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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter Four

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, profanity, age gap, sexual tension, size difference/kink, praise kink, fingering, alcohol consumption/drunk character, mating, oral sex (both receiving), p in v, virginity loss, blood, marking/biting, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 15k (i think, i dont even know at this point)

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Guys, I'm so sorry this one took so long. I hope it's worth the wait. I tried to proofread this but the app keeps crashing and I lost my progress thrice. So forgive me for any typos and errors. I'll probably go through it with fresh eyes tomorrow and fix them. Enjoy 🤍🤍

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

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“Not today, tahni. I must get you back, now.”

----

You protest, not wanting to go back to the prison with your less-than-understanding father and his two soldiers keeping an eye on your every move. You try to convince Ralak to have a conversation with your father, but he insists that won’t do anything. Jake is a man of action, and he would need to prove himself to Toruk Makto – prove that he is worthy of mating with his daughter.

To do things ‘the right way’.

All it took for you to behave was him grabbing your hand, pressing it against his warm, half-hard cock while he looks you dead in the eye.

“Tame Tsurak. And this is yours to do whatever you please with.”

“Oh?” Your lips pucker as you husk the word, brow raising in astonishment.

Of course, Ralak would turn this into a lesson of some sort, saying something along the lines of you being a fast learner and would only need a day to learn. It was laughable really – him saying that you need a week to learn the sign language of his people but less than a day to tame a skimwing.

He clicks for his swimwing, watching as it glides quickly through the water towards him. He takes a few steps back, making space for the large creature to come to a standstill. Ralak approaches it cautiously and respectfully, hand reaching behind him to grip and stroke the length of his kuru.

You’re only now just getting a good look at his kuru, it’s much longer than yours given the stature of this man. His tendrils are a deep pink, very composed and calm, much like Ralak himself. They dance slowly, sporadic movements gaining direction once they sense the kuru of the Tsurak in proximity.

“Bond carefully. Tsurak are not like ilu.” Ralak says, pupils constricting momentarily as the tendrils slowly entwine with one another, making tsaheylu with the scaley, large beast. It shivers vigorously as their breaths synchronize, two beasts becoming one. Ralak takes a sharp breath before swinging his leg over the creature, settling himself graciously on its back. “They deem if the rider is worthy.”

“Oh. I see...” You nod slowly, nerves fraying from the thought of not being worthy enough to tame one.

Ralak motions you to mount the Tsruak, patting it’s back behind him. “Come.” He holds your hand, helping you on before wrapping your arms around his waist. “Hold tight.”

With that, you’re off. The beast glides easily, and slowly through the water, never going underneath. Ralak spends the ride teaching you about the techniques to apply when bonding, mounting, and riding a skimwing. Even how to hold the harness properly, so you’re not pulled off by a water drag.

“Most important. When you dive back in, maintain a good position.” He rambles, demonstrating the diving movement with his hand, fingers pointing downwards.

You listen, but you’re focus is primarily on the way his waist feels in your arms. You savour the sensation, feelings of self-doubt making you think that this may be the last time you’ll touch Ralak in this way. You rest your face into the dip of his back, ear pressed into his skin as you listen to the thump of his heart.

The words echo in your head. “...to do whatever you please with.”

You could do this. You can do this. You’ll do it for him. For your mate.

Ralak slows to a halt a far distance away from your family marui pod, exchanging glares with your two older brothers. Though they were younger than Ralak, he still treats them as equals, respectfully signing ‘I see you’ to them both. Reluctantly, they return the gesture, maintaining their downward glare to the giant. Neteyam stands tall, chest puffed out to appear bigger, whilst Lo’ak’s arms are crossed over his chest, shifting his bodyweight from one leg to the other.

You scoff. Two idiots doing their idiot thing.

“We will meet again, my love.” You whisper, planting a kiss on his back before dismounting the creature to swim around to the mangrove roots.

“My tanhi.” He hums lowly, watching you swim away and climb up the root to the backside of the marui pod. He turns around, diving under the water to leave before your father’s arrival. Your brothers help you up, pushing you inside the pod by a hand on your back.

“You smell even worse.” Neteyam makes the snarky remark whilst grimacing, turning his head away from you.

“Yeah. He’s not joking, sis.” Lo’ak adds with a chuckle, leaning in to get a better whiff. He pulls back dramatically, letting out a loud ‘whoof’ as he turns his head away too.

“Ha-Ha.” You say, imitating the sound of a laugh. “Thanks guys.” You mutter sarcastically, although you really did owe them.

The sound of your father flipping back the flap of the marui averts your attention to the door. All three of you stand in formation, acknowledging the former marine’s presence. He walks past you, lips pursing into a thin line once your scent wafts past him.

“Jeez, y/n. Ya need to take a bath or something. Preferably before tomorrow ‘cause that’s when training with Tsireya starts.” He shifts his glare to his sons, patting them both on the back as he praises them for doing a good job watching you. Another scoff bubbles up your throat, prompting you to roll your eyes and find refuge behind your privacy curtain.

----

Swish. The sound of your privacy curtain being yanked aside, allowing slivers of the first rays of sunlight to shine against your cheek.

“Get up, kid. Time for your lesson with Tsireya.” Jake’s voice beats against your eardrums.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Never have you had a lesson this early. Nor have you had someone wake you up for one. And how many times did you have to speak to your father about privacy? That’s why you sat down for a week straight making these curtains. And by the way everyone keeps yanking and tugging at it, you’ll have to make another sooner than planned. You lift your head groggily, rubbing your right eye with the ball of your palm. Groans of irritation rumble up your throat as you roll over onto your side to ignore your father.

“Hey. Don’t make me come over there.” He jesters, hoping to lighten the mood.

It only makes things worse. How could he joke after locking you away and having his two watchdogs guard over you? He’s taking away the one good thing for you in this wet-land and thinks a joke will make things better?

“Leave. I’ll come out soon.” You mumble into your pillow.

Jakes brows lower in defiance for a moment, and relax when he realises that you’re just hurting. Regardless, this is what he thinks is best for you. You were still his ‘babygirl’. He takes a few steps back before turning around to walk out of the marui. Once you hear his footsteps die out, you rise from your cot and get ready for the day.

----

“Wow, y/n. You have improved so much since I last taught you!” Tsireya exclaims, surprised by your skilful movements.

“Yeah. Ralak was a good teacher.” You smile, tugging the fishnet towards you. Your lips flatten into a line when you realise how that sounds. “Not saying that you weren’t or anything.” You add quickly, staring wide eyed at Tsireya.

“It is okay.” She giggles, two dainty fingers covering her lips.

“Yeah. There’s just something about him. He’s… different.” You smile once more, slowly wrapping the fishnet around on itself, “A good different!”

“I know Ralak, y/n. He is... like a brother to me. Although we don’t talk very much...” Tsireya says, swimming towards the spears on the shore. “I am surprised you two got along for this long.”

Your brows twitch. Brother? What did she mean by that? What does she think even happened?

“I’m going to mate with him.” You blurt out, earning an astonished expression from Tsireya. “When I pass my iknimaya, of course.” You say, knowing that’s not what she’s concerned about.

“You two got along that well?” She questions, reaching for the spears.

“You could say that we confessed to each other in the heat of the moment” You mumble as you work your way to sit on the shore.

“So, why am I teaching you?” Her movements come to halt, inquisitive gaze flicking down at you.

“Dad found out. He is forbidding me from seeing him because I haven’t passed my iknimaya yet.” You twirl a strand of wet loose hair around your pointer finger, “He didn’t even care to ask about the situation. Or if I even need lessons anymore.” You shake your head, watching the hair unravel from your finger.

“I see. I think you two would be good for each other.” She shrugs, staring at the spears for a moment before throwing them back into the sand. She looks at you and smiles, “Has he taught you about our dances?”

Gaze snapping up to hers, a smile stretches your lips as your brows raise in fascination. “Dances?”

Tsireya offers her hand, and you take it, letting her help you up. “Mhm. Our way of dancing. It is very... sensual. It is said that eywa speaks through the soundwaves of the music.” She walks you over to a clearing near the shore.

Apparently, the musical instruments are sacred, some parts of it harvested from the spirit tree. And when they are played, the way of Eywa can be felt by those that listen, expressed in bodily movement – dancing. It’s movements manifest erotically, acting as a mating ritual.

It draws in the fated or desired mates of those that partake in the ritual, driving them to find one another and dance together.

“Teach me.”

----

The days go by slowly as Tsireya shows you the sinuous movements of the Metkayina. She explains that it is much like the way of water, gliding and flowing freely with the music. One must allow the music to flow through the body in waves, to slip into a trance like state for your body to sway with the rhythm.

It takes you about a week to learn all the movements. It posed to be an even more difficult task without the music, and just Tsireya’s humming. Of course, this music is only only played on the night of an iknimaya celebration.

Tomorrow is your iknimaya, and Tsireya decides it’s best to run through a few pointers on taming a tsurak. Taming one is not something you practice doing, not like an ilu. You attempt it, and if denied, it is because you have much more to learn. You may try again after further training.

“Your grip is the most important thing. Once it loosens, it is ove –”

“Girls.” The olo’eyktan’s voice booms above you, averting your attention to the three casted shadows on the shore. Your eyes trail up the silhouettes to see Tonowari, your father, and... Ralak. Your heartbeat quickens, body heating up from sensing its desired mate in proximity. You try to play it off, looking down at your knees buried in the sand.

“Father.” Tsireya shuffles to her feet, signing ‘I see you’ to the three men, acknowledging their presence.

You follow slowly after her, eyes now locked onto your feet. “I see you.” You gesture, finally lifting your gaze up to the three men.

Ralak’s brows twitch as his cold eyes trail up your body, doing their best mask his excitement from seeing you. You look beautiful – dressed in clothing native to his people, pearls embellishing your top and a string of shells sewn to the band of your tewng [loincloth]. Braided hair with bright red flowers twisted into it, his chest tightens from seeing you like this.

This is the first time you’ve seen him in a week. He looks... dishevelled. Nothing like he usually looks. Hollow eyes, body enveloped with bruises and scabbed over wounds, you can sense the fracture in his spirit. He looks so, so worn. A heated wrath simmers your blood, making you red in the face.

What have they done to you, my love? You ask him through concerned eyes, breaking your stare to seethe at Tonowari.

Jake could see the upset on your face, lips pursing into a thin line as he squints his eyes, telling you to drop the attitude. But you were vexed with him too. Did he really think you’d be an obedient little soldier? You scoff at the thought, rolling your eyes to land them back onto Ralak, who is also giving you a look.

Now that’s different.

All it takes is a quick raise of his brows and a slight shake of his head to quell your attitude. You huff a small sigh of defeat and drop your irate stare to your feet once more, holding your tongue. You wanted nothing more than to lash out at Tonowari, despite him being the olo’eytan. But you understand that this would only make matters worse.

Jake witnesses this, feeling a little embarrassed about your blatant disregard for his order and not Ralak’s. But he can’t ignore the smidge of respect he’s feeling towards him right now. To be able to handle your rebellious attitude with a simple shake of his head is impressive.

“Iknimaya is tomorrow.” Tonowari speaks, eyes drifting towards the discarded spears.

He’s clearly speaking to you, but you’re too caught up in your own head to even hear him.

“Yes, father. I am confident that she is ready.” Tsireya answers quickly, using her tail to nudge the back of your leg.

“Yes – yes sir. Your daughter taught me well.” You say a little too composed, avoiding eye contact all together.

“Good. We will be on our way then.” Tonowari nods, turning his heel to leave.

Jake follows behind him, throwing one last glare in your direction, whilst Ralak lingers for a second or two. He does one last scan of your body, before locking eyes with you. A soft smile pulls at his lips as he slowly retreats.

It’s like all the negativity bubbling in your being washes away in an instant, leaving you standing there with a dumb smile on your face. He spins around, walking nonchalantly behind the two olo’eyktans, arms tucked behind his back.

“Did he just – smile?” Tsireya asks, a little dumbfounded.

“Mhm.” You hum, smile only growing wider.

----

That night you walked home beaming, smile plastered on your face with your ears flickering wildly. It had been so long since you’d last seen him that it was so uplifting to see that sweet, sweet smile again. You haven’t felt this happy since Jake separated you two, and honestly you couldn’t bring yourself to go home and see him.

Despite your strict curfew, you find yourself alone sitting in the wet sand, watching the sun set, bright hues of red and orange lighting up the sky. You bring your knees to your chest and rest your cheek between them, thinking about tomorrow.

What if I can’t do it? You sigh, feelings of self-doubt crashing in like the waves at your feet.

“Y/n.” Jake’s voice booms behind you.

Of-fucking-course you’re going to come find me.

“What?” You mumble into your knees.

Jake’s purses his lips before letting out a small sigh, shoulders relaxing as he seats himself beside you. “Feelin’ ready for tomorrow? Not nervous, are ya?”

“Ha. Yeah. I had the best teacher in Awa’atlu.”

“Babygirl.” His voice softens as he tries to look you directly in the face. The fact that it’s been over a week, and you’re still upset tells him that he’s really hurt you.

“Not your baby anymore.” You mutter under your breath, turning your head to look the other way.

“Yes, you are... ‘nd you always will be. Even when you have your own.” He speaks gently, resting his hand on your upper back.

You shrug him off, causing his hand to retreat entirely. He reflects for a moment, on how his actions have made you feel. Has he been too harsh on you? Was the ‘tough love’ act too much? The rift that’s he’s driven between the two of you is just too thick and he must remedy it.

“Look. I’m – I’m just tryna look out for you.”

“Excuse me?” You lift your head up and look at him with an expression of disbelief. "Look out for me? Or coddle me? Cut the shit, dad. I know you’re trying to keep me from him.”

"Language!" Jake hisses, “And I am looking out for you, whether you wanna believe it or not.”

“So what? How far are you gonna go to keep me from him? Gonna make us move again? Fresh start, somewhere else?”

Jakes voice is low now, a dangerous growl as he grows frustrated with your venomous words. “Everything I do is to protect you kids. Your safety is everything to me, y/n. I just want what’s best for you.”

"Ralak is what is best for me. He's good to me. Patient with me." You croak, lump forming in your throat. "And - I love him, dad."

Jake quickly stands, letting out a scoff. "No. You don't. You barely know the guy!”

"I do. I know him more than anybody. He's a gentleman–”

“Y/n” He starts, “We’ve only been here for a few months. He’s your teacher. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Why are you settling for the first one you meet?”

“Dad, just – stop! He’s a good person. And when I tame tsurak tomorrow... I will choose him.” Your voice fades away as you utter the last four words, heated tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Yeah. If you tame it. I didn’t even tame it myself the first try. You really think you can?” Jake spits, growing frustrated with your defiant attitude.

Ouch. You didn’t even have the words to respond to that. Your own father taking a jab at your competency, knowing it’s one of your biggest insecurities. And to instil is own personal doubt into you is on another level of petty.

And just like that, the rift grows wider.

Your bottom lip quivers, revealing the small dimples in your chin. You stare up at him glossy eyed, tears welling up so much you could almost see the way it makes your eyes glisten. His gaze softens, as if he were just hit square in the jaw with words he just uttered to you.

“Y/n, I’m s –”

You shake your head in disbelief, brows gathering so tightly it hurt. You walk past him, shoving him with your shoulder as you make your way towards your marui. You can hear him calling after you, hollering whatever things first popped up in his head that could possibly make it right.

“Babygirl, please! You know I didn’t mean it like that. Just try to see where I’m coming from!”

But you ignore him and keep it going. Slumping into your bed, you lay your head on your pillow and close your swollen, wet eyes in hopes to get some rest for your big day tomorrow. The day that would change it all.

The day of your iknimaya.

----

It wasn’t only your iknimaya today.

Much like when you tamed your ikran, you stand in a line of other younger na’vi, who have been waiting patiently for their chance to prove themselves. Eager and excited to earn their place in the clan and mate with another.

They all speak amongst themselves, whispering harshly and huddling together to hear one another. They’re discussing pointers, reviewing techniques, and sharing tips they’ve learned from the more experienced warriors. It’s a bit annoying, in all honestly. They all seemed to have a completely different motive from you. An intrinsic one.

Whereas your motivation is standing in waist deep in the water, effortlessly holding the thrashing, winged beast in place. His hands grip the harness tightly, whilst Tonowari and another warrior secures the mid and hind section of the skimwing.

You watch as the other young na’vi attempt to tame the tsurak before you. Some pass, some fail, tsurak swimming with such force that it leaves the rider disoriented. Some even begged for another chance, while others accepted their defeat with a tail between their legs.

It makes you nervous. And the more you stand and stare at the thick skinned creature, the more is registers how big it actually is. It’s enormous – the length of six na’vi. Yet Ralak holds it down firmly, arms growing veiny from the sheer grip he has on it. It writhes beneath him, prompting him to restrain the beast even further.

You’d never seen Ralak ‘in action’ before. To you, he’s this big, soft giant, patiently tolerating your less than composed attitude. A man with simple goals, and simple desires. Not this strong, war machine he has been turned into. But you can’t ignore how seeing him like this makes you feel.

A strong and competent man.

But the more the creature thrashes around in his grip, the more your shot nerves fray. Just as you feel the nerves creep their way up into your chest, tightening it with no mercy, Ralak locks eyes with you. A stoic expression, with eyes that said so much. Ocean blue eyes, telling you ‘I’m right here. You can do it. Do it for me. For my big coc-’.

“You got this, kid. I mean – y/n.” Jake’s sudden voice interrupts your... train of thought.

If you hadn’t just been eye-fucking the man he’s keeping you away from you would’ve probably warmed up to his... attempt to make things right.

You let out a loud scoff and roll your eyes before diving into the water. Your fingers pierce the surface of the water, slender body moving through the water quickly and making the lap in one breath.

Turning your head, you quickly realise why they had you so far up in the mangroves. It was a test. A breath test. But what confirmed your suspicion is the look at your fathers’ face. An expression of surprise – shocked to see you even swim much less hold your breath for the entire lap.

Did he really have that little faith in you? You shake your head in disbelief, landing your stare on the spectators – the olo’eyktans’ family and other superior hunters and warriors. All of which stood high up in the mangroves, observing your every move.

How intimidating.

You exhale slowly, hoping to steady your galloping heart, but your efforts are to no avail. It feels as if its leaping from your chest the more you near the writhing, restless beast. And the closer you get, the louder its low, deep rumbling grows.

You’re about chest-deep in the water now, bouncing on the tips of toes as you inch closer and get a better look. You scan its entire body, starting at the white caudal fin, up to its furled wings and long snout – which houses at least a hundred jutting-out, needlelike teeth. Overall, its menacing demeanour makes your stomach sink.

Shit. Can I really do this? You think, shaky hand reaching behind you for your kuru as you continue to study the beast’s tough exterior.

“Y/n.” Tonowari saying your name snaps your eyes up to him smiling down at you. “Make the bond.” He gestures over to Ralak, who’s holding tsurak’s kuru in one hand, and the harness in the other.

He can tell from your body language and the glint in your eye that you’re nervous and having doubts. It’s the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, just like you did whenever you were getting frustrated during your lessons.

You settle yourself beside him, feeling his warmth radiate off his body onto yours. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to each other. You’re not even touching, yet it feels so good. So right. You allow yourself to sway with the current of the water so that your shoulder brushes against his arm, sending your freckles flickering in broad daylight.

His chin remains tucked into his chest, arm extended towards you with the beasts’ kuru in hand. “Remember what I said.” He mutters under his breath, low enough for only you to hear.

You glance up at him briefly, trying your best to recall what he’s said to you about tsuraks. Your brows pinch in ponder as your pink tendrils dance wildly when they near the creature’s kuru. Was it something about the bond? Or was it how to grip the harness?

Ralak leans in, pretending to bring the kuru closer to your short stature. “yours to do whatever you please with.”

Oh. That.

You recall when he pressed your hand against his half-hard cock and told you it was all yours if you tamed tsurak. Just thinking about how warm it felt in your hand ebbs away the fear you’ve harboured in your chest, replacing it with a new feeling of determination.

Trying to withhold the smile creeping up on your face, you watch as your tendrils intertwine with the tsuraks’, kurus bonding together with a quick pull. A shiver runs through the creature as it snarls and growls, and your pupils dilate and constrict, breath hiccupping as you sync together.

You can feel it’s strength – it’s prowess. The way it breathes under and out of water. The way its left wing is injured from the na’vi that kicked it when tumbling off. The frustration brewing in its stomach. The exhaustion he’s feeling.

Instinctually, your hand caresses the length of his slippery snout, razor sharp teeth grazing your darker blue skin. “tam tam, tam tam [calm; there there]” You coo quietly, sliding your hand up his snout to grip the harness tightly. To your surprise, he settles immediately, sensing your empathy towards his state.

A sense of mutual respect.

Taking this as your signal to mount him, you hoist yourself up onto his back, being extra careful not to touch his wing. You find yourself struggling, being so far out at this height was only another obstacle in your way. Without warning the tsurak sinks into the water, lowering itself for you to haul your leg over its back.

“Irayo [thank you].” You whisper through a smile, settling yourself comfortably on the woven saddle.

Finally lifting your head up, you’re met with the stare of two surprised men, and one proud man. Ralak has this smug look on his face, like he knew all along that you would be able to make the bond in this way. And that – that’s just what you needed.

The three men let go of the beast, backing away with their hands in the air, allowing you space to ride. You tighten your grip one last time – something you recall being the most important thing, and think, go.

The tsurak takes off at full speed, caudal fin swishing from side to side, providing thrust to propel you forward. The sheer force of his jerky movements has your grip loosening already, audible swoosh of his tail growing louder the more wobble side to side.

Easy. Easy.

He steadies instantly, providing you with enough time to tighten your grip and position yourself properly on his back. You’re mindful of his injured wing, grounding the heel of your non-dominant foot beside his good wing. With your other leg, you settle your knee into his back, finding balance in your own body.

The shimmying comes to a halt, leaving you gliding effortlessly through the water, swoosh of his tail steady and low. You pull up, prompting his wings to splay out, revealing their vibrant red and orange colours. Soon the whoosh of his flapping wings drowns out the noise of his caudal fin propelling you upwards and out the water.

“There you go.” You think out loud, steadying yourself mid-air.

It’s an exhilarating feeling. The cool wind in your face and the way the sun rays heat up your skin. It almost feels like your ikran. A big smile spreads across your lips as you give his gill a gentle, reassuring tap. That’s when you feel the dull ache in your left shoulder worsen.

“Tam, tam. [there, there]” You repeat, recognizing his pain. That’s your cue to prepare yourself for the hardest part – the dive. This is the part which typically ends with the force of such a plunge knocking the na’vi off it’s back. The true test.

With a quick, deep breath, you tighten your grip around the harness one last time and dive onto your stomach, hugging his lower back with your knees. You tuck your chin to your chest and brace yourself for impact. The tsurak tucks his wings flush to his sides and plunges in, long snout piercing the water’s surface with ease.

The force of the plunge is indescribable. It’s almost like the feeling you get when you plummet down the hallelujah mountains on your ikran. But more intense. The water adds extra resistance, knocking you back to the point of your knuckles almost dislocating.

Despite that, your grip remains strong as you hurtle through the water, tilting to the side to avoid the reef. The slight sting of your lungs act as your cue to make a sharp turn and head back. You ascend slowly as you dart through the water, resurfacing completely before the three men.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding with an audible haa as you bring the beast to a halt. You wipe the water from your face and try to catch your breath, looking up to see Ralak with one of the biggest smiles on his face – the first of its kind. And you couldn’t quite tell if the shock plastered on the other mens’ faces are for you or for him.

You return the smile as you gently pull away your kuru from the tsuraks’ and dismount him. “He is weary. And injured. Left wing.” You pant, meeting eyes with the giant beaming with pride. “Let him rest, Lak.”

“Ah.” He chuckles breathily, using his tail to caress the back of your leg. “I will be sure to do that, my Tsurak Makto.”

Cheeks heating up to a dangerous degree, you avert your gaze elsewhere, only for it to land on the Olo’eyktan himself. He, too, is smiling wide, moving towards you with an extended arm. You link arms, slender fingers wrapping around his strake.

“You are Metkayina now, y/n. Soleia [congrats; you did it]” Tonowari declares.

“Thank you, sir. And your daughter –”

“While I am sure she has taught you well, Ralak is the one to thank here.” He rests a firm hand on Ralak’s shoulder.

You look over into the mangroves and see your father with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding and smiling. He’s impressed, to say the least. But not only with you and the way you absolutely mastered the taming of the skimwing, but also with Ralak – who is clearly to thank for that.

----

With night being only a blink away, things move quickly. Na’vi men and women rush to begin the preparations for the iknimaya celebration on the open, sandy area on the beach. They haul in large, tightly strung instruments, scrupulously carved flutes, drums made from animal skin, and horns made from bone, setting them up on the large, flattened rocks.

The clans’ best singers apply various colours of tsamopin [warpaint] to their skin, accentuating their features, while the elder, wiser na’vi prepare the native dishes for the feast. Fruits, vegetables, grains, and meat are cooked to perfection and spread carefully for everyone to have a taste. Bottles of fermented fruit garnish the spread. Others hurry to ornament the space with harvested bioluminescent flora from inland, and light the bon fire.

Tsireya approaches you with a full, large basket tucked on her hip. She smiles as she places her free hand on your back, guiding you and the small group of four other na’vi who passed their iknimaya to a secluded marui. Propping the basket between two jutting mangrove roots, she retrieves a handful of different coloured beads and shells.

As tsakarem [Tsahik in training], it is Tsireya’s duty to seal the iknimaya by rewarding those who passed with a few artefacts to signify their adulthood. “For your songchord.” She speaks, distributing the beads among the five of you before fetching the special pieces of clothing.

“You have all passed your iknimaya.” She speaks softly, distributing the clothing to the others. “Soleia! [congrats; you met the challenge] You may all receive your inking at the ftxozä [celebration]”

She comes to you last, carefully handing you a woven palm leaf. “I am proud of you, y/n.” She whispers, watching as you quickly open the woven packet, revealing your first Metkayinan article of clothing. Your eyes widen as you hold it in front of them.

Seven warbonnet fern leaves stained in crimson coloured ink, strung tightly together with fishing line. It’s beautiful. The leaves are long and pointed, meticulously placed to provide enough coverage for your chest. You rest it against your chest, raising your brows at Tsireya for her opinion.

She clicks her tongue, hand flying to grip her chin as she ‘thinks’. “Hm... He’s definitely going to rip that off of you.” She teases, fingers covering her mouth to hide her giggle. You laugh, probably a little too loudly given the four pairs of eyes staring at you both.

“The sun is setting, everyone! Get ready, wear your pen [clothing] with pride, look your best, and most of all, have fun!” Tsireya shouts happily, gesturing with her hand for them to hurry.

Everyone rushes to get ready, slipping in their pen and putting on their best face. You observe their hasty, excited movements, when the last rays of sunlight avert your stare to the horizon. You catch sight of the sunset, something you rarely got to see back home. The big, blood orange orb sinks beneath the horizon, turning the water a hue of orange.

Your gaze follows the ginger ripples of the water up to the beach, where you’re met with the sight of a blazing bonfire, flames growing as tall as some palm trees. A breath-taking sight. The skilled pamtseotu [musicians] work at their instruments, nimble fingers plucking the taut strings, and the wax coated bones beating away at the drums.

You admire the glow of the people as they enjoy themselves. Two elderly women trying to hear each other over the loud da-dum of the drums. A few young adults having their first sips of pxir [beer; liquor]. Parents with their sleeping babies strapped to their backs sharing a dance under the moonlight. Ao’nung and Rotxo eating as much as their cheeks can hold. Ralak – oh.

Ralak talking to your father.

----

Ralak’s POV (starting from iknimaya)

“While I am sure she has taught you well, Ralak is the one to thank here.” He rests a firm hand on Ralak’s shoulder.

Ralak remains silent, yet his mind is loud. He has so much to do – so much on his plate. But all he can think about is you. How you bring light to his small, dim world. How your presence alone uplifts the weight on his shoulders. And oh, how the past few weeks have been tortuous for him.

Tonowari, the man that took him in after the passing of his parents, had him hard at work since you weren’t allowed to see him anymore. Tonowari isn’t oblivious to what’s going on. He can tell the situation for what it is, but out of respect for Jake he made the arrangements for Tsireya to teach you instead.

Ralak has been waiting for the right time to speak with Tonowari about the matter. The matter of asking for your hand. Although he wasn’t necessarily asking Tonowari for permission for your hand, but more so permission for himself. Permission to dedicate his time to his mate, his family – to his dream, mundane life.

He watches you swim back to the mangroves, and with an injured tsurak there’s a bit of time between you and the next contender. Tonowari instructs for the other warrior to tend to the tsurak, and for a moment, it’s just Tonowari and Ralak.

The two giants exchange glances, standing in silence as one waits for the other to speak. Ralak knows it’s the perfect time to do it. You’ve just passed your iknimaya and they’re alone and far from any company.

“Sir.” Tonowari turns to face Ralak, knowing what’s coming next. Ralak slowly raises his head, tilting it to return the gaze. “I want to mate with her.” He speaks assertively, showing his seriousness through a stern gaze.

Tonowari nods a few times, breaking eye contact as he momentarily drops his head. He knows what this means – what he’s truly asking for. Freedom. Less duties. More time put into building the family he’s always wanted. To rediscover his days as a fisherman. To live his simple life.

Tonowari looks at Ralak, hand swiftly moving to firmly grip his shoulder and give it a squeeze. “You have my blessing, son.” Ralak smiles, using his free hand to clasp Tonowari’s. “But you must speak with Toruk Makto first.” Tonowari booms with laughter, pulling his hand off Ralak’s shoulder.

Although Ralak is almost as much as a giant as his mentor, he found Jake to be intimidating. He has extreme respect for Jake, admiring how family oriented he is. Which is why he wants to do it right. “I will. Tonight.”

