all the attention following it might still linger and make sleep evade him.Â
Despite what his dismay for public romantic displays might indicate, Remus was no prude. As a matter of fact, just as Sirius had before he was locked down, Remus was no stranger to making his rounds at the occasional common room party. Rarer was it that he shagged anyone back home, as he spent most of his time with you, but it had happened here and there too. Vance and him had even spent a night together once at a quidditch afterparty, but he had no significant interest in her apart from a mutually understood night of fun. He never really did, even when his partners were great in all capacities. It just didnât seem that romance was an object for Remus â and good riddance, if the struggles of dealing with it so far was any sign.
Perhaps that was it then, dancing with Vance had rehashed something for him. Though the idea didnât settle well in his bones, Remus also knew that he would never settle if he didnât give his mind an excuse for his sudden restlessness.
After checking the time with a hefty sigh, he decided to throw in the towel and took a small sip of a sleeping draught potion he had at the ready in his bedside table at all times. If sleep would not come to him, he would hunt it down damn it. His friendsâ playful mockery and a dance he didnât even want to partake in would not cause him any more torment.
As Remus slipped into the land of dreams, he may come to regret that sentiment, if but a bit.
There are warm bodies pressed uncomfortably close to him â the warmest of which has her arms around his neck, one hand scraping through his hair. It should feel good, Remus enjoys when his hair is played with, but this feels sharp enough to draw blood. Emmelineâs laugh is all he can make out over the chatter and stomping around him, but it feels wrong, scratchy like a record player. Her fingers on him are cold, unlike anything else in the room.
It is spinning. The room, that is. Remus is unfocused, as if he had been shooting vodka and not butterbeer earlier. He canât quite make out any of his friends, or anyone really, Emmelineâs features bleeding out into the background.
For some reason his heart is pounding the way it does before his transformation. Everything feels painfully wrong and he is aware of every inch of his body where Emmeline is touching him.
She is still laughing and Remus is sure it would make his ears bleed, which only confuses him further because Emmeline is truly a nice girl. Just not one he wants to feel flush against himself at the moment.
He reaches a hand up to touch his ear â realising only now that his arms are hanging limply by his sides, the only static thing in the otherwise spinning room â and when he retracts his hand to look at it, his fingers are coated with blood.
His breathing grows ragged as he feels the blood running down the side of his neck. He has half a mind to tell Emmeline, to shout for help. He doesnât. Nothing comes out when he tries to open his mouth, all control of his body ripped from his grasp.
With no warning he realises the wetness on his neck is not blood, but someoneâs open mouth smearing kisses down it with reckless abandon. His stomach ties in knots and he wants to push Emmeline off of him, still to no avail.
Her grip on him tightens painfully, and Remus swears he feels a bone break. He would know.
The flurry behind her has just become a swirl of colours and sounds to him and Remus feels himself drowning in a moment he desperately wants away from. He shuts his eyes hard, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.
He feels a warmth in his chest, starkly different from the heat around him, that slowly, like thawing ice, begins to spread throughout him. He hums the melody you sang to him during his first ever panic attack, the sweet one that always lulls him to sleep, and the warmth spreads faster.
With his eyes still screwed shut, Remus begins to regain the feeling in his legs first, noticing them swaying back and forth to some calmer, unknown rhythm.
The feeling in his hand returns too, and itâs clasped around someone else's. Theirs is also warm, light and fits much better in his, though heâs not quite sure what heâs comparing it to.
The front of his body is warmer than the back as heâs pressed up against someone, swaying with them in a slow dance that would never have worked in the middle of Three Broomsticks. It flows with his soul.
At last, Remus can hear again, as if coming up from water. He hears that it was not him humming, but rather a soft figure tucked under his chin, humming the vibrations of the melody against the side of his neck.
When he tightens his arms instinctively, he does not need to open his eyes to know it is you.
He does anyway, looking down at you, standing in his arms, swaying together in an empty Gryffindor common room. There is a lazy smile on your lips as you look up at him, cheek against his chest, eyes twinkling like the starlight.
Remus feels right. Remus feels good. His thoughts are honey, sweet but slow, coating over any coherent reactions he might have to standing here with you like this. He escaped and he is with you and all is right once more.
Have you danced like this before? Did it feel like this then?
You seem unpuzzled, relaxed. The warmth settles in Remus for good.
âHey handsome,â you whispered, as if you were sharing a secret with him before angling your face more up towards his.
Remus is not in charge of his body when his neck dips down and lets his lips meet yours halfway, casual and expectantly, a habit as much as a wish. You taste like yourself. You smell like yourself. Remus is surrounded by you, cornered by your smile against his lips.
You pull back all too quickly, furrowing your brows at him. Dream-Remus has no hesitation of removing the hand from around your back to thumb at the furrow, brushing away any negative thoughts from you. He kisses the spot between your eyebrows.
Everything is right.
When his eyes meet yours again, the concerned look in them has not changed. You reach a tentative hand up to his cheek, thumb swiping over his cheekbone as you hold him with what he irrevocably knows to be love.Â
âItâs time to wake up, cariad,â you said with a small sad smile.
The last thing Remus remembers is the feeling of the floor disappearing beneath him.
Remus sat up with a gasp, and for a rare moment in time he was speechless.
He was not a stranger to invasive, questionable or downright spiritual dreams, a side effect of both his connection with the moon and the tons of potions he has taken over the years. Usually, he is present in his dreams and acts as his own little commentator during and after them, narrating what happens and what he thinks of it.
It was not uncommon for him to think âI think I will remember this oneâ as the final thought in a dream. Or when he wakes up in tears, his first thought was often âthat was a bit dramatic of you, calm downâ.
Now, he had nothing. Now, he was speechless.
Worse yet, usually when he wakes up with a jolt, it is in the middle of the night â but now, as his senses began to trickle back in, he could hear the commotion around him that only could mean the boys are at various stages in the process of getting ready.
Remus Lupin had just had a life-altering, earth-shattering dream, and James Fleamont Potter was repeatedly knocking his knee into his nightstand as he jumped around while tying his shoes on, instead of sitting down to do it like a normal person would.
He thought James was saying something, and maybe even to Remus specifically, but he could still hear the blood rushing through his head. Beneath that again, he could hear your humming.Â
With a groan, Remus let himself topple over from his sitting position to land face-first into his duvet.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck?
âOi!â Remus finally heard, as what felt like a rolled up pair of socks hit his head. âWhat in Godrickâs name has gotten into you, mate? You good?â It was Sirius voice calling, seemingly from across the room.
Remus just groaned in reply. His eyes were wide open as he stared directly into his sheets, feeling both freezing cold and like his brain was slowed by a fever.
âYou okay, Moons?â Peterâs voice came gentler from beside him. Remus thought his hand might be hovering near him, as if he was considering consolingly patting him but was unsure if he should.
Another groan.
âOkay, what about this: groan once if this is Moony mooning over something and twice if youâre in actual crisis,â James suggested, not unkindly.
A singular groan, though it sure did feel like two.
âGroan once if youâre a prick and twice if youâre insufferable,â Sirius felt the need to comment.
Instead of making any further sounds, Remus wrangled his arm from beneath the blanket to show Sirius how he felt about him in the moment with a gesture.
âFantastic!â James exclaimed. âYou have class in 35 minutes, Moons, and breakfast now, so best get a move on.â Remus heard the telltale sound of James leaving â as in, Jamesâ heavy footsteps moving across the floor and Sirius scrambling like a dog to follow after him. At the complete lack of sounds in the rooms after that, he assumed Peter moused after them as well.
At last Remus sat up with a sigh and stared emptily in front of him, mind moving too fast for him to catch a thought but too slow for him to properly process anything.
What does this mean?Â
Except Remus could no longer deny that he knew what it meant. That the instant your humming caressed his ears, he knew what it meant. That his subconsciousness wanted to replace a girl who saw him as a romantic prospect in a place Remus felt queasy in with you in a place he considered home. That is no coincidence.
And that when you kissed himâ
Except you did not kiss him. Remus shook his head at that, as if the thoughts could just tumble out of his ears. You did not kiss him and he did not kiss you. Because this was a dream, it was not real and Remus must just be really, really unwell.
He felt unwell, but not in the way he was trying to convince himself.
Taking one deep breath, Remus looked to the awning of their little dormitory and shot out a silent prayer for any higher power to listen.
Put me back together, I cannot fall apart like this.
Bury this back down deep, I cannot feel like this.
It was going to be a long day.
âââ ââ
âŸâ
â âââ
By the time Remus had made it to the entryway to the Great Hall, feeling frazzled and less put together than he had an excuse to, he saw his group of friends making their way out.
âRem!â It was you who caught sight of him first, and immediately beelined towards him, the others following closely behind, wearing varying degrees of concern and confusion as they looked him up and down.
Your face was by far the most concerned, as you immediately brought your left hand up to cup his cheek. âAre you alright, cariad?â
For the first time in your almost two decades of friendship, Remus was painfully aware of your physical proximity.
He always knew, of course, but it never really registered with him â it was completely natural. Right now, nothing about him felt natural. You stood flush with him and he felt you against him like a fire, skin singeing beneath his clothes. Your eyes seemed so big looking into his that he could get lost in them, his only internal monologue being a dreamy sigh and a long string of curse words at the absolute madhouse chaos that his mind was becoming. As he looked at you, it was like he could see his version of you from his dream as well, how you looked at him with so much love and admiration, how your lips inched closer to his.
âMate?â Remus realised then, that he had been staring at you for far too long, not answering your question, to the point where James had to try to catch his attention.
âIâ uh,â Remus sputtered, eyes flickering wildly all over your face, panic rising in his chest as he realised he could not think clearly with you so close.
He took a step back without thinking, just barely out of your grasp but still close, and shook his head. âSorry, yeah, no, yes, I just feel a bit⊠off today.â
The furrow between your brows deepend, and once more his mind flashed back to his dream. His hand twitched. It seemed like you werenât even aware of it when you took a step closer, to be back by his side, reaching your wrist up to place it on his forehead to feel his temperature. âYouâre feeling poorly?â you whispered so quietly and so lovingly Remus thought he might faint.
Was it always like this? It was always like this. Why was he freaking out about it then? He was freaking out. What the fuck was wrong with him?
With horror, Remus realised that a slight blush was creeping up his neck, and he fought hell to keep it down as he cleared his throat. âJust a little, uh, dove, itâs nothing to worry about.â
âDo you want to go lay down?â You began what he knew would be a string of suggestions for things to do to make him feel better, and he could not stand watching you be so concerned when he was lying to you.
Almost like a flinch, he pulled back out of your arms â properly this time, taking several strides backwards away from the group. It barely registered with him that James and Sirius were looking at him with some confused amusement while Lily looked sympathetic.
âI, erm, will be fine, yeah? Nothing to worry about.â Without properly looking, he reached an arm out to grab Peter by the shoulder and all but manhandled him to his side. âPeter and I have Herbology now, but uh, Iâll catch you later?â
Remus hated how everything he said sounded like a question, like he was running a lie by you for you to confirm if it was believable. Remus hated that he couldnât tear his gaze away from your face for more than a few seconds and most of all he hated that he was spiraling under the weight of your gaze in turn. A horrible combination.
âTake care, Rem,â you whispered as he all but ran away from you, hauling Peter along.
You stood looking after him for a moment, only turning your head when you felt Lilyâs reassuring hand on your shoulder to find a small smile on her face.
âWhat in the buggering hell was that?â Sirius questioned, looking mostly at you for an answer.
âI donât know,â you said, honestly. Had you known, you might still not have told him, though, if you thought Remus wouldnât want you to. âI usually always know about his moods before they come, but this has me stumped,â you murmured, mostly to yourself.
âHe woke up weirdly,â James mused, rubbing his hand across his chin. âI guess weâll just see where the day goes, yeah?â
The four of you nodded at each other, but you still gnawed on your lip in concern, glancing over your shoulder to where he disappeared.Â
Whatever it was, you hoped he would come talk with you about it when he was ready.
âââ ââ
âŸâ
â âââ
Remus only had one hour to compose himself during Herbology before he had Charms with you. Sharing most of his classes with you was something he had always considered a blessing, and while that sentiment would likely never fade, it was also causing him some distress as he almost toppled the work desk with his jittering.
Peter didnât question him, but Remusâ obvious nerves were apparently contagious for the anxious boy who jittered right along with him, casting him the occasional glance.
Letting his elbows fall heavily on the desk, Remus put his head in his hands and ignored the instructions Professor Sprout was walking them through â he would let Peter pick up the slack for once and then subsequently accept the lower marks. Right now, Remus had to think and get his shit together.
He breathed his way through some panic exercises and pictured you in his mind. It almost brought a smile to his lips in an instant and for the first time, he let the realisation of how irrevocably wrecked for you he was.
Has it always been like this? Why have I never put this into words before? How can I revert back?
In that moment, Remus decided two things. Firstly, there was no possibility of you returning his feelings nor would he ever expect you to. It was true that you accepted and loved him in a way he never could quite believe himself deserving of, but that in itself is testament that it couldnât be any more. What you gave him was already too much, it would be unthinkable for you to harbour even deeper feelings for him.
Second, and most importantly, he could not lose you. Remus has made many mistakes in his time, but he could not live with himself if he lost you. It would be too much. Because regardless of the fact that he now knew he wasâ that he now knew what he knew, the friendship between you was the most important thing. It was Remus and Y/N, right?
He could not be weird and sputtering, he could not make you uncomfortable. Meaning, he could not withdraw from you despite his instinct to run and hide. Shame burned within him at the thought that even if he could withdraw he didnât know if he could fight his want not to. You were muscle memory.
Remus opened his eyes and slowly dragged his palms down his face in resolution. He would have to act as if nothing was wrong, and he would have to lie through his bloody teeth to explain away whatever bodily reactions he has.
If he starts stammering, he will have to shut up and lie that he is tired. If he becomes an embarrassing shade of auburn, he will have to cough and lie that he might be coming down with a fever. If he shakes, it is because of lack of sleep. If he, Merlin forbids, cries, he will have to claim he must be coming down with some odd moonsickness. You will surely follow him to Madam Pomfrey and maybe it will be easier when youâre alone.
Or maybe it will be worse.
No matter which it was, Remus would have to soldier it, for your sake. You did not deserve his imposing infatuation, but you also did not deserve to lose what you thought to be a loyal friend.
When him and Peter packed up the barely-used desk and mumbled a goodbye to a disapproving Sprout in the door, Remus made it his mission to focus on his breathing again as he almost ran down the hallways to where your friend group always met up outside the Charms classroom.
Be normal, be normal, be normal.
Your eyes found him the second he rounded the final corner, almost as if you had been watching it, waiting for him. A beautiful smile lit up on your face as soon as you saw him, albeit a bit dampened by the worry in your eyes â he simultaneously wanted desperately to soothe you while also berating himself for it being there. His fault.
âHey dovey.â He forced his words to be casual, his smile to be measured as he strode up beside you.Â
This is where he is supposed to drag you into a sideways hug, squeezing your hips while dropping a kiss on the top of your head, causing Sirius to make some quip about âyou were literally just gone an hour. He stood beside you perhaps a beat too long before he began to do so with shaking hands, and he felt your burning look as you studied him. Remus made it all the way up to where he would kiss your head before he chickened out due to the tornado screaming in his stomach.
âHi, Rem,â you all but whispered, your words just for him. You opened your mouth to say more, but he was afraid of what it would be.
âWaited long?â he asked to distract you from it.
âNah,â you said and leaned further into his side. âBut Iâm glad youâre here now. Howâre you feeling?â
At that, he saw Peter, Sirius, James and Lily â who had been stuck in their own little world â look up and try to hear what he has to say. Remus crumbled under their watchful gazes, knowing they knew him well enough to pick apart his every little reaction. He cleared his throat.
âI donât really know,â he settled for. âMy headâs murky, didnât sleep well.â
You made a soft cooing sound and started rubbing circles on the side of his hip from where your arms were circled around him. It knocked a wave of dizziness into him that made him want to take a step back to lean against the cold stone wall behind you. In replacement he settled for holding onto you tighter; it only made it worse.
âAre you sure you donât want to go lay down? Merlin knows we wonât be missing out on anything with the way Flitwick rambles away any sense he might have.â
This is where Remus would laugh heartily at your obvious disdain for the professor that he never truly understood. Instead, his mind zeroed in on one word you said.
We. We, we, we, we.
Circeâs tits, did he want to take you up on that.
He swallowed, acutely aware that you must have heard the sound when stood so close to him, though you didnât give away any reaction. To buy himself a moment to collect his thoughts, Remus finally dared tilt his chin downwards to kiss the top of your head. It might have been too slow, too tentative, but his heart was beating so fast the rest of his body felt too slowed down in comparison. He hoped you thought the kiss was a thank you for caring and not the nervous stall it was. He hoped he wouldnât be eternally damned for breathing in the scent of you.
âIâm quite alright, dove,â he murmured instead, furiously avoiding the surely questioning gazes of his other friends. âThank you, though.â
You grumbled some but didnât push him on it. He silently thanked you for that, too.
His throat was too parched to partake in the silent banter amongst his friends as you walked into Charms, too focused on where your bodies brushed as you walked, too deafened by the sound of your laughter.
You sat down in your regular spots, you and Remus side by side in the front, with Sirius and James behind you and Lily and Mary to your right. This was normal, this was alright. Flitwick droned on about the theoretics and debates around the charms you learned last lesson, it went in one ear and out the other.
Absentmindedly, you had grabbed Remusâ hand lightly between yours and were tracing soothing circles along his wrist and palm. You meant so well, and this would have cured likely any other ailment Remus struggled with, but right now there were fireworks going off in his head.
Taking advantage of the notice Dumbledore had given all of his professors to not call Remus out on sleeping in class, he folded his arms and laid his head down on them, carefully not to take his hand away from you. If he could shield his face, he could probably talk himself down before class ended.
In the solitude of his arms, he could picture it was just the two of you, sitting in the treehouse you built between your houses as children. If he focused enough, he could smell the apples that grew around him and feel the rough wood beneath his stomach. There, your hand would still be in his, maybe even your cheek on his chest, and it would be alright. It would all be alright because it was just you, and Remus could play dumb and he would never have to realise his feelings and fuck himself over.
It almost worked. Until he was interrupted.
âPsst! L/N?â The whisper was laced with a laughter Remus knew too well and did not care for.
You clearly ignored it â Remus could practically see the eye roll you surely threw his way â but that wasnât enough to stop his theatrics.
âL/N!â Barty called once more from a couple seats behind you to your right, voice threatening to alert Flitwick to your inattention. âWhatâs wrong with your dog?â
âWhat?â you whispered back in equal parts confusion and irritation.
âYour puppy, Lupin,â Barty said, as if it was obvious. Unfortunately, Remus could picture his eye roll too, though his stomach was turning for a wholly different reason. âWhatâs wrong with it?â
âRemus is quite alright, Junior,â you hissed back, hand tightening on Remusâ at the same time as he loosened it. âAnd donât call him a dog.â
Remus slowly lifted his head from his arms and took back his hands to wipe harshly at his face, still not looking towards Junior who barked a low laugh.
âFollows you around like one. Wouldnât surprise me if you had some invisible leash going onââ Barty quipped, cutting himself off before you could respond and turning to Evan Rosier sitting beside him. âOooooh, an invisible leash is a marvellous idea, Rosie.â
It was clear you had lost his attention, but Remusâ face still burned painfully as he shifted in his seat. With a harrumphing sound, you turned to look at him. He didnât meet your eye, couldnât.
âIgnore him.â Remus always marvelled at how you manage to convey your frustration and care at the same time.
He just hummed in the affirmative, still wiping a bit harshly at his face. If he treated it harshly enough, could he blame his violent flush on it?
âCariad,â you mumbled, gently taking his hands away from his face, clearly spotting his efforts.
He saw your furrowed eyebrows looking at him, and that was the end of what he could take for the lesson. As you opened your mouth, surely to inquire about how he is, like the beautifully kind person he knows you to be, he pushed his chair backwards.
âI think I should probably listen to you and go lay down, dove,â he murmured, avoiding your gaze. Before you could shoot in and say you would come with him, he continued. âCan you please take notes for me in Transfiguration after this?âÂ
An indirect rejection, a plea for isolation. He didnât look at your face as he gathered his things, waiting for you to respond instead.
âSure, if thatâs what you want,â you said carefully.
What I want is you.
âYes, please.â Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and pressed a parting goodbye kiss to your cheek, tradition. âThank you, love.â
Then he was sneaking his way out around the desks, barely catching a murmured voice he knew to be Siriusâ, likely leaning forward to ask you about him. His lips singed.
âââ ââ
âŸâ
â âââ
Remus hid away in his room for two hours, actually being truthful and trying to get a nap in. The dorm room felt serendipitous, being swept up in rare silence and a grace of darkness as he trickled in and out of consciousness. If he dreamed more of you, he would not admit it.
Any semblance of reprieve he might have chased down was ripped away from him by the creaking of the door and the wall of sound that followed his three favourite boys who always got on his last three nerves.
âOi, Moons!â Sirius exclaimed, far too cheerily. âYou know the rules!â
Remus propped his head up on his elbow from where he was sprawled on his stomach, looking blearily at the three figures as they situated themselves within the dorm. âThe rule to not wake a sleeping sod? Yes, Iâm the only one who knows that rule it seems.â
Sirius took off his sweater as he discarded his uniform and used it to swat at Remus. âNope! No wallowing on your own. Sharing is caring.â
ââM not wallowing,â Remus grumbled as he let his head fall back into his pillow.
Letting his guard down was undoubtedly a mistake because the second Sirius was out of sight, he had the audacity to jump into Remusâ bed, nearly flinging him off from the impact. Both Sirius and James were laughing boisterously as Sirius collapsed on top of Remus and ruffled his hair when he tried to shove him off. âNot anymore, no, we wonât let you.âÂ
Remus hated that he loved them.
âPrecisely,â James added as he pointed at Remus from where he was changing into his non-uniform clothes as well. âSo either speak your mind or perk up, buttercup.â
Remus groaned but let Sirius drag him up into a sitting position. âCan a poor lycanthrope not have one off day without you lot getting your knickers in a twist?â Despite his best efforts, there was no ire in his voice.
âNope!â James said, popping the p. âNot on our watch.â
âLife is simply miserable without our Moony,â Sirius said, clutching his chest as if he was ailing. âAnd do you have any idea how weird it is to see your sweetheart without you by her side? Itâs like watching a cut up picture.â
All humour that had been creeping into Remusâ expression was washed away in and instant as he swallowed harshly, suddenly averting his gaze from Sirius. Instead, James caught it, who looked at him with big eyes behind his glasses, cocking his head to the side. He looked far too much like the stag he is, before his mouth opened in a small gasp. âOh,â he whispered softly.
Remusâ heart was beating painfully hard at the look of realisation that crossed his face, turning back to Sirius who had a similar knowing, almost pitying look in his eyes. No, no, no, no.
âIâll be fine, you, erm, wonât have to live without me much longer,â Remus tried to volley back, just a few seconds too late, tongue feeling heavy at being found out.
If his best mates could see through him that quickly, then you probably already had. He had half a mind to take you up to the Astronomy Tower like old times, so he could apologise and then jump off as an act of redemption.
Sirius gave his shoulder a rough squeeze, shaking him a little as if he knew what was going through his mind. âFantastic. Then youâll join us for our free periods, yeah? And the party later tonight?â
Still somewhat sputtering, Remusâ eyes widened to an extent he was sure was comedic. âThe paâ the party?â
James smiled at him. âYeah, Moons. Gryffindor half-term party? That we have talked about all week?â
âMerlin, maybe Pomfrey needs to go easy on the potions she gives you,â Sirius teased, getting up to finish changing.
âOr she could give me more,â Remus whispered hopefully, earning him a round of chuckles.Â
âYouâll be fine, Rem,â James said, with an undertone Remus did not care for. âIf youâre still feeling⊠off throughout the day and night, you can always snuggle up with a book and ignore us hooligans.â Then, almost as if he was testing the waters. âIâm sure Y/N would love to join you.â
Remus didnât deign any of that with a response, but he suddenly thought he should get out of his bed so his face didnât seem so red in contrast with the white sheets.
âI have some essays to knock out, so yeah, Iâll join you to study,â Remus relented. He opened his own trunk to get changed, but decided to half-ass it and just take off his tie and replace his uniform wool with one of his own patterned jumpers.
âAnd for the party later!â Sirius corrected, ensuring Remus didnât think he could back out.
âSure, sure.â He ruffled his own hair so it was Remus-messy and not Sirius-messed-up-my-hair-messy. âLetâs just go.â
âââ ââ
âŸâ
â âââ
Considering the extent to which he could fuck this up for himself, Remus reckoned he had been doing fairly good keeping his shit together throughout the day.
If he mentally cursed more than normal, contemplated the murder of each one of his friends including himself and generally couldnât breathe, well, that was merely part of it.
The whole lot had shacked up in the library for the triple free periods you had back to back on Fridays. While you doted concernedly over him for the first thirty minutes, you eased up once you seemed to decide that this wasnât Remus shoving down some lycanthropy-struggles and avoiding support and help.Â
As always, the two of you sat in the love seat, your legs sprawled over his lap as you read through your textbooks in the oddest positions. This was usually something he might chide you for â âyour neck will hurt if you hang over the edge like that, loveâ â but today he buried his face into his textbooks with all his might to not seem like he was aware of your body. He was, of course, you burned over his skin and lit up his heart, and Circeâs tits was he the stupidest sod in the whole castle.
Nonetheless, he made it through all three hours, engaging in comforting banter and low laughs with his best mates. When you teamed up with him to mess with Sirius, he at least knew that you werenât upset with him in any way, even though he was being a lunatic today, even though he most definitely would have deserved it.
What Remus knew would be his breaking point was the Gryffindor party.
It was a laid back event, a party thrown for all of Gryffindor, though it was mostly the upper years who were encouraged to attend. They arranged it halfway through every term to celebrate making it through and engaging with each other. Meaning, most people didnât get shitfaced but there was some good bubbling energy maintained throughout the whole night.
You and Remus had a tradition for how you dealt with parties â just as you had a tradition for pretty much everything, he had come to notice. Gods, he lovâ Stop it.
Neither one of you were necessarily fond of large crowds, but you both were incredibly loyal and fond of your friends and wanted to spend time with them. Thus, you attended the parties, but you always did so together. The more uncomfortable you got, the closer you would get to each other, and if one ever needed a break, they would tap the other three times and they would make up an excuse to usher them out of there.
It had never felt so unnerving to be so known.
Throughout the whole party he had been jittery, head rushing with thoughts. He desperately tried not to take in your outfit and then he desperately tried not to read into it when you seemed disappointed he didnât compliment you for it like he usually did. Why did he have to be such a sweet best friend normally? Remus canât keep up with himself.
It did not help him in the slightest that others around the party seemed to focus on your outfit much more openly than he could dare. It made him gravitate even closer to you, tighten his hand on his hip, momentarily rest his chin on the top of your head â and then his actions made him want to kick himself. Possessiveness was the last thing he could be engaging with when he was already betraying you in such a manner.Â
Leave it to Remus to fuck up something beautiful.
To say you didnât seem to notice that he was troubled would be taking it too far, but at least you didnât seem to notice why. You kept him close to your side and would at random points stroke his back soothingly. He wondered if you just thought he was uncomfortable with the party.
You were chatting with Pandora by the drinks table when Barty and Evan strolled up to you both with cheshire cat grins.
âThere he is, back on his leash,â Junior said through a menacing laugh, ignoring Evanâs slight elbow to his side. âFeeling better, darling?â
âWhat brings you to the lions' den, Junior?â Remus asked carefully to divert the topic.
âWell. Y/Nâs going so Pandoraâs going so Evanâs going, and thusââ he did a small flourishing spin ââ Iâm going.â
âYouâre impossible,â Evan murmured, while Pandora just smiled happily.Â
âIs he feeling better, then?â Barty asked once more, this time looking at you.
âNo, actually,â you said with a small smile Remus knew not to be genuine. âHe is absolutely devastated youâre not in the Slytherin common room right now. He had big plans for you there, you know.â
Remus tried to choke down his laugh as Barty looked torn between glee and irritation. Somehow he made both work. âSorry to soil your plans then, Lupin. Better luck next time.â
Then he stalked off in almost a hurry and Remus couldnât help but hope he was going to Slytherin to check if you were telling the truth.Â
He looked down at where you were standing beside him and squeezed your shoulder lightly. âYou really are a minx,â he whispered conspiratorially.
That turned out to be his undoing. You turned your head to the side to look up at him with mirth playing around in your enamouring eyes, a soft tilt to the corner of your mouth. And your face was oh so painfully close to his.
Remus became acutely aware that he could easily lean in and catch your smile with his. That the air he was breathing had been close to you in some of the only ways he had not yet. That he must look like your boyfriend when youâre standing essentially pressed up against each other like this.
That he most certainly has been looking at your lips for far too long.
When he flicks his gaze back up, he sees a slight furrow between your brows again as you seem to take in his reaction, and suddenly he goes from having butterflies in his stomach to needing to throw them all up. He took a sudden staggering step backwards, almost crashing into James who was engaging in some animated discussion with Marlene.
âI, uh,â Remus said and dear Godrick he was stammering. âIâll get us some drinks and we can sit down, yeah?â He didnât wait for you to respond, instead spinning his back to you and hoping you pick up conversation with Pandora again.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Donât be a bloody arse.
He hoped he had steadied himself enough by the time he plopped down in his favourite grandfather chair near the fire. He placed both of your drinks on the table in front of him, vowing to touch his as minimally as possible to make sure he keeps whatever wits he has left with him.
A dumb smile takes over his face as his breathing quickens when he sees you make your way over to the seating area, after having listened to his desperate silent plea and finished your conversation with Pandora. Pushing his luck, he shoots another silent prayer that it will be smooth sailing from here, which is apparently promptly ignored as you happily sit down in his lap.
Fuck.
This, he reminds himself, is also normal for the two of you. Especially at parties, especially if you have reason to believe he is unsteady in any sense of the word, which he most certainly has given you plenty of reason to believe.Â
You give him some form of greeting he canât quite catch and isnât sure if he reciprocated as you settle down, putting majority of your weight on his right thigh as you lean your body sideways against his. One of your arms snuck around his shoulders, fingers winding up playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, while the other is stabilising yourself on his knee. Majority of your close friends had followed your lead by sitting down in the small gathering, chattering amongst themselves. He was half-aware that you were rambling on about something to him, something he probably really wanted to listen to, but it felt like his head was underwater.
Unsure of what else to do, he lowered his face into your shoulder and took deep breaths there.
You seemed wholly unbothered, fingers continuing in his hair as your soothing voice carried him through what he feared might become a panic attack. He was almost there, when the cocoon you two had in your chair was burst by the presence of your other friends.
âYou alright there, Moons? Youâre not going to go all vampire on poor Y/N?â Siriusâ tone was lighthearted and teasing, but Remus felt as if he might actually die.
âOh, heâs quite alright,â you answered for him with a smile before he could embarrass himself, immediately switching over to engage in conversation with the friends sitting closest to you. Your hand on his knee squeezed reassuringly.
Fuck, how could he not love you?
He loved you.
Remus almost had to fight crying as he hid in the crook of your neck, overwhelmed by his own emotions and the surely watchful gazes of those around him â the latter of which was why he couldnât.Â
With a deep breath he let his desire win for just one second and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before emerging from his hiding place. He shifted you carefully to be more comfortable, so that your back was against him and he could rest his head on the shoulder he just kissed.
He did fairly good, partaking in conversation, engaging with the others, albeit more quietly and less than usual. He laughed and he smiled and you were so soft against him, as if you had melted. Remus was in heaven while being tortured.
Marlene wolf whistled quietly from where she was sat on the floor, eyeing Remus with mirth. Though he still did not know why, he was already turning red, the tips of his ears burning.
âHi, Remmy.â He heard the soft voice say beside him and he turned his head to see Emmeline giving him a somewhat sly smile. âThe dance floorâs picking up. Want to go for another round?â
Remusâ stomach churned. Emmeline was such a sweet girl and he never could say no to her, the only thing that felt worse than the embarrassment from his friendsâ teasing was the thought of embarrassing her â though Remus was sure even thinking like that made him into an even bigger arse.
Sirius and James had told him multiple times that he could say no. As had you, reminding him how important it was to have boundaries, even while you were sitting practically on top of him at the time. He just could never bring himself to.
Yet his mouth seemed to move on its own accord before he could think, arms tightening around you. âNo, not tonight Emmeline, sorry. Knock yourself out, though.â He tried to give her a warm smile, but his movements seemed to be outside of his control at the moment, breath sucked from his lungs.
He realised with a sting that he should have given her more credit all along when she beamed back at him. âNo worries, enjoy your night!â she cheered before twirling towards the dance floor herself.
Remus let out a shaky breath and turned to his friends who were almost staring him down. Jamesâ mouth was even open in shock, which he thought was a bit dramatic.
âHold on, what just happened?â Sirius guffawed. âHas our little Moony learned to say no?â
Remus flushed even further. âShut up, Pads.â
âDonât think I will,â his mate replied with a wolfish grin turning to look to the others for support. âNever thought Iâd see the day.â
âWhatâs inspired this change in you?â Mary asked thoughtfully, propping her head into her hands as if she was settling in for a lengthy response.
All eyes were back on Remus and he felt like the mask he had been clinging to all day was crumbling. The nerves that shot through him like lightning now was not his usual humiliation from being in a charged spotlight â no, this was fear. Genuine fear that if he didnât get his head screwed back on within two seconds, he might say something too revealing, or his face would do it without him having to open his mouth. That his fiery ears would somehow spell out I am in love with my very best friend and I realised it too late and am making it everybody elseâs problem. He had no idea what to do.
In his time of despair, with Maryâs big eyes staring up at him, Marlene and Lily already snickering between them and Sirius raising an expecting brow, his instincts knew of only one way out.
His finger on your hip lifted. Tap, tap, tap.
Almost as if a switch had gone off, you made a soft gasp and turned to look at him in his lap. âGods, Rem, speaking of Emmeline, I totally forgot our gift for Sirius in my dorm in Ravenclaw!â you exclaimed, putting your all into the act. Your excuse seemed to be a good one as Siriusâ head immediately picked up, not unlike that of a dogâs if you said the word âtreatâ around them. âWe have to go get it before the partyâs over.â
You elegantly hopped up and out of his lap, dragging him behind him with a grip on his elbow. Remus stumbled and scrambled behind you, tossing a sorry donât know what thatâs about look to the others over his shoulder. He barely caught sight of what he could only classify as a knowing exchange of smiles between James and Lily.
Before he could truly process your rescue mission, he was standing outside in the cool hallway breathing heavily, portrait closed behind him.Â
Before him, you stood with your hands on your hips, scanning his face thoroughly, making him almost cower beneath your gaze. You seemed to make up your mind about something as you took his hand once more and walked with him down the hall in silence, rounding the corners until you reached one of the deep windowsills, the kind the two of you would always sit in and read.Â
You jumped to lift yourself into it and once you were sat with one hand on each side of your body, you levelled him with a look.
âOkay, spill,â you said, directly but not unkindly. âWhat is going on with you?â
Remus did not think this through. He needed help and so he called upon you for it like he always does, not thinking to consider that that might very well make this worse for him.
âItâsâŠâ he began, picking at straws in his mind for an excuse. âItâs nothing, dove. Really.âÂ
âWhenâs my birthday?â you asked then, to his surprise. He furrowed his brows at you and told you the date. You smiled a bit smugly. âExactly. So you know I wasnât born yesterday.â
He genuinely laughed at that, even if it was at his expense. He let his body do as it wished and took a small step closer to you. Not enough for your bodies to touch, but enough to feel like he was in your space. Safe, even in his panic.
âRemus,â you said softly, painfully gently. You rarely used his full first name, and now when you did, it was laced with an undertone he couldnât stomach. It was beginning to sound a bit like hurt. âWhat is going on with you? Why⊠why are you acting this way towards me?â
Because you are the one thing I have never had to question and now Iâm questioning everything. Because Iâm a bloody prick who has one dream and ruins his life over it. Because my mind is running a mile a minute and your lips feel like magnets and I swear I am losing control in a way I only do during full moons.
âI donât know what to do,â he ended up whimpering quietly, cowardly.
You looked around the hallway as if the answer would be written on any of the walls and moved your arms slightly to gesture around you. âAbout what? I canât help you unless I know what it is, cariad.â
He scrunched his face for a moment, looking away from you. âCan we not do this? Itâs nothing you can fix, dove.â
You seemed to grow even more confused at that, almost frustrated. âWhy not?â He realised then that the two of you had always helped each other through everything. Being locked out must hurt. He wanted to kick himself, but he didn't know what else to do. âWhatâs wrong, Remus? Please, I justââ
Remus is besieged by the power of someone much more reckless, driven by desire to alleviate you of your confusion and him of his pain.
He cut you off with a kiss.
He took a large stride forward to slot himself in between your thighs, eliminating the space between you within a second, bringing both hands up to cup the sides of your face and pull it towards him. His eyes were shut tightly, furrow in his brows as his lips all but smashed against yours in a kiss that felt sacrificially sacred. Your lips are just as soft as in his dream, as is the small gasp that escapes you as you tense in his grasp.
Remus has never felt better and he has never felt worse.
The kiss lasts for about 10 seconds before he pulls away in even more of a flurry. His hands lost their grip on you first, hovering over your cheeks briefly, as if considering going back in before thinking better of it. He still had you captured in the kiss, hanging on to it for as long as he could deign himself, knowing it was his last opportunity to do so, all the while kicking himself over it.
Backing away, he put double the distance between you. He felt drunk, stumbling slightly as he all but scrambled away, a stinging sensation behind his eyes.
âIâm so sorry, I don't know why I did that. I didnât mean to,â he breathed out, reeling at his own impulsivity. âThat,â he said through a shaking voice as he looked anywhere but your face, âis my problem, and Y/N, I am so, so sorry. Iâm so sorry.â
For the shortest second, he lets his eyes flicker quickly over your face before rushing back to stare at a statue on the wall beside you. Your face was blank, eyes wide. Your fingers were barely touching the lips he had just enclosed in his own.
You must be disgusted. You must be horrified. You must feel violated and Remus wanted nothing more than to disappear from the face of the earth and rid you of this undying problem.
He was every bit the beast you had tried to convince him he wasnât.
âWhyâŠâ you began, voice but a whisper, before you trailed off.
Remus had to shut his eyes at that, tilting his head slightly to the side. If he breathed through his nose, he might not cry. He was sitting before the highest court he knew, and you were about to ask him to explain himself.
âWhy are you sorry?â
The words floored him a little, enough to make his eyes snap open and land back on your face. You looked deeply concerned, brows tilted upwards as you seemed to take his face in. âRemus,â you whispered now that you finally had his eyes on you. âWhy are you sorry?â
He shook his head in confusion, feeling every bit like the boy he was. âI shouldnât have done that.â It was all he could get out through his hoarse voice. He also had no idea how to answer that question in a satisfactory way.
You took in a short sharp breath and then lowered yourself onto the ground to stand before him. With your hands held out in front of you, almost as if you were ready to lunge out and catch him if he was to run â an idea that was becoming increasingly enticing to him â you took a small step towards him. âWhy?â There was a growing spark in your eye, dimmed only by your worried frown.
âY/N.â He didnât know what else to say, eyes trained on you.
âCariad,â you replied in the same tone, and a tear slipped down his left cheek. You took another measured step towards him, enough to reach out for him if you wanted to â but of course, you wouldnât want to, not anymore. âItâs alright.â
He felt dizzy at the lack of the scolding or disgust he had braced himself for, realising how stupid he was for even fearing that from you. No, you would reject him sweetly and kindly, and his heart would never be mended from it. That felt worse, somehow.
âItâs not,â he whispered. âPlease donât say it is.â
You smiled ruefully and took another small step towards him. He could feel the warmth eminating from you. Tentatively, you reached up a hand to wipe at the tear still sitting on his left cheek. He held his breath and fought the urge to lean into your touch, but when you pressed your palm more firmly against his cheek, he couldnât anymore. A soft sigh escaped him and he let his eyes fall shut as your touch supported him. âIt is, my sweet boy,â you whispered with an urgency that almost convinced him. âRemus, can you answer me honestly?â
His body tensed once more as his eyes fluttered open to find yours, reverent. Most parts of him were still screaming at him to run away, to shut up, to do anything but this. His heart seemed to be in charge for the moment, though, and he nodded slowly. Trusting you with his world even as he felt like a traitor in yours.
âAll this, today⊠has it been because you have realised youâre⊠in love with me?â You seemed to be piecing it together as you said the words out loud, eyes carefully searching his face for his reaction.
Another tear slipped down his cheek, and you quickly caught it with your other thumb, both hands now cradling his face. âIâm so sorry,â he said once more.
âYouâre not allowed to be,â you whispered, giving him a half-smile, almost as if you were indulging him in a secret of yours. âPlease answer the question?â
It was now or never. âYes.â
To his utter surprise and deep-seated confusion, the smile on your face grew genuine, settling into the one he always searched for. He almost opened his mouth to question it before he was cut off.
No words can describe the sensations that bloomed in his chest, the butterflies that flitted in his stomach, when you used your hands on his face as leverage to pull him towards you for another kiss.
You kissed him. You kissed him. You were kissing.
His mind was threatening to take off like a rocket and captiulate, but his hands had never been more steady as they circled around your waist, splaying out over the small of your back as he dragged you closer. You sighed against him, smile still evident over your lips, and Remus dared â like the bastard he was â to mirror it.Â
You were warm against him, but wholly different than you had been in his dream. This felt distinctly real. And just as right.
When you pulled away, your hands had migrated to the back of his neck and you kept your forehead leaned against his. âGood,â you murmured with your eyes still closed. âBecause the feeling is mutual.â
He almost reared his head away from you, but managed to only pull back a few centimetres to stare at you in awe. Remus opened his mouth, but no words came out; he could find none intelligent enough to verbalise how utterly gobsmacked he felt.
You seemed to understand him just as well, going by your breathy laugh. There was still that spark in your eye, now shining brightly in the absence of your worry. Had the worry been for him?
âI know I donât say this enough, but you really are quite an idiot, arenât you?â you laughed and he slowly felt his heart start beating again.
âSpent too much time with Sirius and James, clearly,â he muttered, half expecting the joke to land flat and you to remember how disgusting he was. Instead, your laugh intensified and you leaned your body further against his. It emboldened him to ask, âWhat do you mean the feeling is mutual, dove?â
You let your arms glide further up, crossing behind his neck and over his shoulder, bringing him impossibly closer. âRemus John Lupin,â you whispered sincerely. âI am madly in love with you. Romantically. Genuinely. Any thoughts you have that explain that away are false and you mustn't listen to them. I thought you knew by now that Iâm always right.â
Even as the grin involuntarily established itself on his face, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. He looked at your face, truly studied it, and he could feel his mind ever so slowly calm down. âYou are.â
âWhat am I?â You were testing him, and he allowed it wholeheartedly.
âRight,â he confirmed. Albeit a bit more hesitantly, he knew better than not to add, âand⊠in love with me?â
âTwo points to Gryffindor.â You reached up to give his lips a soft peck. It felt so natural, like it was already habit for you. He desperately wanted it to be.
âIâm sorry, Iâm still reeling from this, dovey,â he confessed, trying to process everything.
There had never been any judgement to be found in your face. âWhich parts are you struggling with the most?âÂ
Your eyes were full of understanding, your face scrunched up in concentration. Remus indulged himself in an old habit by reaching up with one hand to thumb the furrows away. It made you smile just like he wanted it to, and gave him a minute to think. âI donât understand how I didnât get it before now. I donât understand how or why you put up with me. I donât understand how to keep all these feelings inside such a small heart.â
Your hands were stroking his back carefully as you considered his words. âWell, firstly I would argue your heart isnât small at all, though I get what you mean. Youâre not meant to keep all the feelings inside, you know? Thatâs when you get all sputtery and jittery and start avoiding your best friends.â You gave him a pointed look and he almost shied under your glance. âSharing them before you bubble over is always a good thing. Weâll work on it together. As for why I put up with you; I donât. Thereâs nothing to put up with, I just enjoy you like we always have.â
Your eyes had trailed off into the distance as you thought, but you brought them back to him with a small smile as you added the final part. âI donât know what did make you realise, so I canât help you much there. All I can say is, sometimes we donât see what is right in front of us.â
Remus nodded along to your words, feeling peace spreading within in that manner only you could inspire in him. He truly was an idiot, wasnât he? âHow long have you known?â he asked then, curiously.
âAbout you or me?â
âBoth?â His smile was becoming closer to his standard sheepish one, and you seemed to preen at the sight.
You bobbed your head side to side as you considered. âItâs hard to pinpoint an exact date â it wasnât an overnight discovery you know?â Remus did in fact not know nor relate. âBut I realised we were in love, not either oneâs feelings. It just sat calmly within me.â
âYou mean you didnât freak out to the extent where all students and professors alike were worried about you?â
He grinned at the small giggle that drew from you as you decidedly said, âNo. Definitely not.â You studied him for a minute more. âI think I realised about five months ago, but I didnât feel any real need to rush anything. It felt less like being given a to-do list and more like being revealed the plot twist in a movie before it happens, if you understand? The two best friends get together in the end, donât tell anyone.â
He ducked his head at that. While he could not relate, your explanation and experience was so wholeheartedly you that it endeared him to no end. âDoes that mean we should just ignore it for five more months orâŠ?â His grin turned cheeky as you lightly swatted his shoulder.
âNah,â you chuckled. âI reckon weâve waited long enough, yeah?â
He sighed with a smile. âYeah.â
You both leaned forward at the same time, as if to seal the deal with a kiss. Remus could feel it like electricity in the tips of his fingers, and he understood what you meant about knowing. Now that he was no longer in a constant state of panic, he felt incredibly calm about the whole ordeal.
Or maybe thatâs just how he feels around you.
âShould I ask you formally to be my girlfriend, or are we just skipping straight to marriage?â he whispered against your lips.
Remus felt almost wolfish when you barked a loud laugh, throwing your head back and tightening your hold on him instinctively. âI think girlfriendâs enough for now, yeah cariad?â
âIf you insist.â He kissed you through his grin, realising that this was all he wanted to do now.
Like he had so many times before, he tightened his arms around your waist and twirled you around in a few circles, legs flying out behind you. Except this time, your giggles were not hidden in his neck but pressed against his lips, and he tried to capture as many kisses as possible while he spun you.
When you landed with a breathless giggle, he kept one arm firmly around your waist as the two of you slowly made your way back to the Gryffindor common room. He wondered if maybe he could grab some blankets and bring you up to the Astronomy Tower so you could be alone without his friendsâ meddling. Yet, he wanted to see them as well, ready to volley back any quips about âtook you long enoughâ and âI fucking called itâ. Plus, you argued that you should prove that he was in fact alive and sane.
When he walked the halls back to the Gryffindor common room with your body against his, everything felt right. When you entered together, and everyone read what had happened written clearly across your faces, resorting to their usual hoots and hollers, arguably louder than ever before, it never stopped feeling right.Â
Remus being Remus, flushed deeply and averted his gaze, as he would continue doing under any uncalled for attention â but your arms squeezing him around the middle brought him right back down and your kiss to his shoulder soothed the burn of their gazes.
âWhatâs my gift then?â Sirius later asked salaciously as he eyed you two up and down where you cuddled together right back in the same chair, as if nothing changed. Maybe nothing really did.
You grinned widely and cleared your throat. âI honourably present to you,â you said and opened your arms towards Remus with a flourish. âA Moony who is no longer mooning.â
The little group erupted in even more cheers, celebrating the massive feat of taming their brooding boy. Remus couldnât help but laugh along, even at his own expense. His cheeks were red but it was equally due to the exertion of laughing as it was a tinge of embarrassment. When he hid his face into the crook of your neck again, he didnât feel nearly as guilty when he pressed a few kisses to the bare skin he found there â even less so when you melted against him with a sigh.
It felt as if a permanent smile had been sown onto his face where he sat, more content than he believed he had been while inside this castle.
Despite Remus Lupinâs disdain for public displays of affection, he had held you publicly many times before this. They all paled in comparison to the feeling of you in his arms now.Â
It had always been significant to him in its casualty, just as you have always been significant to him long before he had the mind to put the feeling into words. He will always treasure every moment of your existence in his orbit. Yet the way you melted into his skin now, growing roots in each one of his aching bones â no, nothing could compare to it.
Yes, Remus Lupin ailed from public displays of affection. But you were his cure.
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus x reader#remus x you#remus x y/n#remus#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin hurt/comfort#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fanfiction#marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#marauders x you#marauders x y/n#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin reader insert#marauders imagine#marauders reader insert#marauders self insert#itâs nice to have a friend#inthaf
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OBSESSED. â SYLUS.