Ralak hauls in a lengthy, wooden table, plopping it down in the open, sandy area. An elderly woman approaches him, thanking him with a gentle hand to his back and a gummy smile. Her free hand holds a bowl containing a mixture of diced fruits. He quickly takes it from her, placing it carefully in the centre of the table.

“Allow me. You rest.” He says with a thick accent, linking arms with her to walk her back over to the seating area.

“Tak. Always such a kind boy.” She whispers softly, patting his hand before letting go and taking a seat.

Jake and Neytiri are assisting with the seating area, rearranging the order of things. Ralak gestures a respectful greeting to them both, bowing his head before the former Olo’eyktan. Neytiri gives him a warm smile, acknowledging his kind gesture towards the elder.

She has always disagreed with Jakes decision to separate you two, insisting that he is too harsh on you and that you have already passed your iknimaya back home. She had taken a liking to Ralak since the day you rode an ilu after only a week of lessons.

“Sir. May I speak with you?” Ralak asks politely.

Jake lets out a hesitant sigh, looking at his mate who’s shooting him a deathly glare. He purses his lips into a thin line and gives Ralak a firm nod, gesturing with his hand that they go somewhere more private to talk. He follows Jake willingly, walking with him to the shoreline.

They stand in silence for a moment, much like he did with Tonowari earlier. Ralak takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst. He turns to look Toruk Makto dead in the eye, mask of indifference fixed tightly to his face.

“I would like to apologize for the way things turned out. It was never my intention.” Ralak speaks, holding eye contact with the great warrior – who is visibly biting his tongue for the sake of not being strangled by his own wife. “Your daughter. She is truly the best thing that has happened to me. Kind. Caring. Understanding. Yes, she has her moments.” Ralak widens his eyes, quirking his brows before smirking a little. “But I love those too.”

“Uh-huh.” Jake gives him a small nod, doing a ‘come on’ motion with his hand, implying he should get to the point.

A little intimidated, Ralak averts his gaze to his feet and speaks quickly and confidently. “I want to provide for her. Protect her. With my life. I will give her anything she desires. Everything she needs. I will give her a good life.” Ralak’s eyes snap up to meet Jake’s. “But only with your permission, sir.”

“You gonna look me in the eye this time and make that promise?” Jake raises his brows, wrinkling his forehead.

Ralak clears his throat, straightening his shoulders to stand at full height, towering over Jake. “I love her. I will take care of her. Give her everything. If you’ll allow it.”

There’s a moment of silence – other than the increasingly loud thump of the drums – where Jake and Ralak stand face to face. Jake process all what Ralak has said. He’s never heard so many words fall from this man’s mouth before. Jake’s shoulders drop as he heaves a sigh, perked ears now relaxing against his skull. Hands flying to his hips, he looks away briefly before looking back at Ralak.

“She’s my babygirl. You know that, right?” Jake growls through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir.” Ralak is quick to answer.

“I swear, if you let anything – and I mean anything happen to my babygirl...” Jake’s voice his dark and gruff, laced with uncertainty.

“Understood. And, agreed. If anything happens to her, you have every right.” Ralak assures the former Olo’eyktan, grimacing at the mere thought.

“Right. Then you have my permission, Ralak.” Jake nods, extending his arm to the taller na’vi. Ralaks ears bolt upright, overjoyed to hear the words. They join arms with an audible smack, sealing the deal with a firm shake. “Go on. Go find her.” Jake nudges over to the mangroves with his chin, “Before I change my mind.” Ralak bows his head slightly and parts ways to look for you.

---- End of Ralak’s POV

Shit, I should go. You think, turning on your heels to go find Ralak. By the time you’ve turned around, everyone is gone except for Tsireya.

“Come, let’s get you ready.” Tsireya grins wide, slowly creeping towards you with her handmade palette of colours.

You pull your head back, a downturned smile spreading across your face. “Where are you putting that? What is that?”

“Just a little something for your cheeks, come on.” She smiles even wider, dipping her finger into the creamy concoction.

“Eh. Not my thing.” You pull your head back even more.

“Ralak will like it.” She sings, wiggling her pink stained finger in the air.

You let out a small sigh of defeat and lean forward. “Fine. Only a little, okay?”

“Mhm!” Tsireya squeals, beaming with delight as he smears the creamy mixture on the apples of your cheeks. “There. And a little for your lips, too.” She says, quickly swiping it on your lips before you can refuse.

You grunt in response, popping your lips to distribute it evenly. “Well. How do I look?”

“Sevin [pretty], and you’ll look even better when you put that on.” She stares at the crimson strained top in your hands.

You slip into your top, fixing the leaves into position to cover your nipples, and do a twirl for the chief’s daughter. “Well?” You ask with open hands.

You didn’t think that cheeky grin could grow much wider, but it does. A grin so wide that it’s ear to ear.“Fyole [perfect]. Now let’s go get your mate.”

Maybe her giddiness is just catching, but hearing one of the most beautiful girls in the village call you fyole makes you grin too. She tugs at your arm, urging you to follow her down the webbed pathway towards the sandy area.

As you both make your way down to the beach, the faint whoof of the drums deepen in bass, and the plunk of the stringed instruments grows higher. And soon you can make out the song that’s playing. It’s the same song that Tsireya has been trying to hum to you for the past week. You keep your chin tucked to your chest, gaze locked to your feet as you follow behind Tsireya.

Once you see the silky sand spill through the cracks of your toes, you look up to see that you’re both standing at the edge of the crowd. People are packed tightly together, sweaty bodies pressed firmly against each other as they move to the beat.

The ambiance is electric, you can practically see it jolt through the crowd. Different colours glow around the moving bodies, it reminds you of your dream hunt.

Tsireya grabs a hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly to bring you out of your deep thought. “Remember what I taught you, yes?” You stare at her wide-eyed, knowing what she’s going to tell you next. “Dance with me, vultsyìp [stick].” She sings the last word teasingly, tugging you into the crowd behind her.

As much as you loved the music, you’re focused on Ralak. You want to find him, be with him. You look around as you both weave through the crowd, bumping into people having a good time, drinking, and dancing. You swear you see a few people laying in the sand on top of one another, bent into positions you’ve never seen before.

Tsireya can sense that you’re a little anxious. Perhaps you feel out of place, or maybe you’re just a little stunned by the way of her – your people dance. She looks back on you and gives you a reassuring smile, squeezing your hand tighter as she burrows you both through the dancing crowd.

Finally coming to a more spacious area, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You slump into her, chin resting on her shoulder. Her lips brush against the shell of your ear. “Let him come to you.”

You pull back, looking around to see if he’s anywhere nearby before leaning back in to speak into her ear. “How will he know where to find me?”

Tsireya laughs, lifting a hand from your waist to tap her flat nose a few times, signing ‘smell’.

You nod slowly, trusting her word, despite you being in a large crowd that reeks of pxir[liquor], and – sex. You take a deep breath, smelling an array of scents all mixed, and overlapping one another. It’s almost overwhelming, leaving you feeling all hazy and dazed.

“Now dance with me!” She shouts over the boom of the music, sliding her hands down your waist to grip your hips. A giggle bubbles up your throat, the aphrodisiac properties of the music now taking affect. It sets a fire in your body, heating you up from the inside out and making your hips move in her grip.

It’s a little frightening, feeling your body move on its own, much like it did during your first heat. You try to fight it a little, feeling a little timid from how the music is affecting you in this way. But you recall Tsireya explaining to you that it’s something to do with ‘the way of Eywa permeating through the music’ – or something.

Tsireya realizes that your movements are bit rigid and broken, plagued with uncertainty. “Let go. Feel the music.” She urges you, guiding your hips in the direction of her motions. You allow yourself to let go, closing your eyes to immerse yourself in the trance of the music, moving freely to the rhythm.

With each beat of the drum comes a quick roll of your waist. And soon you’re dancing on her, vibrations of the instruments rippling through you. It comes naturally, body moving in a sinuous manner against hers. At the same time, it’s such a foreign feeling, as if your pores are dilating and releasing your essence into the air.

Meanwhile, Ralak is searching for you at the edge of the crowd, peeking over the sea of people. His eyes quickly scan the waves of dancing na’vi, looking for his tahni. His deep blue tahni. He had no interest in going into the crowd, much less surrender himself to the hypnotic ways of the music.

But he has no other choice.

He nosedives into the crowd, working his way between people as they increasingly get more and more suggestive with their bodies. One cannot simply walk through this without being affected to some degree – the pink tinge of his cheeks is evidence of it.

A hand instinctively flies to his nose to block out the mixture of scents bombarding him. Pxir. Sex. Desperation. Its almost contagious. Only making him want to be with you even more. Nearly to the point of desperation. He needs you. To be around you. To touch you. To be inside you.

Until it just becomes too much. Too much that a simple hand overing his burning nostrils won’t suffice. He drops his hand in defeat, allowing the mesmeric fumes to engulf him. It’s nauseating, yet his want for you grows stronger, to the point where he could swear to Eywa herself that the scent is slowly morphing into yours.

And yours only.

Ralak closes his eyes, inhaling so deeply that his chest tightens – all so he can savour your sweet, sweet aroma. He succumbs to it, nose following the scent to the source like an ilu being lured with a piece of fish. When he opens his eyes, he sees you. Clear as day.

There’s an aura around you, glowing so bright it’s almost blinding. It’s like the light in the darkness – all over again. Just like the first day he met you. The day you brought meaning to his life after losing so much.

Right there.

In awe, he watches your little body move effortlessly to the rhythm, slender tail swishing excitedly behind you. It’s the way you look – all flushed and flustered, dressed in the clothes of the Metkayina. He swallows thickly at the sight, influence of your pheromones making it that much harder – literally. He’s so hard it hurts, balls tightening and pulling so close to him that he shifts his weight to the next foot.

Yet his eyes dare not move. They bore into you so deep that even you can sense his stare. Your body knows he’s close, speeding up with your lewd movements, luring him in even more. And it works. He can’t help but move a little closer. Just to get a better look at you. At how you’ve learned the dance of his people, moving just like one of them with no difficulty.

And then you feel him.

Pressing against your body from behind, his warmth only heating you up more. You can smell him – no need to turn around to check who it is. You lean back into him, back of your head slumping into his chest. Everything’s so hot – so heavy. He leans down, pressing his soft, warm lips against your throat, using his tongue to taste the sheen on your skin.

You exhale an audible haah, chest heaving harshly as your nipples harden into peaks underneath your new garments. Tsireya lets you go, retreating into the crowd to leave you both alone. His hands quickly replace hers, wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you in closer to his hot body.

That’s when you feel it, hard and firm, pressing into your lower back. Then your breaths turn raggedy, becoming louder. You can’t help but grind into it, feeling him bend his knees, body receptive to your movements. And soon he’s grinding into you too, bodies falling into synchrony.

“So this is what you have been learning. Hm?” He whispers gruffly into the shell of your ear, following your every move as you lower yourself even more.

“May-be” The word comes out broken from the pace your body is setting for him to keep up with.

“All for me?” He chuckles, greedy hands lowering to your thighs, fingers smoothing over your clammy skin.

“Mmn – mhm.” You purr, thighs squeezing together as you shimmy your hips into him, providing your throbbing clit with a little friction.

His hands swipe underneath your loincloth as they glide back up to your hips, his lips pressing into your neck once more. He peppers hot, wet kisses down to the tips of your shoulders and up to the back of your neck. It sends your freckles flickering under the moonlight, surely gaining more eyes on the two of you.

But neither of you cared. Not in this moment.

“Feel me.” He growls, sinking his fingers into your hips to shove you into his pelvis. “Feel what you do to me.”

You can hear the frustration in his voice, he’s so wound up that you can just tell from the way he’s manhandling your hips. “Oh, fuck.” You gasp, rubbing yourself against his hardened bulge, tail wrapping around his thin waist.

Calloused hands work their way up your stomach, fingers grazing over the dip of your navel before finding purchase under the strings of your top. He hooks his thumbs under the twine, running them along its length. You bow your back against him, pushing back into his crotch.

“My beautiful tahni.” He groans shakily, resisting the urge to pin you down and take what’s his, right here, right now. “I have missed you.”

“Ma’ Lak.” You moan softly, feeling so out of it – so hazy and light-headed.

“Do me the honour of being my mate.” He tries to speak politely, keeping his voice steady and calm, rough grinding smoothing into gentle swaying.

“Say that again for me.” You pant through a smile, dipping your head forward to give him better access to your neck.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as pointed canines graze over the nape of your neck, eager to sink into your supple skin. You spin around, drawing a little blood when they scrape against your skin. He shoves a knee between your legs, spreading them apart to press his pelvis firmly into yours. “Mate with me, woman.”

“Oh, yeah? Right here?” You tease, tugging at his queue to bring it over his shoulder.

“You’re trouble. You know that?” He chuckles breathily, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck, breathing in your hypnotic scent.

“I’ve been told.” You let out a soft giggle, twirling the end of his kuru around your finger.

Eywa, did that feel good.

“Come.” He says quickly - impatiently, hoisting you up onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He stumbles over to the shore, still feeling the effects of the melodic music coursing in his bloodstream. Quickly calling for his tsurak with a tik-tak, he watches as the large beast glides through the water towards him.

In an instant, Ralak bonds and mounts the beast with you stuck to him, holding you close with one hand and gripping the harness tightly with the other. You bury your face into his chest, basking in his natural scent as you try to calm down. But you’re so on edge and need some sort of release soon.

“Need y-you. S-so bad.” You moan needily, breath hitching as you grind the soft flesh between your legs against the tautness of his tewng [loincloth].

Ralak’s brows pinch tightly together, huffing a breath of hot air through his nostrils. His restraint is dwindling by the millisecond. He needs you. Craves you. Hungers for you. And he can no longer withhold himself, not when you’re still grinding into him, even though the music has faded out.

“I know. Almost there. A little longer.” He hums breathlessly, beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

Ralak’s so flustered and hot that he can barely maintain control over his winged beast, making the ride to the cove of ancestors rough and bumpy. The burning need to possess you – dominate you – only grows stronger with each huff of hot air you breathe onto his bare chest.

He wants so badly to just drill himself inside you, right on the back of this tsurak. Leaving his cock buried deep in your tight, wet heat for the remainder of the ride. So that when you do arrive, he can lay you down on the nearest rock and have his way with you.

But he won’t. Not for your first time. Not before you mate.

Your breath rasps in your throat, nimble fingers working away at the knot above his tail. It’s as if you could hear his thoughts already, telling you to take him right here, right now. Or perhaps it’s the way his painfully hard cock almost bores through the thin cloth, right into your sopping cunt as his hips buck into you. Both of you reek with desperation, a scent so pungent any passer-by would gag. Yet he still finds the self-control to reach behind him to rest a gentle hand on your wriggling fingers.

“Wait.” A single word parts his flushed lips, gruff and strained. It’s all he can get out in his state of mind. He wants nothing more than to just do this the right way. The way he’s been planning for years on end. You whine a little when he pulls your hand away, plunking it back onto your slippery thigh.

“Please.” You mewl, fingers now burrowing between your pelvises to slip under the band of his loincloth, pulling it down just enough to unsheathe his thick cock. It’s slaps against his flexed abdomen, tip of his glossy, reddened head poking right below his crossed ribs. It’s all swollen and throbbing, sticky from how much precum he’s leaking all over himself.

Denying him the chance to refuse, you shove your clothed cunt against his slickened length, humping into him with ease. He tries to bite back a sudden groan, tightening his jaw so much he may fracture it. His breaths turn raggedy as he rests his chin on the crown of your head.

Eyes becoming so lidded, he doesn’t even realise that you’re finally here. The cove of the ancestors. The most sacred places in the village of Awa’atlu, where na’vi go to mate. You’re blissfully unaware of your surroundings, trying to stick your hand in your crotch to shift your loincloth to the side.

“I said. Wait.” A gruff, stern voice sends a shiver down your spine.

And fuck – it only makes you hornier, sending your hips in a thrusting frenzy, doing their best to line his cockhead up with your dripping entrance. You can’t quite catch it as it keeps bucking and slipping over your puffy clit. You grunt a frustrated ‘mmph’, irritated that he isn’t sliding in like you thought.

Ralak is struggling to maintain his composure. Half of him wants to chuckle at your futile attempts to fuck him, and the other half wanting to just ram his cock inside you for being so stubborn. He takes a deep breath in, holding it to reground himself. He exhales a sigh of relief once he bumps into the rocky cove of his people’s most sacred place.

“Eywa – tahni.” A tortured groan evades his lips when he forces himself to shift his pelvis away from you as you persist with your efforts to hurt yourself. He inhales deeply, slowing his galloping heart. “Be a good girl for me, hm? We are here now.” He croons at you, wrapping your hands around his neck and supporting your back as he dismounts his tsurak.

The bioluminescence of the water glows behind you as Ralak walks you both towards a nearby sea cave. Directly below you is the spirit tree – its fronds and filters luminating the area radiantly. You try to squirm out his grip, feet dangling above the cave floor from the way he refuses to let you go.

“Not here. Too rough.” He grunts as he hoists you back up and walks further into the large, open sea cave. Its floor is completely flat, with all sorts of flora growing between the cracks of the rock. The deeper you venture in, the greener it becomes. Until eventually, all that covers the floor is a thick bed of green, silky moss.

Little creatures buzz around, luminating the darkness of the cave, exposing the markings on the wall from previous mating sessions. Etched swirls, zigzags, and other patterns to signify a new union. There’s no doubt that this little ‘hidden’ spot is a popular place for na’vi to mate before Eywa.

You calm down a bit, influence of the music wearing off now that you’re both so far away from the celebration. At this point you just feel a bit buzzed, melting into Ralak’s grasp as your tense muscles relax. But your droopy eyes snap open when you feel him unwrapping your legs from his waist.

“Here.” Ralak husks, voice deep and thick with arousal.

He lets you down gently, snaking his arms around your waist to pull you in for a kiss. His lips crash into yours, so heated and frantic that there’ll for sure be bruises there tomorrow. His eager hands explore your body, releasing all the pent-up feelings he’s been holding back for the past few months.

Hearts thumping wildly in your chests, you pull away and share the same breath, panting open mouthed before your lips meet again. His hands find themselves cupped around your reddened cheeks, impatiently pulling you in closer until your bodies are flush against one another.

Webbed hands work their way down the column of your throat, calloused thumbs gently pressing into your windpipe. You let out a choked gasp, mouth hanging open as his hands continue their way down to your chest, fingers parting the blood-red leaves to expose your stiffened nipples.

Rolling the tiny, sensitive peaks between his thumb and index fingers, he quickly moves his kisses down your jaw and up to the lobe of your ear, biting it as gently as he can. You stand there open-mouthed, breath catching in your throat momentarily.

You exhale as you rub your thighs together, smearing your sticky arousal all over them. It spreads your scent into the air, causing Ralak to pull away from your ear and takes a deep breath in. He releases it with a lengthy ‘ahh’, face growing hot from the way you smell. You can see him clench and unclench his jaw as the lump in his throat moves from how hard he’s swallowing.

Cerulean eyes pierce into yours, a moment of stillness passes by where his face morphs into the same face he makes when he’s trying not to succumb to that animalistic urge to ravish you on the spot. But it’s been too long. No amount of clenching and gritting could help him.

Not tonight.

He grabs you by the jaw, pulling you up on the tips of your toes to kiss you – hard. His lips crush yours frenetically, letting go all his worries and apprehensions. Truly indulging himself in the moment. In you. He fills his lungs with your arousal – your aphrodisiac. Getting high on you and allowing his body to speak for him.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, he backs you up against the wall, hand flying to the back of your head to cushion the impact. Your tongues roll over each other, taking in the feeling of every tastebud. Both his hands slip down to yours, lengthy fingers enfolding your wrists as he brings them above your head, pinning them to the wall.

He quickly binds your wrists together, securing them tightly with one hand whilst he shoves his free hand between your slickened thighs. A small, shaky gasp breaks the kiss, thick fingers tugging down your soddened garments. You help him by shimmying your hips, allowing the flimsy material to drop to your ankles.

Now you’re just irresistible.

His fingers graze past your plump, smooth folds, before finding their way in between them. “Ralak.” His name slips out, all breathy and small. You say it so nicely, so sweet and innocent, and his ears can’t help but flicker at the double syllabled word. Eywa, he loves it so much that he makes it his mission to have you scream it by the end of the night.

But not yet.

He brings his digits to his nose, inhaling as deep as his lungs can go, closing his eyes to relish in the sweet, sweet scent of your arousal. And when his eyes open, you swear you see them shift in colour, darkening to a cerulean blue. There filled with greed, gazing longingly at you as if you were something to devour.

And that’s when he takes his fingers into his mouth, having his taste of you. Tongue weaving through the cracks of his digits, he licks them clean, using his thumb to wipe the corners of his mouth before popping that in too. There was something about the way he did that, sucking on his fingers as if you were the best thing, he’s ever tasted in his twenty-four years of living.

It makes you want to taste him too. Back bowing against the jagged wall, you try to wriggle free from his grasp, prompting him to loosen his fingers. In an instant you sink to your knees, staticky hands latching onto his thighs as you press your face against his half-covered bulge. His hand flattens against the wall, supporting his weight as he peers down at you wide-eyed.

You walk your fingers up his thighs, tucking them under the band of this loincloth to yank it down. Out springs his twitching cock, rock hard and throbbing from how swollen he’s gotten from sharing a few kisses. Your eyes cross as you look at it for the first time up close.

It’s... thick. So thick you can’t close your hand around it, leaving a spacious gap between your fingers and thumb. It only gets fatter towards the middle, then tapers off into his mushroomy head, curved and ribbed. His ridges are pointed, yet soft, spanning around and down the underside of his cockhead.

It curves upward, jumping to the rate of his heartbeat. A single bead of precum oozes from his slit, dripping off his cockhead in a thin string. Your tongue darts out, flattened with the tip of it touching your chin, eyes locked on his as you wait patiently for your fill. And when it finally drops onto your tongue, your tastebuds dance from the slightly sweet taste.

His brows jump at the sight, eyelids fluttering a little too quickly to be considered calm and collected. You can’t fight the smug look creeping on your face when you lock your jaw and swallow it with glee. Oh, to make a big, grown man like him crumble.

Naturally, you want to see how far you can push him. You wrap your dainty fingers around his cock, hold it taut to expose his throbbing head. Unsure of what you’re doing, you give him little kitten licks, playing with the little ridges underneath the tip of his cock.

His head slumps forward, thick strands of loose hair swaying side to side as his core flexes and unflexes. He’s biting his bottom lip, struggling to hold back that low grumble deep in his chest, hand balling into a fist against the wall.

And when you finally take him into your mouth, engulfing him in wet heat, his hips thrust. Hard. He didn’t mean for it, you just feel so fucking good around his cock, swollen lips stretching to their limit just for him to fit. Your eyes water, tip of his cock prodding into the back of your throat, corners of your mouth burning from the sheer size of him.

The way you’re looking up at him all glossy eyed and innocent, trying to absolute hardest not to gag on not even half of his cock sends him over the edge. He tightens his fist, knuckles scraping against the rocky wall, surely becoming bloody as he fights the urge to thrust into you one more time.

That’s when you hear the rumble in his chest, the steady, low growl traveling up his throat. Perhaps it was meant to scare you, or maybe it’s the face he’s making – narrowed, beady eyes and thinly pursed lips. Make you sit in the dip of your feet and be the good girl he wants you to be. But it only makes you wetter, thick strings of your own slick oozing onto the mossy floor.

You take him deeper into your mouth, mushroomy tip making its way down the tightness of your throat. The hot tears stream down your cheeks, washing away the rouge to reveal an even pinker tinge of your skin. The saliva pooling in your cheeks spills out the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin with nowhere to go.

Instinctively, you swallow.

An innocent reflex, as innocent as the glazed eyes that peer up at him. He lets out a sudden, sonorous groan, brows pinching so tightly together it creases his forehead. It’s so sensitive, so tender, that his hips snap back, cock pulling out your mouth with a loud pop. His bloodied hand flies down to your pinch your chin, pushing you away from him all together.

“’m sorry.” You apologize through a hoarse voice, thinking you’ve hurt him.

He shakes his head, thumb swiping the drool on your swollen bottom lip. “Don’t.” He exhales, chest rising and falling from how hard he’s breathing. You watch this gentle giant crumble to his knees before you, chin tucked to his chest to hide his face. He swallows harshly, clearing his throat as he slowly raises his head and looks up at you through hooded eyes.

“Tsaheylu.” He says breathlessly, heated ears laying flat against his head. He catches his breath as he shuffles closer to you, hand reaching for his kuru. All that’s running through his mind is that he must do this right. And with whatever remaining restraint ebbing away, he must do it now. “Tsaheylu, tahni.” He repeats quickly.

Ralak holds his kuru upwards, exposing his pink tendrils as they dance wildly before your eyes. There’s a moment of silence, where you both take in the lilac hue of his kuru. You nod franticly as a hasty hand reaches behind you, quickly tugging your queue in front of you. You hold yours next to his, revealing your wiggling tendrils.

Your eyes widen when you realize that they sense one another – an invisible force pulling them together. You glance up at him, wondering if he’s feeling the tug too. He’s watching intently, ears twitching and eyes tinted purple from the hues of your kurus coming closer together all on their own.

Looking back down, you witness your tendrils excitedly intertwine with one another, kurus meeting with a quick, harsh tug. His eyes slam shut, ears practically disappearing as they embrace the curve of his skull. He exhales loudly, head dipping forward as his brows gather tightly.

Your breath catches in your throat, body waiting for him to take a breath. When he finally does, you gasp for air, filling your lungs in synchrony with him. His eyes pop open, pupils so blown that only a thin ring of blue remains. Your tail swishes wildly behind you before curling around your waist to tickle his thigh.

A faint ring buzzes in your ears, fading out into a vague, echo of his voice. You can hear his thoughts, feel the way your tail brushes against his skin makes him hot and bothered. You can feel his tightened chest, thick with emotion and overwhelm. And if you close your eyes and focus enough, you can feel his deep-rooted trauma – his past.

But you can also feel his present. His future. The way he desires you to be the one to bear his children. To make his marui into a home. His immense adoration for you and only you. and the more you tune into your mate, the more you feel his immense restraint and composure, the way he’s forcing himself to be gentle.

It’s all too much at once, yet not enough all together.

“I love you.” You blurt out in unison, urge so strong it’s exigent.

The tightness in your chest grows ten-fold, spreading to your core. Eager hands caress one another’s cheeks, pulling each other in for another heavy session of kissing. You break the kiss with a shove to his chest – your futile attempt to push him onto his back. He’s unbudging, strong and solid, even in such a carnal state.

“Lie down, Lak.” You pant, still out of breath from such an intimate experience.

Ralak nods, slowly leaning back to prop himself up on his elbows. Loose, curly strands of hair sticks to his temples, inebriated gaze boring into yours. You climb between his legs, settling yourself comfortably in the dips of your feet.

His neglected cock twitches madly, pre-cum practically flowing down his length and onto his swollen, firm balls. You swallow thickly at such an enticing sight. You want to taste him. To return the pleasure he’s always ensuring for you. Now that you’re here, between this gentle giant’s legs, you realise that you’ve never even stroked him before.

Shaky, inexperienced hands wrap around his girth, experimentally gliding up and down its length a few times. You can feel every vein, every ridge pressing into the palm of your hands. He’s so rock hard that it looks painful. You can tell in the way he grimaces, peering down at you as you pump him without rhythm.

Holding his cock out the way, you lean in do something you’ve been thinking about since the day of your first lesson. Lick his tattoo. It’s raised and warm, even a little veiny too. You trace each stripe with the tip of your tongue, trailing it down to the base of his cock. Nuzzling your face into the space between his thigh and balls, you fill your lungs with his musky aphrodisiac.

“Eywa. You smell... so fucking good.” You exhale, licking his cock from base to tip. He shudders before you, lying down flat on his back and covering his face with his hands. You can tell you’re doing a good job, the little groans evading his mouth confirming that for you.

Taking him into your mouth, you suck on his mushroomy head, swallowing all the slick that pools in your cheeks. Its mostly sweet, with a little bit of a salty aftertaste. You mindlessly play with the ridges under his tip, liking the way they feel against your tastebuds. He seems to like it too, hips jolting forward with each swipe of your tongue.

“Muntxate [wife]” He growls the word, hand flying from his face to grab a fist full of your hair.

Yes, my love? You think, knowing he’s hearing your every thought and feeling your every emotion.

“Keep doing that and I’ll cum.” He warns you, tone of voice gruff and serious.

Good. Cum for me.

“Ssst–ah.” He lets out a shaky breath, hand beginning to pull your head off him. You quickly clutch his wrist, picking up the speed of your tongue whilst bobbing your head on his cock. “Tahni. Tahni. Tahni.” He groans, each word becoming more and more guttural as they slip off his tongue.

Let me taste you, Muntxatan [husband].

“Shit.” He whispers, caving in on himself as his other hand flies to your head, stopping you from bobbing your head all together. With a quick, single swipe of your tongue, his head pulsates feverishly, spurting ropes of warm, thick cum in your mouth. It pools in your cheeks, stuffing them until they burn from how full they are.

You swear you can hear the da-thump of his throbbing cock, balls pulling closely to his core. You hum triumphantly, proud of yourself for making him cum. You pull off with a subtle pop and a loud gulp, swallowing his huge load with greed. Wide eyes stare down at you, processing what you just did.

Seconds of silence fill the air, two freshly mated na’vi staring into each other’s eyes.

Within seconds he’s pinning you down on your back, assaulting your throat with rough kisses. His core ruts against yours, sweaty, inexperienced bodies bumping into each other. Everything moves so quickly that you can barely process how he’s got you pinned down on your back underneath him, trailing wet, feverish kisses down your chest. You go to slip out of your top, only for a large hand to stop you.

“Keep it on.” He grunts into your skin, tip of his tongue leaving a trail of saliva down the centre of your stomach. Eyes flicking up to yours, his predatory, lustful gaze bores into you, soft lips pressing into your abdomen. They flicker from side to side as they admire your luminous beauty, flushed lips sucking bruised-like marks into your dark skin.

Little broken mewls part your lips, hips lifting slightly as he peppers gentle kisses below your navel. He maintains eye contact with you as he works his way down to your hipbones, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your hips, he works his way down to your soft thighs, tip of his tongue swiping against your skin – salty from the sea. He lingers there for a while, breathing deeply to savour the sweet scent of your heat that’s so, so close to him.

He lingers there, waiting patiently.

Waiting for your permission as he begs you with his eyes to let him have a proper taste of you. To have his turn. One side of your mouth pulling coy smirk, you weave your fingers through his hair to push his nose between your folds. He wrenches your thighs open, pinning your legs to the mossy ground as he begins to devour you.

Tongue parting your pussy lips, he greedily laps up the sweet nectar dripping from your slit. He grunts into your cunt, sucking on your clit, all swollen and puffy from being so neglected. His hips buck into the mossy bedding beneath him, chasing the feeling that’s transferring to him through the bond.

You yelp out when you feel his finger stretch you out, sinking inside you at a torturously slow pace. He doesn’t want to be too rough with you as it’s been a while since he’s touched you in this way. But you reassure him with a tug at his wrist, shoving his finger knuckle deep inside you.

But it’s just not enough.

“M-more, Ralak. Please!” You cry out, extreme pressure in your chest coming to a head.

Feeling the taut tension, Ralak quickly obliges, sinking another digit inside of you as he assaults the little bud of nerves with the flat of his tongue. Your toes curl at the same time he curls his fingers inside you, prodding them deep into that gummy part of your heat. The pressure feels like electricity, surging through your core and to the tips of your extremities.

He loves how you’re squirming around, hips sputtering to chase your orgasm all on your own. He’s so proud of you, working for your own release like the good girl you are. Praising you with a quick pat on your thigh, he quickens the pace of his fingers, working out a squelch with each thrust.

You begin chanting his name over and over, voice waning with each syllable, until its nothing a tiny, pathetic whimper. Your head spins and your heart skips as you clench tightly around his digits. Your legs tremble, working their way towards one another to close around his face.

“Gonna – oh f-fuck.” You let loose a sudden whine, shoving him into your pussy when you feel the final shockwave ripple through your being, leaving you a shaking mess at the mercy of his two fingers and tongue. Following your every jolt, he hums a victorious groan from the feeling of your pussy walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers. He pulls away with a ‘pwah’, using this opportunity of pure, unadulterated pleasure to stretch you out even more.

“Good girl. And breathe for me.” Ralak coos, sliding his third and final finger inside you. The stretch stings, causing you to wince for just a moment. He quickly curls his fingers, causing another wave of white-hot pleasure to ripple through you, masking that string just right.

Ralak gently moves his fingers inside you, just enough to get you used to the such a big stretch. The sharp sting fades away, leaving nothing but small shocks of electricity surging through your swollen pussy. Slumping your head back into the pillowy moss, you focus on steadying your breathing. Your vision is blurry, and things are becoming hazy, but you don’t want this moment to end.

“Lak... Want more. Please.” You moan weakly, eyes crossing before they roll to the back of your head. You’re already all fucked out from his fingers alone yet you’re begging him for more. And he can see it, too. The way you’re just so spent, body trembling beneath him as he continues to stimulate your rubbed out sweet spot.

“I am not like you, tahni. I only have three.” He chuckles softly, curling them inside you as a reminder.

“Ngh! Y-you know what I mean. I want you...” Your voice falters, hand reaching down to grab his erection, a little surprised that he’s still this hard. “I want this. Please.”

His features soften, apprehension filling his lower stomach just from the jaded look you’re throwing his way. “Are you sure? We can do it another time.” He insists, feeling how tight you still are, despite taking three of his fingers.

“No, please no.” You pant as you shake your head lethargically, shimmying your hips closer to his. “Need-you-to-fuck-me!” You cry out, stringing the desperate words together so quickly it almost sounds like one.

“Tahni.” He utters just over a whisper, staring down at you with eyes of concern. Not only can he see the exhaustion on your face, but he can feel it too. It travels in waves through the bond, right into him. And after such a long day, iknimaya and all, it’s expected. “It will be too much for you right now.”

“You said, ‘anything I please with’. Right?” A tremulous, soft voice reminds him of his deal, knowing he’s a man of his word, albeit few. He chews on his bottom lip, a little impressed with you. He heaves a heavy sigh of defeat, positioning himself between your clammy thighs as he hoists your legs over his.

“Tell me if it hurts. Okay?” He leans over you, using a thumb at the base of his cock to line it up with your entrance.

You nod lazily before tucking your chin to your chest to witness you become one. The crown of his cock prods at your tight opening, looking massive in comparison. For a second you even question yourself how that will fit inside you. It’s way bigger than his three fingers combined, not to mention, much, much lengthier.

It bucks against your innocence, slipping and gliding over your sticky clit. You both grunt in unison, tension snapping just to rebuild all over again. His hips snap back, all four fingers now gripping the base of his cock.

An unexpected wave of anxiety crashes through you, making you cling onto your mate. You bury your hot face into his shoulder, completely abandoning the plan to witness it strip you of your innocence. He can feel your hesitation through the bond, holding his position in case you change your mind.

“Do it, ma’ lak. Put it inside me.” You mumble quietly into the dip of his collarbone, inching your hips closer to his.

He pushes into you slowly, breaking past the resistance of your tightness, mushroomy tip liding in with an audible pop. You bite down onto his shoulder, hard enough to sink the full length of your canines into his cyan coloured skin, staining it red with his blood. It muffles your pained, little cry, tear drops crashing onto the swell of your cheeks.

Fuck, it hurts.

It hurts so much that it makes your body shake and shiver underneath him as it tries so desperately to adjust to his size. It burns and stings and oh – it’s just too much. It feels as if something were lodged between your joints, snapping you open with such force.

His movement comes to a standstill, as if he were frozen in time. He grimaces, unsure if its from the way you’re pinching him or if its from how deep your little canines are sunk into him. Or maybe it’s your pain transferring to him, but he feels it too.

“You okay? Feeling pain?” Ralak’s voice is tender, a gentle hand moving to release your bite.

You unlatch from his shoulder, leaving open puncture wounds for blood to trickle down his chest. The pain fades at a torturously slow rate, but any little movement causes a new wave of fire to shoot down your legs. Surely, just like with his fingers, if you stay here for a bit, it’ll fade completely.

“No. Haah. Just give a m-minute.” You pant out a lie, breath hitching at the last word.

“Y/n. I can feel your pain.” He utters breathily, pulling out as gently as he can.

“Don’t. Please, I want this.” Your voice is breathy, yet strained, legs quickly locking around his hips to push him in a little deeper. You let out a sudden, high-pitched whimper, burning sensation worsening. Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably around him, sending little vibrations up his spine.

“You’re shaking. Another time.” Ralak says sternly, unhooking your legs from around his hips.

“No, please.” A pathetic little plea falls from your lips.

He shakes his head, grinding his teeth together to deal with the guild bubbling in his chest. “Your body isn’t ready.” He mutters, pulling out tenderly. The more he moves, the more the scent of blood fills the air. He can feel it trickling down his back, but it’s the least of his concerns right now.

“I-I am ready. Please Lak, just give me a moment to –”

Ralak looks down as he pulls out, head snapping back up to reveal the panic etched into his features. “You – oh Eywa. You are bleeding, tahni.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” You coo with quivering lungs, cupping his cheek to make him look in your eyes. “Really. Look at me, Ralak.” You give him a wobbly smile, only for him to pull away from your grip.

“I am hurting you. Look.” Two fingers pinch your chin, pulling it down to avert your gaze. A thin layer of blood coats your inner thighs, some smearing on his too. Your eyes snap back up to his, which are glazed over with panic and guilt. He pulls out of you fully, sitting in the dip of his feet to have a proper look between your legs. “I am so sorry tahni... I-I thought I stretched you enough.”

“Lak...” You whisper shyly, trembling legs slowly closing to hide yourself from his eyes.

“We must go.” He declares, carefully scooping you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he makes his way out of the cave. Calling for his tsurak, he glances down at your face to see it screwed with discomfort. The guilt weighs heavy in his heart, driving him to act quickly.

So quickly that you don’t even realise that you’re already on the back of his tsurak, soaring at full speed through the water. You were truly fine, just a little sore and uncomfortable, but certainly nothing that required this level of speed. The ride back is uncomfortably quiet, Ralak trying his hardest to regulate his emotions. You can see the restrained look on his face, tightened brows, and thin lips.

“I’m alright, my love. You don’t have to go so quickly.” You try to reassure him with a small voice. He huffs a sigh in response, clenching and unclenching his jaw, biting back his feelings to focus on remedying the situation. “’ts not your fault.”

Eyes slamming shut, he shakes his head slightly, as if he were saying you were wrong. He holds you closer, opening his eyes to glance down at your blood-stained thighs. Eyelids fluttering, he looks back out into the distance, watching his marui pod appear larger and larger as he approaches it.

Within seconds he’s dismounted his skimwing, and takes large, quick strides to the cave. Your legs dangle over his forearm, other arm supporting your back as he carries you bridal style into the water. A shaky hand reaches for his kuru, holding it in the air to expose his pink, tendrils.

“Tsaheylu, Lak.” You groan needily, wrapping your tail around his thigh.

“Soon, tahni. Let me clean you first.” He hums tenderly, glancing down at your body one last time before slowly submerging you in the water.

The lake is always warmer in the nights, glowing around you from its bioluminescent properties. Supporting your back with one hand, he carefully parts your legs and cleans you gently. Your eyes remain locked onto his face, his clenching jaw, his flattened ears – the way the column of his throat protrudes when he swallows.

The guilt is evident on his face, and it worsens the more he looks at what he’s done to you. And when he moves down to the flesh between your legs, you can’t help but jolt, legs closing around his hands as you wince a little. His head whips towards you, worried eyes boring into yours. You give him a quick smile, nodding that he can continue.

Hand parting your legs once more, he ensures to be extra gentle and tender, even leaning in to see if he’s doing it right. After he’s finished, he bathes the rest of your body, rinsing the sweat and grime out of your hair after such a long night.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to –” You mutter, trying to stand so you can have your turn at bathing him.

“No need.” He says quickly, scooping you back into his arms with ease, making his way up to his marui. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine, Lak. Honestly. You could’ve kept going, I just needed a moment.” You blubber out, trying to wriggle from his clutch.

He scoffs, shaking his head as he ducks under the flap to his marui. “You are like a baby.” He walks over to his bed and lays you down carefully, treating you as if you were really wounded. The leaves of your top stick to your breasts, wet and saturated from such a long bath.

“And you were about to fuck –” You mutter under your breath, to be cut off by Ralak’s glare. You let out a small sigh, a little frustrated from how the night played out. He walks towards a shelf on the opposite side of his marui, giving you the opportunity to sit up, and scoot over to the edge of the cot to get up.

His ears perk up from the shuffling sounds, but his back remains turned to you as he mutters the word. “Sit.”

Defeated, you plop back down onto the soft bedding, thumbs twiddling with one another as you wait for him to come back. Meanwhile he extends his arm to the top shelf, back muscles flexing as he retrieves two wooden drinking bowls and a bottle of liquid.

It’s mauve, and iridescent, swirling around as it sloshes from side to side. He pops it open with his back teeth, spitting the cork into a woven basket on the floor. He plans to cut it into two later, saving a piece each for your songchords.

Sitting next to you on the end of his cot, he hands you the wooden cup, nudging it closer to you with raised brows for you to take it from him. Reluctantly, you take it, a little confused as to what he’s giving you to drink. He pours the thick liquid into the cup, stopping after a few glugs. Then he pours himself one, too, waiting until the liquid touches the lip of his cup.

“Drink.” He orders, bringing his cup to his mouth as he waits for you to do the same.

Bringing it to your lips, your face screws with disgust, head turning away to get the smell out your face. You lower the cup into your lap, looking at him with an expression of perplexment.

How could he drink such a foul-smelling thing?

“Erm, no thanks... I’ll pass.” You barely get out, afraid to take a breath in.

His ears flatten in frustration, lip twitching ever so slightly. He knows this will help with the pain, so why are you being so stubborn? He doesn’t utter a single word, beady eyes piercing into yours.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll drink it... Eywa.” You say the great mother’s name like a curse, bringing the cup to your lip.

You take a sip, face contorts with revulsion, eyes watering as the liquid burns on the way down your throat. Your tongue darts out in repulsion as your eyes flicker up to him, brows raising inquisitively to ask if you drank enough.

His lips purse, and he shakes his head slightly. “All.”

You heave a sigh, rolling your eyes a little before bringing the cup back up to your lips once more. You feel a single finger rest under your hand, nudging it upwards to tilt the cup all the way back, encouraging you to take a swig. You knock it back, gulping down the viscous liquid and stick your tongue out for proof.

He nods in approval, slight smirk curling the side of his lips. He knocks his back in one go, letting out ‘ahh’ after the liquid travels down his throat. Not even a wince. He seems to enjoy the burn.

For you, the after taste is even worse, making your nose scrunch and the tears overflow from your eyes. He’s quick to wipe them away with his thumb, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear before retracting his hand entirely.

“What did I just drink?” You croak, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Fermented fruit. Pxir...” He looks at you, “Liquor.” Ralak takes the cup from you and refills it, as well as his.

Plunking it back into your hand, you look at him through pinched brows. “What does it do?”

He brings his to his wet lips, exhaling a sigh of guilt. “Pain. It will help with the pain.” He sighs, throwing his head back and swallowing the pxir in one, loud gulp.

Your features soften when you realize how he knows such a thing. “Is this what you had when you did your own tattoo?”

“Yes. Not the same. But the same effect.” He chuckles a little, impressed by your ability to put things together so quickly.

“Ah. I see.” You say, looking at the liquid as it swirls around in your cup. “So if I drink enough of this, you’d do my tattoo for me?”

“Sure.” He utters, fighting the little smile creeping on his face as he watches you chug the pxir. “But tomorrow. I have already caused you a great deal of pain today.”

Another sigh makes its way out your nose. You give up entirely, handing him the empty cup and laying down in the bed. Your bed. In your marui pod. Wondering, heavy eyes begin exploring the pod all on their own. It feels like the stilts holding the roof up are spinning, making you feel a bit woozy.

“Ralak. I feel weird.” You hiccup, heavy lidded eyes threatening to close for good. “All... bubbly.”

“Ah. My tahni.” He hums softly, sliding into bed next to you. “It will do that to you. Get some rest, okay?” He rakes his fingers through your hair, using his fingertips to massage your scalp.

“Lak. I want – I want to try again, doesn’t hurt anymore.” You blabber incoherently, trying to open your legs for him. Reminded of the pain that he brought you, Ralak shakes his head, closing your legs gently and covering you with the sheet. Snuggling into his warm chest, your eyes fall shut for the night.

“Another day.” Ralak whispers, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

Unable to sleep, he spends the rest of the night swigging straight from the bottle, bathing, and checking up on you. You’d wake every so often to him parting your legs, checking to see if you were alright.

He thought nothing of it, just one of his duties as your mate to care for you. But you’d be quick to shove away his hand, mumbling to him not to look despite the coy smile on your face, all from knowing he cares that much.

When he finished the bottle, he was woozy enough to crawl back into bed with you and snuggle behind you. His eyes finally closing when the first rays of sunshine beam through the marui pod, the same rays that wake you up.

3K notes · View notes

pirateprincessblog · 1 year

Text

Strawberry Mocha

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: your favorite café has a new barista, and he seems oddly familiar, especially when you see his hands move when he prepares your favourite beverage 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jung wooyoung x reader, ft yunho 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 24.7k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: barista!wooyoung, student!reader, camboy!wooyoung, virgin!reader, hopelesslyinlove!yunho 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: masturbation, mutual masturbation, sexting, public oral, public fingering, blindfold, slight bondage, toys, edging

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, v-card loss, angst on yunho's side 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pussy drunk wooyo idk man also i imagine wooyo as bouncy wooyo here with that hot ass hair purr but make it oreo like he had it in aotm

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫s 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

nsfw link(s): one

anastasya wants to chat! click here to see one new message.

"hello, gorgeous. want to see my pussy?" - tina, less than 10 km away.

luciano is more than ready to show you the 8th world wonder.

"close. close. close." your words are synchronized with the clicking of your mouse. with each minute passing, each click is getting more aggressive.

sick and tired of all the sex ads interrupting your studying over an illegally found textbook, you bury your head into your pillow. your back hurts from laying on your stomach for hours, but it is the only position that helps you with period cramps. the laptop makes a noise again, one you've heard enough of for the last few hours.

"i really don't want to fuck you, nick." you whine, clicking at the x in the corner of the new ad. when it opens three new tabs, all you can do is groan and close the laptop. you have an exam tomorrow, today is your first day of the period, which means tomorrow it's going to be worse, and to make things better, you are bombarded with photos of nude men and women, with attached locations, chat boxes and quotes. you feel sick.

yet again, you have just a little more of this lesson left, and if you could manage to spend so many hours fighting the virus bots, you can do it for ten more minutes. all out of motivation and will to live, you turn the laptop back on. the screen brightness almost blinds you, you forget how dark it has become and how bright your screen is. your eyes skim over the words, your brain so focused on focusing, that you forget to focus. you are frustrated, in pain, your hair is so greasy you could model it like clay, and your are nails half bitten off.

three minutes until your sleeping schedule starts, and five more long paragraphs to read. taking a deep breath, you click the arrow to scroll. as if the laptop is mocking you, it delivers you another message.

wooyoung (23), offers both mental and physical relief. check it out!

the ad flashes across the whole screen, the x not even visible on this one. you don't feel anything anymore. you've gone completely numb. accepted your fate. this will be your reminder to not study the last day ever again. you stare at the pink letters, then the picture on the side of it. it shows a young man, and oddly enough, not all oiled up and naked on it. it is a selfie, and in it he lays on the bed in the same position as you. how odd, to put a normal and clothed person on a sex ad.

"fuck it."

you drag the arrow over the highlighted letters, sighing. months, maybe even a whole year spent without a sexual contact. you didn't crave it. nothing in real life turned you on. maybe you didn't pay enough attention. maybe you've overgrown simple flirting and poor tries of having one night stands at parties. maybe all those young adult fantasy books on your shelves have raised your standards. looking back at the things that used to get you going makes you cringe. you've evolved from poorly acted out porn videos, to pages full of dark haired morally grey characters, blindfolds, leather gloves, candle wax, and whatnot.

you have yet to try out anything other than poor rubbings over the jeans you've received, not even orgasming. one night, three whole minutes of a drunk guy almost irritating your skin from harsh rubs, and a fake moan later, you start to wonder if you're the problem. proposing the idea of anything other than missionary and oral would make you the weird one, especially since you're a virgin. men here are shallow, and would rather jerk off to an amateur movie than try to match your standards and make the whole thing actually enjoyable.

the link you've clicked on doesn't open multiple tabs like the previous ones did. instead, it opens a single site, which first asks you to register and confirm your age. eager to see if the man in the picture was really the one offering such services, you log in with your google account, which unknowingly to you, used your picture and real name to set up the new account. your notes and pens are discarded on the floor, and your focus is on the man currently showing off his rings.

his hands are veiny, that is the first thing you notice. decorated with silver rings, nails neatly trimmed, with the pinky one painted black, and fingers oddly satisfying to look at. he brushes those same fingers through his hair, making it change colour for a split second. you notice that he is half blonde, which just makes you realize that sleep is not an option tonight. at least not yet.

"anyone want to open today's topic before i start?" he offers, scrolling through the comments.

you watch as people comment various topics and requests, the main one being for him to start touching himself already. for a sex cam, he does quite a lot of talking. maybe that's why you haven't left the site yet, but are staring at the way his teeth are biting his lip while his eyes focus on the bright screen.

"your friends are shaming you for having a threesome?" he reads out loud, then sighs. "they're probably virgins. or inexperienced girls who got fucked once then dumped. only they shame people for their sexual desires. they have no creativity at all. i can't imagine jerking off with just my hand anymore. feels bland. don't worry about them."

your fingers are quicker than your brain, and before you even register it, you hit send.

a soft laugh travels to your ears, and you just know it's because of your comment.

"you beg to differ?" he says, brushing his hair back again. he takes a moment to think. his rings shine under the dimmed lights, and you can't help but wonder how it would be to feel that cool sensation on your body.

you'd love to have him feel you up and down with this rings on, a cold contrast on your hot skin. you wouldn't budge if he were to put that hand against your neck, giving it light squeezes just enough to give you a thrill. you'd even let him do it in front of that camera of his, make all of these thirsty girls jealous because you're the one moaning his name. shit, you're really into him. or rather this whole situation. and he hasn't done a single sexual gesture.

"a virgin on my page. interesting." the young man hums, his eyebrows scrunched. "isn't life boring as a virgin? i mean, what do you do?"

i study, you're quick to reply again.

"i meant sexually, love." he laughs, somewhat fondly.

was it that obvious that you're a virgin? your cheeks feel hot, and you now wish to exit the page. but by doing that, you'll just prove him right. he'll make fun of you too, just like he did to those friends. you sigh. he doesn't know who you are, so it doesn't matter. you'll be honest, and maybe he'll give you a solution.

using hands isn't that boring

"ever tried a toy? or a person?"

tried a person. got disappointed.

"ah, what a shame. let me guess, gave you blisters from rubbing?"

oh just how did you know?

"poor thing," he coos, "if you had come to the right person, i would've given you just what you need."

the words come out raspy, and there's a sudden change on his face. you wonder if you said anything wrong. if he was thinking about banning you. but instead, a notification pops up in the corner of your screen.

wooyoung has sent you a message request!

oh.

"anyways, let's move on. am i in a hotel? ah, no. i recently moved houses, this will be my new filming room now. not as special as the previous one, but i need time to decorate it."

he keeps talking, eyes glancing at his phone every now and then, as if expecting you to answer right away. you are shaking, your head feels dizzy, and you find it hard to swallow. was he going to tell you privately to fuck off of his site? how embarrassing that would be. you wouldn't ever recover.

wooyoung has sent you a message request!

two of them now, yet you're still debating whether or not to exit and delete your browsing history. it won't hurt to look. you don't have to reply. you can just take a peek, leave him on read, and fuck out of there. it's not like he will see you on the street tomorrow. he could be on a whole different continent, and yet, he could be five houses away from you. either way, you're feeling vulnerable. those messages are either humiliation, or something entirely different. both of those make you feel uneasy.

then again, this is the only thing that sparked something inside you in these few months of feeling burnt out from reading all that erotica. the only difference is, this is happening. really happening. a whole man is in your chat, while he has an ongoing sex stream with more than five thousand people watching and commenting. and so when you say fuck it, you mean it.

wooyoung: ever tried an innocent soft little pillow?

wooyoung: guaranteed, feels better than a horny teenage boy.

your breathing is shallow, and you fear that you might collapse. his next message contains a phone number, and then, you watch him drop the phone on his bed. his focus is now on the camera, and the way his eyes stare into the lens, makes you feel as if they're searching for you. deciding to further test the waters, and see if he is just trying to have a little fun, or if he really has taken an ounce of interest in an inexperienced watcher, you send a text back.

he stops mid sentence, glancing at his phone. he fails to hide a smirk, and you're not sure whether it is the one of amusement or mocking.

am I, a boring old virgin, good enough for a pillow?

being a virgin doesn't mean you're all that innocent. quite the opposite, in your friend group, you are the one who leaves them all shocked when you speak of your desires. yet, who guarantees that this guy can accomplish what you want? they all want to "rock your world", show you how "good" it can be, until the make-out session is over and they come in their pants from simple dry humping. and you? who cares about if you came. your job is done the moment they come to their senses, and you are left to your growing disappointment in young men your age again.

wooyoung: does the boring old virgin know how to use one? perhaps some assistance is needed?

you swallow. you've never used anything other than your hand before. for someone with such a creative mind, you were quite a bore when it comes to pleasing yourself. you were used to your own touch, and you desperately needed someone else to fill the spot.

you glance at the screen. he is now holding something in his hand. it's clear, and long, and you're not sure if you've seen that before. your mind doesn't get enough time to form a thought, because he sticks two fingers in his mouth. he swirls the tongue around them, coating them until they're shimmering like the rings. sensually slow, he takes them out, making sure to give the camera a dreamy gaze. he turns the gadget towards the camera, and just when you figure out what it is, he brings his wet fingers to the hole in the toy. he circles the entrance, causing your tights to squeeze. you are so mesmerized by the way he slowly inserts his fingers into the toy, that you don't realize you are almost panting.

"need to prepare her for me." he says, giving it a few slow pumps.

you can almost feel his fingers on your cunt, he is just that good at this. each pump of his fingers sends a wave of butterflies straight to your abdomen. it's so painful, to be horny on your period. otherwise you would've came twice by now.

"think I've prepared her enough?"

comments are flooded with positive feedback, and the young man smirks. he readjusts the camera, and sits with his back against the bed frame. he wears short sweatpants, perfectly showing off his not so humble size. he takes his sweet time to undo the knot on them, driving the watchers (including you) insane. he laughs at the comments, and decides it's enough teasing.

"for all the virgins here tonight," he says, then glances at his phone.

finally, he pulls his sweats down. his cock find its place in his hand, not allowing you to take a better look. wooyoung gives himself a few slow strokes, head falling against the headboard as he does so. he hums, licking his fingers and pressing them against his cock. you have stopped breathing. his gaze is fixed on the lens, eyelids half closed, and breathing shallow. your eyes watch his movements, carefully documenting and engraving them in your brain so you can replay them for the next few weeks. he takes the toy, sliding it on his cock. your mouth drops when you see the absolute relief on his face, followed by an eyeroll and a deep moan. you figure that the toy serves him as a fake pussy. why a fake one, when he can have anyone he likes? his watchers must get jealous. you would be too, if you saw someone so hot that gives you such attention fuck someone else.

a few strokes in, and he is already bucking his hips upwards and moaning. wet noises travel to your ears, paired with multiple curses and sighs. suddenly, he sits up, grabbing two pillows from behind his back. he places a pillow on the mattress, the toy, then another pillow on top of all that. you almost gasp when you see him spit on his fingers, rubbing his cock, then slowly insert it into the toy. he grabs the pillows, then plunges his hips into it. he groans, and stays inside for a moment. then, he starts off with slow thrusts.

you've read so much about rough sex, that you didn't even think about the sensual side of it. how good it must be to savour every caress, every lick and every stroke. to actually take your time, like he is taking it with a simple toy. to be at his mercy for hours, what you'd give. helpless, deprived of senses, only him and you. you feel your heartbeat slow down as he stares into the lens, hips moving with such pace that has your stomach almost exploding.

overwhelmed by the situation unfolding in front of you, you shut your laptop down. you see your face on the black screen; cheeks puffed, pupils dilated, and mouth dry. fuck, what was that? did you just watch live porn? and did you interact with the person doing it? you check the time, and with a loud groan, you place the laptop on the floor and roll over. you have so little time to get some quality sleep, yet you're wide awake. your studying is nowhere near done, and you just know that a prayer won't save you tomorrow. from the exam, nor from the cramps.

surprisingly, you passed the exam. everything you've read last night managed to stick to your brain, despite the crazy situation that had interrupted you. you have already forgotten about it. when you woke up, it all seemed like a part of your dream. a very real dream. today, you didn't have time to think about it. your hair is a greasy mess, and an oversized hoodie hangs from your shoulders, covering your bloated stomach. you've dreamed about a cup of your favorite pink beverage all morning, and when the clock finally showed a sweet number four, you were the first one to run out of the building. your phone lays forgotten at the bottom of your backpack, mind too cluttered with the upcoming projects and cramps.

the coffee shop isn't as busy for a monday morning, and the timing is just right. you cannot stand anymore, so when you get next in line, you are relieved. you take a good look at the menu above the counter, happy that you've made it through such a tough morning.

"good day, how can i help you?"

your smile fades as quick as it arrives. you feel like all the blood in your body has pooled down in your feet, making it hard to move.

"oh, do you need to sit down? you look very..." the voice pauses, and you can feel an intense gaze on your face, before he continues "...pale."

you drop your gaze, slowly, feeling like the person is going to catch on if you do it in normal pace. right in front of you, stands the man who you watched fuck a pillow last night. he is very much real, not a fruit of your imagination combined with exhaust. he smiles sweetly, showing you towards a chair. you don't move. instead, you blink, and let your mouth run.

"i'll have the strawberry mocha please."

he scrunches his eyebrows, but begins to tap on his screen anyway.

"whipp-?"

"with whipped cream, thanks. just, uh, extra syrup. and pearl sprinkles."

he raises an eyebrow, looking at you suspiciously. you can't tell if it's because of your relation to his odd interaction last night, or simply because you are acting weird.

"that'll be-"

you interrupt again, pressing your credit card to the gadget near the cash register, eyes not leaving the wooden surface. with behaviour like this, he will soon figure out why you are acting this way. you must stop, before you embarrass yourself more.

"name?"

"anna," you blurt out, just in case.

"right," you think you hear him scoff, and if it weren't for your brain slowing down with each second, you would've asked what's so funny.

once he types in everything he needs, he points towards an empty section, gesturing you to take a seat. sitting on that chair has never been more uncomfortable for you. you feel like you sat on thorns, and no matter how you adjust, you are just making annoying creaking noises.

you glance at the man behind the counter. a lump forms in your throat as your eyes scan his hand movements. he is invested in the shaker, fingers skillfully moving it in the air. your concentration gets stolen by his face, loose strands falling on it eyes focused on the drink, and eyebrows scrunched. even if he was a aware of you staring, (you doubt he didn't notice), he doesn't spare you a glance. he pours the drink into the iced cup, spilling a little on his fingers and on the counter. you follow his hand, which takes a straw and drops it into the cup, and then moves towards his mouth. your breath stops in your throat, and your eyes almost drop on the floor.

he sticks the two wet fingers in his mouth, slowly, and looks up right at you. he catches you red handed, or better said, red cheeked. you're flustered by his hot, unprofessional, but hot move. and as if that wasn't enough, he has the audacity to maintain eyecontact as he brings you your beverage, a slight smirk dancing on his lips.