đ° extra, extra! why is your bodyguard so obsessed with you? girl, you wanna know...
warnings. fem!reader, popstar!reader, bodyguard!sylus, established romantic history ( very brief ), pet names, semi-public, fingering, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v. wc. 4.6k.
an. reused the header and a bit of the plot from an aaron hotchner fanfic i wrote on wattpad in like⊠2021??? tweaked most of the details obvs but ig i was born as a bodyguard au lover
â â â â â â â â â â§ masterlist | request
Your bodyguard was such a buzzkill.
Dragging you out of every party you make an appearance at, replacing your shots with water once he believes youâve had one too many, watching you like a hawk no matter where you are or who youâre with...
You despise those who have an inability to have fun, so as far as youâre concerned, Sylus is the devil reincarnated. You arenât exactly shy about your opinion of him either, and perhaps in hindsight, that is exactly why he was currently pacing through the party youâre in attendance of to try and ruin your night yet again.
(Ruin your night or⊠do his job? Hell if you care about the logistics of it all. Two sides of the same coin, you think.)
His protective instinct only grew more intense ever since the two of you shared a kiss before a concert of yours that left your lipstick smeared over your face like there was no tomorrowâŠ
And what did that asshole do? Nothing. It was in his nature to make your life miserable after all. Sylus let you walk out in front of your thousands of fans, makeup messy and appearance disheveled all from his mouth on yours alone.
And boy, did the tabloids have a time with that one⊠Who was the culprit? A new fling of yours? FiancĂ©? Possible baby daddy? Each and every news outlet had some uniquely wrong to say. Canât a girl have a makeout session with her bodyguard in peace?
Unfortunately for you, the paparazzi have been hounding you ever since that day, itching to get the 4-1-1 on your love life.
And ever since, you havenât given many people the time of dayâincluding Sylus. Tonight, youâve managed to stay two steps ahead of your dear bodyguard and evade eventual capture for just a bit longer. Youâre currently surrounded by a few of your friends, socialites and actors alike.
Your lips seem to flap freely when you have a few drinks in you, but tonight, youâre sober but even more talkative than ever. Your chosen topic of conversation? Your overbearing and stupidly handsome bodyguard, of course.
Too lost in your story, waving your arms around to your theatrical pleasure, you hardly noticed the way your friendsâ faces paled to a ghostly shade of white, their eyes nearly bulging out of their heads and their lips parted as if they had something to say but⊠couldnât.
All the while, you were too busy blowing off the steam that youâd acquired from your last encounter with the forsaken bodyguard. ââŠAnd I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?â
As fate would have it, you hear a throat clear behind you followed by an annoyed sigh that youâve grown to know like the back of your hand. You spin around, already wearing a scowl.
âObsessed with you, hm?â Sylus says, his voice low and seemingly dangerous, though your utter distaste for the man rids him of his intimidation. âYouâre quite self important. I could never live in a world where Iâd fall at the feet of an egotistical popstar.â
You roll your eyes at that. Who does he think he is? Everyone loves youâall except for the disgustingly handsome man standing in front of you.
âMm⊠well, you can always die an untimely death and never have to work for me again,â you reply, giving him the most passive aggressive smile known to man. âHopefully that gives you an ounce of hope.â
âIt does,â he replies, returning the same expression that you gave him.
Itâs borderline infuriating how undisturbed Sylus was. No, it is infuriating. No matter how many insults you chucked his way, he never cracked. (And the one time he did, it led to the two of you playing tonsil tennis in your dressing room...)
You shake your head, huffing in utter annoyance. You then hold your wrists up for display, cocking your head to the side as you give him a mock puppy dog expression. âSooo⊠are you here to take me away, Officer Buzzkill?â
Sylus merely blinks in response to your taunting, taking a firm grasp on one of your wrists before he tugs you through the sea of partygoers. He laces your fingers together, squeezing tight as to not lose hold of you.
âMust you always make things so difficult?â he asks, keeping his eyes ahead.
You shrug your shoulders. âMore or less.â
âMore or less?â he echoes, glancing over his shoulder to properly look at you. âI suggest you try a different style of communication, sweetness. Your clipped attitude will get you nowhere.â
âOh? But itâs gotten me so far alreadyâŠâ you trail off, glancing at his lips for a few agonizingly long seconds before a smirk tugs on the corner of your mouth. âIn fact, I think it can get me even further.â
Sylusâs jaw tenses, his eyes slipping shut as he tears his gaze away from you. He canât handle the way youâre looking at himâso unbelievably beautiful with those siren eyes of yours, the mere sight of you already stirring something unwanted within him.
He turns around to continue leading you through the crowd without a reply. You begin to glance around yourself, attempting to plot your brilliant escape.
âDonât,â he flatly states, his iron grip tightening on your hand.
âWhy not?â you ask, your voice holding a strong tone of defiance.
Sylus gives your hand one solid tug before youâre standing in front of him, his free hand pressing onto the small of your back as he keeps you pressed to his chest. âIf you havenât noticed, you brat, I will always chase you. Iâll find you just the same.â
You almost deflate under his intense gaze, his deep red eyes piercing through your own. It wasnât often that Sylus manhandled you, but when he did, it made you feel⊠different. Intrigued, maybe.
âHow touching,â you deadpan, âbut you still get on my nerves.â
Sylus clicks his tongue. âTch. Oh, Iâm sorry⊠when have I ever cared about what you think?â
âNever,â you say with a dramatic sigh. âYou know⊠if you hate me so much, you should just quit on me.â
Sylus rolls his eyes, his red irises drawing you in like no other. âI donât⊠hate you. You should be rather thankful that I donât, because Iâm doubtful that anyone else would want this job of mineâyouâre quite the handful.â
âMm, Iâm only saying,â you murmur with a shrug, giving his hand a harsh squeeze as if the roughness of your grasp would make him let go, but he, of course, does not. âYou donât need this job, and yet, here you are.â
He raises a brow. âWhat do you mean by that?â
You smile, the same shit-eating grin that he has grown to be all too familiar with. âGive me your wallet.â
Sylus huffs, his broad shoulders deflating as he fishes his black leather wallet from his back pocket and hands it over to you. You take it with ease, taking your hand from his as you crack it open.
You slip his Black Card from the sleeve, proving that he truly didnât need the job for any monetary gain. And then, a triumphant smile graces your lips as you pull out none other than a Polaroid photo taken of youâbackstage at your concert just before the kiss you two shared.
âOoh⊠whatâs this?â you ask, raising your eyebrows.
Sylus reaches forward to try and snatch the tiny photo from you, but you are far too quick. âWhat are you revealing exactly? That you were secretly snooping in my wallet prior to now?â
âYes,â you admit without hesitation, âand that youâre secretly rich and in love with me. Does that make us even?â
His jaw sets, his piercing gaze set on yours. He works to snatch the photo from you, tucking his belongings back into his wallet before he slips it into his pocket. âNo. Maybe if you were less of a pain, we could be even.â
You wiggle your eyebrows in suggestion. âYouâre not denying being in love with me, dear bodyguard of mine.â
Sylus gives you a deadpan expression. âMust you always be so self righteous? God forbid I am proud of you and your success.â
The genuine nature of his words set you back a step, your brows knitting together and your lips parting. If Sylus noticed the shift of your expression, he didnât mention it. Thankfully. His cold fingers lace with yours once more, continuing the stride towards the exit of the party.
âRather than putting on this show of yours, you truly should be thanking me for saving your reputation,â he quietly adds, his hand now curled around your waist as you approach the exit. âThere is a swarm of paparazzi outside who are desperate to get their grimy hands on a picture of their beloved popstar doing something remotely scandalous.â
(And if Sylus knows anything about you, itâs that you love scandals. According to you, they âmake life worth livingâ. Tch. Diva.)
You chuckle. âAww, you care!â
âDo I care, or is it my job to look after you?â he asks, plucking his sunglasses from his pocket to place them on your face, shielding your eyes from the rapid camera flashes of the paparazzi. âPublic intoxication numerous times a week is not a very good look for you, sweetie. Incredibly frowned upon.â
Your jaw sets as you listen to his words. While they are undeniably true, you donât have any plans for admitting thatânot now or in the near future.
âMaking out with my bodyguard is frowned upon as well, but you didnât seem to be complaining about that bit,â you say under your breath.
Your voice was low enough that your weighted words were almost drowned out by the booming music of the party and by the chatter of the photographers youâre about to be engulfed in. Almost.Â
Sylus flashes you a glare. âYou shouldnât mumble. I canât understand a word youâre saying.â
âYou heard me,â you state.
He did hear you, that was exactly the problem. It was no coincidence that the two of you havenât spoken much since your very intense lip lock. Youâve been avoiding each other, evading the invisible string that connects the two of you like both an electric current and a noose.
The tension between the two of you was tangible, palpable evenâyou could practically taste it just as well as you could still taste his lips on your own. It was intoxicating, imprinting, searing.
It managed to distract you from the flashing lights of the cameramen who were swarming you, capturing flick after flick of you being led through the crowd.
You chew on the inside of your cheek. âYou know, you can help me out with all of this,â you murmur, gesturing towards the paparazzi. âMy publicist came up with an idea that will get them off my back for a while. Give them the answers they need and⊠whatnot.â
âIs that right?â he asks, glancing your way. âDo tell.â
You swallow the lump in your throat, tuning out all of the chattering paparazzi who are currently surrounding you. âBe my impromptu mystery man for the cameras. Iâll give you anything you want in return, I swear it.â
Sylus hums, the sound omitting a deep rumble into the air. âAnything I want? My, my, sweets, youâve made me an offer I cannot refuse.â
You huff, grasping onto the collar of his jacket as you pull him into you. âJust go with it.ïżœïżœïżœ
âJust go with whâ mmph!â Sylusâs words were muffled by your lips slotting against his in a searing kiss, his hands instinctively finding their home on the curve of your hips.
The kiss was⊠tame. It was supposed to be, after all. It was merely for the cameras, a way for you to put an answer to the questions that have been flooding your inbox and left your name circulating in the news for days on end.
But when Sylusâs tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you slightly pull away, muttering a faint, âSylus, whatâre youâŠâ before he pulls you right back in, his large hand now resting on your cheek.
âIf youâre going to use me like a whore at your disposal, Iâd suggest you let me enjoy myself and taste you properly,â he sporadically says into your mouth, his hand shifting to tangle in your hair as he tilts you to his liking, your tongues meeting in with gentle swipes. âSee? I knew you could do better than that.â
True to his suggestion, you kissed him like there was no tomorrow, your hands fisting his shirt in your palms as your lips moved in tandem with his. Lipstick and paparazzi long forgotten, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands give your hips a firm squeeze.
The moment he hears that sweet, impossibly faint sound of your pleasure, he knows that heâs in for it now. Thatâll do it for him.
He abruptly pulls away, clasping his hand onto yours as he continues pulling you through the now stunned crowd of paparazzi. Sporting an erection and your lipstick smeared on his lips makes no difference to Sylusâif anything, he enjoys the world knowing that he has the hots for the woman who he has sworn to protect.
Sylus helps you into the passenger seat of your black SUV, closing the door behind you before making his way to the driverâs seat. He peels off, driving with intention through the streets of the city.
It was now evident to you that he was driving the SUV in pursuit of his favorite lookout spot, one that overlooks the bustling city from a distance. Sylus had taken you there once before as per your request to âstay out a bit laterâ. Nothing happened then, but you have an inclination that your luck has changed.
âI know what I want from you,â he states, placing a hand on your thigh.
How did he already manage to figure out what he wants in return for helping you? A raise? A car? The blood of his enemies? Youâre intrigued, raising a brow. âYou do?â
âI do,â he confirms without missing a beat. âGet into the backseat.â
A gasp leaves your kiss swollen lips as you mull over the utter implications of his words. It didnât take a genius to understand them, but you were⊠surprised to say the least. âI think youâre overstepping your boundaries, Mr. Qin.â
In a literal sense, sure he was. But if the two of you were going to judge based on what you two want, he absolutely wasnâtâyou both knew that.
He chuckles, the sound low yet infuriatingly sexy. His hand slips beneath your skirt, his middle finger brushing along the damp spot of your panties. âYour body seems to disagree with you, maâam.â
And if you werenât already wet before, hearing him call you maâam was more than enough to do it for you. âShut up,â you grumble.
âYou can make me,â he suggests, setting the vehicle into park before giving your thigh a few pats. He nods his head towards the backseat. âGo on.â
Without hesitation, you kick your heels off and crawl into the back of the vehicle, thumping down on the seat with a sharp sigh. Sylus follows you within the blink of an eye, his knees settling on the spacious floor of the car.
âWhatâre youâŠâ you ask, though your eyebrows raise as the pieces of the puzzle click together in your mind. âOh.â
âYes, oh,â he repeats, his warm hands rubbing your knees as he spreads your legs apart, his lips finding the tender skin of your inner thigh. âYou know⊠you truly should be resting for your show tomorrow evening.â
âShould I?â You bite on your bottom lip as he leans forward, nosing at your clothed pussy with a muffled moan of his own. He inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal driving him to the brink of insanity.
âYou should,â he answers, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your cunt through the fabric of your panties. âYou should stop talking too. You need to rest your voice just as much.â
You swallow hard, whimpering ever so softly as his fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs to give himself access to your glistening core.
His eyes are set on your heat, his cool hands hiking your thighs over his shoulders. He rests his cheek on the warmth of your inner thigh, glancing up at you. âBecause believe me, sweetie, the things that I want to do to you will not be in favor of that beautiful voice of yours.â
âOh?â you ask, titling your head. âWhat will they be in favor of?â
He grins, wicked and devilishly handsome. âIâm glad you asked, because thereâs someone else Iâve been wanting to hear from.â
Before you have the chance to reply, heâs already got his face delving deep between your legs, the filthy sounds of squelches and slurping filling the otherwise silent car.
âOh, Iâ mmh, you didnât answer my⊠my question,â you stammer out between breathy moans, your head tilting back on the headrest as your eyes flutter shut.
Sylus smiles into your pussy, pointing his tongue to accentuate the squelching noises that your heat was making, entirely wet and dripping for him.
âCan you not hear her?â
Never in your life did you think that having a man on his knees talking to your cunt would be this arousing, but⊠youâre fucking soaked.
âI-I can,â you gasp, cracking your eyes open to look down at him. âFuck, you can talk to her in fifty languages for all I care, holy shit.â
He quietly chuckles, the sound sending a spark of vibrations onto your already sensitive clit. Your thighs tense, aching to close on him, but he keeps them spread with his strong hands on your thighs.
Your lips part as a string of breathy sounds leave you, beautiful moans and needy whimpers alikeâall of which play as music to Sylusâs ears. It was nice to know that your mouth was good for more than just singing and bickering at himâŠ
Teeth nibbling into your bottom lip, you glance down at him, only to be met with the most crazed eyes known to mankind. So disheveled, your slick leaking down his chin while his tongue delves into your heat like a man starved. He looks like heâs in his own pussy drunk heaven.
When you feel his pointed tongue begin to curve and lick in ways it hadnât before, you do your best to follow his movements.
S-Y-L-U-S he spells on your puffy cunt with his writing tool of choiceânone other than his stupidly talented tongue.
âYouâre soââ
âShh,â he cuts you off, his voice more like a husky whisper now. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, sucking on your clit before releasing it with a harsh pop.
Filthy sounds fill the air, your own breathy moans spilling from your swollen lips in tandem with the messy sucks of Sylusâs lips on your cunt. Not to mention, your girl truly was loud.
âSinging so beautifully for me,â he rasps, his eyes flitting up to watch your blissful expression. Lidded eyes, parted lips, flushed skinâan absolute wet dream of his come to life.
You bite your lip, hardly focused on the words coming out of his mouth. âMmh, whatâŠ?â
âQuiet, sweets,â he repeats, hooking his hands even tighter around your thighs as he gives your heat a few more harsh licks. âI told you I was talking to her, didnât I?â
It doesnât take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, your core grinding against his wet muscle as you chase your release.
Sylus was more than eager to give it to you, redoubling his efforts while locking his hands over your legs to keep you steady enough for him to pleasure you effectively. The warmth pooling in your belly was far too much, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.
âMmh, I⊠Iâm coming,â you warn through an airy whine.
And when you do, Sylus swoops in even more greedily than before, his flat tongue lapping at your honeyed release. There was no way he would ever be able to go without tasting you like this now that he has. Fuck, heâs such a goner.
As you come down from your high, you grin with a few pants. âLook at you, falling at the feet of your âegotistical popstarââmmph!â
Sylus plunges two fingers into your mouth to shut you up, rising to plant himself onto the seat beside you. âThatâs hardly an insult to me anymore, my dear. I know what I am.â
He pulls his spit slick fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy as he gently circles your sensitive clit. His free hand guides you through the motion of straddling his lap. With a simple nod of his head, he gestures for you to lift your shirt up, and you do.
âAnd whatâs that?â you ask, watching as he leans forward to mouth at your breasts through the fabric of your bra.
âIâve already told you,â he murmurs, bringing his free hand to his belt to free his cock from the confines of his pants. âA whore at your disposal.â
âI knew it,â you chuckle, though the sweet sound is interrupted by a breathy moan that he coaxes out of you once he slides his fat cockhead along your folds.
He clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side. âAre you not going to reciprocate my affection?â he teases, grasping tightly onto your hips. âOr do I have to work a bit harder for it, maâam?â
Your knees would have certainly buckled if they werenât firmly planted on the leather seats of the SUV. Who would have thought that you had a thing for white-haired bodyguards who call you âmaâamâ?
Sylus raises a brow, a cocky smirk tugging on his lips. âOh, you like that, donât you?â
You feel your face heating up more and more the longer you look him in the eyes, shifting your hips so that the tip of his cock finally meets your entrance. âJust⊠shut up and put it in.â
âHow demanding,â he hums, smirking ever so slightly as he uses his grasp on you to make one sharp snap of his hips, burying balls deep inside of your heat. âBut as you wish, pretty.â
You cry out immediately, the burn of the stretch fading into unfolding pleasure. Eyes locked on each otherâs, breaths mingling with ease, skin slicked with sweat, it wasâŠ
âPerfect,â he whispers, smoothing his hands along your hips before one reaches up to cup your cheek. He pulls you into a deep, searing kiss. âSo, so perfect.â
Your movements are timid at first, you were merely testing the waters that had yet to be explored. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing your deepest points with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.
Sylus begins to help you move a bit quicker, rocking your hips forward in smooth rolls, earning moans from the both of you that seemed to come straight from your guts.
âGive it to me how you like it, baby,â he encourages, both of his hands planting firmly on your waist. âUse my cock however you need it, sweets, itâs yours.â
His words have your clit pulsating around his thick shaft, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you begin to work up a pace of your own that has your heart beating wildly.
âI always⊠fuckâI always knew you were obsessed with me,â you jest, your grin stretching wide.
Sylus hums, the sound low and deep, his iron grip on your hips helping you maintain the intensity of your movements whenever your muscles beg for a break. âYeah? Needed me to be buried inside of you to have that bit of confirmation?â
You nod with a smile, hands wrapping around his neck as you plant your forehead against his. He smiles too, a breathy moan leaving his mouth as you circle your hips in a way that has him seeing stars.
âFuck yeah, Iâm obsessed with you,â he admits without a semblance of shame, tilting his head back on the headrest.
Already feeling your second orgasm approaching, you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat that made a musk that was so beautifully Sylus. His hands smooth over your backside, giving your ass a squeeze.
âTch, let me see that pretty face,â he demands, nudging you with his shoulder so that you were sitting up once more. âYou look so beautiful like this.â
You struggle to form a sentence, bouncing unabashedly on his cock, skin slapping together in an erratic pattern that spurred you even further. A string of whimpers and whines leave your puffy lips. Though your reply lacked words, it perfectly communicated what you wanted to say.
âOh, I know it, baby,â he rasps, tilting his head back again as his eyes slip shut. âPussyâs addictiveâshit, Iâm obsessed with her too.â
You begin to lose yourself all together, reduced to nothing more than a blissed out woman riding her bodyguardâs cock. âSylus, I⊠mmh, Iâm gonna cum.â
He nods in understanding, smoothing his hand through your hair as he brings you in for another kiss. Itâs all teeth and tongue, messy and drooling in the most beautiful way possible.
âGonna come inside you if you keep riding me like this, baby,â he warns, pulling back to look you in the eyes.
You feel his cock twitch inside of you, as if it were confirming his words. You donât do this often, contrary to popular belief, but you are on the pill. Luckily. âPlease do.â
Sylus pants through a smile, licking his lips as he guides you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. âHuh⊠you really are something special.â
A deep groan leaves his mouth as he dips his head, grip tightening on your waist as you ride him through your shared orgasm. You arenât sure where yours ended and his began, or if you had gotten the order wrong entirely. All you know is that in that moment, the two of you became one.
Panting, your hand plants on the fogged up window of the vehicle, leaving your handprint in its wake. Sylus lets out a breathy chuckle, raising his own shaking hand to the window.
You watch through lidded eyes as he draws a tiny heart, writing his and your first initials inside of it with a little + in the middle. How cute.
Sylus then turns to face you again, bringing his hand to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, placing a kiss on his skin. âI have something to admit.â
He nods his head a single time, beckoning you to continue. âWhat is it?â
You give him a wry smile. âMy publicist never gave me the idea for that publicity stunt.â
ââŠI figured that much, sweetie.â
note. bodyguard!sylus, my glorious king⊠ok i lowkey hate this but it holds no purpose saving up space in my drafts so :D pls interact if you enjoyed, rbs are greatly appreciated <3 thank you for readingggg !!!
â â â â â â â â â â§ masterlist | request
#â„ïž tojicide#sylus x y/n#sylus x you#sylus qin#l&ds sylus#lnds sylus#sylus smut#sylus x reader#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#sylus#love and deepspace#love & deepsace x reader#love & deepspace#lnds smut#lnds#lnds x reader#au
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He stares at you, the glisten in his eyes that you've come to know whispers his truth. His shaking hands hold your wrists. Droplets slide from his hair, tracing the sharp angles of his face, mixing with the storm clinging to his skin as he stares at your face. You feel it before you hear it. You see it before he speaks. "Marry me." It's his last attempt to keep you from walking away.
đđșđđđđđđ: chaebol au, strangers to lovers, angst, family issues, toxic societal norms, yearning, longing.
đđđđ-đđșđđđđđđ: MDNI, multiple-smut scene, heavy make-out, body-worship, nipple-play, fingering, oral!fem receiving.
đđŒ: 17.5k â playlist.
đđđđŸđ: hi hello!! to clear things up, this is a spin-off of the main story but each txt male lead gets their own reader! (aka you, heh). other female leads might show up for the plot, but theyâll stay nameless.
(definitely read the first part if you havenât â but you can read this as a standalone!) see the event đđđđđđđđđđ đđđđ.

If there is one truth that time cannot taint in your life, it is your love for flowers. They bloom unburdened, much like the love you cradle for things that ask for nothing in return.
Perhaps you were a flower in your previous life â maybe thatâs why people have always likened you to one. A flower is something delicate, something beautiful, something that marks in memory with its scent and colour. Yet if you were to tell the real reason why they call you that, it wouldnât be for any of those things. It wouldnât be because you were particularly graceful or charming.
It would be because you see the world through the eyes of a dreamer, a romantic, someone who clings to the smallest joys as if they were... lifelines.
You cherish the minuscule things, not out of whimsy but out of habit, because you grew up knowing that gratitude was not just a virtue but a necessity. You learned to say thank you for everything placed into your hands, whether it was something you longed for or simply something to fill the space on your plate. Even at nine years old, a meal was never just a meal... it was a gift.
You donât blame your parents for leaving. People say you should be grateful â they gave you life, after all. And they did. But not even a year into your existence, they chose their own paths, carving out futures that no longer had room for you. And you never resented them for it, not really.
It doesnât mean it wasnât lonely.
No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, itâs hard so, so hard to grow up in a house that never truly felt like home. Hard to wake up each morning knowing thereâs no mother to greet you, no fatherâs voice to remind you youâre safe. Hard to fall asleep at night, knowing that if a nightmare came, there would be no one there to hold you.
No one at all.
They're happy, somewhere out there. Twin sisters from your fatherâs side, three brothers from your motherâs. And you were happy for them, truly. They had their lives, their homes, their own worlds to tend to. They checked in when they could â once, maybe twice a month, just enough to remind you they were still out there. Just enough to keep you from forgetting... while you stayed with your grandmother.
And that was enough. Or at least, it had to be.
âNana,â you sigh, âYou just watched that yesterday. Are you sure you want to go again?â
âYes. Mom.â
You continued to scrub the plate she ate from, forcing a smile. Sheâs called you Mom again. It happens often now. Some days, youâre her daughter. Other days, her niece, a friend. But most days, youâre her mother.
And thatâs fine. It has to be fine. As long as there are still days when she calls you anything at all. Because the worst days, the ones that keep you up at night, are the ones when she just looks at you with empty eyes, searching your face like youâre a stranger.
You swallow hard and turn back to her. âDid you take your meds, Nana?â
"Yes."
You wipe your hands on the kitchen towel, glancing toward the small pillbox on the counter. Walking over, you flip open the lid, scanning the compartments. She took them. A quiet breath of relief escapes you.
âThank you,â you murmur, closing the box. âAfter this, weâll head to bed, okay?â
âOkay.â
You sink onto the couch beside her, adjusting the hem of your floral home dressâthe one you tailored yourself, stitching distractions into the fabric on nights when the weight of it all felt unbearable.
Mama Mia plays on the screen, the familiar melodies filling the small space between you. Itâs always been her favourite movie. Even after the diagnosis, even as the world around her blurred at the edges, she kept coming back to it.
As if, somehow, it was something she could still hold onto.
You glance at her, watching the way her lips move with the lyrics, her hands tapping against the armrest in time with the music. She remembers this.
âCan I hold your hand while we watch?â you ask softly.
Your grandmother turns to you with a soft smile, her eyes whispering at the corners. Sheâs seventy-five now, her hair thinner, her hands frail, but to you, sheâs still the same. Still beautiful. Still her.
People told you to put her in a nursing home. Said it would be easier, that it was the practical choice. But how could you? How could you leave the one person who never left you? The person who held your hand through every scraped knee, every heartbreak. The only real family you have.
Her frail fingers squeeze yours gently. Then, just as you turn back to the movie, you hear it.
âI love you, Y/N.â
Your breath halts. You tear your gaze from the screen, eyes wide, heart pounding. Itâs been months â months of her calling you by the wrong names, or worse, not calling you anything at all. But now, sheâs looking right at you, remembering you. A lump sits in your throat as tears sting your eyes. You grip her hand tighter.
âI love you too, Nana,â you whisper, voice shaking.
And you do. More than anything. Even if one day, she forgets. Even if, someday, she doesnât remember you at all.

You slide the key into the lock, your right shoulder weighed down by the new pots you picked up earlier. As the door swings open, the soft chime of the bell echoes through the quiet shop. Stepping inside, you nudge the door shut behind you and flip the sign to OPEN with a satisfied smile.
Itâs 10 a.m., and the morning light spills in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the flowers on display. Running your fingers gently over delicate petals, you inhale their fresh scent, the fragrance mixing with the faint traces of paint lingering on the walls â your own handiwork, soft strokes of color bringing the shop to life.
You set your bag down behind the counter and power on the computer, scrolling through the dayâs orders. Five minutes pass in a comfortable rhythm before the familiar chime rings again. The door swings open.
Someoneâs here.
"Good morning!" You greet with a warm smile, but your voice falters just slightly as you take him in. Heâs not the usual type to wander into a flower shop. Dressed in a sharp, black tailored suit, he carries himself with an air of quiet confidence. The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose add to his composed demeanor, but itâs his presence â towering in the doorway, making the shop feel smaller somehow, catches you off guard.
Still, you keep your smile, smoothing the surprise on your chest. "Are you looking for any particular flowers?"
He glances at you and gives a small nod â a quick acknowledgment that heâs heard you. Itâs familiar. Youâve dealt with customers like this before, the ones who prefer to browse in silence before saying what they need.
You nod back slightly, a polite gesture, then shift your gaze back to your computer, trying to shake off the strange unease prickling at you. He hasnât even spoken yet, and still, something about him makes your pulse tick faster.
Why?
âI'm looking to have a funeral arrangement made.â he says suddenly, making you blink and look up.
His eyes meet yours.
You cleared your throat, "I'm sorry for your loss." You try to follow the routine speech that you have. "Let me get my book and I'll assist you. Please, take a seat."
You point towards the table, a round wooden structure with three matching chairs, a small white vase holding a fresh boquet decorated the center. He quickly followed your instructions, pulling the chair as it scraped on along the wooden floorboards before they sit with a sigh.
You took a quick glance at him again, watching as he fishes out his phone, one of the brands that is you think the latest release, and you see a unique looking rolex in his wrists. You avert your eyes as soon as you did, and your eyes catch the black car parked in front of your store.
Your store.
Your small humble store that is stark comparison compared to everything this man have.
You cleared your thoughts as to why he chose this place to buy flowers. You turned around to gather your book filled with arrangements.
"Do you run this place by yourself?" As you reach for the leather spine of the book, you glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes already on yours.
He didnât respond, even as you took a seat across from him. Still, you could feel his gaze following you. You pushed the roses aside, their petals bruised from restless handling, and replaced them with the open book. Its pages, worn thin, exhaled the faint, bitter-sweet scent of aged paper â a comfort you almost resented tonight.
He stayed silent, his arms draped over the table, eyes steady. His presence bled into the air, heavy and warm, as though the room itself bent around him. You swore you could see it â something low and smoldering radiating off of him, a slow burn that clawed past the polished edges he wore so well.
You tore your gaze away before it could swallow you whole.
You tighten your grip on the pen. âMay I have the full name of the deceased?â Your hand drifts across the top of the page, hovering over the empty space waiting to be filled, just as you wait for his answer.
When it comes, it lands harder than you expect.
âIt⊠doesnât have a full name,â he says quietly. Your eyes lift to meet his. âBut we call him Moon.â
Your breath catches. Thereâs only one meaning behind words like that. A child. Your mind pulls back into dim memories; the parents whoâd come to your shop before, searching for flowers with little else to offer but love for someone whose life never had the chance to unfold. Your lips part, but no sound comes. You drop your gaze, forcing it back down to the blank page. Youâve done this before â too many times â but it still finds a way to shake you.
Pushing through the heaviness in your chest, you press the pen to paper and write the name.
Moon.
âAnd what are you looking for in this arrangement?â The words burn as they leave you, bitter and dry, clinging to the back of your throat. You wait, feeling the seconds stretch thin between you.
âWhat do you think?â
You should know. This is what you do â what youâve poured years into. Flowers have been your language longer than words ever have. But itâs always this question that unravels you. It pulls at the seams of whatever certainty you pretend to hold. Of course you have ideas. They come in flashes,but what are they worth?
What if itâs wrong? What if itâs not enough?
The thoughts spiral fast, like they always do. Familiar and merciless, burrowing deep where you canât shake them loose. They weigh heavy in your chest, anchoring themselves into the cracks of a confidence too fragile to stand against them. You sit there, hollowed out and grasping for something to offer this man, something that wonât disappoint him, or worse, dishonor what heâs lost.
A baby. A mother greiving. And now this man, carrying his own mourning, offering no guidance to make the task easier. Your fingers twitch, restless and unsure. You have to give him something. Anything.
âWell, for funerals, people usually gravitate toward chrysanthemums,â you say, lifting your free hand toward the cluster of blooms sitting in their vases to the right. His gaze follows where you gesture. âLilies are another favorite,â you add, motioning to the soft petals hanging to the left. âAnd people often ask forââ
âBut what do you think?â His voice cuts through yours, making your words falter. Slowly, your eyes meet his, and he holds your gaze across the table. âWhat do you gravitate toward?â
âWhite roses,â you murmur, your gaze flicking away from him and toward the blooms resting quietly in the front window of the shop. âThey symbolize⊠eternal love, and remembrance.â Your voice softens. âIf it were me⊠someday⊠I think it would make me happiest to be remembered that way. To be loved like that, even after.â
When you finish, your eyes drift back to his, uncertain, before you quickly lower them to the blank page in front of you. âSorry,â you whisper, flinching at your own rambling.
âNo.â His voice is firmer this time, âDonât be sorry. Tell me more.â
You swallow hard. Your heartbeat stirs faster in your chest, a throb blooming from the tender cut on your fingertip. You breathe through it.
âForget-me-nots,â you say. âI suppose⊠Iâd start with a base of hyacinths, then layer in forget-me-nots and foliage as filler. And maybe top it off with white roses.â
âThink you can have it ready in two days?â he asks, his gaze shifting toward the rosebuds waiting to be trimmed on the table. âThatâs when the memorial service will be.â
You nod before the words even catch up to you. âYes, yes. Thatâs no problem.â You lower your head and start to write, sketching out the arrangement youâd described, even as your hand strains to keep steady against the shake running deep in your chest.
âHere.â He sets a small black bag on the table. You donât have to open it to know â from the weight, the way it sits â itâs easily a weekâs worth of your shopâs earnings.
âThatâs too much. Itâll only be ââ
âItâs the least I can do,âHis voice is gentle but leaves no room to argue.âI doubt many would have come up with something as thoughtful as yours.â
âPlease⊠I canât let you overpay.â Your hand rests on the bag, fingers curling around the edge as you begin to slide it back toward him but his hand meets yours, halting you. His fingertips graze against your skin.
His eyes catch yours, and the words die between your parted lips, caught somewhere too deep to reach. Slowly, he stands from his chair, his hand slipping away from the pouch. You watch him smooth out the front of his coat, before stepping toward the center of the table. His fingers reach for the rose in front of you. The stem just one thorn away from being trimmed. The same thorn that had cut you earlier. âIâll take this too, then,â he says. âIs that alright with you?â
The nervousness clawing at your chest tightens, cinching your breath and locking the words in your throat. It burns â sharp and hot, like a brand searing them shut. You can only nod, managing the smallest smile before your eyes drop, trailing back down to the thorn that had drawn your blood.
You reach for your shears and rise from your chair, stepping toward him.
âIâd just started working on this one when you came in,â you murmur, lifting the sharp edge to the base of the stem. His fingers shift aside, careful and slow, as you steady the blades around the thorn. His eyes stay on you, not on the flower, not on your hands, but on the furrow of your brow as you focus.
You sense the moment he holds his breath.
With one clean motion, you clip the thorn away. âThank you,â you say, your voice soft and thinner than you meant it to be.
âThank you,â he echoes. His tone mirrors yours, but heavier somehow. âI look forward to seeing what you create.â He turns toward the door, tall frame gliding in that unhurried way of his, but he doesnât touch the handle yet. His body shifts just enough to glance back. âBy the way⊠I should get your name.â
âY/N,â you answer. The name comes easy, but your breath feels uneven behind it. âAnd yours?â
Youâve never been like this before. Never so openly invested in someone youâd barely exchanged a few scattered words with. Never so quick to give away your curiosity. But here you stand; unmoving, staring, studying him more openly than youâd dare with anyone else.
He smiles. Barely. So faint you might have missed it entirely⊠if you werenât so completely, foolishly locked on him. Enough of a curve to tug at the corner of his mouth. And there, a small hollow moves in his cheek. Does it get deeper when he really smiles? Does his smile reach his eyes?
Your throat tightens at the thought, inexplicable.
âSoobin,â

He came back two days later. Right when he said he would. When you handed him the arrangement, his eyes lingered on it longer than you expected. His face didnât shift much, but you caught it, a flicker of surprise, as though he hadnât entirely expected it to look the way it did. As though he hadnât expected you to remember it so well.
âThank you,â he said, voice low, steady. And before you could step back or fold the moment away, he spoke again. Another request. The same one. For next week.
And thatâs how it started.
It became a pattern before you realized youâd memorized it. Every week, almost the same day, he returned. Always asking for the same thing. And it took so little, for you to start waiting for him. You didnât need to admit you were. It was clear enough in the way your hands moved faster on the mornings you thought he might show up. The way you found yourself glancing at the clock more often. The way your breath shifted, when the bell over the door chimed and you hoped it would be him.
The weeks folded into months before you realized how quickly the time had passed.
âYour wife must be having a hard time,â you say quietly, watching him from behind the counter as his fingers brush along the edges of the newest arrangement vases youâd set out last week. Your voice tries to sound casual, light enough not to pry. âBut sheâs lucky to have you.â
Itâs the only explanation that ever made sense. The one youâd quietly settled on back when he first asked for those mourning flowers. That was how youâd made sense of it. How youâd made peace with why the arrangements always felt so heavy.
He stops. âWife?â His brow lifts, faint confusion softening the lines around his eyes.
Your throat pulls tight. âUh⊠yeah,â you fumble, heat creeping up the back of your neck. â⊠How is she recovering?â
Thereâs a pause. His stare doesnât waver. His jaw sets, just enough that you can tell heâs measuring something inside before letting the words go.
âItâs for my sister.â
Sister. All this time, you thought you understood. The flowers, the endless varieties he carefully chose week after week â they were for his sister. Thatâs what you told yourself. It made sense. She must be the one who lost a child. A grief so cavernous that even the brightest blooms could barely soften its edges. You could understand it. the tenderness of a brother trying to tether her to something gentle. The quiet, steady ritual of bringing beauty to someone drowning.
But one year have passed. One year, and still, he comes.
You watch Soobin now, and something inside you twists sharp and deep. Your throat pulls tight, a burn clawing up the back of your eyes, your heart thrashing in your chest like itâs frantic to be let loose. His fingers move across the petals with reverence, the kind of touch meant for something breakable, sacred. As though each flower is an apology too heavy to speak aloud. A brother so devoted, so relentless in his quiet offerings â and surely he has a life beyond this. A job. Responsibilities. People waiting for him. And yet here he is. Always here. Always returning, as though caught in some private penance only he can feel, rooted in your little shop like he doesnât know where else to go. Every week, standing in the hush of your little shop like a man trying to repent for a sin he never committed.
The flowers⊠youâve always loved them. Theyâre stitched with meanings youâve memorized like scripture; hope, solace, rebirth. They ask for nothing in return, and still, they give so much. The burn behind your eyes sharpens as you watch him, your mind comparing him to one, your chest aching in places you thought youâd long since sealed shut.
You wrap the arrangement slowly, careful with each fold and knot. Your heart thuds against your ribs like itâs trying to outrun the thoughts crowding your chest. The ones you donât say out loud. The thought unsettles you more than it should. It coils tight in your gut, sharp and sickening. Because part of you already knows â one day, the door wonât open. One day, he wonât come anymore. You hear his footsteps before you see him. Heâs seen that youâre nearly done ,the bouquet he asked for, the one youâve handled like itâs something sacred. You feel his presence before you meet his eyes.
You donât know why. You canât name it, not exactly. Maybe itâs the dread that coils in your stomach that there will be a day you wake on a day heâs supposed to come, only to find the hours slipping by, the bell above the door never ringing. And before you can stop yourself, before your good sense can catch up to your mouth, the words tumble out. âWould you want to go out sometime?â
You instantly regret it, the way your voice cracked, the way you canât bring yourself to meet his eyes. âIâm sorry,â you say quickly, fumbling. âThat was, I didnât mean to put you in an awkward position. If itâs invasive or ââ
âYes.â You blink. His expression is steady, unshaken. âYes,â he says again, softer this time. âI was going to ask you, too.â
Your breath stumbles in your chest. You nod, unsure of what to say, heart hammering loud enough to drown out everything else, but he goes on, âNext week. Same day, same time. Letâs do that.â
You nod again, this time slower. Something settles in your chest, light but anchoring. âAnd,â he adds, as he picks up the bouquet, âmake another arrangement.â You glance at him, brows lifting in question. âAnything you want,â he says. âDoesnât matter what it costs. Just⊠make something for me.â
You swallow the rush in your throat, the spark behind your ribs. You can already feel the stems in your hands, the petals under your fingers. You donât know what youâll make yet but you know it will say everything you canât.
âOkay.â