"your drink, anna."

"thank you, woo-" you freeze.

idiot. fucking idiot.

"ah, you managed to read my name tag."

he saves you, perhaps unknowingly. the amount of attention that his hands are gaining from you should be concerning, yet you still can't stop admiring those strangely attractive veins peeking from under his rolled up sleeve, going all the way to the fingers which are fixing the name tag.

"wooyoung, your shift ended ten minutes ago!" the voice behind the counter calls.

"oops." he snickers, then makes his way towards the counter, allowing you to take a look at his back too.

the thin white shirt is a little tight on his body, just enough to show off quite a few lines on his back. funnily enough, even though you've seen him naked, something about those clothes giving you a teaser is much more of a button pusher for you. the anticipation and buildup were always more interesting to you than the actual thing they lead to.

you laugh at yourself. as if any of that is going to happen to you any time soon. deciding you've spent enough time out of your comfy apartment today, you decide to put a lid on your coffee and leave the shop. at the door, someone tries to get out before you, but once they realize it's a bit tight for both, two hands gently find their way on your waist. a strong scent of jasmine washes over your senses, warm and firm body pressed against your back.

"oh, watch it, love."

and with that, you stand on the entrance, watching the familiar man run off to his car, the barista apron resting over his shoulder.

wooyoung: disconnected mid show?

wooyoung: was it too overwhelming for your first time?

wooyoung: shame, i put my all into that orgasm, only to see you disconnected long ago

you are rolling in your bed, listening to the messages that are being read out loud by your very best friend. disbelief evident in his voice, he reads, over and over. you haven't yet replied, and having an actual encounter with him today didn't make it easier for you to do so.

"he's, like, a hundred percent real?"

"he very much is."

"are you sure? because ai is getting very scary these days-"

"yunho." you sit up, face inches away from him. "i stood this close to him."

the tips of his ears turn red, and you manage to catch a single glance he sends towards your lips. you ignore it, trying to convince yourself that if you do not notice, it will not happen. his behaviour will stop.

"he is very much real."

"o-okay," he stutters, turning his head sideways as to avoid being caught staring again, "so what now?"

"i don't know. what is there to do? he's just some porn guy, and i was just an accidental watcher. nothing is going to happen."

"and-"

your phone pings, as if knowing what yunho was about to ask.

"-the messages?"

"i'll just..." you stall, glancing at the phone and trying to see the notification, "...delete it all."

the man in front of you scoffs, believing in your words as much as you. he gets off your bed, picking up his jacket along the way.

"i'll see you in class tomorrow."

you only nod, feeling guilt pooling up at the bottom of your stomach. yet, as soon as you hear the door shut, you grab your phone. indeed, messages from wooyoung are taking up your phone screen.

wooyoung: out of curiosity, you didn't happen to try the pillow thing?

wooyoung: need to borrow mine?

you bite your lip, and your eyes fall on the pile of pillows yunho used to make himself comfortable.

i haven't tried it. and no, i have four of them.

wooyoung: shame. bet they'd love to be suffocated between your legs.

you choke on your spit, eyes skimming over the message multiple times.

that one of your fetishes? being suffocated with female tights?

wooyoung: you have no idea.

a few minutes pass,and you are thinking of various replies to send to him. do you keep talking to him? do you start flirting? is this considered flirting? if yes, are you doing a good job? a few more minutes pass before your phone dings again, wooyoung interrupting your thinking process.

wooyoung: well, i see that you're extremely disinterested in my tries of communication, so i shall just leave you be. hope my actions and i weren't overwhelming for you. if that's the case, my sincere apologies. you're always welcome to my lives though.

wooyoung: oh, and good luck studying!

"no, no," you whisper, seeing the online tag under his name disappear. your lack of communication with actual confident men and your awkwardness in general made him back off. it all felt too real to be true, but it was real. and you let it slip away. your only chance at gaining experience and living out your fantasies.

i'm not disinterested!

shit, you shouldn't have sent that exclamation mark. he will think you are desperate now. he doesn't reply, nor does the tag under his name reappear. you wait, minutes, half an hour, just rolling on the bed and switching between apps, trying to see if he at least went online. maybe he only read it from his notifications, and that wasn't enough to make him come back. you pick up the last few ounces of desperation you have left, and grab a pillow. you sit on it, crushing it between your legs, and pull your oversized hoodie just enough to cover your bottom and expose your thighs. you have discarded the pants the moment you entered the house, already used to walking around in yunho's old comfy boxers. you snap a picture, once, then twice, until you are satisfied with the angle and all the details that he may not even notice; like your chipped nail polish or the messy notes from yunho's studying.

instantly, wooyoung comes back online. he begins typing, then stops. he types again, and stops once more. you are biting your nails, regretting already. now that he knows how desperate you are, he will lose interest in you. you would too if you were him. you zoom into the picture, trying to figure out if anything is wrong with it.

wooyoung saved the picture in the chat!

oh.

wooyoung: fuck, that's

wooyoung: wow

wooyoung: those are the smoothest and softest thighs i've ever seen in my life

wooyoung: you know when you look at something and you know the texture of it? i bet i could just sink between them just like that pillow

wooyoung: could you ride that for me, angel?

the nickname sends arrows to your core, and you gulp. he knows his way with words, and you are so here for it. you can feel yourself dripping, and not from what you're supposed to drip from. your horny levels hit the sky on your period, and oh, how convenient that all of this is happening on the second day of it. he doesn't have to know, you could keep him hooked, until your period is done. but then what? what guarantees that he will not lose interest once he has a little fun with you with all the dirty talk?

your hands work against your brain, and soon enough, you are grinding on the soft material, one hand holding the phone and the other one covering your mouth so that no noises come out of it. if it feels good with so many layers on you, how good can it feel with your bare clit rubbing against it?

wooyoung: atta girl

wooyoung: feel good?

you only moan at the praise he delivers you, hips speeding up the pace.

yes, you manage to quickly type in.

wooyoung: can you type and work it? is it hard for my good girl to multitask?

you set the phone aside, focusing entirely on the object between your legs. you roll your hips, dedicated to chasing the sweet pleasure that has abandoned you for so long. at the memory of his skilled hips last night, the orgasm washes over you so quickly. his choice of words significantly sped up the process, and you aren't to complain. you take your time to calm your breathing, before taking the phone in your hands again. it was new, and different, but most importantly, fucking good.

the euphoria doesn't last long, the look of horror replacing the one of pure bliss on your face. right under wooyoung's message stood yours.

voice message sent.

it is you shamelessly whimpering and grunting, mere four seconds of it, yet enough to make wooyoung save it in the chat.

wooyoung: is it christmas already?

wooyoung: i keep getting present after present. what did i do to deserve it?

wooyoung: i better go fix the problem you've created.

wooyoung has sent a picture! tap to view.

the picture is dark, but there is just enough lighting for you to see his defined v-line and the bulge in his sweatpants. you bite the inside of your cheek, suppressing a smile. you made someone horny. not just anyone, but wooyoung, a porn creator. he has surely seen lots of things, how come a fully clothed picture and a four second audio could get him in the mood?

you have saved the picture in the chat!

in the next few days, you ask yunho to pick up the beverage from the coffee shop while you grab something to eat. he is happy that you started including breakfast in your day, and isn't yet aware that you are only avoiding the man he also knew about. perhaps wooyoung worked different shifts, and they didn't have an encounter yet? it's a bit cruel towards yunho, but you can't make yourself go in there. not until you've grown some dignity.

today, yunho isn't here. he has only answered to your message, saying that he has a flu, and that he will be resting for a day or two. which leaves you to getting the coffee on your own. you run from the rain, your umbrella broken and swimming away somewhere down the road. you would've picked it up and threw it away, really, if that lighting wasn't so close to you and you started running for your life. you are soaked, the hoodie stuck to your skin and the shorts uncomfortable and heavy. you hurriedly enter the coffee shop and exhale, the warmth of the place caressing your cold cheeks. you notice the place is empty, and the chairs are neatly tucked under the tables. the surfaces have been freshly wiped, and no menus or decorations were on them.

you approach the counter, ready to grab your beverage and leave before you make a bigger mess. nobody is there, the syrups and coffee cans are neatly placed on the shelves, not a drop of water visible on the counters. your eyes notice a little board, with pink letters on it.

due to sudden illness of two out of three workers, we are forced to work short hours this week. thank you for understanding!

underneath, you see that they work until four in the afternoon. you check the time, and upon noticing that it is just two minutes before four, you sigh. you turn around, ready to leave and rid the poor worker of trouble after they already prepared the place for closing.

"oh, i'm terribly sorry, i didn't notice you!"

the voice makes your blood run cold, and once again, you find yourself frozen in spot. only this time, you are all alone with him. no people surrounding you. just him, you, and the crazy weather outside.

"please, feel free to order. you have a minute and a half to place it!"

you turn around, eyes locking with brown ones. he is smiling sweetly, pointing towards the menu above his head.

"i don't want to bother you. you've cleaned the whole place and-" your eyes drop on the see through shirt hugging his body "-you've already taken your apron off."

"luckily, my boss is sick too so she can't give me crap about it. i can make your drink without it."

you make your way towards the counter again, eyes skimming over the menu, knowing damn well what you're going to order. you just have to buy yourself time so you can calm down. the scent of jasmine is taking over your senses, creeping into your mind and bringing back memories you wish so hard to forget so you can move on with your life. he is tugging you into the void, and you have nothing to get you out of there. you haven't heard from him since the day you rode the pillow for him, and you didn't have time to watch any of his lives.

"well, then. i'll have a strawberry mocha."

"ah, so it's your usual then."

"yes. extra syrup. and the pearl sprinkles, please."

"and whipped cream, yes", he types in the order, then looks behind. "you know, we have some strawberry cupcakes that didn't sell today due to the weather. would you like one? on the house!"

you hesitate, not wanting to waste his time. he could be home by now, doing something important. like filming himself. or texting you after you've left him on seen. or better said, saved.

"i really don't want to waste your time."

"you're not wasting my time, trust me. besides, i'd rather stay here a little more until my phone finishes charging. i don't want to get stuck in that weather outside with no battery."

he sees you hesitate and eye up the pink pastries, desire obvious in your eyes. he chuckles, then brings the whole tray on the counter.

"tell you what," he grabs the items needed for your beverage, not breaking eye contact with you, "i'll make us two strawberry mochas, and we'll eat those cupcakes so they don't get wasted until the weather calms down. sound good?"

you gulp. the look on your face is a complete opposite of him, as well as your body language. he is relaxed, beaming with confidence, and has a smile on his lips. meanwhile, you are stiff, your face is blank, maybe even scared at the fact that you're gonna be alone with the man who made you cum without touching you. but when thunder echoes through the place, you agree.

it doesn't take him long to make them and bring them to your booth in the corner of the shop. the smell of strawberries is the only thing keeping you sane at the moment. he sits across from you, shirt half unbuttoned, as if it's the warmest day of the spring outside. he doesn't have a care in the world. he silently enjoys the cupcake, occasionally glancing at you. you are slow with yours, careful not to stain your clothes with the pink icing.

"want to try?"

you look over at him. he brings his glass closer towards you, and aligns the straw with your lips.

"isn't it the same?"

"well, no." he laughs awkwardly. "try it, trust me."

you try taking the glass from him, but he is persistent in holding it for you. you wrap your lips around the straw, eyes locked with his dark ones.

"atta girl." he hums.

you swear you could orgasm right there on the spot. you pull at the liquid, cheeks hollowing and creating a perfect scene for him. he is dead serious, the smirks and chuckles long left behind the counter. the moment your tongue tastes alcohol, you push the drink away from you, creamy liquid dripping from your lips.

"fuck, is that whiskey?"

you wipe your top off with your sleeve, not yet realizing wooyoung's intense gaze on your lips.

"yes." he replies, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

"god, why?" you finally lick the cream off your lips, ridding wooyoung of more fantasies forming in his head.

"it's good. why, don't like alcohol?"

you never really did. sure, you drank some tequilas, and a little gin of course, but not to the point to get drunk or actually go for a full round or two.

"i'm actually quite a virgin when it comes to alcohol."

the words are left hanging in the air, silence wrapping you both up. one might think that you knew exactly what you were doing with the choice of words, but you were plain dense. and wooyoung was here for it. he was whipped for all the innocent sides you were unknowingly showing him, but lord forbid he tells you anything. otherwise, you might stop talking at all.

"you can come over for classes if you want..." he brings the glass back in front of him, a smirk dancing on his lips, "...anna."

"yeah, i don't want any alcohol after my real classes, thank you."

the conversation stops, the only sound being quiet chewing and the rain pouring. wooyoung takes his time to think, and so do you.

"that yunho guy-"

"what do you do in your free time-"

you start at the same time. yunho? how does he know his name?

"you go first," you offer, unwrapping another cupcake.

"that yunho guy, he orders a single strawberry mocha with extra syrup and pearl sprinkles every day when you don't come. whipped cream too, of course. for you, assuming?"

you nod, poking those same sprinkles with your straw. yunho has been a little more absent in your life since this whole thing has started, and you feel bad to admit that you didn't really miss him. you weren't using him for coffee or homework, of course. you still like to occasionally chat with him, just not like before. especially since his feelings are coming more to the surface.

"yes, for me."

wooyoung hums, not asking further questions.

"so uh, wooyoung, right? you're new here?" you opt for a different question, seeing that he didn't remind you to finish the previous one.

"jung wooyoung, yes. i moved from los angeles recently, didn't find my luck there."

"ah, what do you do?"

"porn."

and just like that, the conversation stops. at least from your side. your head hangs low over your paper cup, fingers now playing with the cupcake wrap as you feel his gaze on you.

"are we going to act like you don't know what that is?"

"i know what it is," you stutter, fingers ripping the wrap apart and playing with bits from nervousness, "i just don't quite, you know, fit in that area."

"you sure fit in that night."

you choke on your spit, eyes shooting up to look at him. his elbow rests on the desk, supporting his head, while his other one plays with the empty cup. his finger grazes the corners, slowly circling it, as if trying to help you remember that night and the way the did it to the toy. your mouth goes dry, and you feel at his complete mercy.

"how-" you clear your throat, the roughness of it a dead giveaway that he caught you, "-how did you, uh, know?"

"you're telling me you saw nothing wrong with entering the coffee shop with that hoodie on, knowing full well i work here?"

you look down at the hoodie you're wearing. how fucking ironic, that it's the same hoodie you posed in for him. you really are that dense.

"i should get going."

"i can drive you home. you're not thinking of walking in this weather?"

him and you? in such a small space? for such a long time? what if you blurt out more stupid things, as if you haven't embarrassed yourself enough today? you wouldn't blame him if he left you on the side of the road.

the train of thoughts is interrupted by your name rolling off his lips so sweetly, dripping milk and honey. your actual name, not the fake one you gave him.

"yes?"

"i'm not camboy wooyoung now. i'm just wooyoung, your friendly barista. and when i say i can and want to drive you home, i mean it. no funny business. the last thing i want to do is make a loyal costumer uncomfortable."

it doesn't take long for him to clean up the table and grab his phone from the charging station. you patiently wait by the door, ears and cheeks warm from the unfamiliar situation you've found yourself in. you follow his commands, such as coming behind the counter and slipping through the staff door so that the cameras don't catch you. you squeeze into the pantry, waiting for him to lock the doors one by one.

"so, that yunho guy didn't take your virginity yet?" he blurts out, as if it is the most normal question he could ask.

"what?"

"well," he turns around, facing you, "he is your boyfriend after all, isn't he?"

"that's not quite- oh-" you are pressed into the corner, with wooyoung blocking the way out. he puts his hands on the wall, trapping you between his arms and forcing you to look at him.

"does your boyfriend know that you watch filth and film yourself for another man?"

"he isn't-"

"does he know that his innocent little girlfriend is alone with that same man inside an empty coffee shop, away from everyone?"

you fail to answer, instead opting for silence. your eyes fall on his exposed chest, fingers yearning to touch. you feel a hand under your chin, gently lifting your head up so that you can look at him again. you see pure desire in his eyes, and now you know exactly what the authors mean when they say that his eyes darkened with lust. you are witnessing it first hand, and now that you are finally here, you are not acting the way you did in your mind.

he brings his face close to yours, his loose hair strands tickling your cheeks. his breathing is shallow, much like yours, and when he slowly presses his lips against yours, you breathing stops completely. he holds your chin in his hand, thumb gently rubbing your cheek, while his other hand finds its place on your hip. he pulls your body into his, and ever so gently bites down on your bottom lip.

your first normal kiss ever. with the man you watched masturbate on a crucial studying night. he pulls away, just enough to move your hair out of the way.

"am i making you uncomfortable?" he asks, concern taking over his features.

"no," you whisper, not trusting your voice.

"you sure?"

"please keep kissing me." you look up at him, and wooyoung swears that he has never seen such big pleading eyes in his entire life. just how can he deny you such a thing, when you asked him so sweetly and innocently?

wooyoung loses control, and lets his heart take over. his hands grab your waist, picking you up and seating you on a nearby surface, knocking some cups and cutlery over in the process. his lips are pressed against yours again, moving slowly until you get used to it. your hands hesitantly wrap around his neck, fingers playing with the hair on it. wooyoung exhales into your lips, absolutely whipped for your little gestures.

you are soaking wet. you hope he doesn't feel it, considering he has your legs wrapped around his waist and your cunt pressed against his firm torso. with each kiss he so generously delivers you, a new batch of butterflies gets released in your stomach, making you feel all giggly and excited. he smells absolutely heavenly, and the way his tongue is grazing your lips is driving you mad. his fingers press into your thigh, feeling the flesh and lightly squeezing it. so he really does have a thigh fetish.

you whine when he pulls away from you, only to attach his lips to your neck. he drags his tongue down the side of your neck, to your collarbone. his hands sneak under your hoodie, lingering on your bare skin for a moment. you realize he is waiting for a sign to keep going, so you help him raise your hoodie right under your chest.

"should i stop?"

you didn't quite picture him as a man who would ask for consent multiple times. but then again, he is a man. not a boy. and just like he said: right now, he isn't camboy wooyoung. he is your friendly barista wooyoung. a particularly touchy friendly barista wooyoung. not that you're complaining.

"angel?"

absolutely lost in the way he is looking at you, you fail to answer. you feel so small in his arms, and so inexperienced when it comes to simple kissing. god, what if he wants something more right away?

"i need to know you're comfortable. i won't do anything if-"

you stop him by taking his hand and placing it on your breast. he gulps, gently squeezing the soft flesh. why does he seem so nervous? doesn't he fuck multiple people in a span of a month?

he rubs your tense buds, sending little shockwaves to your core. as soon as you lift the hoodie to your collarbones, wooyoung is quick to take your bud into his mouth. he teases with the tip of his tongue, making you twitch and yelp in his grip. you aren't used to this type of pleasure. it's new, and intensive. you love it.

his other hand keeps up the pace his tongue has set, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive buds. you struggle with breathing, and your hands are reaching out to grab anything; the counter, his shoulders, his hair, the counter again, and so on. your head falls back, and the feeling of pure bliss pools in your stomach. you feel like you could orgasm any moment, yet it never happens. wooyoung switches between each bud, treating them both equally. a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth, making wooyoung hum. he is pleased with the way you're responding to him, so jumpy and whiny while he feasts on your body.

when he pulls away, you see a string of saliva connecting his lips with your breast. you moan at the sight, feeling adrenaline running through your veins and waiting to explode somewhere in your body. wooyoung drops down on his knees, fingers hooked in the elastic band of your shorts.

"if i don't get crushed between your thighs right now, i don't think i'll live to see another day."

even from that position, he is emitting insane dominant energy, and you are just a marionette in his hands.

"please."

you raise your hips just enough to help him pull the shorts down, along with the panties. you are thankful that they are the new ones you had discovered this morning since buying them a month ago. though, they were ruined with your arousal anyway and wooyoung probably couldn't care less. but instead of tossing them aside, he raises them in front of his eyes, admiring them.

"that's so fucking adorable."

they are plain pastel panties, with a small row of lace on the top of it. you figure he is used to strings and thongs, and how new a normal set of panties must seem to him. wooyoung folds the panties, and stuffs them in his pocket. too taken aback by his action, you do not have time to react when he places your legs over his shoulders.

"you don't have to cum. i just want to show you how good it can be."

you mean you want to leave me yearning for your touch as if i am not desperate enough?

"is that alright? can i lick you until you pass out?"

he knows exactly which words drive you insane. as if he was living in your head since you discovered the first young adult fantasy book. you nod, then breathe in. the sudden lighting outside makes you aware of where you are. you are about to have your cunt devoured by none other than the new barista everyone around you is crushing on, in one of the staff rooms. soft café music is heard in the distance now that the rain has calmed down, and it is only adding up to the rather odd, but once in a lifetime situation you are in.

a flat, wet muscle presses against your folds, softly licking up your arousal and stopping at your clit. you try to close your legs at the new feeling of pleasure, but wooyoung is quick to grab your thighs and keep them apart just enough so he can get you used to the feeling. your legs shake as the tip of his tongue massages the tip of your clit, pure pleasure taking over your body and completely shutting your brain off. you are a whining mess, shaking in his arms, pulling at his hair, and whatnot. his eyes never leave your face, memorizing every eyebrow scrunch, every eyeroll, every moan and every hand movement. he is entirely mesmerized by your existence. he has never seen anyone let their guard down like this and put themselves at his complete mercy.

he switches between techniques, not yet allowing you to work up your orgasm. he figures you like circles with the tip of his tongue best, they have you being more vocal and squirmy in his hold. wooyoung then snakes his hands under your bottom, gently lifting your lower body so that your head and shoulders lay comfortably on the wooden surface. your hips are in the air, and your legs hang off his shoulders. you are confused by the position he has you in, until he dives into your cunt once more. you moan, fingers reaching to pull at his soft hair. this time he doesn't separate your thighs, but instead presses his face further into your arousal and squishes your flesh against his cheeks, licking every drop you have to offer him.

"wooyoung-" you whine, hips subconsciously grinding against his face.

"good, good girl." he hums, lips closing around your bud and sucking on it.

you clench, body tensing up upon feeling the orgasm approaching.

"fuck- fuck-" you whine, hands gripping the shelves above your head.

wooyoung slows his movements to the max, carefully sliding his tongue up and down your clit, driving you insane with the orgasm delay. you want to cum so bad, but everything feels too much, you are sweating so bad, and the position you are in is making you more vulnerable and sensitive.

"please, please, please, pretty please" you beg, voice already betraying you and cracking at the end.

wooyoung groans against your cunt, then moves away. you gasp with surprise. all the pleasure leaves your body, and you are now laying on the surface again. you support yourself on your elbows, enough to look at him and ask just why he stopped.

"prettiest cunt i've ever seen in my life." he caresses your skin above it.

"why-" you breathe out, "- why did you stop? i was so, so close-"

"i had to, angel. i don't want you cumming in a pantry on an uncomfortable surface."

you watch him lick his lips, disbelief evident on your face. he chuckles, picking your shorts up from the floor.

"panties?"

"i'll get you new ones."

were the panties really that interesting to him? wooyoung reaches for something above your head, pressing his lips on your forehead before grabbing paper towels. you are sensitive to his touch, feeling overstimulated and irritated even though you didn't orgasm. he patiently wipes you, then pulls your shorts up, not forgetting to caress your thighs along the way.

"come here." he instructs.

you sit up, feet swinging from the counter. the man in front of you pulls you in for a kiss, this time a short one.

"you did very good. i hope you get your real orgasm somewhere comfy."

he hopes? was this a farewell? he had his little fun with you, and now he is no longer interested?

"come on, the weather is calmer now. i'll still drive you home though."

and just like that, he proceeds outside, leaving you with thoughts for a few moments. you feel a little humiliated, and very vulnerable and exposed. still, you follow him outside, and get into his car. it is a neat car, that you notice. it smells like an ocean breeze, and he has a camera above his steering wheel.

"not for porn," he interrupts your thoughs.

you have forgotten about that side of him. in the moment, it seemed like he was just a normal guy who hooked up with you because he thinks you are cute. in reality, he is probably bored of all those skilled partners and wants something new, so he used you as a little project. you feel hurt, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes as you look out the window. you haven't spared him a single glance, scared that he might be pitiful towards you. that's the last thing you need.

"right, then left?" he asks, steering the wheel with one hand.

"yeah."

it doesn't take long before the car stops in front of a familiar building. you don't see yunho's car, and just then remember that he is sick and resting at home. wooyoung has clouded your mind so much that you don't have any other thoughts, only ones about him.

"thank you for sharing the cupcakes with me." he winks, then unlocks the door.

you aren't ready to say goodbye just yet. if you leave the car, will everything be back the way it was? him acting like he doesn't know you, and vice versa? are you supposed to go in there and order your strawberry mocha from him like it doesn't associate you with today's event?

"wooyoung?"

"yes, angel?"

you play with your fingers in your lap, deciding which words would be the best to make him stay in your life just a little longer.

"can you teach me?"

"teach you?"

"yes. you are so experienced, and i am just a dumb virgin with a big imagination."

he stops to think. he bites the inside of his cheek, and you mimic him.

"i'd destroy you."

you clench around nothing, hearing his raspy voice say such words to you. you know he means them, you saw him mean them. but you are up for it. anything, just to get another taste of him.

"i don't mind."

he sighs, smile still dancing on his lips. "just what are you?"

since the day you had your first orgasm denial, you have heard from him only once, and only because you sent the message first.

i'm not seeing those panties again, right?

wooyoung: nope.

okay

okay? okay??? you could at least put some effort into flirting. you are only pushing him away, instead of inching towards another meeting, this one preferably ending with an orgasm. the notifications about his lives were now regulars on your phone screen, and though you never quite watched them, you like to think he does it for you. slight jealousy has appeared, and you have to stop it before it spreads. but after all, you are the one that has gained his attention.

you decide to visit yunho. he has been sick for quite some time, and has been rarely answering your messages. you have prepared him his favourite soup, and bought his favorite chocolate bar.

"yunnie, you're alive!"

you jump into his arms, forgetting that he might still be weak from being sick. but he catches you effortlessly, a fond smile on his lips as he keeps your body close to him.

"feeling better?"

"almost." he replies, gently setting you down on the floor. "how have you been?"

"bored, honestly. i miss gossiping with you and getting yelled at by other students. oh, turns out mark did cheat on jenna!"

"knew it."

yunho makes his way to the kitchen to grab you a drink and put away the food you brought him, and you can't help but notice how buff he has gotten since the last time you saw him. he was probably well built before too, but you've never seen that man in anything other than oversized t-shirts and hoodies. right now, he is wearing one of those compressive exercise sleeveless tops, every bump and curve visible on his toned body. you notice how big his arms are, and just how tall he is.

you feel familiar warmth between your legs, and you have to sit down to stop any funny business. he is speaking, but all you can do is stare at the way his hands are handling the drinks. his hands are much bigger in comparison to wooyoung, and his physique overall is making you melt right there on his couch.

"so? sound good?"

you look up, pupils dilated and cheeks warm and red. he is confused by your sudden change in expression, before he realizes that you weren't even listening. he sighs, giving up on the weekend trip proposal.

"what is it with you?" the man hands you a glass of apple juice, along with a granola bar he knows you love to steal from his cupboard.

"nothing, why?" you reply too quickly.

he laughs, mixed confusion and amusement. he sits next to you, leaving a little space in between. the way he drops his head back on the backrest and manspreads isn't helping your situation. wooyoung has opened a door that cannot be closed anymore.

fuck, wooyoung.

"you know, i thought i was gonna die. my headache was so bad i heard thumping inside it."

"does it hurt now?"

"not really, no. but i do think i still have a little fever. can you check?"

you lean over on your knees, fingers gently moving his hair out of the way. upon reaching over for the thermometer from the coffee table, you slip between the couch cushions, making yunho jolt and grab your waist. you have to close your eyes for a moment, sensory overload getting the worst of you. your clothes suddenly feel so tight and itchy, his breathing is loud and right there in your ears, and his hands are burning on your skin over the fabric of your top.

"watch it, little one," he says.

you know he means the nickname as a sign of fondness towards you, but in the situation where you're acting like an animal in heat, it is doing wonders to you. knowing that he is big, much bigger than you, and calling you that is making your stomach boil.

you want to make a move. no matter how wrong it would be. you want to lean in and kiss him, make him feel you up and down, make him touch you right here on the couch, where you cuddled and watched movies since knowing each other.

"why are you looking at me like that?" his voice is suddenly raspy.

"like what?" you whisper, afraid of your infamous cracking tone.

"like you want to fuck me."

not far from truth. not exactly fuck, rather just have a little fun to get some heat out of you. his hands never leave your waist, instead pulling your body into his lap. you've been in this position many times, mainly being tickled and begging for mercy. now? you're ready to beg for his tongue on you.

"i-"

a familiar ringtone interrupts you, and you feel him tense up underneath.

"pick it up." he says, lazily looking at you through half closed eyelids.

"uh, yes," you stutter, reaching towards the table to grab your phone.

you almost faint seeing the name on your screen. you don't want to pick up. not now. any other time, yes. but right now? not quite convenient.

"go on, answer it." yunho encourages, not knowing the consequences of his action.

but you do it anyway. what is there to lose? lose yunho, gain wooyoung. and vice versa. how fucking evil of you. acting like a bitch in heat, listening to your pussy instead of your morals.

"yes?" you answer, breath hitching when yunho starts caressing your sides.