You stare at the bouquet as it slumps at the edge of the table. The one you arranged so carefully, over and over again for days.
Dawn had already cracked the sky.
Now, the gloss on your lips is gone, long since faded like the sun. The coat you pressed at sunrise feels stiff, resentful, like it's been waiting just as long. Your spine aches from sitting too straight for too many hours, and your breath trembles in your throat, thin and cold.
He said heâd be here before lunch. He said heâd take you out.
He never came.
Maybe he got held up. Maybe it slipped his mind. Maybe something urgent came up. You tell yourself these things because itâs easier than the alternative. Still, the silence wraps around you too tightly. It hums in your ears, thick and heavy, until the only thing left is the dull thud of your heartbeat, knocking against your ribs like itâs looking for a way out.
Your eyes sting. Are you even allowed to cry over this?
âWell,â you murmur, voice thinner than youâd like, âletâs get you to a vase.â Carefully, you gather the arrangement, fingertips grazing the petals. You breathe in â soft, floral, faintly sweet â and hold it there.
Your movements felt slow. Deliberate, almost. Strange, when these steps had always come easy to you, and yet, you lingered. As if dragging out every motion might somehow buy him time to show. Your gaze settles on the bouquet now resting in the vase. You exhale, slow and shallow, but no words rise to meet the breath. Thereâs nothing left to say. Nothing worth breaking the quiet for. Turning to the door, your steps this time are steady, unhesitant. No more stalling. You did what you could. You waited. You hoped.
And now, itâs clear; heâs not coming.
You were just about to lower the blinds when a familiar car slid to a stop out front. Your breath caught, frozen tight in your chest. You didnât move, didnât blink, as the driverâs door flung open before the engine had even settled into idle. There he was, the tall figure whoâd haunted your thoughts for months, carved into every restless night. Disheveled, frantic, a deep frown cutting across his face.
When his eyes found yours, he ran.
The air slammed back into your lungs so fast it almost hurt. The fog, the static that had smothered you for hours, gone. Blown clean away in one look on his face.
He's here.
âWhy did you wait for me?â The words tumbled out the moment he pushed the door open, his gaze locking onto yours. His face, guilt etched into every line. âYou waited for me,â he said again, quieter this time. The guilt cracked, crumbled at the edges, and in its place came something softer. His eyes didnât waver. It was awe, unmistakable and unguarded.
It was as if he couldnât believe you were real.
The car ride was quiet. His coat rested over your shoulders, warm and grounding, as the streetlights blurred past. Since it was already late, Soobin had offered his place. You didnât argue.
âWeâre here,â he murmured, unbuckling his seatbelt. Youâd somehow already undone yours without realizing it, stepping out into the cool air just as he rounded the front of the car to meet you. His hand hovered near the door, but youâd beaten him to it. âYou okay?â
âYeah,â you breathed, offering a small smile. Your eyes drifted past him, brows pinching slightly as you took in the skyline ahead âtowering buildings stretching into the night. Your confusion flickered across your face before you could hide it. âYou said your apartment, right?â
He hummed, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. He nodded toward the buildings ahead. âCome on.â
You walked, still puzzled, trailing a step behind him. Your eyes wandered, curious and cautious, as you neared the towering building. Inside, staff seemed to scatter and straighten the moment they caught sight of Soobin. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Postures snapped upright. The door swung open before either of you reached it.
âLate evening, Mr. Choi,â the security guard greeted, bowing deeply. The others followed suit, dipping their heads in swift, practiced motions. It felt surreal. Like youâd stumbled into the middle of a K-drama you used to watch. Like you were seeing something you werenât meant to. Soobin didnât slow. He didnât pause at the front desk like everyone else did. He just kept walking, glancing back once to make sure you were still with him. When he reached the elevator, he pressed the button without hesitation. The panel lit up, and you caught the word just above it; Penthouse.
Your breath caught, but you masked it quickly, dropping your gaze. Thatâs when you noticed his hands, resting at his sides, relaxed. The silence wrapped around you again. You shifted your hand, hesitant, pinky inching toward his. You just wanted to hold it â just once. Who knew if youâd get another chance like this? Maybe tomorrow heâd decide you werenât someone he wanted to see anymore. Maybe youâd bore him. Maybe heâd drift away like people sometimes do.
So just once. Just to know what it felt like.
Your fingers moved closer, careful, unhurried. Barely an inch away â Ding. The elevator chimed, breaking your focus. Your hand froze mid-reach. Soobin turned, catching you dead-on. His gaze flicked down, just fast enough to see the way you yanked your hand back, swatting it away like youâd touched something too hot. âUhââ you blurted.
His brows lifted slightly, softening â not in mockery, but in surprise. âStop acting so cute, will you?â he murmured, and his words only deepened the flush on your cheeks. âYouâre making it harder for me.â
Before you could even piece together what he meant, his hand reached out. His fingers found yours, threading between them with an ease that made your breath catch. The touch was warm, grounding, and when he gently tugged, you startled just a little. He didnât say anything about it. He only pulled you softly toward him and guided you into the elevator. The elevator closes, but everything feels distant.
And all the while, his fingers stay laced with yours, anchoring you gently as the world rose around.
âDo you drink?â he asks, his voice low as he approaches the couch where you sit. The bottle in his hands glints under the warm lights, dark glass wrapped in crinkled gold foil, the wine inside a deep, velvet red that swirls languidly as he moves. One glance, and you already know: itâs expensive.
His penthouse is sprawling, though you suppose all penthouses are. âOn special occasions,â you admit, watching as he reaches for two crystal glasses.
âWould you call this a special occasion?â He sinks into the couch beside you, his back meeting the cushions.
âIâd say so.â Your answer draws a small smile from him as he leans closer. Carefully, he cradles a glass in each hand and offers one to you. You accept it, fingertips brushing the cool surface as you balance the bowl of the glass in your palm, the slender stem threading between your knuckles. You lift it gently, only needing the faintest tilt toward your nose to catch the aroma. Your intuition was right, this would be the finest drink youâve ever touched.
You take a sip. The wine blooms sharp on your tongue, threading warmth down your throat.
âTell me,â he says, lifting the glass to his lips. His bangs fall loose over his eyes, soft and unbothered, and you fight the quiet urge to reach over and sweep them aside. âHow did you start your business?â
âLike most things in this world,â you reply, taking another small sip, the pungent taste stinging your palate. âA bit of luck and a bit of misfortune.â
Soobin shifts, turning more fully toward you. One arm drapes along the back of the couch, as though heâs subconsciously reaching closer. His glass rests loosely against his thigh, âWhat was your luck?â
âI received money. Enough to build the business.â
âAnd the misfortune?â
Your throat tightens slightly. You swallow. âIt was because my grandmother⊠wouldnât be able to take care of it anymore.â Your voice softens. âOr herself anymore.â
The quiet smile at the corner of his lips falters, folding into something more solemn. A flat line. His eyes donât leave you, they track every flicker of your expression: the slight furrow of your brow, the quick blinks you canât quite suppress, the faint, compulsive bite to the inside of your cheek. But he doesnât press.
âWhy flowers?â
You know the answer. It unfurls easily in your mind, sprawling and layered. But a flicker of doubt tugs at you. If I ramble, will he grow tired of me?
âI liked their meanings,â you say instead, choosing your words slowly. âHow each plant holds its own importance, just by existing. Itâs fulfilling. And itâs a beautiful thing⊠seeing the way even simple arrangements can affect people.â You glance down, your thumb brushing the base of your glass. The words settle in the air between you.
He doesnât fill the silence or shift in his seat. His eyes stay fixed on you. The glass in his hand remains perfectly still. His gaze lingers like heâs reading something delicate between your lines, like youâre a puzzle heâs in no rush to solve. He watches without pressing, without judgment. You feel the heat creep into your cheeks despite yourself, and you lower your gaze, hoping it hides the way your pulse trips over itself.
âIâm sorry,â he says after a pause, his voice lower, gentler. âI feel like Iâm bombarding you with all these questions. Would you like to ask me something instead?â
A dozen questions flicker through your mind, each vying for space. Yet one floats to the surface, steady and clear, eclipsing the rest. âWhy did you ask me to make you that bouquet?â The words leave you smoother than you expected.
For a breath longer, he says nothing. And then â a soft, breathy laugh escapes him. His eyes crinkle at the corners, something warm spilling over his features, and you swear you feel your heart tighten in your chest.
Itâs the first time youâve seen him laugh. Itâs the first time youâve seen the hollows of his cheeks deepen, the dimples ghost into view.
âWell,â he says, clearing his throat gently, He leans forward slightly, setting his glass on the table with a clink. âI do have an answer. But itâs a long one⊠if youâll bear with me.â You nod, something soft and weightless settling in your chest.
âYouâre beautiful,â he says, voice steady, unflinching. âEvery time I come to see you⊠youâre even more beautiful. And you take my breath away.â That acheâthe one youâd fought to swallow down minutes agoâsurges back with a quiet ferocity. Your bottom lip parts, breath hitching in surprise.
Soobinâs voice dips, even softer now, like heâs confessing something heâs carried for far too long. âI asked you to make me that bouquet because I knew youâd pour yourself into it. Youâd try your best to make it perfect for me. And when I saw it⊠I knew youâd done exactly that.â He pauses, gaze never wavering from you. âI never planned to take it with me. That bouquetâit was always meant for you.â
He shifts closer, just a few inches, slow and unintrusive. You donât look at him; your eyes drop away, blurred with the tears threatening to spill over. You hold them back with every ounce of restraint, blinking fast against the shimmer at your waterline.
âI couldâve gone to any florist,â he continues, his voice barely above a murmur, âbought flowers and handed them to you. But I didnât want that. I wanted you to make them⊠for yourself.â
Your chest pulls tight, your breath shallow and quick.
âI wanted you to create something as beautiful as you are. Thatâs why I asked for the bouquet.â His words land soft, final. âBecause youâre beautiful.â
You try to fight it. Your head lifts slightly, your gaze tipping upward as if looking higher might will the tears back in. But the moment you blink, they slip free, tracing a slow, unbidden path down the curve of your cheek. Thereâs no hiding it. Not from him. Soobinâs eyes track the tearâs descent, his expression open and unreadable.
âIâŠâ You falter, biting down gently on your tongue as your throat burns, âIâm sorry.â
âDonât be,â he says immediately, âTell me.â
Your breath shudders out, thin and shaky. âItâs just⊠earlier, I thought you wouldnât come back.â The fracture in your voice is clear, woven into every syllable. Soobin hears it as easily as if youâd shouted it. His focus sharpens, tender and intent, even as another tear slips down your cheek.
Without a word, he lifts his hand. His touch is featherlight, the side of his index finger brushes just beneath your eye, catching the tear before it can fall farther. The contact startles you; your breath catches, your eyes widening at the gentle weight of his skin on yours. Though heâd caught your tear, his hand lingers on your cheek. His skin is cooler than yours, a contrast that sends a ripple down your spine. Then his finger glides down the curve of your face, tracing a path to your chin. His touch is careful, as if heâs afraid you might shatter under anything less. His fingers cradle your chin gently, coaxing, as he tilts your face toward him. Your breath catches as your gaze is guided back to his.
Heâs looking at you.
Your nerves spark like a live wire under your skin, a delicate ache blooming in your chest. You swear youâll come apart if you move too quickly, if you breathe too hard. Your heartbeat drums mercilessly in your ears loud enough, to fill the silence between you.
He leans closer. Slowly, gingerly, he edges forward like heâs stepping through every invisible barrier youâd built, slipping past every wall you thought youâd carefully kept intact. You watch as his eyes trace the line of your lips. Is he feeling the same tremor, the same breathless ache threatening to consume you whole?
Your eyes mirror his, drifting down until they rest on his lips. You feel his breath first, warm and shallow against your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipation blooming low in your belly â an ache, a flutter, a trembling promise. The thought alone sends shivers down your spine.
His lips meet yours. It's soft.
You donât dare move. His fingers remain at your chinr. And for the first time, you let yourself surrender completely, allowing someone else full, irrevocable control. You let him lead. You let yourself fall. Then, subtly, Soobin shifts. His lips part just slightly against yours, enough to press a second kiss, lighter than air, softer than thought. The faintest sound of it rings in your ears, delicate and clear, as if itâs the only sound left in the world. There is no one else. Nothing else. Only you and him.
When he pulls away, itâs slow. He creates space between you, his gaze droppingâgentle, searching. âI apologize,â he says softly, his voice drawing your eyes open again. His pupils are dark, downcast, uncertainty clouding their depths as his fingers slip away from your skin. âIf I made you uncomfortable⊠if I overstepped â Iâm sorry.â
Without a word, with your tears now stilled, you reach for him. Your fingers wrap gently around his wrist, the same hand that had so carefully traced your skin. You hold him. With a pull, you guide his hand back to your face. When his fingertips meet your skin again, a wordless relief unfurls in your chest.
Heâs watching you. His eyes are locked to yours, dark and unwavering, tracking every small shift in your expression as if deciphering the meaning behind your touch. Your hand stays clasped at his wrist as you draw your lips inward, wetting them with a soft sweep of your tongue, a silent permission offered without a single breath of speech.
You see it instantly, the way his brow knits downward, a soft furrow of longing. His lips part slightly, a breath escaping that he doesnât bother to rein in. The expression across his face is raw, unguarded, needy in a way that makes your stomach swoop, a sweet ache pulling low in your core. His gaze flickers downward, fixated on the subtle shift of your mouth.
Before you even can take your next breath, his lips are on yours again. His mouth meets yours with more urgency, yet still achingly soft. His free hand ghosts up your jaw, fingers threading into the hinge of your neck, Youâre taken aback, quite literally as his mouth parts against yours, deepening the kiss in a way that makes your breath falter. Your head tips backward instinctively, but before you can drift too far, his hand is there to catch. His fingers tangle into the soft strands at the nape of your neck, cradling you.
You clutch tighter to his wrist, as if that alone could tether you. The moment dissolves into something weightless, and the sensation of Soobinâs kiss begins to eclipse everything else â until the world narrows to nothing but his lips, his breath, his touch.
Your lungs tighten. Your head spins just as you feel the graze of his tongue against your lower lip. With a soft gasp, you break away.
Cool air rushes between your lips as you pull back, your breath coming quick and shallow. Your fingers, once gripping tight at his wrist loosen, falling limp against his skin. His hand slides gently from the back of your head, fingertips gliding down the column of your neck before settling against the delicate curve of your throat. His thumb traces there idly, barely a whisper of contact.
His voice, when it comes, is hushed. âAre you alright?â
All your life, you had been pursued. Suitors with bright eyes and polished words circled like moths, eager to capture your hand, to fasten their futures to yours. They came with promises that echoed hollow against your ribs. They smiled too easily, spoke too sweetly and though you tried, how you tried to meet them halfway, something inside you always stayed untouched.
You had forced smiles you didnât mean. Laughed at jokes that never reached your eyes. You wrapped yourself in false emotions like gossamer, hoping the weight of them would feel like belonging. But after every encounter, you only felt emptier. You never understood why.
Until now.
With Soobinâs kiss still lingering on your lips, with his hand resting against the tender line of your throat as though you were something precious, and easily breakable. The truth settles in you, your heart had never been wandering.
It had been waiting. Waiting for him.
It wasnât that no one wanted you. It was that your soul had already made its choice long before your body could catch up. And after all the quiet, lonely years of not knowing what you were longing for, he had finally found you.
You are home.
"IâŠ" Your voice is thin, threadbare with wonder. You search for words, but none seem big enough to hold what youâre feeling. "Iâve never⊠been kissed like that before."
He smile slowly, a laugh tumbles from him and the thumb resting against your neck drifts upward, grazing the curve of your cheek with such careful reverence it makes your breath catch. You donât have time to react. He leans in before you can even think, brushing a kiss against your lips, so brief itâs almost weightless. Too fleeting, too quick, and when he pulls away, you instinctively lean forward, chasing the fading warmth.
"Is that better?" he murmurs, mischief softening the edges of his gaze.
You swallow thickly, your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his touch. "I didnâtâŠ" Your voice falters, a smile tugging unbidden at the corner of your lips. "âŠsay that I didnât like it."
It was as if your words had unspooled something inside him, like you'd spoken a secret incantation only he could hear. The moment your words left your lips, he was on you â his mouth capturing yours with a hunger. His hands slid down at your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, warm palms pressing against your skin as if he needed to feel every inch of you. His lips broke from yours only to travel lower, grazing the delicate line of your jaw before finding the curve of your neck. The first brush of his mouth there drew a sound from you, a soft moan. You felt him smile against your skin, a low, pleased hum from his throat as if your every sigh was a gift.
Without thinking, your arms wrapped tighter around him. You shifted, lifting your legs to curl around his waist, pulling him flush against you. The soft, unrestrained groan that escaped him at the motion sent a spark racing straight through you.
You had never felt so wanted as hands slid down, tracing the shape of your thigh before they dipped to the bend of your knee. You had never felt so treasured as he slowly, began to gather the fabric of your skirt, dragging it higher along your leg with unhurried care, revealing skin he touched as though memorizing you with each pass.
"You taste divine," he breathed against your neck, the words threaded with awe and desire. His lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat, grazing you with teeth soft enough to make you shiver, as if he wanted to consume you completely yet worship every part of you. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently as you guided him back to your lips. He met you eagerly, melting into the kiss as though heâd waited lifetimes for it.
âIf you want me to stop⊠tell me,â he whispered against your mouth, voice rough and tender all at once.
You nodded unafraid, and in that quiet, unspoken agreement, you watched something flicker in his eyes. As if he was vowing to worship you fully but never without your permission. His hands moved, deft and gentle, helping you ease out of the thin barrier of fabric that separated you, his gaze never leaving yours as if even in this unraveling, your comfort was his compass.
His smile curves against the delicate line of your neck, breath fanning across your skin as his words slip through, velvet-soft and low, âYouâre already so wet for me.â His tone is laced with adoration. âI didnât know youâd be such a good girl for me.â
The world dissolves.
It shrinks and softens until all thatâs left is him â Soobin and the press of his body against yours, Soobin and the way his voice drips honey and reverence into your ear, Soobin and the hands that worship every part of you like heâs learning a language spoken only through touch.
Every piece of clothing that falls away is marked by his mouth, kisses dragged slow across your lips, your jaw, the hollow of your throat, the slope of your collarbones. His lips move like heâs tracing constellations on your skin, as though, somehow, you hold the entire night sky within you.
His hands, large and steady, move over you with a duality that makes you ache. Greedy and gentle. Certain but tender. He touches you as though heâs starved for you, but terrified you might slip away if heâs too careless. His fingers map your curves, glide down your sides, ghost along the backs of your thighs, curling possessively.
The room is thick with something heavier than air. Itâs breath; yours and his, tangled in rhythm. Itâs the soft rustle of fabric sliding over skin, the quiet catch of a moan swallowed between kisses, the faint sighs that spill when his hands find somewhere new to caress. Everything slows because he slows it. He takes his time, like he refuses to let any detail slip by unnoticed.
It doesnât feel like heâs simply undressing you.
It feels like heâs unveiling something sacred. Like every inch of you laid bare is a gift heâs longed for, and now that he has it, he wonât squander a second. His gaze drinks you in between every kiss, full of a softness that cradles the sharp edge of desire. His pupils blown wide, his lips pink and kiss-bitten, his breath shaky though he tries to steady it.
Youâre cherished.
âSoobin,â you gasp, breath hitching as he pulls you effortlessly into his lap. His lips find the swell of your breast, as his hands caress you with tender precision â teasing. The soft drag of his tongue against your nipples pulls a shiver from deep within you.
âIâll take you to bed, sweetheart,â â âYes, please,â
His mouth meets yours again, slow and consuming, while his arms curl around you. Without breaking the kiss, he rises, lifting you as though you weigh nothing, as though carrying you is the most natural thing in the world. You donât open your eyes. You donât need to. Your hands stay laced behind his neck, your fingers threading through the soft hair at his nape. You surrender wholly, letting yourself be cradled in his care. His footsteps echo and then you feel it, the plush give of the mattress beneath you as he lowers you gently into the center of the bed. The sheets are cool against your back, but his gaze is molten, grounding you in a warmth no fabric could match.
âSoobinâŠâ Your voice trembles, âI havenât done this before.â
For a moment, his expression stills. Something softens even further in his eyes. His lips tilt into the faintest, sweetest smile before he leans down, planting a slow kiss on your lips.
âIâll be gentle with you then,â he promises, voice so gentle it nearly breaks you apart. His forehead rests against yours as his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, his touch light as silk. âYou donât have to fear anything with me. Weâll go slow. You just tell me everything you want⊠everything you donât.â
You gave him a smile, you reached up and kissed him. A simple peck. His eyes is open mid-kiss, like he couldnât bear to miss a second of it. As though the feeling of your lips wasnât enough, he wanted to see it too. âI trust you,â you whispered against his lips, âI do.â
You had never been blinded because of a smile before.
His lips press against your sternum, inching his way with slow pecks towards the plump skin of your breasts. And the second he finds your nipple, a sharp gasp leaves your throat as you feel his warm tongue caress the sensitive flesh. His hand moves to your navel, his palm lying flush to your abdomen as he holds you down to the mattress; continuing to glide his tongue over you. As Soobin lifts his lips from you momentarily, the chill of his saliva lingers on your breast, makes you softly squirm in his grasp.
He move to the other side of your body, slowly slowly repeating the process as he suckle at your hardened bud ever so gently. But this time, he use his teeth to bite the softest mark onto your nipple; the careful sting pulls your back into an arch. You whimper at the roughness, though it only lasts for a second, and as you process their actions, Soobin begins to trail down from your breasts, moving to the other one. His hands work, reaching down to caress your core which pulse between your thighs.
You try to control yourself as he went lower, to control your body, control the moans begging for release but the moment he place a kiss to your clit, the little control you have begins to slip. He starts gently, a kiss, a soft lick up your entrance, and gets back to give the most careful suckle at your clit. His gentle licks turn into passionate laps as he palce his tongue flat to your clit and allow the pressure of his muscle alone to spark up your spine.
You gasp at the feeling, your hands grip desperately onto the sheets by your sides.
With his hand still placed on your lower belly, Soobin outstretches his fingers towards his mouth latched onto your cunt. His thumb finds its place just above the hood of your clit, as he begin to add to the simulation causing your teeth to sink into your bottom lip. He swirl the wet skin, sucking, intervals of tender kisses in between as he feel you between his lips; as the squelching of his tongue against your soaked entracne takes over the silence of the night.
"You're being such a good girl for me," Soobin kisses the words onto you, "So fucking good." He use his freehand to pull your leg up and over his shoulder, your body willingly at his control. He lift his mouth from you only to place his lips inside of your thight, his fingers still simulating you even with the pause.
You can feel it brewing. The band threathening to snap at any moment. Your pleasure pleading for release as he return to lap at your cunt.
"S-Soobin," you gasp, "Wait, I-" your please turn into tight cries of desperation as they retrieve a smile from Soobin, who listens intently to you moaning his name.
"I know baby," he kisses your clit, his thumb giving you an experimental amount of pressure, "I know baby, you can cum on my tongue. I don't mind."
If it weren't for your orgasm now unleashing inside of you, you possibly would have laughed, but the only thing that comes out of you, among the essence leaking into Soobin's mouth, is the lewd noises breaching the shores of your pleasure. Your hips instinctively push into his mouth as it explodes.
Your legs twitch, faint tremors echoing long after the euphoria crests and slowly ebbs away. Your breath is uneven, your chest rising and falling in shallow pulls as your mind tries to fix itself again. The world feels distant, softened at the edges, but you feel him. You feel Soobin everywhere. You hardly register the trail of his lips scaling their way back up your body, delicate kisses pressed along your stomach, the hollow between your ribs, the curve of your collarbone; until his face hovers just above yours. His breath fans against your lips, warm and even, as though heâs been composed the entire time, despite the flush that paints the high of his cheekbones. And when you meet his eyes â
Adoration. Thatâs all there is. As though you hung the stars in his sky.
Your fingers, still faintly trembling, reach down to the waistband of his pants, a silent plea building in your chest to return the worship heâs lavished on you. But before you can so much as graze the fabric, his hand wraps gently around your wrist, and moves it away.
âTonight is about you,â Soobin murmurs, voice low, coaxing you back into ease. A smile, soft and disarming, tugs at the corners of his lips as he dips forward to nuzzle the tip of his nose against yours. âJust think of it as my way to say sorry⊠for making the prettiest girl wait so long.â His fingers, those long, graceful ones youâve become so attuned to, sweep gently through your hair, combing it back from your damp forehead as though you were something priceless. His thumb brushes the line of your temple before trailing down the curve of your jaw, feather-light.
You stare back at him, your gaze tender and unwavering, the reflection of your own adoration open across your features. Whatever he sees in your eyes makes something in his expression soften even further.
âWhat are you thinking about?â he asks, his voice dropping as he nestles closer to your side. Instinctively, you open your arms for him, and he slides into the space as though it were carved just for him, his head resting gently against your chest.
âNothing,â you whisper truthfully, your fingers threading into his soft hair as you tilt your head to study him. Wonder flickers within you like the soft flicker of candlelight, igniting gently as you take in the way the dim glow plays in his irises â deep brown kissed with honey, shadows and softness blending as if the universe itself tried to paint the richest portrait inside his gaze. âYouâre beautiful,â
The smile that spreads across his face is breathtaking. His lips curve in that boyish, gentle way that squeezes your heart painfully tight, and then he laughs. Your own smile spills out in response, and soon both your laughs mingle, weaving together in the space between you like spun gold, before your lips find each otherâs once more.

You woke with the sunlight brushing gently across your skin, the warmth pooling on the sheets.
His breath is steady against the back of your neck, his chest rising and falling. His arm is still draped over your waist, fingers laced together just under your ribs as if even in sleep, heâs afraid to let go. Every time you shift, even slightly, his hold tightens; subconscious, instinctive. As though his body has decided on its own that you belong nowhere but here. You feel the ghost of his lips at the back of your head again, a soft, unthinking kiss pressed into your hair. And then that murmur that drifted from him throughout the night, something wordless and sweet, as though he was dreaming of you and couldnât help but let it slip into the waking world.
You are exactly where youâre meant to be.
You blink slowly, everything is softened by the white sheets. Warmth surrounds you, not just from the sun filtering through the windows, but from the comforting weight draped over your back. You shift slowly, turning in his embrace until youâre met with the sight that makes your heart swell.
Choi Soobin.
Your fingertips ghost along the curve of his cheek, feather-light, afraid you might wake him if you touched him too boldly. His skin is soft beneath your hand, still asleep. His lashes rest delicately against his cheekbones, his lips parted slightly, breath deep and even.
âSleepy Soobin,â you whisper, your thumb brushes along the slope of his cheekbone and, instinctively, he leans into your palm, nuzzling against your touch. The simple action sends a tender ache spiraling through your chest. Your mind drifts back, to the way his hands gripped you with both hunger and patience. To the way his lips worshiped every inch of you. To the way he had cradled you afterward, not letting a single shiver escape him unnoticed, whispering soft words against your skin.
Your eyes drink him in, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the tousled strands of dark hair falling across his forehead. You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses on the corner of his mouth. You linger there, breathing him in, letting your lips stay against him like a silent thank-you whispered straight from your heart.
âI donât think,â you murmur softly against his skin, your lips curving in a smile, âIâve ever been this happy before.â And as if he heard you even in sleep, his arm around your waist tightens, pulling you closer.
Your phone buzzes. You move quickly, fingers curling around the device as you move yourself out of Soobinâs arms. You sit on the edge of the bed, the cool air brushing against your skin. His shirt hangs loosely off your frame, the fabric soft and saturated with the faint scent of him. You tuck a hand into the hem absentmindedly as you answer. âHello?â Your voice is hushed.
âOh, hi. I just wanted to check in about your grandmother. She took her meds.â Hanaâs voice comes softly from the other end, the caregiver youâd called last minute yesterday when you werenât sure youâd make it home in time.
Relief unfurls gently in your chest. âThank you, Hana,â you murmur, a small smile touching your lips. âIâll be back in the afternoon.â
Thereâs a few more exchanged words, small reassurances and thank-yous, before you end the call. The screen dims in your hand, but you donât move just yet. You glance over your shoulder. He hasnât stirred, not really, but his brows are slightly furrowed now, as if he noticed the loss of you in his sleep. The sheets dip where youâd been moments ago, and one hand rests, palm open, where your body had once been.
A soft smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You want to crawl back to him already. But you know you can't.
Setting the phone down, your gaze drifted toward the bedside table. You remembered Soobin opening the drawer last night, tucking away both of your things. You needed your ponytail. You pulled the drawer open.
Your fingers falter for the the first thing you see. You hadnât meant to intrude. Two large bottles, their labels slightly worn, tucked neatly in the corner of the drawer as if heâd kept them close, yet out of sight.
Sleeping pills.
Your lips press into a thin line as thoughts flicker behind your eyes â how gentle heâd been with you, how steady and warm his gaze had felt, how easily sleep had taken him last night in your arms. And yet⊠these. Did he take them every day? Your hand brushes over the edge, and finally, you spot your ponytail nestled beside his wristwatch.
You swallow gently, pushing the drawer close.
You hummed softly as you slid the fried eggs onto a white plate, the gentle sizzle fading as you set them down. This place is a wide, unfamiliar kitchen, but somehow your hands had found their routine effortlessly. Turning, you arranged the plate beside the crisp bacon and the golden slices of toasted, buttered bread.
Out of the corner of your eye, the bedroom door creaked open. "Good morning," you called, your voice laced with a smile that turned fully when you saw Soobin, no confusion in his sleepy gaze, no hesitation in his steps. He made a beeline straight to you.
Before you could even set down the last plate, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest with a soft exhale of relief. His lips found your hairline in a series of slow, affectionate kisses, "You didnât have to make breakfast, baby. I couldâve called someone."
"I didnât mind it," you replied, breathless with laughter as you tried halfheartedly to nudge him away. But he only shook his head, clutching you tighter, "Come on," you coaxed gently, tilting your head to meet his soft gaze. "Letâs eat."
At just those simple words, he loosened his hold, his hand sliding down to lace his fingers with yours.
âWhat is it?â Soobin asks softly, voice in curiosity as he chews his food. His eyes catching the question behind your gaze. âI did tell you⊠you can ask me anything, remember?â
You nod, your fork slowly tracing circles on the edge of your plate. âYesâŠâ You swallow, âI donât mean to pry, I really donât. I just⊠I just wanted to ask if you take those pills every day?â
He nods slowly. âI do,â he admits. âIâve always had trouble sleeping.â Your lips part to speak, but before you can, he sets his fork down and leans in, elbows resting on the table as his hand slides gently over yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. âBut last nightâŠâ A faint smile curls the corner of his lips,âLast night, I didnât even think about them. I didnât need them.â His voice drops, âYou were here.â
Sitting at that table, sharing breakfast, you felt like you were learning him in layers, like pages of a book gently unfolding for you. You already had your suspicions the moment you first met Soobin. The cut of his clothes, the sleek car he drove; they all whispered of a life far from ordinary. But hearing it from his lips, hearing him confess that he was set to inherit and run an entire empire, sent a quiet shiver up your spine. A chaebol. How had someone like you managed to cross paths, let alone hearts, with someone like him?
He spoke openly, though gently, about the burden he had carried since he was just a teenager. How sleep had long been a stranger to him. How those pills had been his quiet crutch in the endless swirl of expectations, decisions, and responsibilities that clouded his nights. You tried your best to absorb every word. Soobin told you how he had found you captivating from the very first moment he saw you â how, despite that, he never had the courage to approach you.
âAll my life,â he murmured, gaze dropping to the untouched food on his plate, âI watched my sister become trapped in a marriage. Watching her lose herself made me believe I shouldnât chase anyone⊠or anything. But then, I saw you.â
It was unclear why he trusted you so deeply, why he felt safe enough to share such memories about his sisterâs pain and the misplaced guilt he carried on his shoulders. But he did. He let you in. The shadows in his expression melted the moment you leaned in, your lips pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his and your arms curling gently around him. Maybe that was why. Maybe you were his perfect match. You were the one brave enough to ask him out first; unknowing then, but somehow sensing what held him back.
You learned more little things about him that morning too. How he often misplaced his watch because heâd take it off absentmindedly and forget where heâd set it. How he liked his coffee with an extra spoon of sugar and a generous pour of creamer, because despite everything, Soobin had a sweet tooth.
And somehow, every one of these small pieces only made you fall for him more.

âI canât wait to get back and see you,â his voice comes gently through the phone, smooth and warm like a whisper against your ear. âJust three more days, and Iâll be back. Okay?â.
âOkay,â you breathe, your voice softer than you intend. âJust make sure youâre eating well, alright?â You swallow gently, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. âIâll see you soon.â
His laugh drifts back to you, honey-sweet and effortless. You miss him already. âOkay, baby.â
And just like that, the line clicks silent.
You move quietly around your shop, fingers trailing along the shelves, straightening small displays here and there. You smile to yourself, a small, private thing, as memories of the past few days float to the surface. His touch. His laugh. Everything lately had felt⊠right. Almost effortlessly so.
The soft chime of the doorbell rings out, pulling you back to the present.
âWelcome,â you call, your gaze lifts and locks instantly with a pair of sharp, assessing eyes. A woman stands there, immaculately dressed, her age maybe in her fifties, though the confidence she wears makes her seem ageless somehow.
Her eyes sweep over you unblinking, as though weighing you against some invisible scale. âAre you the woman seeing my son?â A chill skips down your spine.
âPack your things up,â she says crisply, her gaze drifting coolly over the small, carefully curated space of your shop. Her lips twitch, close enough to make your stomach twist. âCome have lunch with me.â
You blink, thrown off balance, your heartbeat picking up beneath your ribs. This⊠wasnât what youâd expected today. âUhâyes, maâam,â you say, trying to gather yourself.
Her head tilts, something sharp glinting behind her expression. âWhy did you stutter?â The question is too sharp for someone who doesn't know you. Before you can even try to answer, she lifts her hand in a small, dismissive gesture. âGo on. Change your clothes. Make it fast. I donât like waiting.â
Your fingers twitch on your lap as you lower your gaze, lashes casting shadows over your cheeks. The seat beneath you feels too plush, too stiff all at once, as if you donât quite belong in it. Youâre somewhere deep inside this towering glass building â a restaurant so vast and pristine it feels like even your breath is too loud for the space. You try to inhale quietly, chest tight, as Soobinâs mother sits across from you, commanding the room with a presence that doesnât falter.
You watched, silent, as she spoke crisply to the waiter. Her tone left no room for correction, no cracks for uncertainty to slip through. She didnât ask what youâd like. She didnât ask if salad was to your taste. She simply ordered it for you without sparing you a glance â as though she already knew what you should eat, or perhaps decided it didnât matter.
The clink of glassware is sharp, and you jump slightly when she clears her throat. Slowly, reluctantly, you lift your eyes to meet hers. Her gaze is steady, dark and searching, the sort that makes you feel like youâre being turned inside out with just a look.
âWhat do you wantââ
"Mother," a new voice drifts into the space; light, melodic. You turn instinctively, and there she stands: a woman so strikingly beautiful itâs impossible to mistake the relation. The soft curve of her jaw, the familiar gentle slope of her nose, she carries pieces of Soobin effortlessly in her features.
She moves toward the table with a grace that makes the heavy atmosphere ease, as though her very presence carries warmth where there was only frost before. Soobinâs motherâs stern face softens, her posture loosening subtly for the first time since you sat down and itâs clear this new woman holds sway over her in ways no one else has managed thus far.
The young woman settles beside her mother, her gaze drifting to you with a kindness that wraps around you like a soft blanket. No scrutiny, no sharp edges, it's curiosity. âIâm Soobinâs sister,â she says her name gently, her lips pulling into a smile that reaches her eyes. âYou look even more beautiful than what he says.â
The sincerity in her voice disarms you. It feels like exhaling after holding your breath for too long, like finding a familiar light in a room full of shadows. Warm. Genuine.
âTh-thank you,â you murmur, voice small as your gaze drops shyly to your lap. The elegance she carries so effortlessly makes you acutely aware of every inch of yourself; of your softness, your simplicity. You steal a glance upward as she turns away, leaning toward her mother, her voice soft and fluid as she starts to recount her day.
Their hair, not a strand out of place, styled with a polish that speaks of salons youâve never stepped foot in. The fine lines of their blouses, their tailored cuts, fabrics that drape as if stitched to their skin. Even their nails is perfectly shaped, coated in shades that gleam soft and subtle, unchipped. Their handbags resting beside them glint of understated luxury, the kind of leather that never creases, the kind of detail you notice only when youâve never had it.
Your gaze falls to your skirt â the one you had sewn with patient hands from fabric you bargained for at the marketâs edge. Youâd chosen the material carefully, pieced it together with love, made it yours. But here⊠it feels smaller somehow. Less. You smooth your palms over your knees.
How long will you have to sit in moments like this? How long will you have to feel the weight of difference settle like a stone in your chest? The gap between their world and yours feels so wide it burns.
You donât belong here.
You hadnât even managed to lift your fork, âHow old are you?â Soobinâs mother asked.
âTwenty-three,â you murmured, your tongue thick in your mouth. The number sounded too small as soon as it left you.
Her lips tugged downward. âFive years younger than him. Too young.â A pause, heavy. âEducation status? What of your family?â
You swallowed hard. âIâm living with my grandmother.â
Her brow arched, unimpressed. âSince when?â â âSince I was a child.â
The air felt thinner now. You could feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrists, in the trembling tips of your fingers that curled tighter under the table. âThen how would you run a family if you donât even have one?â
The sting behind your eyes burned fast. You blinked hard, but it did nothing to wash it away. You felt small, smaller than you ever thought you could shrink.
âMother,â Soobinâs sister snapped, her voice tight with disbelief. You lifted your gaze to her, grateful and ashamed all at once. Her expression was shocked that her mother had gone that far.
But then the next blow landed. âDo you even know thereâs a girl whoâs supposed to marry him?â Her tone dropped, dripping with disdain as if she wanted to watch you crumble beneath it.
âMom, stop it. Now.â Soobinâs sister, again. Firmer this time.
Your lips parted to answer â to say something, anything â but all that came out was fragile and thin. âWe⊠we havenât talked about it.â It was all you could manage. Your voice cracked just enough to make the shame crawl higher up your throat. Your chair scraped against the floor softly as you rose, every inch of your body stiff and burning. You forced a tight smile that felt more like a grimace. âExcuse me⊠Iâll just take the bathroom.â
Your legs carried you away before the first tear slipped free.
You gripped the sinkâs edge so hard your knuckles ached, head bowed as silent sobs racked through your chest. You couldnât catch your breath. Couldnât hold it together long enough to even pretend you belonged here. Your reflection in the mirror blurred behind the sheen of tears; eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, lips trembling. Small. Out of place. A girl trying to fit in.
Of course she was right. Youâd always known it, hadnât you? You were someone born from absence. A child left behind by two people who couldnât even stay for you, much less for each other. Youâd spent so long tucking that truth away, convincing yourself. His mother didnât have to scream to shatter you.
You wiped at your face uselessly, but the tears kept slipping, warm and bitter down your jaw. You didnât want to ruin what Soobin had left with his mother, thin and cracked as it might be. Youâd seen the strain in his eyes before when he spoke of her. Youâd heard the weight when he talked about duty, legacy, responsibility; but you wouldnât be the reason he chose sides. Maybe everything really had just been a dream. And maybe nowâŠmaybe it was time to wake up.
The door creaks open, and you flinch too late to hide the tears streaking your cheeks.
Soobinâs sister.
Her expression crumbles the second she sees you. âOh, honey.â Her voice is soft, almost breaking, and before you can turn away or gather yourself, sheâs already crossing the room. You shake your head, a weak protest caught in your throat, but it falls apart the second her arms wrap around you. You donât mean to collapse, but you do. Your body folds into hers, trembling, your fingers clutching at the fabric of her coat.
âIâm so sorry,â she breathes against your temple, her voice rawer now, as if she can feel even a fraction of whatâs tearing through you.
Your chest hurts. You canât speak. You donât trust your own voice not to shatter the second you try. So you just stand there, breathing uneven, tears soaking the front of her blouse.
âDonât cry,â she whispers finally, pulling back, her palms warm against your damp cheeks. Her eyes search yours. Slowly, she slides a handkerchief from her pocket and presses it into your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she lets go. âMy mother⊠sheâs always been like this. I wonât tell you not to feel hurt, you should feel hurt. She doesnât know how to soften her words, even when she should.â
âI came here because I heard sheâd come after you the moment Soobin flew out for his trip,â she continues, âAnd about that woman⊠or whatever arrangement that was, Soobin never met her. Not even once. That was all our motherâs doing. If you want the truth, itâs best you hear it straight from him, hm?â Your fingers curl tighter around the handkerchief.
âI⊠Iâm sorry,â you whisper, voice frayed at the edges, the apology slipping out even though you arenât sure what youâre apologizing forâ being here, being too small for this world, for falling for someone you were never supposed to have?
âDonât be,â she says softly, her lips tugging into a smile. "Youâve done nothing wrong."
She reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, âYou can go home. Iâll handle her,â she promises. âIâll make sure she doesnât come near you again, not until Soobin gets back and sorts all of this out himself.â
Your throat tightens again, âWhy?â The word falls out of you in a whisper. âWhy are you doing all of this?â
âSoobin deserves to be happy,â she says, there's a glisten in her eyes. âAnd you⊠you make him happy.â
You sit still, hands folded tightly in your lap, nails pressing crescents into your skin as the hum of the engine vibrates beneath you. Through the windowâs glass, blurred by your uneven breaths, you see them, Soobinâs sister and her husband.
Choi Beomgyu.
Even from here, even without sound, itâs clear. The way his eyes search hers, soft and intent. The way his hand brushes her cheek, tender and unhurried. And then, his palm drifts lower, resting on the curve of her stomach.
Your breath catches, an involuntary gasp escaping from your lips. You hadnât noticed it before, maybe because youâd been too wrapped in your own thoughts, but there it is now; the small, rounded swell of her belly beneath her dress.
Sheâs pregnant.
Your eyes dart away. It sinks in heavier than you expectâthe contrast of it. The weight of what you felt in that restaurant still gnawing at your ribs. You swallow hard, blinking fast. You shouldnât be jealous. Not of them, not of their certainty, not of the way they fit together. You curl your fingers tighter.
Beomgyu slides into the driverâs seat, his eyes flicker to you in the rearview mirror, not invasive. âYou okay?â His voice is gentle, low.
You swallow past the knot tightening in your throat. âYes.â
He doesnât press. He just nods once, slow, and leans back in his seat. His hands rest on the wheel but he doesnât start the car. Instead, his eyes shift toward the building. You follow his line of sight and see herâ his wife, walking toward the entrance.
Beomgyu stays still, waiting. His jaw flexes slightly, not out of impatience, but out of habit, you can tell. He doesnât move, not until she disappears inside the building safely, not until the glass doors close behind her and sheâs no longer in sight.
Only then does he release a small breath and turn the key in the ignition. The car starts.
You've never seen a love so whole.