"hi, angel."

yunho's touching stops. he is now focused on the male voice coming from your phone, the name of the contact not visible from your hair.

"let me see you tonight? i'll take you out for a ride and a dinner."

"tonight?"

"yes. unless you have plans? i just got my motorcycle back from the auto mechanic, thought i'd show you there's thrilling stuff other than an orgasm denial in a public space."

yunho removes his hands completely from you, but lets you sit on his lap. you witness his face morph from flirty to mixed anger and disappointment, though he is trying very hard to hide it. the red tips of his ears are a dead giveaway, and you wish you could feel guilty.

"i have no plans. the ride sounds nice."

"good girl. i'll pick you up same place i dropped you off the other day, six o'clock?"

"sound good."

"good. i'll see you in around two hours then?"

"yes."

"chatty as usual, i see. i'll get you to talk tonight, no worries."

and with that, he hangs up. it is only then that yunho sits you on the couch next to him, while he stands up. you are numb to his reaction, excitement boiling in your veins in anticipation for tonight.

"do you enjoy hurting me?"

he shoots the first arrow through your heart.

"do you love seeing me suffer? do you enjoy bringing me to tears almost every time we meet?"

you have just uncovered something that has been cooking for a long time, and you know you are at fault. you just fail to feel wrong for it.

"it was fine at the beginning, you showed no signs of interest whatsoever. but now? the last month or two? you are driving me fucking insane."

when yunho starts swearing, you now it is bad.

"and to think that i'd actually have a chance. that you'd open yourself up for me so i can prove to you how well i can treat you. i deserve a global idiot award."

you don't speak. you let him rant, knowing that he would only get worked up more if you spoke. none of the things you had to say were comforting, so being silent was the better option.

"get the fuck out of my house."

it is the first time you see him so angry and aggressive. with full right. so you silently take your belongings, turning your back on him without a proper goodbye.

"and take this with you. i don't need anything from you." he shoves the box you had brought him into your hands.

he looks at you, teary eyed, fighting hard to keep them from spilling. you've never seen yunho cry. ever. of joy? yes. but almost shaking while holding back tears and biting his lips to keep them from quivering? perhaps it's just anger and frustration. either way, you fucked him up. and there's nothing you can do, other than leave him be.

"i hate you."

six o'clock rolls around quite quickly. you stand in front of a motorcycle, quite bigger than you imagined. wooyoung takes his helmet off, then steps off the motorcycle. he examines you, from head to toe, a little puzzled.

"skirt? odd choice, considering that i told you we were using a motorcycle."

wooyoung then pushes your hair back, removing it from your face and letting it fall on your back. he puts the helmet on you, a slight smile on his lips as he secures it.

"you're so fucking cute it hurts. look at you in your skirt and ballerinas."

your cheeks burn from his compliments, your thighs rubbing under the delicate material. wooyoung plays with the ends of the skirt, then slips his hands on your bare skin.

"want to sit at front?" he purrs, gaze gentle and lips turned into a fond smile.

"i actually never... well, this is my first time seeing it up so close."

"so i'm your first motorcycle too? i feel honoured."

"I don't really know how to... you know, anything."

whenever you're around him, your vocabulary becomes very limited and poor. for someone who reads so much, you're struggling quite good with putting together simple sentences.

"your only job is to sit still and be pretty for me. got it?" he cups your face with one hand and gently caresses your jaw with his thumb.

you nod, not trusting yourself with speaking while he touches you in such ways.

"come on now. hop on."

you are sat in front of him, hands trapped under his while gripping the handles. you are stiff, and even if he notices, he doesn't react. he starts off slow, enough to not scare you off immediately. at one point, right at the last traffic light before exiting the city centre, he speeds up, the front of the motorcycle hanging in the air for a split second, but enough to make you gasp and fall back against his chest. you hear him chuckle near your helmet, his hand coming to rest on your hip enough to comfort you.

"i got you," he says, squeezing your hip.

you now lay comfortably against him, enjoying the smooth ride on the highway. you are alone on the road, the opposite direction crowded due to people returning home from work. you haven't felt such thrill ever. the way wooyoung controls the vehicle and smoothly changes lanes, to the way he speeds up and does the wheelie again, this time a little higher, is making you see stars. you scream, but the playful way. adrenaline rushes through your veins, and you are laughing, having the most fun of your life. he isn't saying much, and even if he was, you don't hear him. you feel comfortable in his embrace, trusting him with your life on this silent road lit by neon lights on the fences.

you gasp when you feel his cold fingers on your thigh, the texture odd. you look down, only to see that his other hand has a leather glove on, and is slowly dipping between your legs. he slows down, enough to pay more attention to you without any danger nearby. the cold leather touches your folds near your panties that have slightly moved from the reckless driving. he realises the advantage, and proceeds to rip apart the fabric. you moan at the action, remembering all those worn out pages of your books describing men ripping women's bras and panties. and now, you're a character in that page, hopefully about to have an orgasm of your lifetime.

the cold leather touches you once again, a single finger toying with your soft bud, just enough to have you panting. your head falls on his shoulder, searching for support. he circles your clit, playing with the soft flesh and checking just how wet you are getting.

"want me to stop?" he asks, and when you shake your head, he dips his fingers below your clit.

you flinch at the unfamiliar feeling, not feeling the pleasure anymore. he notices, but tries to enter once again, this time more gentle and slow. you flinch again, your head no longer resting on his shoulder. he removes his hand, gripping the handle again as he slows the vehicle. he stops at the nearby platform, the neon fence lights shining on the stone table and two benches. he gets off the motorcycle, then helps you off too. your ripped panties hit the floor, your folds caressed by the highway breeze. he takes his helmet off, hanging it on one of the handles, then helps you with yours.

you are suddenly hyperaware of the situation you are in. far from the city and people, alone in the dark with still a complete stranger, with nothing but a top and a skirt on. nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. nobody to call.

"shit, hey." wooyoung cups your face, seeing sudden anxiety on it. "do you want me to drive you back?"

you take a moment to think. if he really meant evil, wouldn't he do something by now? he wouldn't comfort you, right? wouldn't offer you a ride back? or is this just a little foreplay for him before he does something to you and leaves you to rot here?

"i mean it," the man caresses your cheeks with his thumbs.

"no, i'm good. i think."

"i am not doing anything until i am sure of it."

"no, no, i really am. i just..." you trail, looking around, "...i am very new to all of this, that's all."

wooyoung takes both of your hands, guiding you towards the stone benches and table. he sits you on the table, and he sits on the bench in front of you. he doesn't break eye-contact with you as he rubs your thighs, slightly squishing the flesh for your comfort and for his pleasure. he doesn't go further though. he gives you time to relax, until your feet start slightly swinging off the table from boredom.

"tell me about yourself."

"like what?"

"anything. just talk. i want to hear you speak. you don't do much of it, and you have such a pretty voice, especially when you make those little moans."

your cheeks are burning, and you can only look down at your hands playing with the hem of your skirt.

"come on, tell me. what do you do except studying and riding pillows these days?"

you want to say that you don't ride pillows, but the playful smile on his lips is too sweet to ruin it.

"i read, like, a lot."

"what genre is your favorite?" the man's voice is now low and raspy, his hands now slowly sliding underneath your knees.

"take a wild guess?"

"erotica?" he laughs.

you laugh with him, not yet aware of his little plan and the reason he brought you to a place far from people.

"well, tell me. what did you learn from it?"

it's like a switch was found on you. wooyoung is taking in every word you are so excitedly giving him, every expression you make as you remember various paragraphs that had you touching yourself late at night, or sometimes in the middle of the day at most random places.

"no way, you touched yourself in your college bathroom?" he is in disbelief.

"believe it or not, it becomes stronger than me. so, yes. multiple times, actually."

"what exactly did you do?" wooyoung asks, genuinely interested.

you have passed the shame barrier. the way he is caressing your skin and so comfortably talking to you about these things have you finally dropping your walls down. not even your friends have made it this far into the conversation without a smart remark or a grimace.

"just, rubbing myself, i guess? ah, i once used a water bottle to do it. it was so hot that day, and my bottle was wet and cold, and my brain just clicked."

wooyoung seems impressed, nodding his head with approval.

"i might have touched myself a little in the last row of the classroom."

"oh?" he is intrigued, mind already picturing you hidden in the last row behind your studying laptop, faking the writing while your other hand played with his new favorite thing in the world. "like this?"

the sudden contact with your clit makes you jolt, a gasp escaping your lips. he spins it in slow circles, much like you in that boring class. you breathe slowly, mouth already running dry from the sight in front of you. wooyoung stares deep into your eyes, tongue wetting his lips, and his hair messy from the highway wind. he looks incredibly good in his leather jacket and the chain necklace. you can hear yourself becoming wet, noises making both of you breathe shallow and feeding your lust drive. you feel exposed under the neon lights, under wooyoung's stare, on the side of the road. yet the pleasure is overpowering everything, and you find yourself shamelessly grinding your hips against his thumb. his confidence is affecting yours, and seeing him not give a single fuck about the location or the passerbies, it is unleashing something inside of you.

"fuck, angel, even your cunt sounds so cute."

you give yourself a moment of bravery, fingers hooking under his chain necklace and pulling his body towards you. your lips touch his, warm plush making your thighs clench. he chuckles against you, then leaves a few pecks on your bottom lip. he tugs it between his teeth, gently biting it and swiping his tongue on it. you give yourself to him, completely at his control, and only follow what he does.

he removes his hand from you, resulting in a whine leaving your mouth. he laughs again, pulling away for a moment.

"patience, baby. you're doing very good."

he kisses you again, his hands snaking around your waist and under your top. he feels your skin, the lace of your bra, plays with the hook, but doesn't undo it yet. he grazes your spine with his trimmed nails, giving you goosebumps. you shiver in his hands, wanting nothing more but to relax in his hands and have him do that to you all night long.

his tongue is restless against yours, gently rubbing against it, teeth accidentally clashing from the passion getting the most out of him. he wants all of you, right here, right now. but he can't have you just yet. like he said, he would destroy you. he can't hold back that much. he almost melts when he feels your fingers gently tug at his hair, your other hand subconsciously resting on his chest. he thinks it's cute how you are at a position above him and higher than him, yet he still has all the control over you. he also thinks it's cute how your legs are still swinging from the stone table, while you kiss him back and try to keep up with him. your kisses are short, your tongue soft, and your hair is tickling his cheeks, a complete opposite of his deep and long kisses, with an occasional teasing bite.

"wooyoung," you mumble, pulling away.

he hums, waiting for you to respond. you rest your forehead against his, taking a moment to breathe normally again.

"i want to cum on your tongue, please?" you ask so sweetly, big eyes staring into his.

"i had something else in mind, though. but i'll see what i can do, since you asked me so nicely."

he isn't sure how he can feel so soft and so hard for someone. you are the first one that is actually taking his time with him and listening to him to make it all more enjoyable. the rest of them wanted it quick, and frequent. he prefers it this way now, with more lust building up, and he knows the result will pay off. maybe you are growing impatient, maybe you'd just smack him right there on the spot, but he is very fixed on his idea, and he loves that you are listening him so patiently.

"lay down for me."

you lay on the cold surface, elbows digging into the uneven stone while they support your upper body so you can look at him. your breath hitches when his hand slides up your body, between your breasts, and up to your lips.

"open up."

and you do, taking his two fingers into your mouth. you swirl your tongue around them, slow, maintaining eye-contact with him. you are pretty sure you're dripping all over the table now, if not all over his pants too. he toys with your tongue for a while, too immersed in the way you're licking him up.

fuck, how good you'd take his cock. he'd push so slow between your glossy lips, which he would coat with his precum, and he would gently test your limits and have you gagging around him. wooyoung stops the train of thoughts before it was too late, and pulls his fingers out of your mouth. he then runs them up and down your slit, toying with the folds more than the clit. you want to groan from frustration, but you have to be patient, just like he said.

he spreads your folds, tongue diving right into the tip of your clit. your fingers reach into his hair, pulling at the dark strands and burying his head deeper into your cunt. he is loving every bit of it, willingly pushing himself deeper between your thighs and squishing them around his head. you hear him suck and lick, setting your heart on fire, and making your blood boil.

"wooyoung-" you gasp, clit abused by his restless muscle.

he only hums against you, lips sucking you slowly but with power. you don't know how loud you are, nor do you care. you let your voice loose, calling out his name, whining, bucking your hips into his mouth, moaning and chasing the orgasm that has already started to pool at the bottom of your stomach.

his fingers let go of your folds, instead focusing on a new place. he toys with your entrance, sending weird sensations through your body. ever so slowly, he pushes one finger inside, making you hold your breath at the uncomfortable feeling.

"that hurts-" you whine, all the pleasure gone.

"you can take it, right? for me?"

you look down at his eyes, the neon lights shining inside them.

"watch," he mumbles, nodding his head towards your drenched pussy.

you do as told, watching as his finger disappears into you, each pump a little less uncomfortable. he curls his finger upwards, unlocking a whole new sensation for you. you moan, more at the sight than the feeling. something about his veiny hand working on you and disappearing so smoothly inside of you is more arousing to you than a whole movie sex scene.

"i'm adding another one, alright?"

you gulp, then nod. you watch him carefully insert two fingers, slowly stretching you out. inch by inch, he fully inserts them, all the way to the knuckles, and stays there for a while.

"atta girl." he says, tone low and raspy, dripping with desire.

"it's too much," you whine, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

"just a little more, angel. i promise, it'll feel good." he coos, cupping your jaw with his other hand and caressing your cheek. "can you do that for me?"

you nod, fighting hard to push the tears back. the last thing you want is to turn out a coward, after all those erotica books you've told him about. reading about all that monster porn, fairy porn, and whatnot, yet you can't take two human fingers. pathetic.

"look at you, taking me so well." he praises, moving his fingers at a faster pace now.

you feel your hole stretching for the first time, and you are not sure if the sensation you are feeling is enough to make you cum. you stay still, watching him work on you, and focusing on relaxing your muscles around him. he curls his fingers up again, and another moan escapes your lips. he leans in, just enough to feel you breathe into his mouth. proper moans finally leave your mouth, and you leave all the gasps and shallow breathing behind. you shamelessly moan into his mouth, hands gripping anything they can; from his clothes and chain, to his hair and shoulders. you rock your hips along with his pumps, finally finding a path towards the sweet release. but wooyoung shows no intention of speeding up, even though you tried taking the matter into your own hands. you feel like spilling over any moment now, but the way he switches between slow and slower is driving you crazy.

"shit," he curses, suddenly pulling your body into his lap.

you moan when you sit on his fingers, knuckles trapped deep in your hole. you don't have time to process what is happening, a bright light shining into wooyoung's eyes and your back.

another motorcycle stops beside his, two people your age getting off of it.

"hey, what's up?" the stranger greets, politely waving.

the girl doesn't spare you a glance, but instead opts to stare at wooyoung.

"we're just gonna take a five minute break, sorry to bother you guys." the young man explains.

"that's fine," wooyoung smiles back.

the stranger then leaves behind one of the trees, and the girl takes a seat on the opposite of you two.

"aren't you, like, jung wooyoung?" her voice is pure torture, squeaky and fake.

"uh, yes."

"you have an enormous dick, babe. fuck, i masturbate to you almost every night."

your heart clenches, but apparently, so does your pussy, because wooyoung is quick to give you another stretch of his fingers inside you. you bite your lip, head falling on his shoulder. your back is turned towards the girl, so you cannot see if she is doing anything to get wooyoung's attention away from you. you don't like it.

"glad you enjoy my content," he replies calmly, as if he gets that every day.

maybe he does. and just then, you remember what wooyoung is. he is a cam boy, a porn star. he isn't a guy who took you on a date outside of the city. he is just someone who got tired of fucking experienced people and wants to try something new. you bite the inside of your cheek, tears gathering in your eyes now for a whole different reason.

it's his fault that he's so nice to you. didn't he say he would destroy you? you have developed a crush on him, and you didn't even realize. you need to back off, as soon as possible, before you become one of his toys for views. and with his sweet talk, it could happen without you even processing it first.

"do you do those live fuck invites anymore? i'd love to be your guest sometimes. maybe you know me, i was at top five performers last month?"

"ah, rosiedesires?" he is quick to answer.

his fingers slowly move, and you have to bury your head into his neck to keep yourself from making any noise. he smells heavenly, the scent of musk making you a little dizzy. you don't realize you are panting and whining, until he leans down to your ear.

"be good." he whispers with a little stern tone, nuzzling his nose into your cheek and leaving a quick peck there. if his fingers weren't up your pussy right now, you would've felt butterflies.

you don't know if he is mad at you, or if it's just a part of his play. either way, as bad as you are feeling, you don't want him to stop. you want him to make you cum, so that you can leave and cut all communication with him. you'll manage on your own without him, and there's still yunho. well, was. but knowing his feelings for you, he'll be quick to make up with you.

"friday night sound good?"

"yes, of course. perfect! can't wait, our followers are gonna be so excited."

did he just make a dick appointment while his fingers are deep inside of you? while you are holding back tears on his shoulder? while you are almost biting off the inside of your cheek?

"but wait, i don't do taken people. is that your partner or something?"

"ah no, that's just my coworker. he drives me home every night, we live in the same building. and uh, that..." she trails, probably pointing at you, "...is not your girlfriend?"

"no, no, of course not. she's also someone i've met on the site."

someone i've met on the site.

of course, what else did you think? that he was also falling in love with you? how stupid. now you know how yunho felt. you know exactly how he felt, when you made him feel dumb for having a one sided love. though, this isn't love yet, but still.

"shy, i see. hello, do you speak?"

the way she is talking to you is making you feel humiliated and small. as if you're an alien, asking if you speak.

"whore." you mumble.

"what?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

you finally raise your head, cheeks puffed and eyes red. wooyoung finally sees how bad he fucked up, and his heart breaks a little at the sight.

maybe it was just the sexual frustration. maybe it was the anger. maybe the disappointment. or maybe just the way she chewed that gum and looked at you like you were a piece of shit on the side of the road. whatever it was, it gave you enough of confidence to repeat yourself.

"whore."

"you stupid bitch," she scoffs, and you almost laugh when you see red lipstick smeared on her teeth as she calls you more names.

"openly talking about fucking a random guy and then getting offended by a single word? fucking weirdo." the words are quicker than your mind, and you feel wooyoung's fingers leaving you and instead gripping your waist.

"listen here, you fucking prude, i will fuck you up-"

"alright, let's take you home." wooyoung interrupts. "rosie, i'll reach out to you these days."

"sure thing, baby."

not so gentle anymore, wooyoung hands you the helmet. the change in his behaviour in front of a different woman is baffling to you. you feel like throwing up, and dropping right there in the middle of the road. anger is building up inside of you, enough for you to push the helmet back into his hands.

"put that on." he orders, brows knitted.

"no." you spit out.

"i will not repeat myself." his tone lowers, yet his gaze darkens.

"you don't have to." you strike back, not aware of the consequences building up.

"do you want to fucking hurt yourself? put this on right now, before i put it on for you."

fear creeps into your body, slow, and grows more with each second that passes and his gaze stays on you. you gulp, suddenly finding yourself in a mental conflict. you do not want to go with him. you want to stay here, curl up under the table and cry until morning, and mourn that little hope you had left and that he crushed. yet he is your only way home. but it is such a long drive, and you don't have the energy to be near him.

so you turn your back, and start walking towards the city lights.

"and just what do you think you are doing?" wooyoung grabs your elbow, pulling your body against his.

"leave me be."

"i asked, what do you think you are doing?" he asks again, gaze not softening.

"i am going home."

"you're-"

"jung wooyoung," you say through gritted teeth," i. am. going. home."

and with that, you start your way to the distant skyscrapers. it hurts you that only two minutes after, two motorcycles pass by you, one of them very familiar. he only spares you a glance through the mirror, then speeds up and disappears.

finally, you cry. loud sobs, chest heavy and body shaking. you drag your legs for what seems like hours, yet the buildings remained the same. you pull out your phone, searching through contacts. nobody is close enough with you for you to call them and pick you up. except your only fast dial, yunho.

what is there to lose? you've reached the bottom anyways.

it takes only two rings for him to pick up, and you fail to greet him. instead, a sob leaves your mouth.

"tiny?" he calls, voice concerned.

"can you please come get me?"

to say that yunho was furious would be an understatement. you haven't told him anything yet, but it was enough to find you sitting alone on a bench outside of the city, on a road where prostitutes and dealers often met, with ripped panties laying on the floor.

his heart is tight, and he feels his throat closing as he approaches you. dark lines decorate your puffed cheeks, the makeup you always so happily put on now a fluid disaster. you run into yunho's arms, finally warm and secure. he buries his noise into your hair, leaving kisses on top of your head as he rubs your back. he knows what to do when you're upset, and you are grateful for that. you need silent support, no questions, no getting you to talk, just someone's presence and comfort. you finally look into his eyes, and just when you thought you cried it all out, you start sobbing again.

"it's okay." he assures you, cupping your face.

"can i stay-" you hiccup, your lungs having a hard time to balance breathing and speaking, "can i-"

you sob again, frustrated because you can't form a sentence. you feel like ripping your hair out because of your stupidity.

"you can stay at my place," yunho understands, gently guiding you towards his car and opening the back door for you.

"no, no-"

"there's more space for you to lay down. trust me, you'll be comfortable."

"i want the front."

"but-"

"please."

yunho doesn't immediately drive to his place. he drives past the highway exits for the city, and you are too tired to question it. you fight to stay awake, but the burning sensation of your eyes is making it quite difficult. every now and then, yunho glances at you, making sure you're alright and comfortable. you have your seat pushed back, and your body turned towards him. it makes you feel safer when you open your eyes and see him in front of you.

the lights are fading, allowing the moonlight to take over and illuminate yunho's face. has he always been this pretty?

you're skipping classes, opting to stay in yunho's bed instead. you're rotting in his room, only watching him come and go. he has a job, and classes to attend, and by the time he finally gets home, you are fast asleep. the food he so carefully prepares you stays cold on the counter, flies getting to it before you do. it is making him sad, seeing you in such a state. you didn't speak of that night, and he didn't want to ask in case you go further into your shell.

today was no different. you are awoken by his alarm, then him tossing and turning on his side. he is careful to leave a distance between you two, even when he is asleep. you feel the warmth leave the space behind your back, then hear footsteps. you hear shuffling, and you open your eyes to see what he is wearing today.

he wears a plain white t-shirt, black ripped jeans, and a leather jacket. the weather is still confusing, and you are glad you don't have to tell him to bring a jacket with him. he also wears his signature boots, sitting on your side of the bed as he puts them on.

"yuyu?" you call.

"yes, sweetheart?"

"when are you coming home today?"

he stays silent. you think he doesn't hear you, so you repeat. yunho sighs.

"i don't have classes today. and i have a day off."

"oh," is all you can say. you aren't sure if it's a sound of disappointment or surprise. either way, you are not thrilled.

"i'll be back in a few hours."

he doesn't look at you. instead, he stands up, picking up his bag and house keys. you finally sit up straight, blanket still wrapped around you.

"where-" you clear your throat, voice coming out raspy and cracking, "-where are you going?"

"a date."

yunho finally spares you a glance, one enough to let you know that he grew tired of you playing with his emotions, and is tired catering to you when all of his efforts have gone to waste.

"there's food in the fridge if you get hungry. i'm having breakfast outside."

then there you are, again in the dark room, alone with your thoughts. you think about both of them. yunho, who has been by your side for so long, and has respected your boundaries despite his strong feelings. and wooyoung, who is there just a few weeks, yet has such a strong impact on you. you feel discarded by both sides. yunho? justified. wooyoung? not as much.

yes, he is just a porn star. yes, you may be delusional. and yes, he might fuck other people. but the urge in you to feel him just one more time, to let him teach you so you can be good enough for someone you truly care about, is burning inside of you.

bullshit. you want to be good enough for him. you have always been way more intrigued by things you cannot have. wooyoung is an unattainable goal, something you can only dream of having. then again, what do you actually want with him? you only know him sexually, you know nothing about him as a person. you only crave him physically, while you crave yunho emotionally.

but you can't have both, and the way the tables have turned, you are left with neither.

the day is slow, and the sun is going down with the tiktoks on your phone screen. when you feel your stomach tighten and growl, you finally glance at the room around you. it is dark, it smells like old clothes, and the lack of fresh air starts suffocating you. yunho's washed, unironed work clothes sit on his gaming chair, waiting to be ironed by him. it would have been done long time ago, if you didn't take up his whole room.

you switch between the apps, from tiktoks to reels, to youtube shorts, then back to reels. you've seen every video possible, not a single one funny anymore. you feel numb. your stomach is giving you signals, which you so successfully ignore. much like your bladder. it is hitting your ovaries, causing indescribable pain, yet you choose to lay there and mourn over your will to live. you return to the instagram homepage, and when you see yunho's icon in the stories, you just have to click it. when you do, you see him posing with a young woman your age, at the breakfast place you used to visit the first year of college. he has ordered his usual, you notice. and she has ordered yours.

he looks genuinely happy, his smile wide, and his eyes squinted. his arm is wrapped around her shoulders, and the other one holds the phone taking the picture. she is busy holding his face in her hand, lightly squishing his cheeks, just like you like to do.

"fuck me." you groan, then shut your phone off.

as if a switch has clicked inside of you, you run to the bathroom, eager to end your suffering. it takes you less than half an hour to take a shower, put on clean clothes, and do the basic skin care you have ignored for a few days now. you use yunho's expensive products, of course. he won't mind as long as he doesn't know you used them.

by the time the sun sets, the room looks brand new. you have put on new sheets, dusted the shelves, vacuumed the floor, and even ironed his clothes and neatly put them in the closet. the messy notes on his desk were now waiting for him in the drawer, with an attached pink note from you of the solution to the math problem he has been trying to solve on four pages now.

in the kitchen, you fish for ingredients. you decide to make his favorite for when he comes home, to at least thank him somehow for giving you comfort and support these days.

what time do you think you are coming?

yunho: around half an hour to an hour, i think. why?

i am making dinner, i didn't want to start early so it doesn't get cold.

you see the three dots on his screen popping up a few times, then disappearing. you set the phone aside, focusing on the garlic and onion in the pan so they don't get burnt. he loves your pasta bolognese, and won't eat it anywhere but from you. special flavor, he says. you don't have the heart to tell him that you just add in one more spice that the restaurants don't. you don't want to break the little tradition of you making pasta late at night for the two of you.

your phone pings, twice.

wooyoung has started a live! tap to watch.

yunho: i'm not coming for dinner. sorry x

and it's all it takes. really, that's all.

it takes less than five minutes for you to shut off the stove, then settle in the freshly made bed, yunho's boxers already pooling at your ankles. you realize how pathetic you look, getting ready to touch yourself to a guy that left you on the side of the road, in your best friend's bed. but to be fair, you were stubborn too. maybe you just didn't expect him to let you go so easily. maybe you expected him to stay back and comfort you, say sorry because of his harsh actions. or at least reach out to you afterwards. but no, jung wooyoung kept his distance. you checked the messages, regularly. not even an online tag from him. nothing.

until now.

wooyoung has started a live with rosiedairies! tap to watch.

your stomach tightens. is it friday already? time for that dick appointment. your finger hovers over the notificaton, mind working hard to figure out whether or not you can handle looking at something like that. you convince yourself that you can. it's just sex. it's not like you've never seen it before.

your finger taps the notification, and your screen take up two naked bodies, already going at it. it isn't hot at all. you could swear that all your arousal has dried up within two seconds.

wooyoung has the camera showing her face as she stays in doggy position and only his lower body is visible behind her, hips snapping harshly into hers. it doesn't look real. it look so staged and fake, ugly and raw. but she seems to love it, judging by the way her eyes roll to the back of her head and the noises overpowering the ones of skin clapping. wooyoung pulls her hair, and even though you've fantasized about that too, it isn't quite like this. all that hair pulling in your fanfics and books was indeed harsh, but still with a note of passion and love. this? this was pure pain.

"harder, harder-" she chokes, seductively looking at the camera.

what she asks, wooyoung delivers. the grip on her waist makes her skin white, likely to leave bruises afterwards. he picks up the camera, angling it on her bottom and his pelvis. the sight isn't a turn on for you, but you notice the condom, the bruises on her skin, and the scratch marks on his body. the people in the comment section are going feral, giving him orders on what to do to her, on what they'd like to do to him, and sending lots of money. you're grossed out, and just when you are about to exit the site, you hear the front door shut.

you pull the boxers up, jumping out of the bed and making it. you lock your phone, throwing it on the nightstand, before rushing to the bathroom and shutting the door. you hear footsteps, and not double ones like you expected. you fix your hair in the mirror, trying for that i woke up like this look.

"it's me," he announces while entering the room.

"back already?"

"wow."

you fail to hide the smile because of his reaction. he was probably expecting to find you laying under a blanket with your phone on full volume, like he did for the past few days. you didn't even take care of yourself, let alone help him with chores. you wanted to redeem yourself, at least a little bit.

you exit the bathroom as nonchalantly as you can, as if you didn't just do a 180° in the time he was out. he looks even more dashing than when he left. his hair is messy and skin glowing, and his lips have that red tint that suits him so well.

"how was your date?"

"it was great," he avoids your gaze while scratching his neck, "we're going on a second one sunday evening. making it fancy this time."

"that's so awesome! i'm happy for you."

your acting is so convincing, it has yunho feeling disappointed with your behaviour. sure, you wouldn't be jealous. but wouldn't you be bothered at least a little bit? a random girl entering your lives and taking up his free time instead of you, and you are happy?

"what do you say we go out for breakfast tomorrow, and i'll tell you everything?" he tests the grounds.

"sounds wonderful." you don't drop your guard.

you forget that yunho doesn't know the actual situation with wooyoung. so when he stops in front of the coffee shop the next morning and holds the door open for you, you rather enter than make a fuss out of it. you slide into your usual seat, letting yunho take the orders. the familiar man exits the pantry, smile dropping when he sees his next costumer. he immediately searches for your figure in the seating area, and upon finding you, he fails to hide a smile. you, on the other hand, don't. you stand your ground, poker face on and emotions on standby. for now.

"iced americano and a strawberry mocha?"

"yes," yunho confirms, "extra-"

"extra syrup, whipped cream, pearls. got it."

yunho looks annoyed, but doesn't say anything. he almost throws the money at wooyoung, tells him to keep the change, then joins you at the table.

you finally take a good look at him. each day, he is getting more attractive in your eyes. did he always dress this handsomely? was he always this tall?

"you like my coat?" he laughs, noticing your stare.

"well, yes. suits you. the turtleneck too. when did you get a fashion sense?"

"i've got to attract the ladies somehow." yunho jokes, then becomes serious once he sees wooyoung approaching with the beverages.

the cup is placed in front of you, and right away, you see a difference. knowing that you'll let it slide, yunho decides to speak for you.

"pearl sprinkles. not this rainbow puke."

"i only have rainbow puke." wooyoung scoffs, throwing the paper straws on the table. "drink it, or don't. i don't care."

"you should've told me that when i ordered." yunho keeps pushing, and the tension between the two is making you squirm in the chair.

"well guess what?" wooyoung leans in, one hand on the table, the other on the back of your chair. his face is inches away from yours, eyes fixed on your widened ones.

"get away from her, that's highly unprofessional."

"if she minded, she would've said something," the barista looks over at yunho for a split second, then returns his gaze on you, "but she doesn't mind, do you, darling?"

stuck between not wanting to hurt yunho, and wanting to subconsciously submit to wooyoung, you remain silent. wooyoung stays in the position for what seemed like hours, even though it was mere three seconds of it, then finally takes his position behind the counter.

"right, forgot he's your new boyfriend," the man on your opposite scoffs and takes a sip of his beverage.

"he's not-"

"kiyomi will be here any minute, by the way. can't wait for you to meet her."

"woah, is she okay with meeting me so soon? i mean, your first date was yesterday?"

he shrugs, glancing at his phone, "i don't see why not. you're just a friend. it's not like you're a relative or someone closer."

ouch.

"right," you clear your throat.

as promised, she arrives, breaking the silence and interrupting yunho's twitter scrolling. she's pretty, just like on the picture. the moment she sits next to him and starts talking, you see she is obsessed with him. she is joyful, talkative, optimistic, everything that you currently aren't. you notice wooyoung looking over multiple times, but what you don't notice is the way yunho is examining your face, looking for any clues of jealousy or discomfort.

you seem unaffected, and it makes his heart ache. just what does he have to do to get to you? getting a girl just to experiment didn't work, and now he has to either let the poor girl go or keep fueling her hopes and leave her later, until he gets a reaction from you. yumho hates himself for doing that. but yunho hates you too, as much as he loves you. you break his heart every day, but every time you look at him, you put it back together so easily. he wants to kiss you, as much as he wants to push you away from himself. he is lost in his own emotions, and doesn't know what he wants anymore.

"excuse me, i'll be right back."

"where are you going?" yunho betrays himself, asking you too quickly.

"toilet. wanna come?" you try to lighten the situation with a joke, seeing his date tense up at his reaction.

"ah no, thanks. gross. you go enjoy yourself. don't fall in." he joins in the joke, also taking notice of his partner's body language.

you enter the toilet, ignoring the cash register where wooyoung has busied himself with typing something on the screen. the you in the mirror looks like she is mocking you, your clothes and your behaviour. you've put on the newest dress you had, and you don't even know for who. both of them? you like yunho's soft lingering gaze on you, yet you enjoy the way wooyoung looks a second away from devouring you on that table. it's a simple long sleeved dress, really, paired with knee-high boots yunho had bought you for christmas.

the door swings open, bumping into you and pushing you against the wall. you only catch a glimpse of the familiar apron, before the man cups your face and presses his lips on yours. you are taken aback, body frozen against the cold tiles. wooyoung holds your face gently, lips moving slow as to not scare you off more.

"i'm sorry, i'm so fucking sorry," he whispers against your lips, pecking them a few times before apologizing again.

"wooyoung-"

"please, let me make it up to you. i don't care what that cunt outside says, i don't believe him anyway, just let me make it up to you."

you're having a hard time thinking rationally. do you really trust him enough to not hurt you again? fuck, but his lips feel so good. but oh, how yunho's hugs feel like home.

but nobody has ever shown desire the way wooyoung does.

yet nobody has more patience for you than yunho.

"you're thinking too much. let me fix that."

your lips are trapped by his once again, this time more rhythmic. you give into the touch, erasing the man outside completely from your mind.

"you're so sweet."

you hum against his lips, hands tugging at his white ironed shirt, the first two buttons separated as always.

"so cute." kiss. "so pretty." kiss. "so adorable." kiss. "so perfect."

you're not sure where it is going, but you do not complain. you do not complain when he lifts you on the counter near the sink either, flipping your dress up and ripping your panties again. you feel your core tighten, and you think you'll just never get enough of the picture of him ripping your clothes apart.

"let me make you melt on my tongue. please, god, I need it. i so desperately need you, all of you."

"here?" you ask, glancing at the door.

"here, out there, in the pantry, at your place, my place, everywhere. i'd take you to the roof if you told me to."

"anyone could walk in-"

you gasp mid sentence, cold metal pressing against your clit. wooyoung intentionally rubs your folds with his knuckles, giving you the cold sensation of his rings. your head rests against the mirror, hips already grinding into his hand.

loosing his patience, wooyoung sinks to his knees, your legs resting over his shoulders. he dives in, like it's his last meal. he licks hot stripes up your clit, pointy part of his tongue flicking the tip of it. you moan each time he does so, feeling your bud already becoming abused.

while he usually takes his time with you, today he is quick to separate your legs and go feral on you. his tongue is quick, so quick that it has you shaking uncontrollably against his mouth. you're shuddering, begging, pulling at his hair, all at once. a blabbering mess, as he eats you like there's no tomorrow. he dips his tongue into your arousal, letting out a moan of satisfaction.

"can i please cum?" you ask, knowing that he never lets you. why would today be different?

"no, no. not yet." he moves away, standing up and getting back to your face. "it needs to be special."

"it's just an orgasm, how special can it be?"

"mine always are, believe me. i want to be your first real one. i want you to remember it." wooyoung says as he continues to caress your cheeks with his thumbs.

the action is affectionate, as if he just confessed to having a crush on you and didn't just eat you out. funny how every time you meet him, you end up getting absolutely devoured by him in ways that you didn't even read about. he is passionate about it, to the point that it makes you think that he does it for his own pleasure.

"come over to my place."

"what?" your voice comes out louder than you wanted it.

"my place. i'll take good care of you. give you what you deserve."

you don't have time to reply, he is pulling you off the sink and disappearing into a stall. a quick glance in the mirror is enough to make your hands shoot up to your hair, straightening it and fixing the smeared mascara on the corner of your eyes.

"hey?"

yunho's head peeks inside, scanning the room. he sees you alone, and immediately feels at ease.

"yes, yunho?"

"i just got worried, you've been here for a while." he admits.

"so you left your date alone?" you can't bear to look him in the eyes, not when you just finished messing with the person he saved you from the other night.

"to be truthful, i saw that shitass barista disappear somewhere, and i thought he came after you. i'd hate to think that something happened to you and i was sitting just outside."

you appreciate his truthfulness, and don't have the heart to tell him just how weak to your instincts you are.

"don't worry, i'm good. let's go."

wooyoung: it's been almost a week

wooyoung: you don't think about me at all?

wooyoung: my offer, i mean. not me.

you don't know if you're being delusional, but you feel like the tables have turned. which is why you have reached out to another friend, one that doesn't have feelings for you and won't try to sabotage, well, whatever this is.

"honestly, from all these messages, you have unknowingly made him chase you. notice how you don't say much and he comes back texting you multiple times?" choi san is quick to explain, using his own flirting skills to decipher the conversation.

he lays on his stomach on your bed, pillow under it and legs swinging in the air. his freshly dyed blonde hair is a dry mess, struggling to hold onto his scalp. you wonder why his job requires him to ruin himself this much.

"now what do i do?"

"well, luckily for you, your lack of communication is what got you an advantage here. let's face it, you're dry as fuck."

"thanks."

"welcome. anyways, in your case, that's good. see? instead of giving up and leaving, he keeps coming back to you. and eating your pussy every time you two meet? are you kidding me? that man is obsessed with you."

at the mention of him eating you, your thighs clench, almost feeling his tongue down there. it is driving you crazy, having so much pleasure yet not reaching the peak. he is torturing you, on purpose.

wooyoung: i'll make you cum so hard you'll never wish for anyone but me

wooyoung: and that's a promise.

two new messages light up your phone, san grabbing it before you can. he covers his mouth, eyes wide as he reads the messages over and over. he unlocks the phone, and begins typing.

"no!"

"i'm doing you a favor!" he exclaims, running around the room and still typing.

you hear the sending sound, and your face heats up. he throws the phone on your bed, and sits right next to you.

"what have you done?"

"see for yourself. that, my dear, is called not being dry."

bold of you to think that i'll only wish for you

"that doesn't sound like me at all! you blew it!"

you are quick to bury your face in a pillow, already mourning all this time you've spent and regretting inviting san to help. but when another notification decorates your screen, you almost jump.

wooyoung: why don't you come over for a demostration?

"you do realize that if you go, you might lose your v-card?"

"i know."

"and you're sure that's the person you want to do it with?"

"yes."

he believes you as much as you believe yourself. you always thought your first time would be somewhere romantic, pre-planned, with the person you love and loves you back. not in the apartment of a porn star. and not with someone that only knows your name.

"you know, my heart really hurts for yunho."

"i invited you to avoid him. why are you bringing him up?" your fierce tone takes him aback, and it takes you aback too, you just manage to not show it.

"wow." san exhales.

"sorry, just- it's none of your business."

"how is it none of my business? i mean, i tried to not get involved, even came here to help you hook up with a complete stranger and help you throw away the best thing that can and will happen to you. i introduced you to yunho, knowing full well on his harmless little crush on you, and knowing full well that you were perfect for him. only to have you-"

"wait a minute, you can't guilt trip me into liking him."

the man in front of you is baffled with your reply, and you feel like you're not looking at one of your close friends anymore. now, you are looking at yunho's best friend, almost his younger brother. you forgot that before you, there was the two of them.

"someone seriously needs to fuck that attitude right out of you. you're acting like an animal in heat."

"well i'm fucking trying to!"

"well you're trying the wrong fucking way!"

"do not tell me who and how to fuck!"

the phone is pinging on your bed, not helping the situation at all. san is looking more disappointed than angry, his eyes becoming scarily dark.

"the fuck do you even know about fucking?"

"i know enough." you don't drop your guard.

san takes a step towards you, examining your face. then another, and another, until you are pushed in the corner of your room with him towering over you. there is nothing attractive about it in this situation, and you wish

"you may know about fucking, but you don't know shit about loving."

"shut up," is the only thing you manage to say, biting back tears.

"i am not guilt tripping you to like or love anyone, but the least you could do is let him down gently and stop playing push and pull with him. giving him hope, then shattering him right after it? not quite moral in my book."

"look, i'm in a difficult situation. i just- i like them both."

choi san laughs, sarcastically. he doesn't find it funny. he just doesn't know how to respond anymore.

"you don't like them both. you like wooyoung, and want to keep yunho as a backup."

"excuse-?"

"save it. i don't even know why i came here, helping you hurt my friend. you have started thinking with your pussy more than your brain, and you're losing people because of it. if you're horny, watch fucking porn."

with that, he grabs his leather jacket off your bed, and storms outside. you are feeling frustrated, angry, and sad. he is right, you know it. but you don't want to admit it. because somehow, in your head, if you don't admit it, it isn't like that. ignoring a problem makes it go away. simple as that.

you want to keep yunho, and his love, and his affection, but you want a taste of wooyoung so bad. so bad that your clit aches when you open his messages, yearning for his cold fingers and hot tongue.

wooyoung: do you like movies?

wooyoung: i thought we could watch the live adaptation of that book you like reading

wooyoung: what was it again?

wooyoung: if you want to, of course

wooyoung has sent a picture! tap to view.

you stop breathing for a moment, thinking of all the things you could expect in that image. you breathe out when you open it, seeing a pullout sofa and a blanket on it, along with snacks and two bottles of soda.

wooyoung: i'd be happy if you joined me :)

why, rosie unavailable?

wooyoung: i'm gonna go ahead and ignore that, for the sake of both of us

whatever that means

why are you the one sabotaging yourself now? yunho isn't here, and san has left too. then why?

wooyoung: it means that i don't like it when people mock what i do

wooyoung: and when people mock me, i become angry

wooyoung: and angry and horny don't go well together

wooyoung: unless you want to put it to test?

wooyoung angry fucking you? you grimace. would it be the kind of sex he did in his last live with that rosie girl? if yes, you are feeling very turned off right now. he must've sensed the lack of replying on your side, and is quick to respond again.

wooyoung: can't help it, sorry

wooyoung: just come over and we can hang?

your phone pings, sending you a message with a different name on top.

choi san: bet his new live will bring him a fortune. who else has taken someone's virginity live on a porn site?

what the fuck are you on about? there's no live.

choi san: that's what you think

choi san: or that's what he'll make you think

choi san: unless he convinces you to willingly do it

he wouldn't. would he? wooyoung who has asked you before each contact whether you're sure, or whether you're feeling nervous. wooyoung who already had his hands on your tits, and still wanted to ask if you're sure. he wouldn't secretly film you. he wouldn't.

what do you consider a hang? and why?

wooyoung: just hang? watch that movie and talk?

wooyoung: because

wooyoung: idk

wooyoung: you're so stiff and awkward yet i wanna know more about you and see you

wooyoung: i guess i want to be the one to unstiff you?

wooyoung: NOT LIKE THAT

wooyoung: i dropped my cool guy vibe just like that

wooyoung: look at me texting you multiple times in a row

wooyoung: i've never ever done that in my life for anyone

wooyoung: so...?

so san was right. you did unintentionally make him chase you. played hard to catch without even knowing it. you have a whole porn star folding for you, and offering you all you ever wanted. or at least you think you wanted.

ping!

yunho: hey just wanted to ask if everything is alright?

yunho: sorry if i somehow hurt you

yunho: you seem a little distant, and i know it might be because of the kiyomi situation, but i promise i care about you so much

yunho: if you want you can come over and we can make that pasta together?

yunho: i also want to talk to you

yunho: properly

it's now or never.

you gonna pick me up or?

you sit in the familiar car, the smell of it relaxing you. he knows how to make scents work and not make them literally bite your nose. you take a good look at him. he wears a simple short sleeved black t-shirt, along with grey ripped jeans and black boots. his hair is a little messy, but it only adds up to his look. every time you see him, you forget just how good he looks.

"angel?"

"wooyoung?"

he laughs, eyes not moving off the road.

"are you okay?"

"yes." you simply reply, shifting your attention to the surrounding houses.

you don't speak the rest of the way, just enjoying his humming and wheel tapping. it isn't uncomfortable silence. at least not for you. you can also hear faint vibrations coming from your phone in your bag, and you know exactly who they belong to.

"whoever that is, they sure are persistent." wooyoung comments.

"sorry. i'll shut it off."

"oh, no. please. i was just noticing."

you finally take the phone out, screen bombarded with his notifications. just when you wanted to clear the notification tab, he calls, and you click the green phone.

"shit."

"hello?"

wooyoung glances at your phone, eyebrows furrowed. he keeps driving, not saying a word.

"hey, yunho, now is not a good time-"

"it never is lately anyway. listen, i will just say what i wanted to like this."

"yunho, no-"

"i love you. i don't even think about the words like or crush anymore, i know, i'm sure, that i love you. and i know you're slipping away from me, and i know there's no way to stop it."

you stare at wooyoung, who is carefully listening to the voice coming from your device. you are shaking, thoughts running wild. you are becoming more aware of your feelings towards yunho, and aware about the situation you are putting yourself in. you are on your way to shatter everything you've ever had with him, and everything you could've had with him. for just a taste of what seemed to only exist in your mind.

"i won't blame you if you go with him. i'm just afraid of you getting hurt, maybe worse than that night. and this time i might not be around to fix it. i do not have the energy anymore. i'm sorry."

san was right about this too, and you hate him for it. all this time you subconsciously kept yunho as a backup. you've convinced yourself that he isn't your type, and you did so good at it. until now.

"i'm not saying you should respond to any of my feelings, but it would've been nice if you came to me and said something along the lines of "sorry yunho, i don't think we will ever be what you want us to be" instead of luring me in and pushing me around. calling me when you need it, then ignore me when you get what you want. i hate that i love you, and i hate that i have to humiliate myself like this every damn time. but i promised myself this would be my last. unless you really wish to discuss all of this properly, and whether or not you want our friendship to continue despite all this. tonight is your last chance. i am speaking to you as a friend now. i want to know where i stand."

you are speechless. he has touched the darkest spot in your heart. that dusty corner reserved for love. the kind of love san accused you of not knowing. how are you supposed to respond when there is a whole man next to you, a man who has also asked you to hang and talk tonight?

"i'll wait until midnight. if you don't show up, that will also help me know where i stand. but then, know that you might not hear from me anymore."

the phone call ends just in time when wooyoung pulls up in his parking spot. he silently exits, opening the door for you. still overwhelmed by the one sided conversation that just happened, you remain seated.

"if you're going to be sulky like that, i will just drive you to him." wooyoung offers, annoyance clear in his tone.

you feel a little irritated for his lack of empathy. but who would empathize with such an awful person like yourself? wooyoung sighs, then crouches in front of the open door on your side.

"you can't sit on two stools at a time, angel. i understand that emotions are hard, and love is complicated. right now, i am offering you something simple, and something harmless. i am not looking for love, i think. i just want to help you discover, and i want to discover you."

not looking for love, that you know. but it feels different hearing it out loud. the i think part right after it went right over your head, only adding to the you really are dense agenda.

"yunho is offering you commitment. real love. something i'm not quite capable of giving you, or anyone. i think with my dick, and he thinks with his heart. that creates a problem for you, because you want to be loved, but you also want a dick to make you stop thinking."

you aren't sure if he is dirty talking, or if this is just the way he speaks about these things. you finally look at him. his hand reaches for yours, gently guiding you out of the car.

"you can sit down and think inside."

but there was not much thinking. you were quick to lay on top of wooyoung, entirely relaxed in his arms as his nails grazed the skin of your thighs. non sexually. just innocent pleasure and the movie playing in the back. but you can't relax all the way, because you know where tonight will lead. you squirming under wooyoung's touch, the only emotions present being lust and yeaerning. you liked yunho. you really did. but the way wooyoung handles you is not like any other. you need to have it, at least one more time.

"you're not watching the movie."

"i know."

"then what are you doing?"

"thinking."

wooyoung sighs. his hands halt on your waist, then help you sit up on his lower stomach as he stays laying down.

"be honest with me. what exactly do you want? i won't judge you."

"i don't know." you lie.

"let me try a different approach. what do you want with me? be completely raw, so we can both know where we stand."

and you do just that. tell him all about your desires, about the feeling of lust which you've mistaken as a crush towards him, about loving how desirable you are feeling when it comes to him, and everything that comes to your mind. he listens, slowly nodding his head as you speak.

"i guess i want to have a little fun with no commitment before the, you know, actual commitment."

"i understand. now, what do you want with yunho?"

"everything."

you do want everything with him. from the kisses he is dying to offer you to whatever kinkery he has hidden behind those shiny eyes. yunho is a man every girl wants, including you, yet he only has heart eyes for you. and you'd be stupid to let that go.

"then go for it."

"see, the thing is- i already got a taste of you. and i want closure. i want to finally get that orgasm you've been delaying for so long."

wooyoung nods, eyebrows a little scrunched. he is focused on putting a stray hair behind your ear, and when that hair refuses to obey him over and over again, he huffs, and finally gives your sentence attention.

"we need to discuss first. what kind of orgasm are we talking?"

"what do you mean?"

"well, now that you've finally come to terms with your feelings towards that yunho dude, taking your v-card is off the table?"

"yeah, i guess." you shrug, as if it was just a hug you were talking about.

"just to warn you, it hurts like hell."

"that i know. thanks."

"he can reach out to me for some tips if he wants. just saying."

"got it."

he smiles, then proceeds.

"filming is off the table?"

"uh-"

"just asking, not forcing. if we are going to do simple oral and, or, fingering, then you know... i'd maybe like some footage. at least for me to enjoy sometimes."

come to think of it, it is risky, and it is something that you wouldn't do ever again when or if you become yunho's partner. this is maybe a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you don't want to waste it.

"i'll give you back by midnight, baby." he winks.

"okay." you agree.

you feel your heart beat faster, and louder. you have just agreed to be filmed, in a stranger's house, touched by that same stranger, and the video will be up for so many people to see. so what? you'll ask him to blur or cut the face out of the frame. simple as that.

"come on then."

the young man stands up, giving you his open hand. little do you know that the gaze you're giving him from below him on that couch is making his pants feel very tight.

you accept his hand, and allow him to lead you to his room. your eyes land on the bed. the very same bed and pillows where he filmed that live, and many other lives after that. wooyoung then gently pushes you towards the bed, hands grazing your waist while his eyes admire your outfit. it looks so easy to take off.

he carefully pushes you on the bed, and you swear you've never felt a mattress so soft. he climbs on the bed, hovering over you and giving you one more head to toe scan.

"so pretty." he whispers.

"thank you." you say, not knowing what else to do.

he laughs, then leans in to give you a kiss sweeter than those cake pops you used to eat throughout your whole high school. he kisses you again, again and again, until you start yearning for more. you reach for his shoulders, hair, neck, anything to make him deepen the kiss and give you one of his passionate ones. he takes his time, playing with your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth.

"patience." he instructs, then untangles your hands from his hair.

he reaches towards the nightstand. the same nightstand from which he pulled that clear toy out that night you discovered him. instead of something crazy, he pulls a single piece of long fabric. the fabric is shiny and pink, with lace decorating it.

"you trust me?"

"completely."

"that's a good girl." he kisses your forehead before putting the silk over your eyes. "raise your head for me a little bit."

you do as told, enough so he can tie it up behind your head. he adjusts your hair, letting it fall over your shoulders, then traces his finger down your neck and to your collarbones. you almost shiver at his touch. he continues his journey to your shoulders, gently pulling down the sleeves of your dress, then does the same to the other. you feel like everything is ten times more intense, since you can't see anything anymore.

he pulls his hand back, then shuffles on top of you for a while. you hear something hit the floor, and then feel the mattress dip between your legs. wooyoung takes your hand, guiding it towards a source of warmth. you breathe out when you touch his warm skin, nails yearning to dig into it. he helps you trace his abs, his formed chest, and all the way down to his defined v-line. you feel a few veins leading to a place of heaven, or hell, and you have to bite your lip to keep you from smiling.

this is exactly what you want.

"can i see?" you ask nicely.

"no. just feel." he declines, and you hear him smile as he says that.

"okay." you comply, using the opportunity to touch a little more

he then gets off the bed again, and you hear slight rattling. he must be setting up the camera. it doesn't take long for him to come back, placing an object next to you at a certain position.

"i'm only going to be filming myself and your lower body, alright? something like your point of view? you okay with that?"

"yes."

"you sure?"

"yes." you breathe out, feeling his hands caressing your hips.

"we need a safe word, angel."

"god, i don't know, just touch me already. please." you beg like a pathetic slut.

"i know you're impatient, but i really need you to think of a word."

"i don't know." you're becoming annoyed with him.

"how about..." he hums, then kisses your jawline, "mocha?"

"y-yes, that sounds good." you stutter as he plants kisses along your jawline, going down your neck and stopping at collarbones.

"so when you say mocha, i'm stopping everything i'm doing. got it?"

"yes."

"good. i'm turning it on now."

you hear a click, then a short sound. he waits a little, probably for people to join.

"hi, my favorite people. i would do some talking, but to be honest, i can't wait to dive into today's special."

you don' t have time to process his words, he is shuffling through the drawers again. wooyoung then takes your clothes off, and you help him by raising your hips, pulling your arms out your sleeves, all to make him satisfied. he plants a kiss on your knuckles, thumb grazing over them before he sets your hand back down. his lips hover above your skin, blowing cool air along the line of the lingerie bra you wore.

"i like you more in those pastels." he admits.

the man cups your breasts, slowly massaging them and letting his thumbs graze your tense buds over the thin black lace. you squirm under his touch, feeling the pleasure pool in your lower stomach. you swear you could cum from only nipple touching if he did it long enough. you could try that once.

"she's awfully quiet, isn't she? what should i do to her?" he speaks to the camera.

he then takes a few seconds to read the written suggestions, and then chuckles.

"take off the bra? oh, but i quite like it like this. it makes the situation sexier and more intimate. doesn't look like that raw porn you can find on pornhub, right?"

he is right. you got all dolled up for him, would be a shame if he took everything off so soon. you feel a warm wet muscle trace around your areola, building anticipation. his other hand plays with it too, not once touching the nerve ending that is angrily sticking out and demanding attention. he finally gives in, closing his lips around the tense bud and ever so lightly grazes it with the tip of his tongue.

you gasp, arching your back from the mattress. his hand is quick to find its place on your stomach, pushing your body back down and caressing your skin along the way.

"atta girl." he praises, seeing just how obedient you are for him.

his teeth graze your nipple, then gently tug at it. you twitch, hands flying towards him in hopes to grab his hair. he is quick to grab your wrists, pinning your hands above your head.

"i'm the one doing the exploring, angel. you lay there for me like the patient pretty doll you are."

you nod, immediately becoming still. his fingers find a path down your stomach, to the line of your panties. he caresses the skin right above your clit, circling it, grazing the inside of your thighs, your folds, all while ignoring the burning place right in the middle of all that. your hips almost buck into his hand, but you remember to be good. he pushes the panties aside, revealing you to himself and the camera.

"oh, so pretty." he exhales.

you hear him put his fingers in his mouth, coating them in saliva, then dip between your folds. you whine when he touches the tip of your clit, spinning it in circles and making you gasp for air. your hands are still pinned above your head, and his knee is fast to hold your legs open by pressing the inside of your thigh into the mattress. he then dips his fingers below, first one, then two. the feeling of strange and a little uncomfortable is back, but when he starts pumping in and out at a slow pace, occasionally curling his fingers up, you are a moaning mess. you can hear just how wet you are for him, and each time he buries his fingers deep inside of you, you have to fight the urge to moan louder.

"wish you could see just how well you're taking me."

you remember how absolutely hot it looked that night, seeing his fingers disappear inside of you.

"good, good girl. one more? think you can handle?"

there is two already, but you still nod. he adds another finger, deliciously stretching you out and giving you trouble breathing. it seems like hours have passed, and wooyoung is still content with fingering you at a pace that is too slow even for you. he is enjoying the sounds and view you are offering him, and is too mesmerized by the way he is so smoothly disappearing inside of you, all while you breathe heavily and buck your hips into his hand.

you feel your wrists become free. sore, but free. wooyoung then grabs something from the nightstand, and shuffles with it for a few moments. you hear light buzzing, and your heart jumps a little. fuck, he is doing everything just right. as if he entered your mind and stole all your wishes.

he brings it to your nipple, circling it just like his tongue is circling your clit. you are overwhelmed, struggling to keep still like he instructed.

"wooyoung-" you whine.

"i know, baby. feels so good, doesn't it?" he coos, sending shivers up your spine.

"yeah," you whine again, not quite capable of doing anything else.

"yeah," he hums. "you're doing a very good job, angel. hold on tight for me. don't let go just yet."

he is taking his sweet time, acting like this is only the beginning of a very long movie. you feel like cumming, and you don't want to do that just yet. you're having too much fun, and the buildup is much more pleasurable than the orgasm itself. at least you think so. his voice is soothing, low and raspy, and that alone is enough to make you feel like you came ten times already.

his tongue dives between your folds again, adding the third source of pleasure and shooting arrows to your core. you tremble under his passionate licks, thighs struggling to stay open. he hums into your clit, vibrations matching the ones on your nipple. he spins the gadget around your buds, slowly, then teases the areola again. you hear yourself become louder and louder, and he doesn't seem to mind. it's killing you that you can't see him. he must surely look gorgeous between your legs, working his tongue on you like it's his last feast.

his plush lips close around the tip of your clit, gently tugging it, tongue spinning it in slow circles just how you like it. but today, it all seems a little too slow. you are eager to see just how he will make you cum. maybe you can take two?

"how much longer?" you ask, feeling a bit stupid.

"oh, so much longer. i'm not letting go of you just yet."

the time is slow, and pleasure still bearable. you don't know how much longer you can hold. luckily, he pulls away from you, just in time. you feel his wet digits trail your bottom lip, as if asking permission to enter. you open your mouth, taking in the arousal that exists just for him. you taste yourself on his fingers, working your tongue around them so that you don't just lay completely useless. he hums, watching you swirl around them, and letting them go with a little suck at the end.

"i'm going to make you feel so good, princess. give you the best treatment you'll ever get."

you feel all fluttery and fidgety from his words. you could listen to him forever.

"come here."

you feel him sit behind you, back resting against the wall, and his hands pull you into his lap. your bare back rests against his built chest, and you can't help but hum at the sensation. he chuckles, loving every bit of reaction you have to give him.

"face reveal?" he reads a comment, and you become tense in his hands. "no."

the firm no has you grabbing his thighs, legs automatically spreading for him to continue abusing your clit and hole. his fingers move your hair out of the way of your chest, and gently tuck it behind your ears.

"so pretty." he coos again, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

you melt into his arms at his never ending praises, and you can't get enough. you wish to be called pretty all day long. you wish to be kissed like that for the rest of your life. you love how desired he makes you feel.

"are you real?" you mumble, lost in the soft vibrations that are circling your entrance.

he laughs, then kisses your shoulder. "very much, sweetheart."