Youâd finally made peace with it all, to speak to Soobin when he returned. His sisterâs promise had held true; his mother hadnât darkened your doorstep again. For once, the silence felt like safety.
Only one more day. Just one, and heâd be back.
The sharp chime of the door snapped through the quiet. You turned instinctively, forcing a smile onto your lips out of habit.
Standing there was a woman. âGood morning,â you greeted softly, stepping behind the counter, trying to keep your hands steady.
âYouâre Y/N, right?â Your stomach flipped, hands instantly cold. What is it this time?
âYes,â you answered carefully, guarded. âHow can I help you?â
She took a step closer, âIâm Aera,â she said smoothly, not a trace of hesitation. âSoon to be Soobinâs fiancĂ©e.â
Your breath stuttered. The smile fell clean from your lips. âIâm sorry⊠whatââ
âHis mother told me about you.â The words barely registered before the woman dropped to her knees in front of you. The motion was so sudden, so desperate, your breath caught in your throat and your eyes went wide.
âPleaseâŠâ her voice cracked as she folded her hands together, her head bowed low in a way that looked almost unnatural for someone like her; pristine, polished, composed. But here she was. Crumbling. âPlease tell him to accept the proposal.â
Your chest constricted painfully. âNo, no, stand up, you donât have to,â
But she shook her head sharply, her shoulders trembling. Tears clung to her lashes, heavy and raw. âIâll let you have everything you want. You can still be with him .I donât care. Iâll just marry him in name. Iâll stay in a different room. A different house, even. I wonât touch him. Our family⊠we need his. Please, Iâm begging you.â Her voice broke entirely on that last word.
Even she knew. Even she understood what his mother refused to admit; his heart was already in your hands.

You walk to the building, each step echoing in your chest. The elevator hums softly as you press the button, your reflection in the mirrored doors a stranger to you. When it finally dings open, you step out into the hallway.
Your hand hovers over the doorbell of his home. You take a breath and press the button. And then you wait.
You run over the speeches you carved into your heart all day, Iâm sorry, but we need to break up. Iâm sorry, I canât do this anymore. But the moment the door opens, it all disintegrates.
He stands there, and for a split second, itâs as if everything stills. His eyes meet yours, rimmed with exhaustion so deep it settles into the lines of his face. âIâve been waiting for you, sweetheart.â His voice is soft. Almost fragile.
And before you can think, before you can remember the careful goodbye you rehearsed a thousand times, he reaches for you.His fingers curl around your arms, and he pulls you into him. Into the chest that has always felt like home.
The door clicks shut behind you.
âSoobin, Iââ Your voice barely breaks through the air before itâs swallowed by the heat of him; his lips finding the curve of your neck, hot and hurried, like a man starved. His body crowds yours effortlessly, the breadth of him making you feel small. His hands, large, trembling with restraint digs firmly on your waist.
âI fucking missed your voice,â he breathes against your skin, âI fucking missed you⊠I couldnât even sleep.â
Your throat tightens, a lump clawing higher and higher as your heart caves in on itself. Coward. Thatâs what it feels like. Your heart, shrinking, curling away from what you came here to say. Because how could you speak of endings when heâs here, clinging to you like this? When he holds you like you were his last hope?
âI need you, baby,â he murmurs, his fingers slide to your blouse, undoing the buttons one by one, slower than his breath, slower than the pounding of your pulse against your ribs. His knuckles brush against your skin, âDid you miss me?â
You open your mouth. The truth swells painfully, desperate to tear out. I did. I missed you more than youâll ever know. But all you manage is a breathless, broken, âIââ
His hot mouth sucks your nipple. ââŠYes.â
Itâs all a blur â his hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name. You donât remember how the clothes came off, how the sheets tangled beneath your bodies. You only remember the weight of him, the heat of his skin, and the soft drag of his lips along your body that made your breath catch.
The sharp stretch, the slow push of him sinking into you. Tears spill before you even realize theyâre falling. It isnât the pain that makes you cry. Itâs the ache in your chest, the way your heart splits in two at the sight of him â Soobin, tired and unraveling, still so gentle. You were too scared to say no. Not because you didnât want him, but because you did. Too much. You craved to erase the exhaustion from his eyes, even if it was only for one night.
Maybe you were fooling yourself into thinking you were giving something to him, when really, you were trying to steal one last piece of him for yourself.
His brow furrows as he stills inside you, the concern written all over his face. His thumbs swipe at your damp cheeks, his lips brushing against your skin in soft, frantic kisses. âDid that hurt? Whatâs wrong?â
You force a breath through the tightness in your throat, eyes locking on his, âNo,â you manage to choke out, your voice cracking. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, thumb brushing the soft curve of his under-eye, tracing the shadows you wish you could take away. You swallow the sob clawing at your chest, and say it. You have to say it. Even if itâs the last time.
âIâ I just love you.â His lips part slightly at your confession. His breath stutters, and something raw flickers behind his gaze; wonder, disbelief. His whole body goes still as if those words rooted him to the earth. âI love you, Soobin.â
"I love you. I fucking love you."
Warm hands find your waist, circling you with a gentle pull, long fingers tracing slow, reverent patterns across your bare skin. A soft squeeze follows, then warm, featherlight kisses trail from your neck to your ear, each one taking time to settle on your skin. Your name slips from his lips, barely more than a breath, before he tucks himself closer, body melting into yours.
âWake up, sleepyhead,â he murmurs, âYouâve been asleep so long, Iâm starting to miss you.â
You exhale a soft huff, but thereâs no real protest in it. Just the lazy stretch of your arm as you roll toward him, pressing your face into the curve of his neck where he smells like him. Your voice comes out muffled. âLetâs stay like this for five more minutes.â
A smile ghosts against your temple. His hand slides to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. âOkay,â
You finally peeled yourself from the bed, soft sheets still warm with sleep and the weight of him. He trailed after you, tall and shadowing your every move around the kitchen as the morning light spilled in. You couldnât help it, your fingers found his constantly. On his wrist as he buttered toast, laced with his as you poured coffee, curled around his as you sat across from him at the table. And for the first time, you saw it clearly: the way Soobinâs cheeks flushed pink under the weight of your affection, his gaze flickering down, shy and boyish, every time you touched him like you couldnât stop.
Now, he stands by the mirror, freshly showered, crisp shirt hugging broad shoulders, hair damp and curling just a little at the edges. Youâre sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him. He wanted you to stay here, in his penthouse. Wanted you here waiting when he came home.
You rise when you see him fumble with his tie, long fingers struggling with the knot. âLet me,â you say softly. Your fingertips brush against his as you take over, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath his skin. He watches you, head tilted down, eyes steady and soft, drinking in every precise movement as you fold and tug the silk into place.
His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, âThank you, baby,â he murmurs. He leans in, scattering kisses across your face â your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips â each one light and full of that unshakable, boyish smile of his.
You walk him to the elevator, bare feet padding softly on the cool floor. He steps inside, glances back at you, and lifts his hand in a wave; a grin stretching wide, something childlike and unguarded lighting up his whole face.
All while everything was breaking your heart.
You moved quietly through his home. The morning hush wrapped around you like something delicate and suffocating all at once. You folded his clothes with shaking hands, smoothing out every crease, tucking each piece into its rightful place as if order could somehow soften what you were about to break.
His watch. You found it lying carelessly on the counter where he always forgot it. You fixed it gently onto the shelf beside his cufflinks and rings, aligning everything just so, because you knew he liked it neat, even if he never said it out loud. It was small, but you wanted to leave it perfect for him.
The kitchen was next. Your movements felt numb now, mechanical. You prepared everything the way he loved it: coffee beans ground just right, the sugar jar filled, the creamer where it belonged. You wrote it all down on a small scrap of paper; the exact way you made it for him, step by step and pressed the note beside the kettle. Your handwriting blurred through your tears, but you forced yourself to keep writing.
By the time you found a clean sheet of paper and sat at the dining table, your whole body trembled with the weight of it. The pen felt too heavy in your hand. Your tears hit the page before your words did.
You slowly, wrote your goodbye.

"Nana, this is your new room, okay?" Your voice is soft, careful not to crack as you push the door open, guiding her slowly inside. "Itâs a little different, but weâll figure it out. Iâll make sure weâre alright."
You smile, or something close to it, when she nods faintly, her eyes drifting over the unfamiliar space. The pale walls, the narrow window, the worn bed frame. None of it felt like home yet, but it had to be. Youâd make it be.
Her fingers brushed against the edge of the dresser as she turned to you. "Why did we move so suddenly?"
You swallowed around the lump in your throat. "Oh," you answered lightly, "because we had to."
Your chest tightened when her gaze lingered on you a beat longer, as if peeling back layers you didnât want exposed. And then, almost absently, she asked, "How about your man?"
You froze. The air seemed thinner, sharper. You werenât even sure she remembered him clearly â just a distant echo of the day Soobin had shown up with that gentle smile, introducing himself with careful politeness.
"I⊠I broke up with him," you whispered. She didnât react at first. Just nodded quietly, turning to sit on the edge of her bed. Her small frame curved gently as she smoothed the blanket beneath her hands, her movements slow and methodical.
You took a step back toward the doorway, trying to breathe steady. Trying not to crumble in front of her. But then, just as she rose again to cross the room, her voice drifted back to you. "Love will not fail," she murmured. "If it fails⊠itâs not love."
It was as if youâd just torn your own heart out with your bare hands.
Love will not fail. If it fails, itâs not love.
It had been days since you moved.
And still, no matter how many boxes you unpacked, no matter how carefully you folded your grandmotherâs cardigans into drawers or wiped down every surface, this place didnât breathe like the home you left behind.
The sky hadn't lightened once since you arrived. It hung heavy and bruised from dawn to dusk, a slate-colored weight pressing down on everything. You couldnât remember the last time you saw sunlight crack through.
And then, the rain came.
You noticed it first in the shift of the wind. A few drops scattered across the concrete, and then it broke open all at once. Panic seized you as your mind jumped to the laundry. The sheets youâd washed them early this morning and hung them in the front of your lawn, hoping they'd dry before nightfall.
You bolted outside, breath shallow, feet slipping slightly against the wet pavement. Cold droplets clung to your hair, running down the line of your neck, soaking through your shoulders. Your fingers fumbled over the clothesline as you yanked the white sheets down frantically, heart racing as you tried to save what little you had.
And then â Your body stilled. Your hands slackened on the fabric as your gaze caught on a figure standing just past the fence.
For a moment, the rain softened around you, every sound falling away except the ragged beat of your own heart breaking all over again.

Choi Soobinâs fingers tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles pale under the dim wash of the dashboard lights. His eyes flicked from one worn street sign to the next, cataloguing every turn, every corner, like a man tracing the edges of an old wound. Every so often, he let the car slow to a crawl. Stared a little too long at places that meant nothing to him, but might have meant everything to you.
Itâs the town, the one his investigator pointed him to. The small, quiet town where the woman who tore through his world had disappeared into without a trace but with every piece of him still in her hands.
Heâd already gone over everything twice. No. Three times. He couldnât remember anymore. His chest felt tight, like something was sitting on it and daring him to breathe around the weight. He wondered if he should start all over tomorrow. Sweep the streets again. Retrace the steps he didnât even know you'd taken.
Without meaning to, Soobinâs hands turned the wheel, guiding him down a road heâd circled too many times to count. Muscle memory, maybe. He didnât know why he kept coming back.
The first drops of rain tapped against the windshield, soft and uncertain, like the sky hadnât made up its mind yet. He let out a breath and dragged a hand down his face. He glanced right, thinking to turn back, to call it for the night. But then he saw it.
A figure cutting through the field, darting between rows of white laundry sheets billowing in the wind like ghosts.
He didnât think. His door was open before he could catch the impulse, the car engine still on behind him as he bolted forward. He didnât even shut the door. His feet hit the wet grass hard, slipping a little, but he kept running. Fast. Desperate. Like if he blinked, even for a heartbeat, you might vanish.
The way you vanished from his life when he turned his back.
If heâd stayed that day. If heâd ignored the meeting, called in sick, shut the world out, would you still be here now?
He saw you stumble back. Your shoulders tensed, then you turned to escape. And just like that, the breath punched out of his lungs. His heart cracked against his ribs, like thunder rolling too close to the ground. Panic clawed at his throat. His feet wouldnât move fast enough. So he did the only thing left.
He called your name. Louder than he meant to. He shouted it. Frantic. You didnât move at first. Just stared at him across the field, rain threading through your hair, clinging to your skin. When you spoke, your voice was sharp.
âWhy are you here?â You asked, each word flung like stones across the space between you. Your jaw clenched. âDidnât I tell you? Didnât I tell you I donât want you anymore?â
Your voice cut clean but your hands betrayed you. They shook at your sides, fingers twitching like they werenât sure whether to reach for him or push him away. The ache in your throat frayed the edge of every word. And Soobin saw it. He saw all of it.
Choi Soobin stares at you, the glisten in his eyes that you've come to know whispers his truth. He's now infront of you, eyes sweeping your face.
The storm isnât just around him; itâs inside him, bleeding into the tremble of his hands as he reach and clutch your wrists, desperate. Rain seeps through his clothes, slides down his skin, but he doesnât flinch. He just looks at you.
Because you're the only thing keeping him standing.
"Marry me." Itâs his last attempt to keep you from walking away. âMarry me, and Iâll do anything you want. Anything. Just donâtââ His throat closed up, and for a second, it sounded like he forgot how to breathe. âDonât walk away again.â
âI saidââ
âDonât lie to me!â The words snapped harder than he wanted, frustration cracking wide open in his chest. His hands curled into fists at his sides, not in anger but in helplessness. âDonât make me feel crazy. Donât make me feel stupid. My sister told me everything, Y/N. I know. I know everything.â
Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Your shoulders caved, the last of your defenses buckling under the weight of it all.
âIâm not fit for your world,â you choked, voice splintering as tears blurred your vision. Your hands fell limp at your sides, fingers tangled in the thin fabric of the laundry youâd long forgotten.
âI donât have anything. I hardly even have myself,â you whispered, your face crumpling like it hurt to say the truth out loud. âAnd you â you deserve the world. You deserve more than someone who canât even keep her life straight.â
Soobinâs chest hollowed at the sight of you crumbling in front of him. He didnât care about the rain, or the mud soaking through his shoes, or the ache in his lungs. There was only one thing left he wanted to do. Fall to his knees if he had to. Beg, if thatâs what it took. Beg for you. Beg for everything.
âI donât want the world.â His eyes locked on yours, fierce and aching. âI never wanted any of that. Not once. I just⊠I just want you.â
His breath shuddered out, shaky, as if saying it hurt and healed him all at once. âI want to live with you. To grow old with you. To have your children. To wake up next to you for the rest of my life.â His words stumbled, his throat thick with the burn of unshed tears, but he didnât stop.
Before you could slip farther away, Soobin reached for you, his arms wrapped tight around you, pulling you into his chest. His hand cradled the back of your head, fingers threading into your damp hair with a gentleness that almost broke you on the spot. His heartbeat thundered against your cheek.
âDonât leave me,â he whispered, voice cracking on the plea. âPlease, baby. Not when I finally found you. Not when all I want⊠is to spend the rest of my life with you.â
He felt you shift in his hold, felt your hands press against his chest like you were about to push him away. His stomach dropped but he didnât let go. He couldnât.
âI love you.â The words came out hoarse, frayed at the edges. Honest in a way that stripped him bare. He felt you still. The tension in your shoulders faltered. Slowly, slowly, you softened against him, all the walls youâd been gripping so tightly started to crumble in his arms.
You stopped pulling away this time.
âI love you,â he breathed again. His lips brushed against your temple, âIâll fix everything for us. I swear it. You just have to trust me, baby. Please. Just trust me.â
He felt your arms loosen, the fight in them dissolving. Softening, giving your surrender â just as the rain itself began to ease, falling gentler, as though the sky had finally tired too. A breath punched out of his chest, relief so fierce it almost dropped him to his knees. His arms closed tighter around you, cradling you against him like he could tuck you safely inside his ribs, where nothing could ever reach you again.
When would he ever get a moment like this again?
A chance like this? To meet his soulmate. To meet the one person who could read the shadows behind his smile before he even noticed they were there. Who knew him better than he had ever dared to know himself.
What were the odds? If he hadnât driven down that street that day. If he hadnât wandered into your little flower shop with its peeling paint and sunlight pooling across wooden counters. If he hadnât looked up and seen you and not known, right then, that heâd nearly lived his life without finding his missing half. And what were the chances you wouldâve seen him?
He shuddered, blinking hard against the burn behind his eyes. His throat tightened as he breathed you in, the faint trace of wildflowers still clinging to your skin like memory. His heart clenched.
The odds of this⊠of you⊠out of all the people, all the cities, all the winding chances and missed timings, was one in a million.

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Hold Your Breath

pairing | civil!war!bucky x fem!reader
word count | 6.6k words (whoopsie)
summary I After a panic attack triggers something raw and vulnerable in Bucky, a desperate kiss turns into a night of urgent, clothed intimacy where he clings to you for grounding, connection, and humanity.
tags | 18+, (MDNI!), p in v sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, emotional sex, desperate sex, riding, dry humping, titty sucking, begging, subby!bucky, soft!reader, angst, soft dom!reader, vulnerable!bucky, slow burn to sudden burn, hurt/comfort, PANIC ATTACK! platonic!steve x reader, oh and PLOT! but premises: Fuck His Pain Away
a/n | THIS MIGHT BE THE FILTHIEST THING IVE EVER WRITTEN. uh, Matt Murdock cameo. and Steve and reader lowkey act romantic but they're purely platonic. inspired by THE Stiles and Lydia. ENJOY!
likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated âšâš
The warehouse looked like it had been forgotten by time. Rust flaked off corrugated walls, the windows long since caked in grime and dust. Faint light filtered in through the cracks in the ceiling, catching on floating particles like a snowstorm of ash.
You stepped through the open door slowly, your heeled boots echoing softly against the concrete floor. The weight of silence sat thick in the airâone broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional creak of aging steel. Sam stood off to the side, posted up by a boarded window, his eyes scanning the outside world like a hawk. Ironic.
He gave you a short nod in greeting, then jerked his chin toward the stairwell.
âHeâs upstairs. With him.â
You nodded silently, then started climbing. Each step was slow, heavy with things unsaid. You reached the upper landing and paused at the threshold of a dim corridor, where you finally saw him.
Steve Rogers.
He was leaning against the doorframe to a room that looked like it had once been an office, now stripped bare. His arms were folded, his head slightly bowed, lost in thought. The sharp angles of his jaw were drawn tight, his eyes shadowed with more than fatigue.
He looked tiredâdrawn in a way you rarely saw. Shoulders too tight. Worry clinging to him like a second skin.
And yet the moment he looked up and saw you, something in his face unspooled.
âYou came,â he said, voice low, thick.
You smiled softly, stepping closer. âWhere else would I be?â
Steve gave a dry little exhale. âI donât know. Somewhere safe. Somewhere warm.â
âIâm exactly where I need to be,â you said.
He nodded once, but didnât move from the door. The weight of the air between you stretched.
âYou sure about this?â he asked.
You straightened, gaze steady. âI wouldnât be here if I wasnât. You donât have to ask.â
âI do.â His jaw flexed, eyes flicking away. âBecause I donât know how long Iâll be gone. Weâre stretched thin. And Bucky⊠heâs not in a good place.â
âI know,â you said, voice gentler now. âSteve, I know. Iâm not scared of him.â
He let out a breath and dragged a hand down his face, tension radiating from every inch of him. âIâm not either. Thatâs not it. Itâs justâheâs been through so much. He barely speaks. Sometimes I think heâs backâmy Buckyâbut then I see that look in his eyes and I donât even know who Iâm looking at.â
You took a step forward, heart aching.
âYouâre worried heâll hurt someone.â
Steve didnât answer right away. His mouth pressed into a tight line.
Then, almost too softly: âIâm worried heâll hurt himself.â
That cracked something inside you. You reached out, fingers curling gently around his arm.
âThen Iâll be here,â you said, firm and calm. âIâll sit with him through it. However long it takes.â
Steve looked at you, truly looked, and you could see it thenâhow much weight he was carrying. And how close he was to shattering under it.
âThereâs more,â he said after a moment, voice even lower.
You nodded. âTell me.â
He hesitated, like he didnât know if he should. Thenâquietly, brokenlyâhe said, âI donât know whatâs happening to us. The Avengers. The world. It used to feel like we were fighting for something good. Something that meant something. Now⊠it just feels like weâre tearing apart.â
You let his words hang in the air. Let him breathe. Then you stepped closer.
âItâs going to be okay,â you whispered.
But Steve shook his head. Slowly. Distantly.
âI donât think it will be.â
There was something so human about him in that moment. Not the Captain. Not the soldier. Just a man whoâd lived too long, lost too much, and still hadnât learned how to stop hopingâeven when it hurt.
He looked at youâreally looked at you. The intensity in his eyes bordered on overwhelming. But what you saw there wasnât fear. It was trust. Worn, heavy, aching trust.
âYou can back out at any point,â he said, voice rough. âIf itâs too much. If heââ
âIâm here,â you interrupted softly, a small smile blooming. âAnd Iâm here to stay.â
Steve stared at you for a moment longer, thenâwithout warningâyou stepped in and wrapped your arms around his neck.
He folded into you immediately, arms winding tightly around your waist like the weight of the world was something he could put down, just for a second, if he held onto you.
His breath was warm against your hair.
âThank you,â he murmured, voice frayed at the edges. âFor being here. For me.â
Your fingers curled at his nape, anchoring him. âAlways.â
When he finally pulled back, his hands lingered on your waist. The kind of touch that said, I canât ask for more, but Iâd be lost without this.
You gave his hand a final squeeze, then watched as he turned and opened the door to where Bucky waited.
The door clicked shut behind Steve with a soft finality.
Bucky sat on the edge of the mattress, shoulders hunched forward, elbows on his knees. His hair was damp from where heâd splashed water on his face earlier. There was still blood crusted in his hairline from the fight in Bucharest. He hadnât spoken in hoursânot really. Just a grunt here and there when Steve checked on him.
The room was dark and cold, lit only by a single bulb hanging overhead, flickering just enough to be annoying. Dust danced in the light. The walls were bare. There was a thin mattress pushed into the corner and not much else.
He could hear someone talking outside. A familiar voice. And a softer one.
Then footsteps. Boots against concrete.
He didnât look up when Steve entered.
Steve took a breath and crossed the floor slowly. He didnât say anything at first, didnât try to force conversation.
He just sat, giving Bucky space to choose.
"You holding up?" Steve finally asked.
Bucky shrugged. His metal fingers flexed slightly. âStill breathing.â
It took another minute before Bucky spoke again, voice hoarse, low.
âYouâre leaving.â
Steve nodded. âNot for long.â
Bucky lifted his head, the shadows under his eyes deeper than ever. âWhere?â
âSam and I need to pull some others in. Itâs moving fast.â Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees. âBut Iâm not leaving you alone.â
Buckyâs mouth tightened slightly. âYouâre not?â
âNo.â Steve gave him a look. âSheâs staying.â
Buckyâs brow furrowed. âThe woman outside.â
Steve smiled faintly. âYeah.â
Bucky paused, then askedâcarefully, cautiouslyââThat your girl?â
Steve huffed a quiet laugh, looking down at the floor. âNo. God, no. Sheâs⊠sheâs just a friend.â
âDoesnât sound like âjust a friend,ââ Bucky muttered.
âSheâs just my friend,â Steve said again.
Bucky studied him for a long moment, the gears clearly turning behind his tired eyes. âYou trust her.â
âWith my life.â
âAnd youâre leaving her with me.â That wasnât a question. That was Bucky quietly testing the weight of what Steve was asking.
âIâm not leaving her with you like sheâs a babysitter,â Steve said, voice firm but warm. âShe offered. Because she cares. Because sheâs kind. And because sheâs not afraid of you.â
Buckyâs head dropped slightly. âThatâs a mistake.â
âNo,â Steve said firmly. âItâs not. Youâre not the man Hydra turned you into.â
âYou sure?â
Steve stood slowly, walking over to the window, eyes scanning the alleyway below. âYes and sheâll be here when you need her. Whether you like it or not.â
Bucky grunted. âSounds annoying.â
Steve chuckled. âYouâll get used to her.â
He moved to the door but paused with his hand on the knob. âBucky?â
He looked up.
âSheâs not my girl,â Steve said again, softer this time. âBut I do care about her. Sheâll look after you. Let her.â
Bucky stayed quiet for a long moment, watching his friendâs back. The silence stretched.
Then, quietly, âShe got a name?â
Steve turned back to him with a small, knowing smile. âAsk her yourself.â
Silence stretched. The tension in Buckyâs shoulders didnât ease, but something in his eyes flickered. Not quite trust. But maybe curiosity.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Outside, you were waiting patiently, arms folded, gaze flicking down the hallway as he approached. You gave him a questioning look.
âHowâd it go?â
âHe asked if you were my girl.â
You blinked, then laughed softly. âThatâs a first.â
âI told him no. Just a loyal, stubborn friend.â
You nudged his arm. âStubbornâs a little rude.â
âI meant it as a compliment.â
He gave you a final, grateful lookâthe kind that carried years of friendship in one glanceâthen disappeared down the stairwell, leaving you standing in the dim hallway outside Buckyâs room.
You inhaled slowly, squared your shoulders, and turned toward the door.
The door creaked softly as you stepped inside.
The air inside was stillâalmost unnaturally so. Dim light filtered through the cracked blinds, casting lines of gold across the worn floorboards. The mattress sat low to the ground, old and bare, and on it sat a man who looked more like a memory than a presence.
Bucky didnât look up right away.
He was perched on the edge of the mattress like he didnât know what to do with his body. Shoulders squared. Hands resting on his knees. The metal one glinting faintly under the weak light. He didnât move as you entered, didnât speakâjust turned and looked at you as if you might explode if he blinked.
His face was as unreadable as you'd expected. Blank. Cold. Not hostile, just... emptied out.
Still, you offered him the softest smile you could manage.
âHi,â you said softly, introducing yourself.
No reaction. Not even a flinch.
You took a step forward, slow and steady, keeping your voice warm. âSteve asked me to check in on you.â
Still nothing. But he hadnât asked you to leave either
âIâm not here to watch you,â you spoke, stepping forward slowly, palms open, posture relaxed. âNot like that. Iâm just here if you need anything.â
Silence.
But his eyes followed you, blue and unreadable.
âIâm not an agent or anything,â you added. âBut I figured a quiet face wouldnât hurt.â
His gaze dropped back to the floor.
Your eyes drifted to the gash above his eyebrow again. The skin around it looked irritated. Dry blood had trailed down his temple, now flaked and cracking.
âYouâre bleeding,â you murmured. âYour forehead.â
He blinked once. No acknowledgment. Just the same blank stare.
You nodded slightly to yourself, then crossed to the nearby table where Steve had left a bottle of water, some basic medical supplies. You grabbed a cloth and dampened it gently.
When you returned, you paused beside him.
âCan IâŠ?â you asked gently, holding up the cloth just slightly. âTake care of that?â
There was a long pause. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyesâsuspicion, uncertainty, maybe even something like confusion.
Then he gave a small, stiff nod.
You didnât sit on the mattress beside him. That felt too close. Instead, you knelt down on the floor, leveling yourself just enough to reach him, and held the cloth delicately in your fingers.
âOkay,â you said, mostly to fill the silence. âThis might be a little cold.â
You dabbed gently at the gash on his forehead, careful not to apply too much pressure. The dried blood flaked away slowly under your touch. You worked in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of the cloth against his skin and the hush of your own breath.
Bucky didnât flinch.
But he watched you.
Close. Unblinking.
Like he was trying to find the trick in your movements. Waiting for the shiftâwhen the care would curdle into expectation. Or interrogation. Or pity.
But you just kept working, your touch steady, your face calm.
After a long moment, he finally spokeâvoice low and rough, like unused gravel.
âYou an Avenger?â
It caught you a little off guard, but you smiled faintly, not stopping your work.
âNot at all,â you said. âMaybe honorary. I just help Steve out. Here and there.â
You wiped the last of the blood from his temple, then lowered the cloth.
âBut mostly,â you added with a small shrug, âI stick to New York.â
He was still staring at you. His brow twitched slightly. âDoing what?â
You chuckled, folding the cloth neatly in your lap. âIâm a lawyer.â
The expression on his face shifted for the first timeâjust a flicker, but there. His eyes narrowed slightly. Disbelieving, âA lawyer?â
You nodded. âMhm.â
His look said it before his lips did.
What the hell are you doing here?
You didnât need him to ask.
You met his gazeâsteady, warm, sure.
âA lawyer that knows right from wrong,â you said simply.
The room fell quiet again.
He stared at you like he was trying to see the catchâtrying to spot where the kindness ended and the judgment began.
It didnât come.
âIâm just here to help,â you said, barely above a whisper.
You stayed kneeling for a few more moments, wringing the bloodied cloth between your fingers, giving him space even while sitting right in front of him.
Bucky still hadnât moved.
He just watched you. Not with suspicion exactlyâmore like quiet observation, like he was still figuring out what you were.
You gave him a moment, then sat back on your heels and rested your arms on your knees.
âSo,â you started gently, as if you were just catching up with someone over coffee, âSteve said you were from Brooklyn.â
His eyes didnât move.
You waited a beat. Nothing.
âIâm from Hellâs Kitchen,â you added, offering a half-smile.
Still nothing. But something in his eyes flickered. Just barely.
âGrew up around a lot of noise,â you went on, your voice soft but casual. âCorner bodegas. Fire escapes. People yelling out their windows at four in the morning.â
Another pause. You risked glancing at him again.
Still no words. But his gaze lingered now. Slightly more engaged.
âI used to go up on the roof with a book and just... tune it all out,â you said, smiling faintly at the memory. âNever worked. Some jackass was always blasting Sinatra or arguing about Mets scores.â
You caught a flicker at thatâalmost a breath of amusement in his expression. Almost.
âGuess Brooklyn wasnât so different back then, huh?â
Still silence.
But now, he was looking at youânot through you.
You shrugged, eyes gentle. âAnyway. Just figured Iâd try to talk. Doesnât have to mean anything.â
His eyes finally dropped to the floor again, but his shoulders had eased. A fraction.
You added, âAnd if it helps at all⊠I talk a lot when Iâm nervous.â
That got you a flicker of eye contact again.
You smiled, soft and unbothered. âAnd you, from the looks of it, donât talk unless you absolutely have to. So, we make a solid pair.â
No reaction.
You let out a small sigh.
The room had settled into a quiet sort of calm by late evening.
Bucky hadnât spoken muchâif at allâbut he hadnât pulled away when you refilled his water or dropped off a spare blanket either. A win in your book.
You hadnât meant to take the call in front of him.
But you also couldnât afford to ignore itânot when Matt Murdockâs name lit up your screen with its usual stubborn persistence.
You shifted where you sat on the edge of the roomâs lone table, pressing the phone to your ear while still keeping Bucky in the corner of your eye. He sat on the mattress, back against the wall, arms folded stiffly over his chest. Watching. Always watching.
âGood evening,â you greeted softly, careful to keep your voice low.
There was a pause. Then, sharp and unmistakably annoyed, âWhere the hell are you?â
You smiled. âHi to you too, Matty.â
âI came by your loft, you weren't there.â
âNo, because Iâm in Germany.â
There was a long pause.
ââŠGermany?â
âYes.â
âYou do realize international borders exist, right? And that weâre not technically allowed to cross them at will?â
âYou do realize youâre blind and still have better spatial awareness than the TSA, right?â
âYou were just in New York yesterday,â he said, exasperated. âYou canât keep dropping everything the second Steve Rogers snaps his fingers.â
You rolled your eyes. âWow. Jealousy and judgment in one breath. Impressive.â
âIâm not jealous,â he bit out. âIâm concerned. You didnât even tell anyone you were leaving the country.â
You sighed, leaning back against the wall. âI didnât plan to. Things moved fast. Itâs not like Iâm on vacation, Matt.â
âYou think I donât know what fast looks like?â he shot back. âThis is the kind of fast that gets people killed. Youâre not a soldier. Youâre notââ
âIâm not you,â you snapped, before immediately softening your tone. âIâm not you, Matt. But you donât get to lecture me about dropping everything for a ghost from your past when you've barely been present since yours came back.â
The line went still.
You exhaled. âIâm not trying to fight with you.â
âI know,â he said finally, voice quieter now. âI just⊠I worry. You matter to people, you know?â
âIâll be back tomorrow,â you promised. âJust keeping someone safe until Steve gets back.â
There was a beat.
ââŠIs that someone dangerous?â
You glanced across the room. Buckyâs eyes were still on you, narrowed faintly in curiosity.
âNo,â you said. âNot to me.â
Matt didnât sound convinced. âCall me when you land.â
âI will.â
You ended the call with a gentle sigh, letting your head rest back against the wall.
Across the room, Bucky was watching you.
Not glaring. Not tense. Just watchingâwith that unreadable look he wore like armor.
You raised the phone slightly. âWork colleague.â
His brow lifted, slightly skeptical.
You tilted your head. âOkay, close work colleague.â
He didnât respond. But you swore you caught the briefest twitch at the corner of his mouthâsomething almost like amusement.
You didnât press.
You just leaned your head back and closed your eyes.
And thatâs when you heard it.
Footsteps.
A faint but steady rhythm outside, boots against gravel, echoing just enough through the warehouse walls to mimic something far more sinister.
The blood drained from Buckyâs face in an instant.
His body snapped upright, rigid. His eyes locked on the door.
And his breathing changed.
Subtle at first. A slight hitch. A break in rhythm. The kind of thing youâd miss if you werenât paying attention.
And you werenât.
You were halfway to the window already, your phone still in hand, distracted by the soft scrape of boots on gravel outside. You werenât even looking at him when you said, âIâll be right back. Just want to check it out.â
You moved with ease, brushing aside the edge of the tarp covering the glass. From where you stood, you caught a glimpseâjust a guy with a backpack, head down, walking briskly down the alley. Civilian. No uniform. No earpiece.
Harmless.
You turned back toward the room, already ready to reassureâ
And stopped cold.
Bucky hadnât moved from the bed.
But everything about him had changed.
He was still seated, but his hands were clenched into fists, white-knuckled. His shoulders were drawn in tight, and his head was tipped down, jaw locked, chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid bursts.
âBucky?â
His eyes snapped up.
Wide. Unfocused. Wild.
Your heart dropped.
You took a step closer. âHey. Youâre okay, it was just someone walking past. No oneâs coming.â
But he didnât hear you. Not really.
His breath hitched again, sharper this time. A low sound escaped his throatâalmost a growl, almost a sobâand his metal hand twitched violently on his knee.
âI canâtââ he choked, fingers clawing at the edge of the mattress. âI canâtâbreatheââ
You froze for half a second, then rushed forward, dropping into a crouch in front of him, palms out, voice gentle but firm.
âOkay. Okay, Bucky. Youâre having a panic attack. I know it feels like you canât breathe, but you are. I promise, you are. You need to try to slow it down, or your bodyâs going to lock up on you.â
His chest was rising in harsh, ragged gasps now, every breath shallow and frantic. His eyes were darting around the room like he was trapped, like every wall was closing in.
You hovered your hands near his knees, not touching, just there. âIâm not gonna grab you. Youâre safe. Youâre in control. Youâre not back there.â
He squeezed his eyes shut, body trembling. âI canâtâI canât get outâI canâtââ
âHey. Hey.â Your voice broke on the word. âYouâre not trapped. Iâm right here. Youâre with me, remember?â
No response.
His breathing was worsening. He wasnât inhaling fully anymore. Just choking down gulps of air like they werenât sticking. His fingers curled against the mattress, his body rocking slightly.
Heâs going to pass out.
You forced yourself to stay calm, to keep your voice steady even as panic rose in your own chest.
âOkay. Listen to me. Weâre going to ground, alright? Just do what you can.â You reached up, hovering your fingers closer to his arm. âFive things you can see. Look around, just five.â
He blinked rapidly, lips parted, shaking.
âFive things,â you repeated. âJust name them. Anything.â
âIâI canât,â he rasped. âI canâtâI canât seeâfuckââ
Your gut twisted.
âAlright. Itâs okay, itâs okay,â you whispered, watching his eyes roll slightly upward as if his mind was spinning off. âBucky, please. Just hold onto something.â
But he couldnât.
You could see the fight in him, but the grip of the attack had its claws in deep now, dragging him down. His hand jerked, metal fingers spasming like his nerves were short-circuiting.
He was slipping.
You didnât think. You didnât plan.
You just acted.
You surged forward and crushed your mouth to his.
Your hand cupped his jaw, thumb grazing the scruff of his cheek, your lips moving against his like your breath could anchor him, like your body could pull him back from wherever his mind had gone.
At first, he didnât move.
His breath hitched hard in your mouth, his body rigid.
And thenâ
He breathed.
Not perfect. Not deep.
But something shifted.
The tension in his shoulders dipped slightly. His mouth softened just enough under yours. The rigid rock of his spine eased.
You pulled back after a beat, gasping softly, shocked at yourself, still close enough to feel the heat of his breath on your lips.
His eyes snapped open.
Blue. Wide. Raw.
You blinked, stammering. âIâI didnât know what else to do. I read onceâsomewhereâthat when youâre panicking, holding your breath can reset your lungs, and soââ You swallowed. âSo, when I kissed you⊠you held your breath.â
His lips parted, still trembling.
Your hand was still lightly on his jaw. You started to pull it away, âIâm sorryââ
But then his handâhis metal handâcaught your wrist.
Gently.
He stared at you, breathing hard, but steadier now. Something wild still flickered behind his eyesâbut it wasnât panic anymore.
It was something else.
Something desperate.
Your breath caught somewhere in your throat.
Buckyâs handâcold metal and trembling restraintâwas still wrapped around your wrist, keeping your hand pressed to his jaw. His skin beneath your palm was warm, rough with stubble, tense with something unreadable.
You shouldâve tried to pull away again.
You shouldâve said something. But you couldnât speak.
Not with the way he was looking at you. Like you werenât real. Like heâd dreamed you up in some quiet corner of his broken mind and was terrified you might disappear if he blinked too long.
Your heart pounded against your ribs. Your mind raced, caught between guilt and instinct.
âIâI shouldnât have done that,â you whispered, barely able to hear your own voice. âI just didnât know what elseââ
And then you felt it.
His other hand.
You hadnât even noticed it moving. But now, his warm, flesh hand was at the back of your head, fingers tangling through your hair, firm and certain.
You barely had time to breathe before he pulled you in.
The kiss came fast.
No hesitation. No apology.
It collided with your mouth like a dam breakingâlike a gasp swallowed between parted lips and bruised hearts. His hand on your wrist still held you in place, while the other tilted your head just enough to claim every inch of your mouth.
You made a startled soundâsomething between a breath and a gaspâand your hands moved instinctively finding his shoulders as you fell forward into his chest.
Your body hit his with more force than you meant, but he didnât flinch. If anything, he pulled you closer, like your weight grounded him.
His kiss deepened.
It wasnât gentle.
It was hungry.
Like he needed this more than air. Like the feel of your mouth, the press of your body, was the only thing holding him in the present. His lips moved against yours with bruising pressure, desperate and hot, tongue flicking past your parted lips like he couldnât stand not to taste you again.
And you melted.
Every thought, every question, every ounce of guilt evaporated the second his tongue touched yours.
Your fingers tightened on his shoulders. Your knees threatened to give out. His breath was ragged in your mouth, nose brushing yours, body trembling with barely leashed tension.
This wasnât just comfort.
This was need.
Pure and primal.
His hands were on you nowâboth of them. The right still cradled the back of your head, fingers buried in your hair, holding you close. But the left⊠the left had found your waist, sliding up beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips brushing along your side like he wasnât sure if he was allowed to touch but couldnât help himself.
You felt the chill of metal and the heat of human skin, trembling and unsure.
He kissed you harder. Mouth moving against yours with clumsy, desperate hungerâno rhythm, no restraint. He wasnât kissing to seduce.
He was kissing to feel.
When his lips broke from yours, they didnât go far. They dropped to your jaw, then your throat, his breath hot and uneven as he murmured something unintelligible against your skin.
His tongue dragged along the side of your neck, followed by soft, open-mouthed kissesârushed, messy, too fast. Like he didnât know where to start. Like he wanted to taste every inch of you at once.
âGodâŠâ he breathed, mouth moving to your collarbone. âYouâre so softâŠâ
His hands moved again, a little braver nowâpalming your waist, then your back, then your hips. He tugged at your shirt, his fingers grazing over the fabric like it was in his way, like he needed to touch more.
And thatâs when your thoughts finally broke through the haze.
You gasped, blinking hard, fingers coming up to press gently against his chest.
âBucky,â you said, breathless. âWe should stop.â
He didnât move. Didnât pull back.
His lips paused just below your ear, trembling.
âThis isnât good for you,â you whispered. âYouâre in a bad headspace, and I donât want to take advantageââ
He pulled back enough to look at you, his eyes wide and pleading, voice cracking.
âPlease,â he whispered.
Your heart shattered.
âBuckyââ
âPlease,â he said again, more desperate now. âIâI need to feel you. I need to know Iâm still here. That Iâm not⊠that Iâm not him.â
Your hands trembled where they rested on his chest.
His voice broke entirely. âJust⊠just let me touch you. Let me feel something that isnât pain. PleaseâŠâ
You stared at him for a long moment, his words still ringing in your ears, his hands trembling against your waist.
Let me feel something that isnât pain.
The breath left your chest in a slow, trembling sigh.
And then you leaned in.
Your lips met his againânot rough this time, but slow, deep, deliberate. A promise.
Bucky responded like heâd been holding his breath.
His hands flew to your sides, tugging you closer until your knees straddled his thighs, until your chest was flush with his. He let out a broken, needy sound as you kissed him, fingers dragging up your spine, gripping, clutching, like he was terrified youâd vanish if he let go.
You pulled back just long enough to whisper against his lips, âItâs okay. Iâve got you. Iâm gonna take care of you.â
He moaned at thatâactually moanedâhis mouth crashing into yours again as his hands started moving, frantic and restless, skimming beneath your shirt, tugging at the fabric like it was an obstacle, not clothing.
Your fingers slid up into his hair, holding his face between your palms like he was something fragile. You kissed him deeper, letting him pour himself into it, letting him need you. And all the while, you rocked slowly in his lap, hips rolling in a subtle, steady rhythm that made both of you gasp.
âFuck,â Bucky whispered against your mouth. âYou feel so good⊠I canâtâcanât get close enough.â
He pulled harder at your shirt, his hands shaking with how desperately he wanted more of you. You broke the kiss just long enough to fumble with the buttons, undoing only a few before he lost patience entirely.
His hands flew up to your chest, and in one frantic motion, he tugged your bra down beneath your breasts.
âBuckyââ
But then his mouth was on you, and the words dissolved.
He latched onto your breast with a groan so guttural it vibrated through your core. His tongue swirled around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth like he was starved for itâlike this was the only thing tethering him to earth.
You gasped, eyes flying wide, one hand clinging to his shoulder as your hips jerked against him.
âOh myâBuckyââ
He didnât stop. He couldnât.
His metal hand clutched your back, holding you in place as he lavished your breast with open-mouthed kisses, warm and wet and messy. His other hand palmed your waist, guiding your hips in time with his own.
You rutted against him harder now, both of you still fully clothed, the friction unbearable and perfect. His cock pressed thick and hard against you through his jeans, and the way he groaned into your skin when you ground down on him made your thighs tremble.
âPlease,â he whispered, voice wrecked. âPlease donât stop.â
You tangled your fingers in his hair, guiding him, anchoring him.
âIâm not going anywhere,â you breathed. âIâve got you.â
And he moaned again, mouth still on your skin, hips jerking upward into you like he was begging you to believe him.
Your breathing was ragged. His lips were still wet from your skin. And when you pulled back slightlyâonly just enough to break contactâBucky let out a whine.
Not a word. A sound. Broken, instinctual.
âDonâtââ he gasped, trying to follow you. âPlease, donât go.â
âIâm not going anywhere,â you whispered, your voice barely stable as you pushed gently against his chest.
He let you guide him back, his body hitting the thin mattress with a soft thump, arms still reaching for you like he couldnât stand a single inch of distance.
âIâve got you,â you promised again, voice low and sure, even as your hands moved fast.
You didnât fully undressâdidnât need to. You shoved your jeans down, just past your knees, the waistband biting into your thighs as you knelt between his legs. Buckyâs chest heaved as he watched you, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he was starving.
âGod, youâreâŠâ he breathed, voice hoarse. âYouâre not real.â
You reached for his jeans, fingers fumbling slightly with the buckle, your own hands shaking now with the sheer pressure of what you were doingâwhat this was. You unzipped him, tugging his waistband down just far enough to free him.
And there he was.
Hard. Leaking. So fucking ready it made your mouth go dry.
He twitched when your hand wrapped around himâjust onceâand he gasped, hips jerking slightly off the mattress.
âPlease,â he murmured again. âIâI need to be inside you. Please, I needââ
You didnât let him finish.
You rose back up onto his thighs, grabbed his cock at the base, and positioned yourself with practiced urgency.
He held his breath.
And thenâyou sank down.
Slow, steady, deep.
Bucky cried out, head snapping back against the mattress, eyes fluttering shut as your heat wrapped around him. âFuck,âJesusââ
You couldnât even breathe for a second. The stretch was intense, overwhelmingâyour thighs trembling as you adjusted, hands braced on his chest.
Beneath you, he was shaking.
Completely undone.
His hands flew to your hips, gripping tight, not to guide youâbut just to hold on.
You stayed there a moment, full of him, pulsing around him, feeling every tremble in his frame.
Then you leaned down, lips brushing his cheek, and whispered, âYou feel that?â
He nodded, frantic.
âThatâs real. Iâm real. And youâre not alone.â
And then you started to move.
You moved slowly at firstâhips rolling, drawing his cock in deep, then easing back up, dragging every inch of him against your walls. Buckyâs head tipped back, a shudder ripping through him, his mouth slack, eyes blown wide as his hands dug into your waist like he was terrified you might stop.
âGod,â he rasped, âyou feelâfuck, you feel so goodââ
You didnât answer. You didnât need to. The way your body wrapped around him, the rhythm building in your hipsâit said everything.
You rode him harder, faster now, the tension rising like a fever. The denim of his jeans and the way your own clothes clung to sweat-slick skin made everything feel even messier, even more raw. The friction burned in the best way, every drag of your body against his driving him closer to the edge.
Bucky couldnât stop touching you. His hands were on your waist, your thighs, your backâlike he couldnât decide where he needed you more. His voice was low and broken, a litany of groans and murmured please, please, please, even when you were already giving him everything.
When you leaned in and pressed your forehead to his, your fingers tangling in his hair, he was right there with youâbreathing you in like oxygen.
His chest was rising fast now, the rhythm in your hips growing sloppy, desperate. You could feel him pulsing inside you, getting close.
Thenâsuddenlyâhe surged upward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him as his mouth found yours again. The kiss was rough, needy, all tongue and teeth and shaky breath. He needed to be connectedâto feel you pressed against him in every possible way as he unraveled.
And then he came.
You felt itâdeep, hot, twitching inside you as he groaned into your mouth, burying his face in your shoulder, his entire body trembling as you held him through it. His arms clutched you tight, almost too tight, like if he let go you might vanish.
You didnât.
You stayed with him. Arms wrapped around his shoulders. Lips at his temple. Your hips finally stilled.
You hadnât come. You werenât even thinking about it.
Thisâthisâhad never been about you.
It was for him.
To remind him that he was here. That he was human. That he was held.
You were still catching your breath, his body trembling in your arms, when it happened.
Without a wordâwithout even looking upâBucky shifted beneath you, tightening his arms around your waist. And before you could ask what he was doing, he flipped you.
Your back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and you barely had time to gasp before his body followed, pressing you down, caging you in.
âBuckyââ you started, surprised, dazed.
But the look in his eyes stole the words from your mouth.
Focused. Intense. Wild with a need you hadnât seen beforeâbut not for his own release this time.
For yours.
He was still hard inside you. Still there. And now, he began to move.
Not gently.
Not slowly.
He pounded into youâhips snapping forward with frantic rhythm, as if something had cracked open inside him and he couldnât bear not to give you back everything youâd just given him. Every thrust was deep, hard, messy. His breath came in grunts and gasps, his forehead pressed to yours, his body slick with sweat.
You clutched at his shoulders, your own body struggling to keep up as pleasure started to crash over you like a wave.
âLet me,â he panted, voice low and wrecked. âLet me make you feel good. Youâfuck, you were so good to meâI needâI need to make you comeâpleaseââ
Your breath hitched, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut as his cock drove into you again and again, hitting all the right angles now with dizzying precision. His hand slid down, slipping between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, desperate, trying to draw your pleasure up through every inch of you.
The pressure built fast. Too fast.
You were already so full, so overwhelmedâhis voice in your ear, his fingers on your body, his cock so hard inside youâand the way he moved⊠God.
âYou donât have toââ you started, already trembling.
âI want to,â he growled, fucking into you harder, deeper, like he couldnât get close enough.
You whimpered, body jerking beneath his as the tension in your core snapped tighter, tighter, tighterâ
âCome for me,â he groaned. âPlease. I need to feel it.â
And then you did.
You came with a moan that tore out of your throat, back arching, hands clutching at his back as your body spasmed around him. Bucky groaned, dropping his head into your neck, hips still moving as he rode you through it, holding you like he never wanted to let go.
Like giving you pleasure was what made him feel whole.
His body trembled as he came down, the last few ragged thrusts losing momentum until finallyâfinallyâhe stilled, buried deep inside you, heart pounding hard enough that you could feel it through his chest.
He hovered there for a moment, arms shaking, breath catching in his throat.
And then he collapsed.
Not all at once. Slowly, carefully. Like his strength gave out in stages. But even as he let himself fall into you, he caught his weight on his forearms, mindful, always mindfulânever fully resting on you. He curled slightly, pressing his face into the crook of your neck like he needed to hide. Like the world was too bright again, too loud, and your skin was the only place left that felt quiet.
Your arms came around him without hesitation.
One hand slipped across his back, fingers splayed wide, gently grounding him with each stroke up and down his spine. The other cradled the back of his head, thumb sweeping slowly through his damp hair, cradling him like something precious.
His breath hitched once.
You didnât speak right away.
You just held him.
He melted into it slowly, his metal arm resting against the mattress beside your head, his human hand fisting weakly in the blanket beneath you. You felt the tremble still in his musclesâaftershocks of everything heâd just released.
âShh,â you murmured, soft against his ear. âYouâre okay, baby. Youâre okay. Iâve got you.â
His forehead pressed tighter to your throat.
âYouâre safe now,â you whispered, voice low and steady. âRight here with me.â
He exhaled, shaky and fragile.
âYouâre not alone. Youâre not him. Youâre not broken.â
He didnât answerâbut he didnât need to.
He let you hold him.
You kept going, voice like a lullaby, your fingers never stopping.
âYouâre gonna be okay,â you murmured. âI donât care how long it takes. Iâm not going anywhere.â
His grip on the blanket loosened, and he shifted just enough to finally let some of his weight settle into your body.
Not too much.
Just enough to trust.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x you#bucky barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fluff#the avengers#captain america civil war#steve rogers#matt murdock#daredevil#team cap
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Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2
Part one
It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- Iâm committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancĂ©. But⊠Iâm still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how Iâm gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.
Itâs fine, Iâm not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because sheâs been holding the hand of the man sheâs obsessed with, thatâs all!
âWellâŠ. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?â
I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.
âAbsolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? Thereâs this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.â
And thatâs how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.
âWell? Is everything to your liking? â
Iâm going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my âevil crazyâ side isnât supposed to be directed at him, and sheâs usually kinda distant and unsure around himâŠ. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. ButâŠ. Iâve already messed that upâŠ. I guess I can be more genuine when itâs the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that Iâm pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk âIâ truly am when Cressidaâs around. BesidesâŠ. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. Itâs clear she loved the prince, and just didnât know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.
âItâs breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and Iâve never seen so many kinds in bloom at onceâŠ. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.â
There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! Iâm not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.
âIâm glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me⊠you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.â He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, âIâd like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. Iâm enjoying just being companionable with you, even if itâs just existing comfortably in the same room.â
Ohhhh, I know Iâm the villain in this story but I canât help but root for him- what a sweetheart! Itâs so obvious heâs been lonely, I canât wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that theyâll spoil rotten. And in the meantimeâŠ. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because Iâm going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.
âI know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?â
We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where Iâm at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers heâs been signing, documents heâs been drafting, etc.
The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince⊠hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressidaâs here.
When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.
Ohhhh shitâŠ. The original story hadnât prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But⊠it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just⊠Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god Iâm such an idiot.
The story is told through Cressidaâs point of view- of course thereâs more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, sheâs fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesnât struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she canât bear to lose Eric!
As someoneâs whoâs worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoeâŠ. Ok. Um. Well theyâre still standing there in shock, I can fix thisâŠ.
âYou really did a lovely job⊠my hair has never looked so gorgeous, youâre truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!â
There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so Iâm still the lovesick fiancĂ© whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it⊠I canât believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. Iâve gotta learn their names next timeâŠ. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apologyâŠ?
I didnât know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainessâ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.
âYouâre telling me she said THANK YOU!?â
âYes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!â
âI had no idea how precious she was⊠I canât believe I never realized sheâs just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancĂ©âŠ. Who I gather sheâs got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.â
âOhh our sweet girl, Iâm sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak âŠâ
âWell I may have some news about that⊠and itâs no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!â
âSuch a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!â
Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didnât let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didnât gossip to her handmaid, didnât ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.
While I thought my blunt âthank youâ was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things overâŠ. It was more words than theyâd heard from me in the whole time Iâd lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.
When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners werenât exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt soâŠ. Cold?
Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,
âGood evening, princess.â
He had to project his voice slightly. It wasnât like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.
I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,
âWhatâs that?â
By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but itâs so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized itâs probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if Iâve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me⊠and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.
Itâs hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- itâs exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!
Itâs with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed Iâd ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancĂ©, complete.
While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.
âYes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? Iâd like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, Iâve detailed it here. Thank you.â
At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her familyâs guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me⊠was right across the hall.
Series discontinued- sorry my loves. Ik yâall wanted more but the good news is that Iâve seen several really talented authors picking up this idea and executing it wayyyy better than my sporadic mood writing ever could.
#dividers by cafekitsune#yandere blog#yandere#obsessive yandere#obsessive love#yandere x darling#yandere blurb#soft yandere#yandere imagine#yandere scenarios#tw yandere#yandere oc#yandere isekai#isekai#yandere manhwa x reader#yandere manga#Yandere prince#Yandere manhwa#yan blog#yandere series#yandere male#yancore#yanblr#male yandere#yandere stories#irl yandere#irl darling#yandere oc x reader#yandere x you#yandere x reader
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summary: you and paige make a bet to see who can go the longest without initiating sex. much to both of your displeasure, neither one of you are willing to go down without a fight themes/warnings: smut with very little plot, fingering (r receiving), oral (p receiving), strap-on use, exhibitionism if your squint (not really though just adding it to be safe), sexting, breeding kink (sort of) word count: 5.6k note: yes i wrote and proofread this in less than 24 hours. no, the timeline of this story does not make much sense with actual UCONN schedules. please suspend ur disbelief there, this is basically just filth xoxoxo enjoy
It all started on a Friday night in Paigeâs apartment. The two of you laid on top of her comforter browsing places for a potential upcoming weekend trip. Dating one of the most prominent players in womenâs college basketball was not for the weak, with the two of you often having to piece your busy schedules together like a puzzle to find enough time for a simple dinner or even time to coexist together. But occasionally, the universe (or Geno) granted you a gift in the form of time off for Paige. This meant you were able to disappear off to a romantic getaway with your girl for a bit. If you two could pick a place, that is.
âWe could go to Miami?â You suggested, reading off a list on your phone. Paige leaned in to look, lightly tapping the side of your head with hers. Her arm rested around your shoulders, her hand drawing circles on your arm every once in a while. Her limb had fallen asleep about 10 minutes prior, but she would never tell you that.
âDonât we wanna go somewhere a little more romantic?â Paige questioned, a point you failed to consider. âPlus you know Iâm gonna get sunburnt on the first day.â
âBut youâre so cute when youâre sunburnt.â You giggled in response, remembering the various vacation photos youâve received over the years with Paigeâs skin in ranging shades of red. Apparently, she didnât seem to think so, as she looked at you pointedly with an eyebrow raised. You huffed, âFine, what are your ideas.â
As Paige moves to unlock her phone, the two of you are interrupted by a sharp soundcoming from outside of her room. Paigeâs face shifted to confusion at the same time as yours, the two of you sitting up on the bed as if that would help you detect the sound faster. Just as you were about to ask if Allie or Jana had decided to rearrange the furniture, you heard a clearer sound: high pitched moans, followed by a series of bang, bang, bang. You watched your girlfriend realize at the same time that these sounds were most certainly coming from the apartment above hers, sending you both into a fit of roaring laughter.
âOh my God.â Paige chokes, throwing her head back and grabbing your arm to stabilize herself.
âI really hope weâre not that loud.â You cracked a joke, not expecting anything of it. That is until Paige looks at you in a way that screams âyou canât be seriousâ and you can feel your heart drop. âPaige, why are you looking at me like that?â
Paige bit her lip, nodding a few times for courage before saying, âJana said sheâs definitely heard us a few times.â
You groan loudly, flopping on the bed once more. âKill me,â you plead, voice muffled by the pillows.
âI like the noises you make.â Your girlfriend comforts you between her laughs, rubbing your back. You stand, feeling as though pacing in her room will help work off some of the complete and utter embarrassment you were feeling right now. Sure, you knew you and Paige werenât exactly the quietest. But receiving confirmation that others had heard you in your most vulnerable state was humbling to say the least.
âItâs not my fault Iâm dating the horniest girl on the planet,â you quipped in an effort to make yourself feel better. You watch as your girlfriends jaw drops, her head cocking to the side.
âWoah,â she all but yells, her head shaking. âIâm the horny one?â
Her expression is so comical, with her eyes practically bulging out of her head, you canât hep but crack a smile as you defend your position. âYou initiate constantly.â
âYou initiate just as much as I do! Plus all those photos you send me on away games.â
You blush, remembering all the nights alone where the bed seems just a little too cold without your tall blonde girlfriend by your side. Nights where you open the drawer of various lingerie you and/or Paige had picked out throughout the years. It was a winning move all around: you got to feel sexy with every snap you sent to Paige, both of you got off to it, and it usually meant that your sex after she returned was even better. âYeah, because I know you like them.â
âThereâs no way Iâm hornier than you, bro.â She throws her hands up. To be fair, as you watch her sit on her bed legs spread apart, donning a grey Nike hoodie and black sweats, you think she may have a point. This doesnât stop an idea from popping in your head.
You sauntered over to her, legs straddling one of hers as she looked at you curiously. You sat yourself down, hands reaching under the hoodie and lightly tracing at bare skin. âOkay, prove it.â
âHuh?â She asked, her voice gravelly. I got the advantage already, you think to yourself mischievously.
âFirst person to initiate sex loses.â You propose, expecting an absolutely not from her. To your surprise, she seems even more intrigued.
âOk, what does the winner get?â
You think for a moment. âBragging rights,â you decide, adding. âand the choice of movie on movie night for the next month.â Though you both cherish your movie nights when youâre able to sneak them into the week, trying to agree on a movie is a battle.
âDeal,â Paige sticks her hand out, acting like some sort of businessman. You play along, accepting her firm grip, which she used to pull you in closer, her gaze still roaming your body. âand Y/N?â
âYeah?â
Her head moved closer and closer. You could feel her breath on your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm. She peppered a few light kisses on the back of your ear before whispering, âI think we both know whoâs going to win this, baby.â
Two days after the bet
This may be the worst idea youâve ever had.
In the hours after you first proposed this little competition, the rules as to what counted as initiating became more explicit. Kissing, grinding, and the like were all okay as long as third base was not crossed. Should be easy enough, you thought, recognizing that you could do a majority of your favorite acts of intimacy without forfeiting.
What you failed to consider is just how much more appealing sex was when you knew you couldnât have it. Little things from seeing a sliver of Paigeâs toned torso as her shirt rode up reaching for the top shelf to how her hair got wavy after she had taken a post-practice shower got a reaction out of you these days . You were going insane, and yet your girlfriend appeared to be cool and collected. You truly should have expected this. There was no universe where Paige Bueckers wouldnât be competitive, even over some dumb shit like this.
So when you woke up in her bed, approximately 30 minutes before her alarm to get ready for the bus taking her to a game in New York, you planned to change that. Gently loosening the grip she had around you, you reach you head up to pepper kisses on her cheeks, watching her stir before blinking her eyes open. Once they are able to somewhat focus on you, she offers a tired smile. âMmmm, good morning to you too.â
Her hand cups your face, connecting you in a sweet kiss. You got her exactly where you want her. You let yourself melt into the kiss for just a moment before swinging a leg around to straddle her. Though the blonde was never much of a morning person, she suddenly seemed a lot more awake. Reaching for the bottom of Paigeâs crewneck that you borrowed (stole), you pulled it over your head before throwing it to the ground with the rest of Paigeâs clothes. This action sent Paigeâs line of vision straight to your breasts, which you kneaded in your hands as you lightly ground down on her pajama covered crotch.
âShit, Y/N,â She was seemingly mesmerized, unable to resist and you lean down and capture her lips once more, both of you a lot needier than before. Her tongue slips in, and it takes everything in you to pull away long enough to nibble at her ear.
âWe got time before you have to make your bus.â
Her hands reach around to feel your waist, before coming back around to cup your tits. âOh really?â
You nod, humming as you feel your victory is imminent. âYou gonna give in, Bueckers?â
âOh hell no,â her eyes widen, her movement in her hands stopping abruptly before removing contact entirely, a move you were less than pleased by. Still on top of her, you raise your eyebrows, an action which she returns. âWhat, you seriously thought I was gonna lose from that?â
Damn, she really didnât have to be that harsh. âOuch.â
Her laughter comes to a halt, her expression softening as she brushes your hair out of your face. âYou were so sexy, you always are.â She gushes. âBut I told you; if anyone here is losing this challenge, itâs you.â
You whip your leg back around, moving to a standing position and grabbing the discarded crewneck before throwing it back on. âWhatever,â you sulk.
âItâs a shame, too.â Paige follows your lead, moving to a standing position and grabbing your waist, making it abundantly clear just how much taller she is. She puts a finger under your chin, lifting so youâre forced to make eye contact. âI was getting real excited about being inside you.â
You have to physically hold yourself back from shivering at the comment, not wanting to show Paige just how much pressure was between your legs. âGo pack,â you crack a small smile, gesturing to her almost empty duffle.
Six days after the bet
Paige was off at an away game, this time much farther than just a state away. This required her to spend two nights away from Storrs, making the challenge just a little bit easier. Sure, you missed your girlfriend. But considering the circumstances it was nice to not have such a close reminder of how much you wanted to jump her bones.
You kept yourself busy the days she was gone with classes, extracurriculars, and time spent with friends at the student union. By the time you got back to your apartment the second night she was gone, you were completely wiped out, midterm week beginning to take a toll on you. Upon checking your notifications waiting for you while your phone was on do not disturb, you spot a snapchat notification from Paige. Sitting on your bed, you open it.
Sheâs sat in what appears to be her hotel room, snapback hat covering the top of her head. Her tongue is all the way out, paired with the caption âMiss you my sweet girl. Canât wait for munch madness.â
While on any other day you would only be hyper focused on the pure absurdity of the photo, her tongue and the implications in the message had a downright embarrassing effect on you. Preparing to send back a more normal photo, your eyes make contact with the top drawer of your dresser, reserved for very specific articles of clothing. Two could play at that game.
Your red set had always been her favorite. You bought it at a smaller boutique towards the beginning of your relationship. Paige went so feral over how it hugged and accentuated every curve of yours the first night you wore it. You brought this set out on rare occasions, but figured this was enough of a reason to dust it off.
You knew exactly what angles she liked, showing off your body while disguising your face just enough to feel comfortable sending it. So when Paige sent back a chat which read "Youâre gonna be the death of me,â you relished in the small victory you reached over her.
What are you thinking about? You send back, which Paige reads immediately.
How good youâd look sucking my cock in that, pretty girl.
The message nearly makes you choke on your own spit. It wasnât every day that Paige brought out the strap. Many days, the two of you preferred intimacy just before bed, with Paige trailing her fingers under your pajama pants and you eating her out under the covers. But in some occasions, whether it be moments after a win or other times Paige was feeling particularly cocky, best believe she was ready to have you bent over seven different ways.
Want it so bad. You almost cringe at just how desperate you sound, but who could blame you?
Paigeâs bitmoji popped up and down a few times, pondering before sending; Going to bed soon. See you tomorrow ;)
Youâve got to be fucking kidding me, you groan as your head hits your pillow. If you couldnât have the real thing right now, you would at least settle for Paige talking (texting?) you through an orgasm. More frustrated than when you started, you reach a hand into your lace underwear, seemingly gone to waste.
And when Paige returns the next day and is able to stray from touching you outside of a quick makeout session, you wonder whether or not this bet was even worth it - you would be perfectly fine sitting through Disney movies for the next month if it meant your girlfriend could at least fuck you afterwards. But more than anything, you were still playing for your pride. After all, you knew this was the kind of shit that Paige would never let you forget.
Two weeks after the bet
After your failed seduction via Snapchat, you ruled it wasnât worth it to try to get Paige to fold, and that your energy was much better used in not getting yourself to give in. Thankfully, your girlfriend had been booked and busy with two more games, one of which was a home game you attended. When it got to the point where Paigeâs arguments with the refs were beginning to turn you on instead of simply make you laugh, you knew you were in deep, deep shit.
There were very, very few times you were forced to resort to masturbation typically, Not that there was any shame in it, its just that you always had Paige to help you out. Even if her schedule forced you to wait a few extra hours or even a day to get your release, it was a negotiation you were willing to take. Even though you knew your own body and what you liked, Paige seemed to have your body memorized, knowing just how much pressure to put on your clit and the precise second to speed up. Masturbation was essentially reserved for when Paige was physically not in the same state, and even then she helped where she could (as was to your detriment last week).
However with Paige gone at a practice on a Friday night and your friends all refusing to go out in the pouring rain, you were left alone in your one bedroom apartment and bored. That combined with the arousal that had been pooling inside you for weeks now was a lethal combination.
You tried to starve it off, you really did. You left the door unlocked for Paige later, just in case practice got off on time (it nearly never did) and she had time to swing by your place. A little part of you hoped she would break tonight, give you exactly what you needed. But at this point, the chances of that happening were sounding less and less likely, even to the most delusional section of your mind.
So you spent your night eating leftovers and binge watching your current Netflix fixation, trying to ignore how you would much rather be spending your night. Your legs rub together in your bed, soft and smooth from your nighttime shower routine. Pressing your thighs together, you sigh, unable to resist. Fuck it.
After shutting your laptop and placing it on your bedside table, you remove your pajama pants, tossing them to the floor. You could feel yourself dripping even from outside your underwear, breaking any last reservations you had on indulging in self pleasure. Reaching in, you put pressure on your clit, immediately melting into the touch.
Unknown to you, practice for UConn didnât get out on time this night - it got out early, an uncharacteristic move for Geno who felt that the players would be better off resting their bodies before their upcoming games after a long week of practice than another hour of running the same drills. Though normally Paige would use this extra time to go to Tedâs with the rest of the team, she was more than happy to return home to you - even if this stupid bet was still going on.
The truth is, Paige had been just as wound up all week. If the two of you werenât equally as competitive, she likely would have forfeited in the first three days. Honestly, its not like she would necessarily disagree that she was the hornier one out of the two of you - I mean, anyone who saw you would be. It was the definitiveness in your voice that got to her. She always loved proving people wrong.
She knew your door was unlocked, but gave it a light tap just to notify you of her presence. Normally this would prompt a âcome inâ or âitâs openâ, but this time she was met with nothing except for the muffled sounds of your neighbors pregaming. Curious, she opened the door, walking into your living room with a call, âbabe?â
Though you heard her, your brain was slow to process, too focused on the sweet relief you were getting. As you heard footsteps pad towards your room, you finally developed enough sense to slow your breathing, about to will yourself to remove your hand when the door swung open, all six feet of your sweaty, rain soaked girlfriend standing in the arch.
For a beat, the two of you looked at each other like deer in headlights, your hand still in your panties and her jaw on the floor She noticed the same moment you did, her eyes trailing as you quickly removed the digits.
Paige slowly set her backpack on the floor, blue eyes still never leaving you. Her gaze was filled with something you couldnât quite detect - was it anger? She made a slow stride over to you, her hands shoved in her pockets, and you realize just how dilated her pupils had become. Nope, definitely not anger. More like pure arousal, mixed with admiration.
âKeep going,â Her voice is low, accent thick. You want to question it, but she adds on a,âPlease.â
Shocked yet intrigued, you slowly trail your hand back down, tracing your nipple and lightly kneading the soft tissue of your breast. Paige licked her lips, watching the show you were putting on intently. Her pupils dilated as you finally make your way to your cotton panties, hooking your fingers under the sides and pulling them down just enough to give yourself more mobility and add more visual appeal for Paige. Paige hardly had time to be embarrassed by how much of an effect your wet pussy had on her after a two week drought, not when you immediately sunk a finger in while maintaining your hungry stare on her.
There was a beat of silence, the only sound in the room being the faint suction of your core gratefully accepting the relief from your middle finger. You donât know whether it was the fact that you hadnât cum with your girlfriend in weeks, or the fact that she was staring at you hungrily, but you couldnât hold back the moan that raged through you, ending in a sharp whine. Paige inhaled, her eyes shutting as if she couldnât bare to look. Exhale. Then, the silence was broken.
âFuck it.â
You hardly had time to blink before she was on you, a hand reaching down and borderline yanking your hand away from your clit, replacing it with hers. The other hand reached for your face, connecting your lips as her fingers began making messy circles.
You melted into the kiss, thankful for the way it muffled your moans as Paige slipped a finger in, still paying good attention to your puffy clit. Your legs began to tighten, and you could almost cry because of how overwhelming it all was. You never thought just fourteen days without sex would do such a number on you, as you and Paige has certainly gone longer, but the fact that it was forbidden combined with the knowledge that you got her to snap like she did caused a rush of warmth to your core.
âYou feel so good.â Paigeâs voice comes out muffled by your lips, her breath labored. You love when she does this, riling herself up just by getting you off. âMissed this pussy so much.â
âPaige, please,â you donât quite know what you are begging for, but the pure desperation in Paigeâs voice has done a number on you. After over a week of feeling like the needy one, the way Paige is fucking you now is nothing short of satisfying and you need more. âNeed you so bad.â
âI know, I know.â She whines, her face hiding in the crook of your neck. She was convinced if she took one look at you while you were asking (no, begging) her for more, she wouldnât be able to hold back from cumming in her pants. Between sloppy kisses to soft skin, she babbles, âIâm gonna make you feel good, I promise. Gonna make you cum.â
That was Paige in a nutshell. No matter how tired she was, or how much the ache between her legs begged for her attention, she put your orgasm before hers always. She paid attention to the way your breath quickened, your legs becoming impossibly stiff, and she whispered, âYou close?â
All you could do was nod, so focused on your release that forming coherent sentences was not in the cards for you at the moment. âGo ahead, wanna feel it.â
Your release rushed through you, warm and all encompassing, and it took all your strength to remain somewhat quiet as you exhaled through it, your moans coming out more as whines if anything. As your breath steadied, Paigeâs mouth returned to yours, this time more sweet as she brought you back down.
In your post-orgasm glow, you widen your eyes just enough to look at your girlfriend, the front tendrils of her hair damp from both sweat and the storm outside. A blush floods her face as she grins at you, prompting you to pull her down for a kiss.
âWanna use my mouth on you, that okay?â
Paige nods, her eyes wide and breath labored from the performance she just gave to you. The two of you switch positions, her laying down on your pillows while you crawled over her, moving down her body. Though you wanted nothing more that for her to just sit back and relax as you showed her just how grateful you were for her, she did aid you in removing her drenched hoodie, the two of you laughing as it momentarily got stuck on her head (in any other circumstance you would scold her for laying in your bed with wet clothes, but you really couldnât bring yourself to care at the moment).
You kiss down her torso, watching her toned core flex in reaction as she inhales sharply. Her hands reach down to your shoulders, and you know exactly what she wants - she would just never outright ask. Looking up, eyes wide, you smile sweetly. âGrab my hair, baby.â
She sighs, fingers interwoven in your hair as you make work on her pants, pulling them down along with the boxers you love so much. You press gentle kisses to her inner thighs, ignoring the area begging for your attention until Paige huffs, âplease, waited long enough. Want you so bad. Need you so bad.â
You bite back a grin, loving just how vocal your girlfriend gets. Giving in, you press a gentle lick to your girlfriends core, feeling her thighs tense in reaction, before giving her all of you and finding her waiting clit.
âThere you go, good girl. Oh fuck,â She melts into your bed, eyes rolling into the back of her head as sheâs overwhelmed by the sensation. Unlike you, who at least got the opportunity to indulge in self-pleasure, she never had the time, either spending her nights with you, in a hotel room with her teammates, or too tired after a long day of practice. Wanting to make the most of your handiwork, she moved one hand to the side of your face. âLook at meâ
Still sucking at her clit, you lift your head slightly, and she cries out as she sees just how drunk off of her you look, doe eyes watering as you lap her up. Itâs all just too much for the blonde as she struggles to maintain her breathing, feeling familiar sensations way quicker than she normally should.
âIâm close⊠Iâm gonna cum⊠fuck.â The words tumbled out of Paigeâs mouth in quick succession, as if she severely underestimated just how quick she was to tipping over the edge. With a groan, her grip on the back of your head tightened as she met her release, your tongue lapping it up like it was your last meal.
You wait until she rides out her orgasm before crawling back up, her hands meeting your waist to help. You collapse next to her, head raising just in time to meet her waiting lips.
âLove the way you taste,â you hum in satisfaction, prompting a smile from your girlfriend. You lived for the come down after sex, where it felt like it was just you and Paige alone on this earth, nothing and nobody else to worry about. She rubbed at your back, and you get so wrapped up in the domesticity of it all you almost miss the next words out of her mouth.
âYou got one more in you, baby?â
âWhat?â You croak, looking at her as if you must have misheard. You thought the two of you were on the same page, having cum so hard you couldnât imagine having space for anything more than passing out next to her.
That is until Paige finds enough energy and strength in her legs to stand, backing up towards your dresser while still facing you with a smirk on her face. âYou didnât think I was joking when I was telling you how bad I want you to suck me off, did you?â
Fuck. Though you were tired before (and still are), you canât deny the way warmth floods south, already wound up again after hearing the sounds Paige made as she released. You nod, and Paige opens the top drawer.
In this moment especially, youâre grateful for Paigeâs idea to get two straps, one for each of your apartments. âMore convenient that way,â she had said with a wink. Paige adjusted the harness to herself, her movements only faltering for a moment when she noticed you drop to your knees, Calvin Klein bralette still on.
âYou know what to do if you need me to stop, right sweet girl?â Her thumb traces your cheek sweetly. You nodded, having done this just enough times to establish a gesture (three taps on Paigeâs inner thigh) to indicate you needed a rest. Youâve never had to use it - Paige just absolutely refused to put herself in a position where she could hurt her sweet girl without safety measures.
You inch closer, offering gentle kitten licks to the tip of the dildo before opening your mouth to let it rest on your tongue. Paige, gentle yet firm, pushes you down a little further, and you inhale through your nose praying that you donât gag so early on. Your thumb is caught in a fist on your non dominant hand, the other one wrapping around the remainder of the strap as you bob up and down.
âFuck, thats it.â Paige groans as the back of your throat betrays you, resulting in a choking sound and a pool of saliva on the toy. When your eyes meet hers, watery yet determined, she sighs. âYou look so beautiful like this.â
You remove your lips with a pop, gaze never wavering. âNeed to be inside you, please.â
Paige, never one to deny your request, aided you in a standing position, hands at your waist as she backed you towards your bed, until the two of you were forced to crawl on top. Biting her bottom lip, she circles your core a few times before allowing herself to sink in, and both of you gasp at the intrusion as if the dick was truly a part of her.
âSo big⊠youâre so big.â You whimpered as she began plowing into you, lifting one of your legs to where your knee was nearly to your chest. The sounds your pussy made as it gripped Paigeâs cock were sinful, prompting a smirk from the girl above you.
âSo scared of people hearing huh? Whyâs this pussy screaming for me then?â Paige taunted, watching the purple dildo slip in and out. The room filled with slapping of skin and Paigeâs cock genuinely swimming inside you - you canât remember the last time you felt (or sounded) like this.
âSuch a fucking tease all week, winding me up so bad.â Paige continued, her voice gravelly as she watched your tits bounce up and down with each thrust. Licking her lips, she added, âJust needed a good fuck, didnât you?â
Your eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the feeling of the strap stretching you out. She was consuming all of you, from your pussy to your mind, and you forgot to respond until her hand grabbed your waist, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough pressure to snap your attention back towards her. âWords, sweet girl. I know you know how to use them.â
âPaige, please. Wanna feel you in me,â Your words come out as broken sobs as she stilled herself, reaching down to play with your overstimulated clit just to feel something. You feel Paige offer a shallow thrust, but it isnât good enough, you want more. Observing the way her brows furrowed in a last attempt to maintain control, you pout. âWanna feel you cum inside me.â
You didnât fully understand the grip those six words would have on her, not until in what felt like one movement she flipped you around, your knees planted on the bed and back arched as she entered you once more, both of you moaning at the contact as she drove into you like it was her mission. All of your senses were overwhelmed; your ears filled with the sound of your ass pushing back against the strap only to bounce back, mixed with Paigeâs stuttering breath. Your head pressed close to the pillow, giving easy access to smell your freshly washed sheets. Turning your head to the side to breath, you could see your full length mirror capture the point where you and Paige met, the sight bringing you to the edge.
Youâre sure two weeks ago you would have been utterly humiliated at the cry that leaves your mouth as your orgasm washes over you, but when mixed with Paigeâs groans of âfuckâ, you couldnât give less of a shit if your neighbors heard. By now, they definitely knew Paigeâs name.
Paige collapsed on you, strap still inside your spent core until she musters enough strength to roll over to her side. The two of you took a moment to catch your breath, unsure of the last time you had gone that hard. Finally, still covering the top of her face with her arms, Paige breaks into a chuckle, which I catch.
âHoly shit.â
âDonât say it.â She says, her voice deadpan. I take one look at her flushed cheeks, hair a messy collection of blonde tresses, and consider sparing her from my gloating. But after two long weeks, I feel passing up on the opportunity would be a waste.
âyou lost theâŠâ
âI know.â Paige groans, though her smile reveals sheâs not being serious. âYou try hearing your pretty little moans and not fucking you. Itâs physically impossible.â
You laugh, moving to cuddle next to her as she haphazardly disposes of the strap, tossing it along with the various articles of clothing (you made a mental note to wash it later). âIf itâs any consolation, I donât think any of my actions the past week have proven Iâm any less horny than you.â
Paige shrugged, arms wrapping around you and pulling your head into her chest, her lashes fluttering in a failing attempt to stay awake. âItâs why we work so well together, I guess.â
The two of you lay there, your breath matching hers, ready to put this stupid bet to rest along with yourselves. Reaching for the remote for your fairy lights to turn them off, you turn to her. âJust so you know, weâre watching a horror movie on Friday.â
âWorth it.â
#paige bueckers#uconn wbb#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers x reader#uconn womenâs basketball#paige bueckers fic
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celibate
pairing: drew starkey x fiancé!fem!reader
summary: youâre as innocent as it gets, promising celibacy. but when your boyfriend drew comes into your life, you canât help but yearn for him.
warnings: smut w plot, mdni!!
authors note: this is my 100 follower special, plus it is such a hot idea, i love it