"it feels too good. you feel too good."

"i know, baby. i know."

the gadget on your cunt is small, and still at a low speed. he uses his other hand to spread your folds, enough to start inserting the small vibrator inside. you yelp a little, the stretch wider than his fingers.

"easy," he whispers, "just like that..."

he fully inserts it, and you feel so full and in pain.

"i'm not going all the way, don't be afraid."

he pumps the toy in and out of you, enough to get you used to the new stretch. his other hand toys with your clit and tricks your brain into focusing on the pleasure rather than pain.

"wooyoung?"

"yes, love?"

"i thought you said you'd destroy me."

his movements stop. you bite your lip, trying to keep the smirk spreading on your lips. a gasp leaves your lips as his hand grabs your jaw, pulling your head back so that he can look at your face. he gets close, so close that your lips almost touch.

"is that what you want?"

his hot breath is so inviting, but when you reach to kiss him, he moves away, and grabs your jaw firmer.

"you want your tight little cunt to be destroyed? you want me to throw you around and use you like that toy you watched me fuck? you want me to fuck the feeling for the other guy out of you? so that you don't see nobody else but me? so that your pussy only fits on my cock? so that your body only responds to me?"

you are breathless as he spills all his intentions out, with each sentence sending goosebumps all over your body.

"that what you want? for me to fuck you dumb?"

"yes." you simply say.

you expected him to push you down on the bed. you expected him to pull your hair. you expected him to degrade you, spank you, and whatnot. but what you did not expect was the gentle tug of the blindfold, and a caress of your cheek as his grip on your jaw softened. you open your eyes, and meet his dark ones.

"are you sure?" he asks quietly.

"what?" you act dumb.

"you want me to...?"

"i want you to fuck me." you finally say it.

it seems like he has stopped breathing for a moment. he takes a few seconds to examine your face, looking for any signs of hesitation. when he sees none, he places the silk on your hands, tying them up and placing them in your lap.

"i meant what i said," he speaks to you and only you now, back turned towards the camera. "i am going to take a good care of you. remember your safety word?"

"mocha."

"good girl." he places a kiss on your forehead, then pushes you to lay down.

you watch him unbutton his pants, finally seeing more of that v-line you are suddenly very obsessed with. he throws them on the floor, along with the boxers, letting his cock free from the grip of the fabric. your jaw drops at the size. not enormous, but still too big for your virgin self. this is going to hurt like hell.

"can i suck you off?" you ask, subconsciously doing the big eyes thing he so much loves.

"are you sure? i wanted this to be about you."

"i'm sure." you say, eager to get a taste of him. "just, uh... guide me?"

"with pleasure."

he lays on the bed, elbow holding his upper body up as his other hand brings your face close to his cock. you didn't think it would look this clean and... pretty. you stick your tongue out, finally getting a taste of him. he hums, throwing his head back. you lick up from the base to the tip, immediately taking him in your mouth. he gasps, not expecting it so soon. he fills your mouth deliciously, resting against your tongue as his precum spills down your throat. he feels smooth, and very hot.

"god, so good," he groans, hand reaching for your hair to guide you up and down.

you bob your head up and down, too impatient to go slow like he did. you want to hear him more, knowing that you are the reason for those sounds and words.

"even your mouth is so tight, i might cum if you continue." he pulls your head away.

"you're so mean," you whine.

"i know," he coos for the third time today, knowing just what it does to you. "let me take care of you."

you try to lay down, but he holds you in place. you are confused. does he want to jump to some insane positions right away?

"missionary hurts. we will try something else. that good?"

you nod, and he sits against the wall again. he pulls you towards him, finally kissing you again. he showers you with soft kisses, and even though he promised whatnot, you are still experiencing a very soft and gentle version of him. you like it, but the thought of all the things he has listed for you is making your blood boil with excitement.

his hands cup your ass, raising your body and slowly bringing it towards his cock. you look down, noticing that a condom is already sitting on it. when did he manage to do that?

"slow," he whispers, guiding your hips so that you slowly start to sit on him, "just like that. good job."

you yelp at the uncomfortable stretch, and knowing that the pain is yet to come, you put your still tied hands around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. inch by inch, he disappears inside of you, leaving no space empty. you feel so full and uncomfortable, your teeth sink into his shoulder to stop the loud moans of pain.

"hold onto me, love. it'll be better."

you forget the camera. you forget yunho. you forget san. you forget your feelings towards the other man. you will enjoy this, even if it was your last.

"can i move?"

"yes."

he keeps you close to him, lifting your hips slowly up and down. you hear the comment section flooding, and glance over at the laptop on the nightstand. each money donation makes a sound, and right now, there is tons of them. you enjoy all the praises written in the comments, talking about how well you are taking him, how obedient you are, and how innocent you look. you like it all a little too much.

wooyoung speeds up the pace, hips finally colliding with yours with a bigger force. you don't let go of his shoulder just yet, still focusing on the pleasure and trying to ignore the pain. he is a groaning mess, and little did you know that he has to use every ounce of self control in him to not just slam you on the bed and fuck you open for him. he grips your hips, sure to leave bruises afterwards, and keeps the same pace for a while.

"feeling okay?"

"yeah," you stutter between little gasps and moans.

"can i speed up?"

"yes, please."

the man finally lets himself loose, picking up your body by your waist and moving his own hips instead in a fast pace. your jaw drops, and your eyes roll back from the newfound point of pleasure. you are completely lost in his touch, scent and voice. he is grunting with each push, reaching deep inside of you and touching a particularly sensitive spot you didn't know you had.

"fuck, you're so wet." he hisses. “look how well you take me.”

having enough of the position, he finally throws you against the mattress, yet his gaze still has a hint of worry for you. when you smile, it's his sign to dive into your gardens again. the new position feels odd, and good in a new way. he reaches for a pillow, putting it under your hips for easier access, and finally fulfills his promise.

his hips dive into yours, colliding with force and awaking the orgasm inside of you. the pace isn't fast, it is just right. you have enough time to savour every delicious pump he delivers you.

"i want to cum so bad, please." you beg, feeling a bit overstimulated.

"just a little longer, hm?"

he speeds up the pace, grabbing your waist and practically slamming you against his cock, while his hips stay resting. you feel like that toy, being used like this. you can't help but develop a secret size kink, seeing how easily he is handling you and throwing your body around how he likes it. your eyes catch the gadget near him on the bed, and you grab it. his eyes are focused on the place you're connecting, admiring the view with scrunched eyebrows. he is so into it, that he doesn't even see you put the vibrating gadget on your clit. it is the sudden flood of comments again that makes him look away.

"chasing that orgasm like a thirsty little cumslut?"

you nod eagerly, focusing on the pool of pleasure threatening to spill over. a volcano waiting to erupt. a bottle of champagne waiting to pop.

"wooyoung-"

"go on, baby. i've tortured you enough."

you moan, grabbing his hand for support as you slowly reach the peak.

"cum on my cock like it's your last." he grunts.

it takes you over the edge. a river spilling over the highest cliffs, hitting hard against the pond and creating waves all the way to the shore. it is ripping through your body, and you swear you feel in in the ends of your hair and the tips of your toes. your back arches from the mattress, shaking as shock waves continue to exhaust your body. you are a moaning and whining mess, grabbing anything you can, from his arms and hair, to the mattress and pillows above your head.

"fuck, angel, i'm close too." he warns.

"use me," you whine, still in a hazy state. "use me like that fuck toy."

hearing you speak that way sends him over the edge too, fingers digging into the skin of your waist, and eyes rolling back as he moans and groans. his hips become sloppy, and you feel something warm spill inside of you. it takes a few more pumps for him to come down from his high, and when he is done, he lets himself fall on top of you.

he doesn't speak. doesn't move. just breathes and holds you in his embrace. you lay there for a while, trying to calm your breathing and come back to your senses. with a single tap on the keyboard, he shuts the live off, not even looking at it. he does it that often, he doesn't need to look.

his head finds peace in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his arms caress the place that is full of red marks from his hands. his breathing slows, and when you look down, you realize he has dozed off. you do too, holding him against your chest and replaying everything that just happened.

when you wake up, you see that the sky has gotten darker. you reach for the phone, checking the time so that you won't be late to your arrangement with yunho. but then, you see a notification just underneath the digits showing a young night.

a single message, with an attached screenshot of a very familiar room and familiar nude people.

yunho: i think i'm ready to let go. you've made it so much easier. goodbye.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@minimoniac @miriamxsworld @kodzukein @woomyteez @mulletdaddyjayjo @bae4choi @haatohwa @marvelahsobx @jxhnnyfav

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ilykaveh · 2 years

Text

yuuji itadori is a man full of love and adoration, and what better way is there to show it?

❀ — content: fem reader, aged up ! characters, dirty talk, praise, overstim, creampie, squirting.

"yuuji!" you squealed your boyfriend's name as he continued to pound into your warm cunt with unwavering vigour.

he'd been fucking you for what felt like forever. the sun was low on the horizon when the two of you had begun, and now the moon hung amongst a choir of stars. you would try to count the number of hours that it had been, though you were struggling to keep a count of how many times the pink-haired sorcerer had made you cum.

"so fucking good for me, baby," yuuji cooed, "you take me so well; 's like this cunt was made for me," one of his hands groped your breast, toying with your stiff nipple. he was enamoured with how your pussy fluttered around him in response.

"please, yu-" you begged, though were cut off by another moan ripping through your throat.

"please what, princess?" he teased, amused by how sensitive you were for him — something that only made him even more intoxicated by you.

"c-can't, 's too much!" you hoped he understood what you were trying to communicate, and being the sweetest man you'd ever met, he did.

"come on, baby. just one more, one more for me, yeah? you can do it, i know you can." his lustful ramblings only made the knot in your stomach grow painfully tighter, to which you whined in response. "i've got you, 'll even play with your pretty little clit 'nd make it faster, yeah?"

yuuji's filthy words made you feel like you were riding high on cloud nine. a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through your body and sent your neurons into a peaceful, blissed-out state. you babbles an affirmative for your boyfriend to resume fucking you at his desired speed, and simply laid back and enjoyed the final stretch of the ride.

"my pretty girl," he continued, "so fuckin' sweet, so perfect," yuuji wasn't thinking, he was just speaking from the heart. he could sense his orgasm nearing, and due to the way that your drooling cunt clenched around his cock, he assumed yours was too.

"doin' such a good job f'me, princes; 'm gonna cum all over y'r pretty tits, yeah? would you like that? g'na mark you as mine; only i get to see you spread out like this."

"no," you mumbled, reaching out to grip yuuji's arm.

"everything okay, angel?" he paused his movements, wide eyes filling with concern.

"wan' you to cum in me, please, yuu," you begged. "please, please, please," slowly, you trailed off.

it was a plea that he couldn't refuse. after all, he knew you'd taken measures to prevent anything unexpected happening. yuuji's pace became increasingly sporadic as he snapped his hips once again, bringing his hand down to massage taut circles around your clit like he promised.

your fists tangled in the sheets, tears threatening to spill past your lashline at the sheer volumes of pleasure. it felt as though your orgasm was a ticking time bomb, dangerously close to exploding.

more incoherent babbling from the two of you led to yuuji's final few pounds, weaker than those prior. with a particular sharp thrust that you swear you felt in your lower stomach, he spilled an unbelievable amount of warm cum into you.

the sensation caused your synchronous climax. white lights blurred your vision as you came harder than you ever had, dizziness taking over. without you having realized, a few jets of squirt hit yuuji's lower stomach. if he had anything left in him, the sight of you right now would be enough to make the man hard as a rock all over again.

without a second thought, he leaned down to entrap your lips against his own. the display of affection anchored you back to reality a little.

"you're perfect, baby." yuuji repeated. his smile as he pulled away made you feel so overwhelmed with love that it was indescribable, a purity that made you forget that you hadn't just spent the past few hours engaged in messy, messy sex.

he waited a moment before pulling out his softened cock from you, eyes transfixed on your cunt as his cum leaked out of you in small globs.

"let me go grab a rag, angel. do you need anything else? food? water? i can run us a bath if you'd like?"

you smiled back at him, giggling to yourself at the soft reminder of why you fell in love with him.

"'s okay, yuu. i just wanna be near you."

#delilah.docs #yuji smut #yuuji smut #yuji itadori smut #yuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori smut #yuuji itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk thirsts #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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soulessjourney · 5 months

Text

Let The World Burn - Chapter 1

Paring: Azriel x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: You're one in a million, Azriel had never encountered someone so different from himself, someone more powerful, even rivaling Rhysand in ability. When you appeared in the Night Court one evening, covered in dirt and dried blood, something about you seemed distinctly unique. It wasn't just the fire that scorched the ground beneath you or the red hue of your eyes burning into his skin. No, it was the shadows that swarmed around you, harmonizing with his own, drawing them closer to you.

Warnings: Violence, Language, Near character death, Talk of killing, Angst, Hurt and comfort, hurt no comfort, reader is an angry strong female reader, lots of miscommuication, fluff, More to be added

A/N: Buckle up, children. This fic is the epitome of enemies-to-lovers, lovers-to-enemies, and back again. The angst is intense, and the betrayals are oh so real.

All you could smell was your burning flesh and the smoke from the area around you. Above you, the dark sky seemed to smile down in a way that almost felt mocking. Drawing in a deep breath, your chest tightened, drowning out your senses. Uncertain of how you got here or even who you were, the last thing you remembered was falling backward, yet never hitting the ground, instead, you kept falling until eventually landing on the charred grass where you now lay.

A cool sensation ran over your arms, diverting your attention from the sky. Wincing, you lifted your arm, watching as wisps of smoke-like tendrils wrapped around you, gently caressing your burnt skin. They moved around your waist and through your hair, softly singing and speaking in hushed tones that your ringing ears couldn't discern.

Enchanted by their appearance, you marveled at their gentleness as they glided over the burns on your arms and face, seemingly attempting to kiss your wounds better. You noticed how they froze over your skin before shooting out as if to defend you. Turning your head, you let out a groan, catching a flash of red and blue. Rolling onto your knees, another groan escaped as you instinctively reached to hold your injured arm, your hair falling over your face as you glimpsed three figures through the strands, standing a few feet away, their eyes widening in shock at your appearance.

The wisps continued to wrap around you, darting out at them, a protective measure for your injured form. Your eyes darted between them before settling on a male figure without siphons, his violet eyes prominent in the darkness. Unable to discern their words over the ringing in your ears, you studied each figure. You moved towards another, taller and bulkier, his shoulder-length hair tied in a half ponytail. Despite his intimidating appearance, his eyes exuded a gentle kindness you had never witnessed before.

Finally, your gaze locked with hazel eyes, observing the third male figure. He stood before you, arms crossed, his face devoid of emotion, yet his shadows danced in synchronization with your own, almost as if communicating. The wisps whispered to you, though your mind remained blank as you studied him. Something within you stirred in recognition, yet fear caused your body to curl in on itself. Your vision obscured as the male with violet eyes knelt before you, extending his hand. Your gaze shifted upward, finally able to hear his voice.

"I'm not sure what happened to you, and usually, we wouldn't welcome trespassers like this, but your wounds are too serious to take you where we normally would," he said gently, causing your eyes to harden. Holding up his hands, he offered a reassuring smile. "What's your name?" he asked, watching you quietly.

You opened your mouth to respond, only for your mind to draw a blank. "I'm not sure," you replied, wincing at the raspiness of your voice, hating how weak it sounded. Yet, it didn't deter him from extending his hand once more. You stared at it, and he chuckled softly.

"If it eases your nerves, I'm Rhysand, and behind me are Cassian and Azriel. Now that we aren't strangers, why don't you come back with us? We can provide treatment and aid until you regain your memory or at least understand how you got here," he suggested gently. Your eyes flickered over his shoulder, meeting the hazel eyes again before Rhysand spoke up once more. "Please? My wife would kill me if she found out I left an injured female in the middle of the woods." You scrutinized him, attempting to catch him in a lie, but found none. Nodding gently, you placed your hand in his, feeling the cool tendrils wrap around you as the environment blurred and darkened.

---Azriel---

Azriel stood outside the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the floor. As the door opened and Cassian and Rhysand stepped out, he pushed away from the wall, raising a brow. "Mind explaining why you decided to make friends with some random person who tried burning down the forest?" he asked.

Rhysand sighed, glancing back at the closed door. "I tried probing her mind, Az. It's locked tight, and no amount of training could penetrate it, not with all the power it exerted to resist me. You saw those shadows that clung to her. Azriel, she's another shadow singer, and as far as I know, you're the only one alive with that ability," he explained in a hushed tone.

Azriel nodded, images of you flashing in his mind. He remembered the severity of your burns and the intensity of your gaze fixed on him, your eyes seeming to burn with actual fire. He had forgotten about the shadows that reached out to them, mirroring his own. "What do we do with her once she's better?" he inquired, turning his gaze toward the closed door. "We can't just let her go, especially now that she's seen the city."

Rhysand hummed in thought, but before he could respond, Cassian cleared his throat. "We can't release her back into the woods like some stray. She has no memory of who she is. But we're not imprisoning her either. We need to help her remember how she got here, and why there's no record of another shadow singer. I can keep an eye on her and make her feel welcome. If she feels like a prisoner, she won't cooperate," Cassian suggested, turning to Azriel. "You should do the same. Get to know her. Her reaction to seeing you indicates her body remembers you, so that could be crucial."

Azriel groaned before reluctantly agreeing with his brother. "Fine, I'll give it a shot. I have my own questions, especially about those shadows. But if she tries anything, don't expect me to be friendly. Her entrance wasn't exactly subtle, burning down half the forest," he remarked, casting a warning glance at Rhysand.

Rhysand nodded, knowing better than to argue with Azriel in situations like this. He couldn't help but notice Azriel's sudden interest in you, though. Clapping a hand on Cassian's shoulder, he nodded to Azriel before walking away.

Azriel watched them depart down the hall before turning back to the door. Opening it, his eyes widened as a pillow was flung at him, narrowly missing him and hitting the wall. Giving you a glare, he noted how you met his stare with equal intensity.

---Y/N---

You stare back at Azriel as he takes another step towards you, your hand instinctively reaching back to grab the pillow next to you. Your eyes follow every movement he makes, searching for any sign that his intentions aren’t friendly.

"Throwing a pillow at me won’t do much," he says, raising a brow at you.

Scoffing, you turn your head away from him. "No, but it would distract you long enough to give me a head start," you mumble. The shadows that wrap themselves around you slide away, halting just before Azriel. Your eyes watch them as they wait for his own to greet them.

"It’s funny, you would think they know each other. In the forest, it was like they were communicating with each other," you say softly.

Azriel hums in response as he settles into the chair next to your bed. "What do you know about your shadows? You must know something; the way they interact with you is a telling sign that you’ve had them your entire life," he says, leaning back into the chair. He watches your body language, waiting for a telling sign that you're lying, but there is nothing. Instead, he receives a shrug from you.

"I’m not sure. When I woke up, in agonizing pain, might I add, they were there. They were all over me, and it was as if they were trying to cool the burns. Other than that, they’re a complete mystery to me. They don’t even really say much besides that I’m safe," you explain, leaning back against the headboard. "Why are you guys helping me? I know it’s not because I was half dead in the middle of the woods," you mumble, playing with the blanket on your lap.

Azriel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he narrows his eyes at you. "Rhysand says he wants to find out how you’re a shadow singer; from what we knew, I was the only one. Cassian refuses to just release you into the wild again, and he wants to help you, which is typical given that’s just how he is. Meanwhile, me? I don’t trust you. You may not remember what about me you know, but your body does, and every time I’m near you, you have the natural reaction to pull away from me," he says. To prove his point, he shifts to sit on the bed, and your body tenses as you instinctively move away. "I’ll find out what you know about me. Rhysand may not be able to tell, but I know how to get the information I need, and you’re no exception," he grumbles.

You open your mouth to retort, but he stands and walks towards the door before freezing. "If you’re pretending, drop the act; it’ll make killing you in the future that much easier," he says, his eyes piercing into you. With that, he leaves the room, leaving you to your own thoughts.

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auratux · 1 year

Note

sincr requests are open..

Can I request for rin corruption kink? Just want him to corrupt my virgin coochie </333

ask and you shall RECEIVE!! I love me some rin, I hope you enjoy (I hope i did it right too) !!

cw: aged up characters, corruption kink, virgin!reader, mentions of dry-humping, dom!rin, sub!reader, established relationship, choking, dirty talking (I tried, degradation || unedited, 18+

rin was nothing but a gentle lover. he always put your needs in front of his own and would do absolutely anything for you. he was your first boyfriend and he took the majority of your firsts.

when the time comes, he promises he would be gentle but his promise soon turns to be in vain

he can hardly contain himself with the way you ground on him and the sweet cute noises that are muffled by his tongue. he wants you under him and wants to ruin you over and over.

"R-Rin," you mutter, fingernails digging into his bicep. you stare up at him, eyes glossy as he bottoms out in you. you could feel his arms shaking as if he were holding himself back from hurting you.

"Mm fuck you feel so good," he whispers, hanging his head down. God, he just wants to move but he's too afraid of hurting you. He stays still for a few moments before pumping his hips at a slow pace.

Your moans and whimpers sound so fucking cute. he takes a glimpse at your face and can nearly cum at that moment. your lips are formed in a pout, your nose scrunched up and noticeable tears threatening to fall past your lashes.

you looked so pretty and helpless under him. your cunt is squeezing him so tightly that it's making it harder for him to move. it feels like home.

a muscle contraction from you has him taking a sharp breath and all his previous worries get thrown out the window.

rin's hips begin to pump at a fast pace, and his jaw slackens as he pants quietly. your noises and the skin-on-skin slapping synchronize like a beautiful melody.

"god, look at you," he grunts, his nails digging into the plush of your hips. "You're so perfect. you're made for this aren't you?"

"mm!"

"I can't understand you," his hand trails up your stomach and past your breasts. his fingers trace your collarbone before locking on your neck, applying little pressure. "Now answer me."

"yes, Rin!"

"What a good girl," he leans down, his nose touching yours. little beads of sweat begin to trail down his forehead and fall onto your head.

His spare hand releases your hip, reaching up and squeezing your breast. his fingers roll over the pebbled mound, pulling it up before letting it go. you're so sensitive at this point that just by his touch has you shaking.

your cries and the repeating of his name only fuel him further. his hips slam into you, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot that drives you closer to the edge.

"you like this, don't you?" he whispers, inhaling sharply and groaning. his eyes come into contact with your own, drowning in the sea of lust. "You like being fucked like the whore you are?"

"Yes baby," you whisper breathlessly, reaching your hand up and gripping the nape of his neck. "I love it."

"I know you do," his lips curl into a grin. "You're made for this, got it? you're my. personal. toy." his hips match with each word of his sentence, accentuating them. "Only for me."

"Yes!" you gasp, feeling your toes curl, all clarity and comprehension of the situation nowhere in mind. "Only me!"

"My little slut," he whispers, pressing his lips against yours. "You're gonna be begging me from now on."

#rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #rin x reader smut #rin itoshi x reader smut #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #blue lock smut #rin itoshi smut

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whalyrae · 2 months

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DANCE WITH ME - CHAPTER 7

“If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”

Summary : All your life, you thought you were a beta, a simple and boring beta. Until everything change. But now that you've presented yourself as an omega, how will you manage to live and hide it from your six friends and best friend, all alphas and all in the same pack? (a/n : I'm a shit for summary I'm so sorry-)

Genre : soulmate au (of course I'm a bitch for this), omegaverse, bangtan alphas au!, omega reader, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 5k

Warnings : the usual one I guess, like smut, angst, fluff (yeah its a warning for some people ) mention of depression, abusive parents (physically and morally), violence and blood, PTSD, scars, self harm,…

Tag list : @ghostlyworld @kawaiikpoplover268 @scuzmunkie @iamkookiesforyou @00ihatesnaku @stellauniverse @akemiixx01 @aceofcards05 @strxwbloody @seoul9711 @amara-mars @alex-walker-86 @yoongicatcat @xicanacorpse @maciesmess

A/N : It took me more time than I thought to write this sorry (again ;-;) dealing with mental health issues is shit really I wish I was strong and courageous like my characters LMAO. So as an apology, this chapter is a little longer than usual :D Hope you'll like it !

I'll never thank u enough for all the likes and shares despite the looong time I take to write and publish the next chapters ;w; that's my only motivation to keep writing the story tbh...! (I have severe impostor syndrome yes...... ^^) so thank you again !! Don't hesitate to let a comment here, or in my inbox !! ♥

Also I made a playlist for the story ! If you have any songs who made you think about the story, you can share it to me and I'll add it on the playlist ! ♥

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad | Spotify playlist

Chapter 6 // Chapter 8

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

A/N² : again it's barely proof read, sorry for the potential mistakes TwT

. . .

The day has come. The practice exam was this afternoon.

When you woke up this morning, you felt like you wanted to throw up. Being stressed was an euphemism. You didn’t even know why you felt like that. You spent the previous weeks practicing, alone and with Wooyoung. You even had some help and advice from his boyfriend, San.

You never get why you were so stressed. Once the music started, all the anxiety and apprehension would disappear. It had always been that way when you danced.

These last few months, your body was really testing you, and you weren't thanking it at all.

You knew the steps perfectly, you and Wooyoung’s coordination and synchronization were perfect. You were more than ready, you knew it. And despite that, you were anxious, sure you’d fail everything, having bad notes, failing your scholarship after working so hard…

“Y/N ?”

The sudden voice startled you. In your kitchen, you were the last remaining in this apartment. Your roommates had already left, wanting to rehearse one last time before the exam.

You would have done the same, but the stress and anxiety had given you such a stomach ache that it took you longer to get out of bed.

You weren’t surprised to see Jimin not really anxious. You'd never seen him stressed when it came to dancing. And from the relaxed attitude Hoseok and Jungkook had shown since you'd met them, you suspected they were in the same category as Jimin.

When you recognized the voice and noticed Jin facing you, you couldn't hide your surprise.

“I thought you all left for work ?” you asked him, trying to stay calm.

“Yoongi don’t need me at this hour,” Jin replied with a chuckle, “I'll be more of a nuisance than anything else. Is everything all right?”

You noticed the two cups of coffee held in his hands when he handed one to you. You silently thanked him and took a sip after blowing on the top of the cup to not burn yourself. It was delicious. Jin's coffees were the best. He'd never forgotten how you took it, ever since the first time he'd served you on the day you met.

"I can smell your stress from the doorway, you know?" he said after a few seconds, seeing that you didn't answer because you simply didn't know what to say.

You chuckled and pursed your lips, it was a nervous laugh.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Trust me there's a picture of you next to the word anxious in the dictionary!"

Okay, the next laugh was more relaxed, more sincere. Jin had this sense of humor that some might find heavy and boring, but it was just the opposite for you. You were always the first to laugh at his jokes, sometimes even against your will. But what could you do? Jin was naturally amusing. He had a way of lightening the mood quickly and with just a few words.

“Everything will be fine, you don’t have to worry about that.” He kept talking, as he took a step towards you, "You've worked hard, you've done your best, there's no reason for you to fail. Don't forget that you're good, you're really good."

Delicately, his hand came to rest on your shoulder, provoking a slight discharge that was anything but painful.

How had you never noticed that what you felt for them, for him, wasn't friendship? That need you felt with every physical contact, your heart racing, your stomach twisting in such a pleasurable way.

You felt both foolish for having been so blind and in denial all this time, but at the same time relieved to have finally been able to put a word to all these things, to finally have a clear vision of the situation.

The only thing you couldn't control, and wouldn't control, would be the boys' reaction when you admitted to them that you were an omega. Because yes, now that the end of exams had arrived, and on top of that, you were going to be entitled to two weeks' rest, you were going to have to tell them (part of) the truth. You'd promised yourself you'd do it, you couldn't back out. Especially as your next heat could come at any moment.

Perhaps that's also where the stress came from, that uncertainty, that lack of knowledge about the coming heat you were so worried about, about how you were going to manage it, about...

"Y/N... you're overthinking again."

You bite your lips nervously, shaking her head with a nervous smile.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry… I guess it’ll be better at the end of the day !”

Jin shook his head with a chuckle, and his face changed quickly from a most serious one, maybe the most serious face she had seen since she met him.

“I’m sure it’s more than just… this exam, but you won’t talk to us, nor Jimin. You know we could never leave you, or judge you, no matter what it is ?”

So they all noticed you were acting differently, didn't they? Of course, they could. You weren’t the best to hide when something was wrong. And even if you were, Jimin could read you like an open book. And you did not doubt that he would have later confided to his partners.

“I know, and it’s the same for me, I just… need to get done with this exam first.” you began, your voice trembling, “I know I haven't been... the most agreeable person lately, and I'm sorry for that, sincerely…”

You looked away, for some reason feeling your eyes sting, as if you wanted to cry.

“Hey, hey, listen... look at me, please,” Jin's hands rested delicately on your cheeks. He waited patiently, and resumed once your eyes met, “You don't have to apologize, we all go through moments more tense, more difficult than others that make us more tense and nervous, no one here holds it against you, believe me.”

You nodded. He wiped the few tears from your eyes and leaned to place his lips on your forehead. And it's a good thing you had a certain amount of self-control, that you could restrain your actions, your desires, and your impulses, because the only craving you had right now when you felt Jin's soft lips against your forehead, was to raise your face and have your lips meet his.

It was the hardest thing you'd ever had to do.

“Ah, I have an idea !” he exclaimed as he stepped back, leaving you with a very unpleasant feeling of emptiness, “I'll drive you to your class, we'll go through the café, and Yoongi will give you croissants and coffee for you, Minnie, Kook' and Hobi!”

You blinked several times, not taking your eyes off him while he moved into your apartment to grab your bag.

“Wait!” You called out as you grabbed his arm, “I thought Yoongi didn’t want to be disturbed before the opening?”