âââââââââââââââââââââââââ
drew first was admired by you when you stepped in one of his acting classes, taking him by surprise. it wasnât your face (though it was beautiful) or your body (which made him instantly hard), it was the fact that you walked into the acting classes, dressed in all pink, and you walked into there with such kindness and respect that drew immediately needed you.
it took drew months to get you to go on one date with him, it was actually fucking with his pride, but he didnât give up. eventually, you ended up going on a romantic date with him where he brought flowers and your favorite (though you never told him, he just assumed) chocolates. how could you say no to that?
but oh, when drew kissed you for the first time, he knew he wanted forever with you. he knew he wanted to get married, to have children, to grow old together. he wanted every single flaw, insecurity, fear and pain, and he would take that and throw it all into his heart.
he had just wanted all of you.
so he asked you any question under the sun like: âwhatâs your favorite color?â in which you answered pink. âwhoâs your favorite music artist?â in which you said gracie abrams. âwhatâs your favorite thing about yourself?â eyes. âwhy do you wear pink all the time.â i love wearing pink. all those questions were answered, and he immediately knew, you knew how to not be shy, being as open as your are.
by the time three months hit, he got down on both his knees, arms wrapped around your torso, cheek on your belly, your hands in his hair, and telling you how much he loved you. your response had been what he needed: you loved him too.
by ten months, you had been able to sit in silence, enjoying each others company.
by one year and a half, you two both officially moved in with each other, finally planning your life together.
by two years and three months, he proposed to you in which your answer was yes.
everything seemed perfect, but one thing kept on flashing in drewâs mind, and oh did he feel so dirty. he always wonder what it would be like to see you naked, bent over the kitchen counter, fucking you from behind as you moaned his name. so when he did think of those thoughts, he would shake his head.
âare you a virgin, y/n?â drew got the courage to ask one night.
you turned to him, closing your clothes drawer, and you walked to him, standing on your side of the bed.
âoh,â you said, âi guess i never told you this. im celibate, which meansââ
drew quickly crawled over to your side, grabbing your waist, resting his head on your belly. âi know what it means, babe. it was just a question.â
but it got harder and harder for him, having seeing you in those mini skirts and dresses, seeing you in heels, seeing you change, seeing you do anything turned him on so much he had to jerk himself off in the bathroom.
but little did he know, it was hard for you too.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââ
âplease,â you whispered, âmake sure to go slow. iâve never done this before.â
drew snorted. âdonât worry, baby. youâre gonna have the best time with this.â
you nodded as drew took his cock out of his underwear, throwing them to the side. you looked down and audibly gasped.ïżŒ
âitâll fit,â said drew, âtrust me.â
he slide himself inside of you very slowly. going inch by inch, listening to when you told him to go. eventually he started thrusting slowly in and out of you. you got into the rhythm of it, moaning when he was at a perfect pace.
âfuck, baby. you feel so good around my cock.â
you moaned loudly at that, pulling him closer by his buttocks. you couldnât get rid of this feeling he was giving you. he was so good at this, so good that he threw his head back, going faster, but not that much.
âfaster,â you demanded.
âfuck.â
he quickened the pace, hitting that spot that made your toes curl, your head throwing back into the pillows. you had never felt a feeling like this before.
âdrewâŠâ
âfuck iâm close.â drew said.
you moaned loudly, scratching on his back as he quickened the pace, on a mission. he repeated himself over and over again and you started whining, tears falling down your cheeks.
you came all over his cock, toes curling, never feeling like this.
âi guess youâre not celibate anymore,â said drew later that night.
you laughed, turning to him. âi love you.â
âi love you too.â
#Spotify#drew starkey#rafe cameron#flowers#love#obx#obx fanfiction#outerbanks rafe#rafe fanfiction#rafe obx#rafe smut#drew starkey smut#rafe imagine#obx cast#obx season 4#obx x reader#rafe fic#obx4#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe x you#posting stories with reader plus white celebrities with fluffy or smutty material#slutty wife#smut#rafe cameron smut#whiteboi feminization#big daddy#black reader#drew starkey x reader#daddy's good girl
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Hello! I adore your writing. Can I request a fic with female arcane characters when they have a touch starved gf? (Definitely asking for a friend ahah đ
)
RAHHH. ARCANE LADIES LETS GOOO. tbh, im not that in tune with Mel and Sevika as characters so they may be OOC. Thanks for requesting!
Arcane Ladies w/A Touch-Starved Reader | Headcanons
â°â†PLOT: Headcanons of Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, and Sevika with a touch-starved lover and/or discovering said trait.
â°â†WARNINGS: Lower Case Intended (Kinda?), Suggestive Themes (Mel/Sevika), Not Proofread, Short
âŁ àł Enjoy!⣠àł
JINX á°àčàŁđáĄ
- In a romantic setting (or really any setting), Jinx is touch-starved herself.
- when taking hostages or messing with those in her way, she will often touch them such as stroking her nail along their jawline or grabbing their chin when they're hurt and on their last limb.
- now she does this not because she's a bit insane and wants to add salt to their wounds but because she's curious. "What would this feel like?" "What would happen if I do this?"
- Much like most things in her life, curiosity is the main thing that gets her into trouble
- in terms of touching, you're not exempt from her touching curiosity.
- she'll drag her nails along your spine. cup your cheek and chin, and squeeze you like the baby you are to her.
- it's not until you linger after a hug that she notices your touch-starved like her
â since that moment, she made a mental note to cuddle you, kiss you, or poke at you more
â even if you tell her to stop annoying you or that she should focus on her work and not mess with you, she'll continue to poke and hold you.
â why? well because you're smiling through your complaints and she can't get over that smile you try to hide when you let yourself melt in her touch
âââ
VI ïŸ
â much like her sister, Vi is touch-starved herself.
â y'all saw how she acted with Caitlyn and when she reunited with Jinx. She was all OVER them. With you, she's the exact same
â With her, you're more reluctant with touch. You want to hug her, cuddle with her, cling onto her like the clingy thing you are but you're scared to.
â you didn't grow up in an environment where that was normalized so it was out of your comfort zone to go out and cling to someone.
â in the beginning of your relationship, Vi was touchy until she noticed you weren't super comfortable with it.
â when she noticed, she had a discussion with you. â "Hey, are you comfortable with me hugging you 'n stuff? I noticed you get kinda tense when I first hug you." She'll ask you on a random night in the living room. You were hesitant at first, wanting to immediately ease her insecurities and tell her everything was fine.
â But if you lied, even if the lie was more a half-truth, your initial reaction to her touch would be the same. Tense at first then ease seconds into the touch.
â So, because you couldn't do anything but bite the bud, you told her
â Since telling, Vi said she'll help you work on getting more comfortable with touch.
â She'll even tease you when she notices you're more hesitant than normal.
â "Oh, come on," she'll tease you with her arms squeezing around your torso and your cheeks smushing to another. "You know you love it! Ease up, Mufifn."
âââ
CAITLYN áŻ
- With Caitlyn, you literally CANNOT get off of her. Can't blame you though.
- 6' foot something to cling onto? YUM.
- Caitlyn didn't mind your touchiness. She assumed you were that way so she didn't think anything of it.
- It wasn't until she met your family that she saw that your touchy side is something you keep hidden from your family, if not the world.
- You were so stiff around them, uncomfortable dare she say. You kept to yourself, restricted that pretty smile of yours, and you wouldn't let yourself ease into her touch.
- At home, she brought this up to you and you told her that being affectionate wasn't something your family did. To them, holding each other, hugging, expressing hellos and goodbyes with kisses was weird. Unfortunately for you, you're a naturally touchy person so you had to keep that part of you concealed.
- Caitlyn didn't like the thought of you hiding yourself from your blood kin. You didn't deserve that treatment so at home, after the event, Caitlyn went out of her way to be more touchy with you.
- she cradled your head when cuddling on the couch, gave you kisses on the cheek, and when she complimented you on something or congratulated you, she kissed the top of your head while giving you a polite squeeze.
â being super-duper-mushy-gushy-affectionate wasn't something she wasn't used to but she'll do anything for you. Plus, a couple extra kisses and squeezes haven't killed her yet.
âââ
MELౚà§
- You didn't care about touch all that much before your relationship with Mel. At the start of your relationship, you and Mel were younger so you had fewer responsibilities. All your free time, literally all of it, you guys spent with each other
- walking arm-in-arm while shopping, resting on each other on hot Summer days with your feet in a body of water, and mindlessly playing with each other's clothes or hair during late-night talks.
- but as she got busier, you saw her less, and seeing her less meant fewer touches.
- Mel wouldn't call herself touch-starved but starved for your touch.
â She'll miss your lingering touches on her fingers while you lay in bed, your lips on her back as you held each other, and your face in the crook of her neck.
â In a way, you both were touch-starved for each other. Maybe even a different word but this is a PG-13 space LMAO.
â at night, you would wrap your limbs around her tight and in the morning, you'd cling even tighter. What do you mean it's time for her to go already? She just got in bed!! (it's been 7 hours.)
â with Mel, your touch-starving-ness doesn't go unnoticed. In fact, whenever there's a time she notices you're more touchy than normal, she'll make it up to you
â And you never once complained about her way of making it up to you.
âââ
SEVIKA â ïž
- oh lord, where do i start with this one, hm?
â One, Sevika loves the crap out of your touch-starved-ness. She won't admit this out loud but she thinks its the cutest thing in the world.
- She'll see you go in for a hug or maybe a wrap around her arm but then decide against it because of your own insecurities.
- Sometimes she'll take matters into her own hands and wrap her arm around you, pull you into her lap, or sneak a kiss on your cheek but other times she likes to make you suffer.
â "Mm, what was that?" she'll tease with a smirk on her lips. "Oh, did you want to hug me? Kiss me? Cling onto me or something?"
- Tbh, if you're with Sevika, you gotta be a little bit of a brat, right? right. So, you'll refuse the allegations she put on your name.
- That is until she pushes and pushes and boom. Like a perfectly boiled egg, your shell has been cracked and peeled, and the softness of your personality has been brought to light.
â with embarrassment plastered along your body and face, you'll do what you were too shy to before. (Cling, hug, kiss, etc).
- Sevika plays a big game but she loves it when you cling to her because just like you, she's a bit touch-starved too. The only touches she gets on a day-to-day basis are punches, kicks, etc.
- When you swallow your pride at home, you'll pull her down to your chest and hold her tight. She'll ask what's up but you'll just ignore her and she'll melt into your body like you intended.
WC: 1,229
#pastel-peach-writes#gender-neutral terms#pastel peach writes#gender neutral terms#lesbian#arcane fanfiction#vi fanfic#vi#vi x you#vi x reader#jinx x reader#jinx fanfic#jinx#caitlyn x reader#caitlyn fanfic#caitlyn x you#jinx x you#mel x reader#mel fanfic#mel x you#sevika#sevika x reader#sevika x you#sevika fanfic#vi arcane#jinx arcane#caitlyn#mel arcane#arcane sevika#bisexual
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the hard way
pairing: vampire!chris x to be vampire!reader genre/warnings: dark romance, mean chris, angst? kinda dead dove, mentions of death, blood and a lil gore (not too graphic tho imo), it's okay in the end??? and they're in love plot: reader is getting turned into a vampire and it's not as cool as she imagined authorâs note: obvsly heavily inspired by railway and that SPITTING SCENE. idk it's prolly gonna flop but i wanted to picture that process and a not so hot side of it
âno.â âwhy not?!â âbecause i told you so a million times already. weâre not discussing this.â chris spits out and furrows, growing more agitated with each passing second.
âwhat, you donât want me to be equal to you?â you ponder desperately while your mind searches for any, any reason at all as to why chris wonât turn you. itâs been getting to you for the last couple of months, and youâre sure youâve gone through every possible explanation your troubled brain could come up with: he doesnât love you. he doesnât wanna spend eternity with you. or maybe itâs a power thing. or, or, or...? this endless cycle of worry and uncertainty has been keeping you on edge for way too long to think clearly now. âgosh, it has nothing to do with equality,â he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. âwhat is it then?â âdrop it.â you snap. âweâll have to find out the hard way, then.â
you grab the nearest kitchen knife, and it turns out to be the one you use for cutting meat, a chefâs knife as they call it. how fitting. chris barely has enough time to catch up with your madness infused impulse, and when he turns his gaze back to you, the knife is already deep in your guts.
you thought it was gonna be romantic or somewhat dramatic at least. something from the movies where he sinks his vampire teeth into your neck, and just like magic â your eyes flash bright red, announcing the beginning of a new life.
âyou dumb bitch,â he exhales shakily and somehow manages to catch you in time because the sharp pain in your stomach makes you lose your balance instantly. youâre still bitter and angry in the heat of the argument and you expect him to be the same way, but when you glance up, chris looks nothing but panicked. âthatâs a new look on him,â you think, and it confuses you.
chris growls and sinks to his knees, carefully holding you and trying to move as fast as possible. what you donât know is that turning can only be done in around thirty seconds since fatal injury. that might explain the rushing and chrisâs pure bambi eyes panic but your consciousness is already starting to drift away to hold onto that train of thought.
chris bites into his wrist with unmasked fury, tearing and ripping his own veins even though using a knife would have been much cleaner. probably less painful, too. âswallow. now! come on, donât you fall asleep on me now, focus!â he grabs your face and presses hard on the jaw joints, making you open your mouth like a puppet doll.
the sickly metallic taste of your own blood at the back of your throat from the internal bleeding mixes up with chrisâs thick blood that he generously spits into your mouth, and you want to throw up. your head feels dizzy as your eyelids are getting heavier, your hearing suddenly fails completely as if someone turned the volume down from ten to zero. limbs are falling weak, and the pins and needles in them are so, so far from pleasant.
the thing about turning is... you actually have to die first. be fully, completely gone to be able to come back changed and corrupted, turned to the extent of your DNA having been violently rewritten. that you did not think through enough. the muscles in your throat contract almost on reflex, swallowing and gagging on the gooey salty substance, making your chest heave while coughing strangles you further. the tingles and nausea are so overwhelming and all consuming you actually catch yourself thinking dying would be a relief now. and then it follows as you wished.
you doze off for god knows how long but, by the looks of it, it canât have been more than a few minutes because as you regain consciousness, chris is still looming over you, his own blood fresh on his lips. heâs blurry, though, everything is.
âcome on, suck on me. câmon, baby, there we go,â he coos as he brings his wrist to your lips, forcefully pressing it into your mouth and leaving you with little to no choice. the phrasing, unlike usual, doesnât sound dirty or hot now, more like a life-saving command while youâre still so out it. it feels good, though, chrisâs blood.
it doesnât taste so metallic and gross anymore, and the texture feels almost soothing on your dry throat, like hot honey milk on a friday evening. suck, gulp, suck, gulp, suck, it almost lulls you back into serenity, some primal instinct of being attached to your only life line, finding comfort in someoneâs warmth and touch and taste.
you wonder how much youâve drunk already and whether chris will have anything left but youâre so, so thirsty you canât even bring yourself to care.
what finally makes you stop is the sudden sharp ache in your gums. it feels so piercing the aftershocks are almost reaching your brain and eye sockets, and as you feel your old teeth fall out, a pair of longer fangs cuts through and settles into the upper teeth row. hot tears are stinging your eyes and you whine like a wounded deer, still unable to speak properly. itâs all too much, and you start to regret what youâve done, and maybe, just maybe thatâs why chris so passionately refused to put you through it. this kind of hunger and the animalistic, blood thirst driven rage were never something he wanted to inflict upon you.
your entire body is shaking but itâs not really a fearful tremor, more like restlessness, a new sort of âitchâ somewhere deep, deep inside that youâve never experienced before, the feeling so intense and soul wrenching you simply canât disobey it. it makes you want to jump up and run.
âdonât worry, iâll teach you how to handle it.â chris cups your face after taking off his leather gloves so you can feel the comfort of his actual skin. the touch is calming, but barely enough compared to that growing desire and need to satisfy the itch. âyou stupid crazy cunt, why do you never listen,â he whispers into your forehead, his lips lightly brushing over your cold sweat covered skin, as he holds you closer, squeezing you against his chest in a protective manner, though the real danger to yourself is now planted within you.
#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#bang chan x you#chan x you#skz x you#skz x reader#stray kids#stray kids x reader#stray kids fanfic#railway chan#railway bang chan#my writing#my fic#skz fanfic#bang chan x y/n#chan x y/n
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hidden love, l.hs

synopsis: there were two things that park jongseong reiterated to you growing up.
1: he was the better, funnier, smarter, awesomer sibling and always would be, and 2: you were to never, ever, fall for any guys like his friends, literally and figuratively.
the first was a lie, one you always rolled your eyes at and the second was something 12-year-old you always agreed to without hesitation. but with time, they soon both became a fib from your lips, 14-year-old you coming to the disastrous realization that boys weren't as icky as you once thought and your older brother's best friend had the prettiest smile (when he wasn't being annoying.) as you continued to grow older, those fluttering emotions grew as well, even with him heading off to university it seemed to leave you with a sense of longing, happier than ever when he'd visit.
until you were 16 and he came home with a girl, one that was far prettier than you were able to compete with in your head and nice enough to be a saint. your hopeless, devastating one-sided crush was forced to be swallowed without much pride, though it held no avail until you dramatically decided to never speak to heeseung again. and it worked, ignoring all his calls and texts, avoiding your family home like the plague whenever your brother was home for break if he was visiting, and simply acting entirely clueless in the unfortunate circumstances that you did end up caught by him, chalking it up to dramatic teenage hormones.
once you reached the age of it being your turn to head to college, you signed up for every exchange program possible, leaving you traveling the world for three years that passed with no contact and your once-upon-a-time crush nearly forgotten. that was until you came back home, finally settling to finish uni and all of a sudden you were a kid again, fawning over your brother's best friend who didn't know how to leave you alone. this time though, heeseung didn't see you as that annoying kid who followed jay around, he saw you for you which scared him so much more with how you've grown and nothing was worse than him feeling something for his best friend's off-limits little sister.
featuring: lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon, nishimura riki, kim sunoo, yang jungwon, hanni pham, kim chaweon, yoon keeho, yoon yechan
status: writing. start: 03/30/24. end: tba.
genre: non-idol!au, college/young adult!enha, heeseung x reader, slight age gap (4 years), brothers best friend trope
content & warnings: age gap??? (slightly questionable morality but no romantic feelings or grooming since they end up with no contact for years until adulthood), cursing, drinking, all that jazz, innuendos, sexual humor, suggestive content, possible smut, forbidden relationship, sneaking around, overprotective jay, jay tries to fight heeseung cause duh, crazy exs, stalker mention, slow burn since they're both in denial, heeseung kind of toxic mentality which is forced to be fix, angst but fluffy ending (?)
a/n: based off the cdrama. watched it months ago but shit had me giggling and kicking my feet even if it's cliche. heeseung is so forbbidden older love coded i had to. im trying to make this a oneshot so well see how long it is,,,,,,, the plot will develop from when they were kids to adulthood to provide some background. once the actual romance starts heeseung will be 24 and reader will be 20 (the year will be 2025). all my drafts and writing has been about jake so im branching out (i love my man tho so he'll have his moments here). anyway! lets see how long it takes me to finish up this one
word count: 6k (as of now)
taglist: closed! (86 of you have responded omg)
#enhypen#enha x reader#enha#enhypen masterlist#enhypen heeseung#heeseung#lee heeseung#lee heesung x reader#heesung enhypen#lee heesung smut#enhypen x reader#enha fluff#enhypen smut#enha masterlist
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sukuna would kill for youâŠ.
just a thought, mentions of assault, violence, but also fluff if you squint

⊠and not just in the cutesy, romantic way that held no weight to the promise. no, sukuna will plot and execute someoneâs death for you over and over again. as easy as it has been to kill for centuries, it only becomes easier when heâs killing for the sake of your protection
it doesnât take much to get sukuna riled up on your behalf. heâs quick to jot down names and addresses when you approach him with tears in your lashes, upset over harsh, misogynistic words from your boss or frustrated over an acquaintance who constantly antagonizes you for no reason. it takes one look into your sad eyes and heâs off on a manhunt
you normally advise sukuna not to kill people who have done little things to push your buttons, but that doesnât stop him from rousing them up a little bit for good measure. heâll track a rude encounter down, corner them in a secluded area, and beat their ass to a pulp until theyâre begging for mercy. only then, when they plead for their life, does sukuna decide he is done and returns home to you. though the fools are beaten so badly they can hardly see out of their swollen eyes by the time he is done, he hasnât technically killed them so itâs fair game
there is a time, however, when sukuna ignores your wishes and acts on his own accord, and that is when any guy decides to hit on you and not take no for an answer
youâre fuming when you march into his room, face red and fists clenched tightly at your sides. sukuna looks at you with a cocked brow, asking what the hell happened to get you all worked up. you tell him that on your way to his place from work, a man stopped you in your path to ask for your number. you had politely declined, but when you tried to walk past you could feel his hand grope your backside. you were quick to spin on your heel and land a stinging slap to his face that sent his had snapping into the other direction, and then you ran off to sukuna
the king of curses stares ahead and says nothing for moments that feel like hours, then stands abruptly. âwhat did he look like?â âwhere was he going?â âwhere was he coming from?â you barely get the chance to detail his features and the area the interaction occurred in when heâs cutting you off and telling you that he will take care of it. you catch his arm, eyes glossy as you plead him to stay with you and not get himself caught up in too much trouble. he can only promise the former, as he lets you take him to bed for the night
the next day, sukuna finds your assaulter with uraumeâs assistance within twenty minutes. your description of his face in addition to the location you saw him hanging around allowed him to discover his LinkedIn profile, which took him to his place of work. sukuna waits outside of the building all day in dark sweats until he sees the culprit leave. he follows silently from afar until he arrives at his nearby apartment. he watches from an alley as the man disappears into the building and minutes later a light flicks on in the third room to the right on the second floor. sukuna knows heâs got him when his face appears in the window to close the blinds
sukuna waits for him to leave his apartment again to go out to grab food, then seizes his opportunity. he scales the building and climbs silently into the home through the window, then waits for his return in the dark. when the front door swings open, it takes your assaulter moments of shifting through the darkness before he finds sukunaâs shadowy figure sitting in his chair, red eyes aglow. he yelps in fear, reaching frantically to flick on the light. sukunaâs teeth grind together, the sight of this scum before him making his skin crawl
âw-who are you?! what are you doing in my house?â sukuna stands and the man stumbles back, cowardice revealing itself. he presses himself against his now locked door as sukuna approaches with a blank face and dark eyes, glaring down at him over his nose. âplease! is it money you want? you can have it all, just- just donât hurt me!â
christ, how pathetic. sukuna watches him tremble, eyes wide and lips quivering as he shivers in the corner of his own home. sukuna clicks his teeth. âwhat I want is for you to keep your fucking hands to yourself.â he snatches the manâs wrist up in his tight grasp, claws sinking into his skin. the man writhes in horror upon seeing the blood drawn from sukunaâs fingers digging into him. âwhy donât we start by getting rid of them, hm?â
sukuna leaves the now blood spattered apartment unit the same way he came, brushing a gunk of brain matter from his sweatshirt with gritted teeth. he wants to come home to you, annoyed with his day out
when he shows up at your door, he lets you wrap your arms tightly around him in relief. his cheek rests on your shoulder boredly as he 'tolerates' your affection. when you ask him where he has been all day, he shrugs and says: âoutâ and leaves it at that
sukuna would kill for you any day with no hesitation but bides by the one rule you have to keep his hands clean when it comes to insignificant matters. yet when it comes to someone threatening your safety, comfortability, and body all in one, sukuna thinks itâs only right for him to break his promise to you and slaughter the pathetic lowlifes who even so much as think about laying a finger on you
sukunaâs love language is violence. while he may be poor at refraining from making you mad or gaging when to give you verbal affection, he will put somebody in the ground for you in a heartbeat
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#anime#jjk#jjk fandom#jjk season 2#jjk x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk ryomen#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryoumen x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna smut#sukuna
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So wrong

a/n: accidentally deletedđ«€. was gonna scrap this but @tiramissyoucake dilf!omni mark blurb gave me the motivation to finish it. (link here if youâd like to read it) feed back welcomed!
summary: if sneaking around with nolan is wrong why does it feel so right?
warning: porn w plot. slight breeding kink? cheating. age gap(reader in 20s, omni man is old asf). unprotected p in v. forgive me if itâs ooc but we need some omni man fics.
The first time youâd fucked Mr.Grayson- Nolan (it felt too weird to call him that now) was an accident.
You were driving home from a terrible date, ranting to yourself about how the guy was an asshole and how (sexually) frustrated you were when your car decided to break down. You hit the steering wheel in anger when you realized you were in the middle of nowhere and couldnât afford a tow. You cursed yourself for going to an out of state college as you scrolled past your parentâs number on your phone.
You did the sensible thing and called your best friend, Mark. Your face dropped when his phone went to voicemail before quickly deciding to call Mrs.Grayson to make sure Mark wasnât with his girlfriend or saving the world. It ended up being the latter but sheâd reassured you that sheâd send Nolan.
You shouldâve just payed for the tow.
âThank you so much, Mr.Grayson. Iâm sorry for making you come out so late.â You greet him when he arrives, pulling your short skirt down out of respect. The action seemed to have the opposite effect as his smoldering gaze flicks to your barely covered skin then back to yours, running a hand through his bed head before flashing a breath taking smile.âCouldnât leave a pretty thing like you stranded.â
To your surprise the comment had you turning from him to a hide a blush, confusion written on your features. The words echoed in your mind and you couldnât help but admire the man as he tinkered with your vehicle, the way his shirt sleeves had to stretch to accommodate his biceps and how good his butt looked in grey sweat pants. Had Mr.Grayson always been this hot? The question rung in your head, You werenât even sure hot was the right word, more like a silver fox.
Youâd never thought of Nolan in a romantic way until that night. Heâd always just been your best friendâs dad, totally off limits and old but as you watched him begin to jump your car you couldnât help but to imagine it being your bones instead. These new feelings confused and kind of grossed you out but the lust wins over the adverse feelings, You didnât shy away the next time his heated gaze turned to you- youâd never admit it but you sent one just as steamy back.
Youâd stood by your drivers door as you prepared to say good bye to Nolan, a smile on your face to hide the nervousness you felt when he looked at you with his cerulean eyes. âThank you again. I donât know what I wouldâve done without you.â Heâd approached you then, slowly, like a lion not trying to scare off a gazelle. Before you knew it you two were chest to chest, his hulking frame looming over yours. Your breath hitched when you realized his proximity had you pressed against the car, the cold door a contrast from his breath warming your skin.
Heâd placed a strong hand against the driver door to make sure he had you efficiently trapped, youâd learn later that Nolan loved to make you feel and look small, not that it took much. Heâd looked down at you through dark lashes, a smirk fighting its way through his thick mustache,âWhere are you running off to?â
Somehow, against your better judgment, you two ended up in the back seat of your car a moment later. You with your knees digging into the leather of the seats as you sunk onto Nolan, your soft hands using his brawny chest for purchase as he gripped the fat of your ass hard enough to cause bruises. You thanked whoever invented tinted windows as the car rocked on the side of the desolate road.
It was meant to be a one time thing, a mistake. A dirty secret that youâd both act like never happened. So, you were very surprised when Nolan called your phone the next day, words raspy and breathless as he tells you how he couldnât stop thinking about your body writhing on top of his.
His honeyed voice had you squeezing your thighs together but a pool of shame made your stomach turn. âNolan, we canât-â Youâre not sure why youâre trying to explain something he was already aware of, so youâre unsurprised when he cuts you off. âYou ever been to Italy?â Nolan crackles through the speaker of your phone, âI know a beautiful hotel there.â
You force yourself not to think of his chiseled abs and square jaw as you try to have a little dignity and remind him of his family, of your best friend. He takes your mention of them completely wrong or maybe he just doesnât care, âItâs fine. They think iâm in space already, weâve got all day.â
Your finger hovers over the red âend callâ button as you purse your lips.
Ultimately you canât resist his temptation and youâre flying high in the sky, wrapped in his strong arms thirty minutes later.
A day turned to days then to months and the thing you kept telling yourself was a one time occurrence bloomed into something so much more, an actual affair. You hated calling it that- an affair, it made what you and Nolan were doing tooâŠreal. But with all the secret rendezvous there wasnât a better way to describe it.
You knew sneaking around with Nolan was wrong. More than wrong, so unforgivable you couldnât stand looking in the mirror after he made you shudder and cum on his cock. But..there was something about him that kept pulling you back for more.
Even though it made you feel shamefulâŠdirty at times, like there was a neon sign that said home wrecker flashing above your head. You felt a mountain of guilt whenever you were with Mark, smiled in Debbieâs face or simply even thought about the Grayson familyâŠespecially when you thought about the irrevocable damage you were causing to it.
With these emotions swirling around in your head you decided to endâŠ.whatever you had going on with Nolan. When he asked you to meet last night you decided to just drop the news on him, you figured it was like ripping off a bandaid.
There was no fake small talk and absolutely no sex, you knew if he got his beefy hands on you youâd probably be ensnared in his trap once again. You didnât even let him pass the threshold of your apartment as you broke things off with him. Nolan had taken it pretty well, his blue eyes and calm demeanor not betraying any emotions. Not that you expected anything different. It was just sex, the only feeling involved was pleasure.
âCan I come in one last time? I have to leave for a mission tonight. Not sure when iâll be back.â Heâd propositioned, nodding with a small smile when you sternly shook your head no. You were sure he thought youâd change your mind and fall in bed with him (not that you didnât want to).
When the conversation was finally over and you were watching Nolanâs hulking frame retreat down the hall it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. And with Nolan being out of your life and off the planet you didnât blow off Mark when he invited you to dinner with his mom and Eve a the next day.
When you walk into the Graysonâs home, bottle of sweet red wine in hand, your smile fades and it feels like youâve been dunked in ice water when your eyes met the azure pair staring at you from his place on the living room couch. His strong bicep around his wifeâs neck as she waves you inside with a smile.
You pick your jaw up from the floor, quickly smiling to hide your flabbergasted state before greeting Markâs parents. You feel wrong as you hug Debbie, you and her husband eyeing each other during the entire exchange. â I havenât seen you in so long! Nolan and I miss you around the house.â You felt like you might throw up in the poor womanâs face but you manage to swallow it down and smile uncomfortably in return.
You discard the wine onto the counter before taking the stairs two at a time to get to Markâs room and away from his fatherâs unwavering stare. You couldnât believe he was here (even if it was his house), as you walk down the hall you couldnât help but think about the mischievous glint in his eyes.
You knock loudly and wait a moment before announcing yourself, pushing the wooden door open with your eyes closed as the sound of frantic shuffling meets your ears. Youâd walked in on Eve and Mark before and once was good enough. âWeâre decent, you can open your eyes!â Mark says from his place on the bed, his chest is heaving and his lips are red and raw from what you assume was kissing and it takes everything in you not to gag.
âEw-but hey, Eve.â The red head greets you cheerfully as you sit at Markâs desk before spinning around to meet her evergreen eyes, âCould you help me with my physics homework? Itâs killing me.â As Eve tutors you your thoughts canât help but wonder to places they shouldnât, mainly to why Nolan had lied about going to space. You wondered if heâd been lying to you as well as his family these past couple of months.
ââŠOh yeah- I thought your dad had a work thing?â You ask Mark as nonchalantly as possible once you and Eve finish, keeping your eyes on the text book you were stuffing into your bag. âHe did. Said he had to take care of some stuff here.â He shrugs but never turns away from the half dressed characters fighting on the TV screen.
A hour later youâre in the kitchen getting some water, the smell of whatever Debbie was cooking wafting to your nose. Youâre going to peek in the oven when the sound of a booming voice has you jumping out your shoes. The sound sends a shiver down your spine- you know that voice too well and youâre not surprised when you turn around and youâre met with Nolan, leaning against the kitchen island and unabashedly taking in your form.
âDid I catch you being naughty?â His tone is playful but his is gaze stern.
âLeave me alone, Nolan.â You set the glass of water down to place a hand on the counter, pouting your lips despite his words causing your heart to speed up. âI think I like Mr.Grayson better.â You scoff before rolling your eyes and crossing your arms defensively.
He goes to speak again but you cut him off quickly, âWhy are you here?â You ask in a hushed whisper. A thick eyebrow raises and a smirk tugs at his full lips, âI live here.â Nolan says it like itâs the most obvious thing in the world. âNo- you know what I mean. You said youâd be gone.â He pushes off the island before stalking over to you, you back away from his steps until your butt hits the warm stove.
Nolanâs breath is minty as he licks and nips the perspiring skin on your neck, his dark mustache scratching against the soft skin as your eyes dance between the stairs and the man in front of you.
His chest is against yours, you instantly mold against him. Youâre like putty in his hands, if you werenât so turned itâd be scary. This is a turn of events you definitely werenât expecting and Nolan uses your shock to take the opportunity to push his large hand down the front of your yoga pants. Your breathing turning uneven as Nolan starts to pet you through the lace material of your panties.
âWore these for me?â He says in a husky whisper. You want to tell him heâs delusional but with the way his lips tickle your ear and his free hand gropes your breast over your shirt, you have to harshly grip his bicep (the same bicep that was around his wife a moment ago) to steady yourself.
Your hand tugs on the wrist in your pants but he doesnât budge. âYou said you wouldnât be here.â Your words are soft as you look up at him with a slight pout on your full lips, desire pooling in your stomach when you see how glazed over his eyes are.
âYou stopped answering my calls so I didnât go.â You want to argue, youâve told him a thousand times not to prioritize you over the world but your breath hitches instead, his fingers dragging across your slick lips as he pulls your panties to the side.
You almost snap out of your stupor when your eyes meet Markâs- not the actual Mark but his happy, brown eyes in the family portrait on the counter not too far from you. Nolan notices when you begin drifting from him, he removes his hand from your breast and callously knocks the picture over on its face.
It lands loudly and for a moment time seems to stop and you swear someoneâs going to come flying down the stairs. Luckily for you everyone is too preoccupied. Not that Nolan cared, his free hand creeping under your shirt to fondle your breasts again.
Itâs like you gained super senses. Able to feel every touch Nolan was giving to you, able to hear every bump or noise coming from upstairs. âW-we talked about this yesterday.â Your fingers finding the tail of Nolanâs shirt when he sinks his thick fingers into your warm cunt. He groans as you squeeze around him, the sound making your toes curl in your shoes.
âNo, you talked and I listened.â His pace is slow, tantalizing, like he had all time in the world and no one could walk in and ruin the moment at anytime. The way his callused palm grinds into your clit has you fighting to keep your eyes open and you curse your weak resolve as your hips grind back.
âTonight itâs my turn-â The sound of Eveâs laughter has you trying to squirm out of his hold but his strong body has you trapped against the oven, his hard cock straining against the material of his jeans as he lightly grinds into you.
Nolanâs hand leaves your shirt to turn your head to meet his heavy stare. His hold is wet with your slick and his eyes bear into yours as he makes his demands, âTell me iâll see you tonight.â
You wanted to say no, to stand on your word as a better woman would. But when the hand on your jaw drops lower to squeeze your neck and the fingers between your thighs drag across a particularly satisfying spot, one that has you biting your lip to keep from crying out, youâre nodding before you can stop yourself. A smile lights Nolanâs face before he plants a big kiss on your lips, when he pulls away he thumbs your glistening cheek.
He hears Markâs light steps before they can reach your human ears and heâs sitting on the couch watching TV before you can blink. You only have time to wipe your chin and straighten your shirt before heâs down the stairs, boyish grin on his face. Your heart is hammering in your chest, when Mark looks at you. Youâre hoping he doesnât notice the tint on your cheeks or your slightly frizzled hair.
His eye brows pull together in confusion and his voice is hard when he finally speaks, âIsnât the food supposed to be done by now?â
âYouâve lost your mind.â Nolanâs standing in the middle of your living room late that night, clad in his red and white suit. He has the nerve to look confused like he hadnât suggested the most outrageous thing youâd ever heard. âWhat?! Itâs not uncommon for Viltrumites to take more than one partner.â
You look at him incredulously after pinching the bridge of your nose, âWe are on Earth not Viltrum. Besides youâve been married to Debbie for twenty years. Sheâll kill you and me.â You huff as you flop on your worn couch. This was too much for you to process. You assumed Nolan had come over just to get his dick wet but now heâs talking about feelings you didnât know existed- and marriage?!
âSheâll come around.â Nolan says in a matter of fact tone as he sits down beside you, taking your feet in his lap to massage them with his gloved hand. You donât try to stop him, figuring you deserved it after the crazy ass proposal he dropped on you. âThis is the Viltrumite way, sheâll have to see sense -â Your loud sigh cuts off whatever nonsense he was going to say.
You pull your feet from him now, folding them so you can sit on them instead. You take Nolanâs large hands in yours and try to look deep in his eyes, hoping that itâll help him see reason. âNolan, I canât marry you. That would destroy Mark and Debbie.â His grip tightens around yours but it isnât painful, âI didnât even know you felt this way about meâŠ.but you canât- itâs too far. I thought we were just fucking.â
Nolan pulls a hand from yours to glide it through his greying hair, ââŠI didnât know I felt this way eitherâŠthen you broke things off.â His lips move like he wants to keep speaking but he doesnât elaborate, he looks up at you through dark lashes, âNo, marriage- okay. But we can keep..seeing each other?â Your lips form a straight line in frustration, itâs like everything you said went through one ear and out the next.
âItâs like you arenât hearing me, Nolan. We canât keep doingâŠthis. Especially now.â You shake your head, trying to physically rid your mind of the fact that Nolan had just confessed his feelings for you. You didnât even want to think about if you felt the same, even if you did the feelings would be shoved to the deepest, darkest pit in your brain.
âI canât ruin your family.â Nolan huffs, like youâd said something so frivolous he canât believe it. âY/NâŠwe already have.â Despite the scowl on your face he continues, âWhat would be the point in stopping now? Debbie is strong- so is Mark theyâll-â You cut him off again before he goes too deep into his ramblings.
He watches as you slam your fist into the cushions on the couch, he almost smiles at your attempt to put your foot down. âNolan! The answer is no- I canât live with this-this guilt hanging over my me.â He doesnât say anything for a moment but his face displays the internal turmoil Nolan must be going through. He starts that silent nodding thing and you think he might do something crazy until he starts to speak weakly.
âCan I taste you one more time?â You gulp audibly. The word no is on your tongue, it almost passes your lip until Nolan begins drawing circles on your knee with his thumb, something heâd usually save for after sex.
Somehow Nolan ends up on his knees on your carpeted floor, you didnât bother moving to the bedroom, too focused on the man staring up at you as he pulls off your lounge shorts and panties.
âJust one lick.â Itâs almost inaudible but Nolan was going to pretend he didnât hear you anyway. He grabs a throw pillow to stuff under his head before waving you over to sit on his handsome face. Youâre hesitant, biting your nail to calm your nerves like you havenât been in this position one hundred times.
The sound of your name brings you back to reality, the way it sounds coming from between Nolanâs lips has your body flushing. You comply and move yourself over to his awaiting mouth, knees digging into the carpet. He licks his lips before he pulls you the rest of the way down by your hips.
Nolan is sloppy when he eats pussy. His nose bumping into your clit with every hard lick over your folds, before his tongue takes its place, gently flicking against the swollen bud. His eyes are closed, long lashes resting on his cheek bones, he seems relaxed while youâre already a moaning mess on top of him. You grab his inky locks as you move against his tongue, he moans as he grabs your hips tighter to assist you, rocking you slowly back and forth as he fucks you with his tongue.
Your painted toes curl when his soft lips wrap around your swollen clit and harshly suck. His name leaves your mouth in a gasp, hips bucking as a large hands moves from your hips to squeeze your ass, then creep up your stomach to rub your hardened nipples.
You canât help but watch the show below you with lidded eyes. Nolanâs cheeks are dusted pink, his eyelids just as heavy as yours. Your thighs shudder around his legs as you feel your release approaching, âFu-fuck, iâm gonna cum.â Nolan doesnât let up and after a well timed flick of his tongue on your clit, youâre whimpering from the white-hot pleasure that surges through you. Nolan continues to lick and suck through your orgasm and doesnât stop until youâve pried him away by his mussed hair.
Youâre unsurprised when youâre bent over the arm of your couch with Nolanâs hand tangled in your hair. Nolanâs thrown out everything youâd said before. Heâs bending down to whisper in your ear, voice hitching as he tells you youâll make such a pretty wife, how beautiful youâll look once youâre round with his babies. Your brains so foggy from the tip of his cock hitting the spongy spot deep within you over and over again, that you canât do anything but moan and babble nonsense.
His thick cock drags against your contracting walls as he watches himself push in and out of you, toes curling into the carpet when he notices the creamy white ring around himself. The squelch of your arousal and your melding moans can be heard over the TV and youâre sure youâre going to get complaints about it in the morning.
Nolanâs hand leaves your hair to smack your cheek, the skin already red from the previous abuse on your plump ass. You shudder as he begins leaving open mouth kisses on your back. âPussys so wetâŠâ It sounds like heâs talking to himself more than to you but you canât help to whimper in response. âI could fuck you all day.â His speech is slurred as he pistons into you, one foot leaving the carpet to find its place beside you on the arm rest.
His hand leaves your neck as he fucks you into the couch, moving to spread your ass and lips open as he begins thrusting in an upward angle. You cum around him with a cry, hands fisting the pillows thrown haphazardly on the couch as you spasm around his cock.
Nolan pulls himself from you with a light groan, when you look over your shoulders you see heâs still rock hard, covered in your slick and his precum. You donât have time to think before heâs grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over his shoulder, you whine and he shushes you before palming your bare ass.
He kicks open your bedroom door like he owns the place before throwing you onto your unmade bed. You bite your lip as he crawls between your legs, kissing you from your feet to your thighs before pushing your legs back as far as they can go.
Youâre sore when he sinks back into your heat but that doesnât stop the pleasure from curling in your gut. Nolan lubes his thumb with the slick from your gushing cunt before he begins rubbing hard circles on your clit.
âYouâre mine.â His voice is raspy but you hear his words perfectly. You whimper in response, youâre so far gone you canât decipher whether if itâs in agreeance or disapproval but itâs enough for Nolan who drops his head into your neck, his hips never stilling.
Nolanâs sweaty body engulfs yours, your hard nipples rub against his chest as your hand finds its place in the pepper strands of his hair. When he raises his head and kisses you itâs sweet, a contradiction from the way his hips slam into your pelvis.
As you wrap your legs around Nolanâs thick waist you canât help but to think that being a second wife canât be too bad.
#invincible smut#mark grayson x reader#omni man x reader#omni man/reader#omni man smut#omni man fanfic#omni man fanfiction#invincible fanfic#invincible fanfiction
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