"Oh don't worry, we’ll be quick. Plus if it's you he won't say anything." Jin shrugged with a smirk as he handed her her bag, “You know, he doesn't show it, but he has a soft spot for you.”

You raised your eyes to the sky, trying to prevent your body from betraying you, but you couldn't. You could already feel your face and ears heating up. You knew Yoongi's temperament; he had his own way of showing affection to the people he loved. You also didn't doubt that he cared for you, but to use the word “soft spot”...

“You're blushiiing...” Jin suddenly teased.

“I'm not!” you exclaimed as you walked past him with your head down hiding any hints of blush if there were one, “Let's go! I don't want to be late!"

You didn't want Jin to be able to see what effect this was having on you, what effects they all were having on you. And that damn body that would only betray you... the coward!

“Yes ma'am!” Jin couldn't hold back his giggle and stepped out with you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. The warmth of his embrace, his very singular scent didn't help your mood at all. “Aaah what are we going to do with you, little tsundere!”

“I'm not a... argh, you know what, never mind!”

You didn't know why, but you had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.

°°°

When you arrived at the dance hall less than an hour later, you quickly spotted Hoseok, Jungkook, and Jimin chatting with each other. Jungkook was the first to spot you and waved to you with his eternal big smile that melted you every time.

You looked around for San and Wooyoung, remembering the day before that Wooyoung told you that some of the second and senior-year students would be there to watch the first years, which added a layer of stress because some of them, being alphas, were the ones who had almost harassed you to be an omega at the beginning of the year.

But as you and Wooyoung had said to each other in the café when you first met: "We'll take the opportunity to nail all those pretentious alphas who like to spend their lives looking down on us!"

And that was your main motivation right now.

"Noona! We're here!" he exclaimed, drawing the attention of several students to you, which you decided to ignore because all their attention would be on you in about a dozen minutes anyway.

"Oh great pastries!" exclaimed Jimin, taking the box from your hands as you handed it to him, "They're from Yoongi hyung!"

"Thank god, I love him so much, I'm starving..." muttered Jungkook who didn't wait to open the box and take out a cupcake which he bit into instantly.

“Oh, you have Jin's scent on you...” Hoseok didn’t seem to be interested in pastries and approached you. You almost had the impression he was humming you quickly. "Hey, you're wearing his hoodie!”

You and Jin had gone to the café where Yoongi was already, and as Jin had told you earlier, Yoongi's face, initially shut and ready to scold Jin by reminding him that he didn't like to be disturbed in the morning, had immediately softened on seeing you appear beside him. Jin noticed this immediately and didn't stop himself from pointing out that he'd been right by giving you a little nudge on the shoulder and a chuckle, making you grumble as you did your best not to blush again.

Yoongi of course understood why Jin had brought you along, because like everyone else, he knew that this day was important for Jungkook, Jimin, Hoseok, and you.

He didn't ask any questions, he didn't even say a word. He just walked away and packed some pastries he knew you or the boys would enjoy, and you even noticed that he'd slipped a Strawberry Shortcake into the box, your favorite.

When he walked to you and handed you the box, you could have sworn he brushed his fingers against yours on purpose, sending a long shiver down your spine. But he didn't notice, or so you hoped because even if he did, you didn't see any reaction from him.

Once back in Jin's car, you noticed that you'd forgotten your jacket at the apartment, and unfortunately, you didn't have time to go home again. Jin hadn't hesitated to give you his hoodie, a café-au-lait-colored hoodie that was far too oversized for you, and you were floating in it, which made him laugh.

The reason you couldn't say no was his smell. Like all of them, Jin had a very particular scent, very sweet but very strong, which invaded your whole being the moment the hoodie's fabric settled on your body. That same warmth returned to your stomach and probably also to your face, but Jin couldn't see it since you'd pulled the hood over your head.

How could a simple piece of clothing make you feel so safe?

“Noona? Noona!” Jungkook’s voice startled you, “Is everything fine? Don’t tell me you’re stressed!”

You blinked a few times and noticed your four friends staring at you, Jimin looking a little more worried than the others. Perhaps because he knew you best.

“Ah yes, yes I’m fine!” you assured with a small smile, "Of course I'm stressed, not to be would be a sign of recklessness!"

"Well, I'm not really..."

"That's exactly what I'm saying!" you exclaimed, cutting off Hoseok who just couldn't help but laugh, "Ah and yes it's Jin's hoodie, I forgot my jacket at the apartment..."

"You could have asked me, I would have given you mine," Jimin muttered before receiving a small elbow from Hoseok. You looked at him, confused, and rubbed the back of your head with a shy smile.

"You can give it to me if you want. No, wait... that's not what I meant..." you frowned, more to yourself, and tried to hide the heat wave by imagining yourself having not only Jin's scent but also Jimin's on you.

"Oh no? What did you mean then?" Jungkook leaned towards her with a small smirk, "If you want I can pass you mine too, and I'm sure Hobi will do the same!"

You frowned as you realized that Jungkook was starting to tease you, suspicions confirmed when Hobi also tapped him on the shoulder. But the mere idea of being surrounded by all the smells of your roommates and friends was enough to send a wave of warmth through your lower belly and your whole being.

You had to change the subject, avoid the conversation going any further, or maybe find Wooyoung...

Just when you needed it most, Wooyoung came up behind you and almost jumped on your back, snatching a laugh in the process.

"Yo, did you miss me?" said Wooyoung in a cheerful tone who had his arm wrapped around your shoulder, he turned to your three friends and greeted them, a thin smile on his lips as he saw Jimin's reaction. It had reached the point where Wooyoung liked to make fun of Jimin's reactions, as he was the one who was the most protective of you, and according to Wooyoung, even jealous and possessive. But you still refused to believe it, being 100% certain that Jimin felt nothing but deep friendship.

"You can't even imagine," you said ironically, rolling your eyes before grabbing Wooyoung's wrist and pulling you away from your three friends, "there's one last thing we need to discuss, good luck for later!"

"If you think we need luck..." chuckled Jungkook, making you roll your eyes at him again.

You quickly walked away with Wooyoung, isolating yourselves in a corner of the dance hall, before letting out a long sigh.

"Wow, you don't look good, tense? Don't worry, we'll handle it!"

"Partly, but not only, there's something really weird going on..."

You quickly told Wooyoung what had happened with Jin, then your reaction to your previous conversation with Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok.

He remained silent for a few seconds after your explanation, before simply shrugging his shoulders.

"It's a common thing with omegas, it's called a nest. Well, it's not a nest, but your behavior bears a strong resemblance to one."

Seeing your confusion, Wooyoung gave a little laugh, not a mocking laugh, but an affectionate one, because indeed, you had a lot to learn.

He then explained to you that a nest is usually a place where an omega can be comfortable and relaxed, whether they are in heat or just having a bad day. It mostly is the omega’s couch, filled with soft things, the most smelling like their mates if they have one. When they are mated, omegas can share their nest with their partner.

"But that's the basic definition, made by idiots who like to put us in cases. It's happened very often with us that one of our alphas made a nest himself, because as long as it comforts them, why does it have to be only for omegas?"

You nodded and smiled. Well, of course, Wooyoung was right, and when you learned this, you wondered why you'd never heard of what a nest was before today. Having grown up in an all-alpha family, a very closed-minded family at that, you weren't surprised that they didn't practice this sort of thing. Thinking back to your mother and sister, you realize that they could both use a little bit of it. As well as a good therapy.

"So that means it's not a sign that I'm going into heat?" you asked, a long sigh of relief leaving your lips as Wooyoung nodded. "Good, I wish I could tell them before it happens, I wouldn't like to... force it on them you know."

"I understand, don't worry. Are you planning to tell them today?"

You'd had a long talk with him the day before, about your decision to tell Jimin and your friends that you were an omega, to tell them the whole story.

"Don't forget that if anything goes wrong, our door is wide open to you! Hongjoong hyung will welcome you with open arms, even though I'm sure everything will go perfectly!"

Wooyoung's optimism could be contagious at times. But he was right, you shouldn't think about the negative, you knew your friends after all, and you knew Jimin better than anyone else in this world. They wouldn't reject you for that.

You hadn't had time to reply, the teachers, and a few senior students, including San, entered the room. The first-year students fell silent, knowing that the serious part was just about to begin.

°°°

"Wait, you're first?!"

Jungkook exclaimed, looking at the grade board a few hours later. He turned to Wooyoung and you, as did several students who whispered words you didn't even understand.

Slowly, you walked over to the board and looked at the sheet of paper on which the grades were written.

Jungkook Jimin and Hoseok were second. It had to be said that their performance was incredible. They had successfully mixed their solo and trio performances, creating a highly original tableau while respecting the given instructions.

But apparently, the teachers preferred you and Wooyoung's performance. Even if there were only five small points that set you apart from your friends.

A week before the exam, you and Wooyoung came up with the idea of teaching each other's solo choreography to the other. The solo instruction was that the creation had to be original and from the student himself, and there was no indication that the duo dance partner couldn't participate. Several of you had this idea in your class.

It seems this technique had paid off because you were now top of the class.

"I don't believe it... Y/n pinch me please," asked Wooyoung in a whisper, before letting out a little scream as you obeyed. "Hey, that hurts!"

"You asked me to pinch you!" you exclaimed, turning to face him.

"But it wasn't serious! Ah, we're first noona, we made it!" Wooyoung's face lit up and he took you in his arms, making you burst into a frank laugh, but also a way of letting out all the stress accumulated over the last few weeks.

You hugged Wooyoung for a few seconds, unable to hide your joy and relief at having achieved such a formidable accomplishment, knowing the talented dancers in your group. Of course, you couldn't help but feel a hint of satisfaction at being able to rise above Jimin and your friends.

You, who'd always had that imposter syndrome when dancing alongside talented dancers like Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, seeing your name inscribed in front of theirs made you realize that you belonged here, that you deserved it, like them, like Wooyoung.

San called Wooyoung, who jumped into his arms and couldn't help but share his joy with his boyfriend. San hugged him back, praising him. He stretched out his hand to you, and you gave him a high five as he winked at you.

"Noona!"

You turned to Jimin, who was walking towards you with a smile like you'd never seen before. Behind him, Jungkook and Hoseok seemed to be just as happy for you, and that only made your heart beat faster.

You'd always known that between you and Jimin, there'd never been any competition, but you'd had this little thought that maybe Jungkook and Hoseok wouldn't be like him, and you were so relieved to find out that you were wrong.

“It’s amazing, you are amazing!”

Jimin couldn't resist taking you in his arms, hugging you tightly. This time, you couldn't refuse this hug, you needed it. The stress of the last few weeks was fading away, and you missed your best friend's touch more than ever.

Anyway, you'd tell them tonight that you were an omega, you didn't want to hide anymore.

°°°

Or maybe, you could wait a little more?

Because now that you were probably a few minutes before telling (one of) the deepest secrets you ever had, you didn’t know if it was a good idea.

They were all here, you were all in Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi’s apartment. They had decided to order a multitude of dishes and side dishes, which you shared on the coffee table. At the center of the table was a large bouquet made by Taehyung himself, who couldn't help himself when he heard how well Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok and you'd done.

“Y/N please, don't forget us when you'll be one of Beyoncé's main dancers, okay? I'd love to have an autograph!”

You nearly choked on your soda at Jin's remark, causing general hilarity.

“I don't want to dance for Beyoncé!” you couldn't help but laugh despite it, and you got up to grab a towel from the kitchen to wipe yourself off, “ah I swear Jin... you do have an imagination...”

You rolled your eyes as you heard them still laughing and joking about it. From the kitchen, you had a perfect view of the living room and your friends. They were eating, laughing, and teasing each other. There was no negativity in the room. You didn't want to risk ruining it now. But at the same time, you told yourself that if you didn't do it now, you'd never have the courage to do it again. You'd then have your heat without the ability to hide it, things could then degenerate one way or another, and you could lose them forever.

The thought only was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Hey Y/N, everything okay?”

Yoongi's voice startled you, and you realized that he had joined you in the kitchen. The others didn't seem to have noticed your sudden tension, too busy with their conversations, unlike him.

You didn't answer, just stared at him blankly at first, and could read the worry in his eyes, but also that little spark of gentleness that was so peculiar to him, a look that could give courage to anyone for whom it was intended. That look meant “You can do it, everything will be all right.”

It was the same feeling you had when you spoke to Jin earlier this morning, except that Jin passed it on with his words.

Your heart beat too fast, your mouth went dry. You had to do it.

Without breaking eye contact, you finally opened your lips, and the words came out slowly, in an insecure, trembling voice.

“I'm an omega.”

The others didn't seem to hear you. Yoongi remained silent for a few seconds, without saying a word. Seconds that seemed to last an eternity. Seconds when you had time to imagine the worst possible scenarios, and he seemed to have guessed it.

It was only when he gently took your hand in his that you noticed it was shaking.

“I know.” he murmured in a soft, reassuring voice, seeing your eyes widened with surprise and confusion, he shook his head with a small laugh, ” Later.”

You opened your mouth to reply but soon saw Jimin's face in your sight.

“Noona! What's the matter? Are you alright? Did you burn yourself? you-”

“Jimin, let her talk, will you?”

This time it was Namjoon who had spoken, his voice sounding just as reassuring as Yoongi's. Everyone had fallen silent and was staring at you. You looked at each of them, ending with Jimin, whose gaze was filled with unspeakable concern.

You felt a slight pressure on your hand from Yoongi, who wanted to give you the courage to go for it.

So, like with him, you did your best to gather your thoughts, to coordinate your voice and the words that should come from your lips.

“I... I am an Omega...”

Unfortunately, your voice was shakier than the first time. You couldn't help feeling even more ridiculous as you felt your eyes sting with tears.

“I am sorry... truly sorry I... I didn't mean to hide it...” you managed to articulate, ”I thought I was a beta until... recently and... I panicked.” you take a deep breath as you squeeze Yoongi's hand a little tighter, ”I'll understand if you're angry with me, if you don't want to be friends anymore or...”

“Don't be ridiculous!”

You recognized Jimin's voice and embrace, which came suddenly, but which you accepted with barely hidden relief. His voice was shaking.

“You're my best friend, the most important person in my life as if that could change over something as trivial as that!”

You couldn't hold back a tear that ran down your cheek. Tear that couldn't finish its way when Yoongi ran his finger over your cheek to wipe it away.

“It doesn't matter if you're an omega, an alpha, or a beta. You're our Y/N, we love you just the way you are!” exclaimed Jungkook, who sounded just as relieved as Taehyung and Jin.

Namjoon nodded with a small smile and approached you. You had trouble seeing him, as Jimin had decided to cling to you.

“It happens frequently actually. You think you are an alpha, and it turns out you're a beta, or an omega, or the other way around.” He explained, placing his hand on your hair as you acquiesced, which he began to stroke in a way that was intended to be gentle and reassuring.

“You all don’t seem that surprised…” you said as you remembered words a few minutes ago, and when you heard Jungkook cough, you turned to him, confused.

“I… I heard you a few weeks ago, you were on the phone with Wooyoung… Yoongi hyung heard me and we told the others…”

Ok, this one you didn't see it coming. But in the end, it doesn’t matter anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me?” Jimin finally asked, looking at you curiously, and somewhat a little hurt by your silence, which you thought was totally valid.

“Minnie, can you let go of her ?” Hoseok asked with a little laugh.

“No, I have months of hugs to catch up !” he exclaimed, his grip on you tightening a little, making the others sigh. But you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. You didn’t mind it at all. You need it more than anything right now.

Oh how you missed his embrace, his warmth, his scent all over you. It felt so good, so right to be in his arms. It felt like where you should be.

It felt like home.

“I didn't tell you because... when I saw the disgust... the disappointment in my mother's eyes...” You shook your head, swallowing back your tears, “That's why she asked me not to come anymore. I couldn't have supported... I couldn't have supported losing you too...” You looked at Jimin who held you closer to him, "to lose you all..."

Admitting these words out loud was harder than you thought. You weren't the kind of person to talk openly about your feelings, fears, and anxieties.

“I don't want things to change, I don’t want you to treat me differently...”

You bit your lower lip. Your heart was beating a hundred miles.

“I hope I never have to meet your parents,” Hoseok said in a cold voice you'd never heard from him, and strangely you found it oddly seductive.

“What a bunch of assholes,” Taehyung said disdainfully.

“I'm not even going to correct you this time. What a bunch of jerks.” Jin shook his head, frowning.

“Look, who cares? You're an omega, so what? Is this about your heat? We'll find a way to deal with it, just like we do with our ruts. We don't care, that's not the most important.” Namjoon smiles affectionately at you, “The main thing is that you feel comfortable with us, that we're all comfortable with each other, that's how a pack works after all, isn't it?”

This time, you hid your face against Jimin's shoulder, unable to hold back your tears any longer.

“Wait... did I say something wrong?” Namjoon asked somewhat panicked, making the others laugh, even you, between sobs.

“Don't worry, some stress to relieve.” Yoongi grabbed Namjoon's hand, kissing his cheek at the same time, before moving back to the sofa. “She’s fine now, everything will be fine from now on.”

“Ah Noona, I was so scared!” Taehyung exclaimed as he came around to hug you from behind, his torso pressing against your back.

All these weeks, all this stress, this tension, this constant fear of living through this fateful moment had just come to an end tonight.

Wooyoung had been right, once again. Things couldn't have gone better.

Perhaps there was still the feelings thing, but for the moment, you didn't want to think about it. You just wanted to enjoy this moment, this acceptance you'd never had before today. You just wanted to enjoy Jimin's warmth, which you'd missed so much, and Taehyung's, and even Jungkook, who'd added to the hug somehow.

As Jimin said, he didn't let go of you all evening, snuggling up to you like a Koala to its branch. You don't remember how the evening ended, except that you found yourself lying in a bed between Hoseok and Jimin.

And for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, you slept a nightmare-free sleep, your heart and soul as light as they'd ever been.

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mari-lu0-0 · 2 months

Text

Do we hate each other?

Daeron Targaryen x f! reader Velaryon.

Summary: You and Daeron have always hated each other, but wasn't that hatred something else?

Description: All characters are of legal age, content +18, female masturbation, p in v.

Total words: 872.

A deafening silence fell in the dining room after the king's announcement.

You would marry Daeron Targaryen. Simply the most stupid, selfish and idiotic person in your most honest opinion.

You loved your grandfather with all your heart, but you really thought that at that moment he must have been having a serious hallucination, because that would be the only response to wanting to marry two people who would certainly kill each other if given the opportunity.

Your two hatred was known throughout the red fortress. Once when you were both still children, you threw Daeron off one of the small balconies after he called you a bastard and shouted for everyone to hear that Daemon Targaryen was your biological father, because for him that would be the only way for you to possess him. white hair and skin. Once again, Daeron trapped you alone in the Dragon pit with the intention of "helping you get a dragon" in his own words when he received a scolding from his father.

The list of arguments, small and big fights was miles and miles long, and you were determined to add another item to that list.

You walk hurriedly through the dark corridors with one thought in mind of killing Daeron Targaryen. But you are pulled out of your thoughts when your body is pinned against the wall.

"That was your idea wasn't it, if you think you're going to make me kneel before your mother you're really mistaken you little bastard."

"Fuck, only in your dreams Daeron would I lower myself to this level, now let me go before I..."

"Before you tell me, what are you going to do? Are you going to scream for help?" It says how much more your body is stuck to the wall and the next your face is.

"No, you son of a bitch, I'm going to kill you."

"What a dirty mouth, your mother didn't teach you good manners... Am I going to have to teach you that?" The same says the last part in his ear.

“Fuck you” you say in a whisper, making Daeron look into your eyes with an intense look.

"No... I'm going to fuck you."

After that, he sticks his lips to his. Surprised by his action, you decide to give in after a few seconds of shock.

The kiss deepens in an intense way, their tongues dance in an absurd synchronicity.

Daeron breaks the kiss only to start distributing kisses and small bites on his neck.

You feel one of his hands go up under your dress, slowly running up your leg until he reaches your underwear, where he rips it off.

A small moan comes from you after he passes his finger between your wet folds.

"I've barely got my hands on you and you're already soaked like a silk street courtesan?"

You think about responding but your mouth is filled with a moan, as you feel him work his fingers inside you with a speed and constancy that you didn't know you were capable of. When you start to feel a familiar feeling form in your stomach Daeron removes his fingers from you, causing a small nervous expression to form on his face.

"I think we're going to have to speed things up a little love, we don't want to get caught here, right?" The same person speaks while lifting her dress to her waist and then lowering her own pants to release their length.

"I promise we'll finish this before anyone else shows up." He says the same thing as he picks me up with a small push, causing his intimacy to rub together in the process.

Daeron lines up against your entrance and pushes, and then looks into your eyes for some denial, when he doesn't find it he slowly pushes into you. A moan escapes as you feel yourself being stretched.

"Oh gods, how tight you are." He moaned as he began to give light thrusts.

You smile mischievously when a

The thought cuts through your mind, you approach his ear and whisper.

"What is it Daeron? Is that all you can do?"

The same for any attack and gives him a mocking smile.

"I was thinking of treating you to a lady, but since your desire is different..."

Daeron tightens his hands on your waist and without any warning begins to thrust into you quickly and deeply, it doesn't take long for him to find your sweet spot, which makes you wrap your arms around him, scratching his back from above. of his clothes.

Quickly the two turn into a mess of moans and whispers, you feel the sensation of an orgasm rip through you, a while later you feel it fill your insides with his seed.

Daeron places one more kiss on your lips before withdrawing inside you and then going to put on your clothes. When finished, he turns his attention to you, placing your clothes in their proper place.

"Do we still hate each other?" He asks, pressing two foreheads together.

"Yes, we still hate each other."

You both let out small laughs before locking your lips together.

At that moment you were both sure that maybe the marriage between you two wouldn't be so bad.

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house targaryen #hotd x you #house of the dragon x reader #daeron targaryen

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solo-pitstop-vibes · 5 months

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Rowing Pair - Part Two | Don Hume

Don Hume x Original Character

Hi! This is definitely not super edited and maybe a little rushed, but I wanted to post something so here we are! Enjoy part two of Rowing Pair! More to come from Allie and Don...

Part one here!

...

Don gets a little courage after the Huskies' first win.

...

The early morning breeze is chilly coming off the water. Rowing practice is in full swing, and Allie is standing with the other coaches. Bundled up in a thick sweater, her arms are crossed for more than one reason. Ulbrickson paces the length of the Varsity boat, shaking his head,

“34 strokes. You’re fine at 34 strokes. Anything higher and you fall apart. 34 strokes, you don’t beat Cal. 34 strokes, you don’t win at Poughkeepsie. You certainly don’t get to Germany. You know who you beat with 34 strokes?”

He throws his arm out, pointing with his notebook. “The JV boat. Maybe,” he says, turning to the JV crew lounging on the dock. “What are you guys waiting for? Get back in the boat.”

Scrambling to their feet, the younger crew hustles back into their shell. The last few days of practice had not gone well for either team. The Varsity crew was looking worse by the day, and the JV boat wasn’t coming together as it should. Another hour passes with the rowing shells making their way up and down the channel. No one is happy with the progression of the day. The coaches are climbing out of the motorboat, waiting for the two row boats to finish floating in.

Allie looks to Ulbrickson,

“Permission to speak candidly, sir?”

Al gives her a curt nod.

“I don’t think Glenn is a good fit for the boat, they need someone with more fire. There’s a lot of energy to wrangle in that shell, and I don’t think he can do it.”

Al’s eyebrows raise in interest, “Okay, then who would you suggest?”

“You know who.”

That statement gets Allie a pointed look from Ulbrickson without hesitation,

“We’ll talk about it later.”

The next practice, Bobby Moch strutted down the dock and straight into the cox seat of the JV shell. Three practices later, they were rowing like a well-oiled machine. Allie stood next to Ulbrickson and Bolles, watching from the dock. Allie couldn’t help the smug smile trying to break its way onto her face.

“Better?” she asked Al, hands clasped behind her back as she rocked on her heels.

That got her another pointed look, but this time followed by a small smile.

“Better.”

...

“They’re catching up!”

Joyce’s voice rings out amongst the cheering crowd, her hand gripped tightly in Allie’s. Their eyes trained on the two boats making their way through the water, even from far away, they can tell Washington is slowly making their way alongside the Cal boat.

Allie declined Pocock’s invitation to watch along the shore of the finish line, instead choosing to watch the race with Joyce on one of the observation boats. She clearly made the better choice with how invigorating it was to her and feel the crowd cheer around them. Allie and Joyce were only one of many yelling at the top of their lungs as Washington surged past the halfway point, swiftly passing the waning Cal crew.

“Oh, you’ve done it now, Bobby,” Allie mutters under her breath.

Bobby gives the opposing coxswain a taunting wave as they push ahead. The Washington crew's speed began building and paired with a synchronized technique, they were pulling away. Each crew member strained with each row of their oars, and their chests heaved. The crowd’s volume surged, and the announcer began shouting through the intercom as Washington pulled further ahead. Approaching the finish line, they were ahead by a full boat. Closer and closer to the finish line, pushing themselves to the limit.

“And there’s the flag! Washington has done it!”

Allie and Joyce grab each other once again, jumping in joy with their arms around each other. Joyce exclaiming,

“They did it! They really did it!”

As they glide to a stop, splashing surrounds the winning crew as they celebrate. They’re all damp by the time they come to a stop, with huge smiles on their faces. Don shakes hands with Bobby before looking up into the crowd. Catching eyes with Allie, his smile widens as he excitedly waves in her direction. Allie laughs at Don’s excitement, sending back a small wave and a massive grin.

…

The party was in full swing by the time Allie arrived, and she stood outside for a few moments trying to get her bearings. She was practically shoved out of Ulbrickson’s office an hour ago with a promise from Tom that they were done reviewing footage for the night. Allie was still standing outside, nervously smoothing out her dark green dress when Bobby’s smiling face appeared in the doorway. His jacket had already been abandoned somewhere; his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Leaning on the propped open door, he spoke,

“Scared to come in?”

Allie shook her head, “No, it’s just weird because I’m late and coming in alone.”

Bobby clicked his tongue, making his way down the steps to her with his hands tucked in his pockets. “It’s not weird, I’ll go in with you. This party is just as much for you as it is for us.”

She didn’t move, just giving Bobby a nervous glance. Bobby’s expression softens,

“Hey, uh, I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway. Ulbrickson told me that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you and that I wasn’t an option until you suggested me. So, thank you. I’m really happy to be back on the team.”

Allie hadn’t known Bobby long, but they had become close over the summer. While he was strong-headed and liked to act on his own fruition, he always valued Allie’s opinion. She was stunned when he was removed from the crew. Unfortunately, Ulbrickson had used Bobby’s punishment to teach the crew a lesson. Everyone is replaceable, he had said. That’s why he was so hesitant to bring him back and eat his own words.

“I’m really glad you’re back too, Bobby. It wasn’t the same without you.”

Allie meant it. Bobby brought out more in the JV team than he ever could have with the varsity team, and the potential was building.

Bobby knocked his shoulder against hers, flashing Allie a cheeky smile, “Come on, time to let loose. I bet you can get some schmuck in there to dance with you in the first five minutes!”

Allie smiled softly, shaking her head, “Oh, maybe I’ll just watch. I don’t want to dance with just anybody.”

Before she finishes her sentence, the coxswain is already nudging her towards the door encouragingly, “Well I’ll dance with you if you don’t see anyone who passes the test. Although I might have a suggestion or two myself on who to go for.”

His hand is firm on her back as they break through the doorway. Allie glances around, looking for another familiar face. She spots Don almost immediately, sitting on a bench alone with his hands tucked in his pockets. His cute little frown painted across his face. He hadn’t noticed her yet.

“There might be one good one in this bunch, but I might take you up on that offer later,” Allie gives Bobby a small smile, glancing away from Don before Bobby could catch on. Little did she know, Bobby already had plans in motion. While he couldn’t confirm her crush on Don, he sure could confirm Don’s crush on Allie. Having caught on to Don’s puppy dog eyes at practice the week prior, Bobby was determined for Don to make a move after their maiden win. There was no better time.

In the center of the room, couples were dancing to the big band music flowing through the speakers with others sitting at tables that hugged the sides of the room. Allie finds Joyce and Joe sitting close at a small table and notices Shorty slipping off outside with one of Joyce’s roommates. Noticing Allie, Joyce waves her over, gushing about how great she looks. Bobby dashes into action, scrambling through the crowd to Don. Joyce would hold Allie off for a few minutes, she was a talker just like he was. Bobby slides down the bench, settling beside his teammate.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Don shrugs, “I’m watching.”

Bobby glances around, Allie is still talking to Joyce. Good. “Why aren’t you talking to anybody?”

“I’m not much of a talker,” Don replies. His hands are still shoved into his pockets, no intention of moving.

“Oh.” Bobby nods, “Well, look over there. See her?” Motioning in the direction of Allie, who has now glanced up and caught the pair talking. Don balks, catching eyes with Allie and swiftly looking away, straight ahead. His throat is dry, and he blinks, “Y-yeah, I see her.”

“Allie said to me that she wasn’t going to dance with just anybody. Now, I’ve offered to dance with her if she doesn’t want to dance with anyone else but…,” Bobby turns in towards Don for emphasis. “Listen, Hume. Tonight, not tomorrow night, or next week. Tonight is your best shot.”

A beat passes, and Bobby thinks he’s convinced him.

“You go on. I think I’m okay.”

Bobby could smack Don Hume upside the head in an instant. “Christ sake,” he mutters, glancing again between Don and Allie. Don nods his head in quick succession, confirming he’s not changing his mind. Yeah, he and Allie had talked a good bit, and he had walked her to her dorm a few times after practice, but she had only kissed him on the cheek once. There’s no way that Allie liked him, he thought. He felt like she was just that nice to everyone. Defeated, Bobby huffs again, looking around the room. All the other guys were dancing with a girl. Well, Johnny and Roger were dancing together, but Bobby could still count that as dancing with someone.

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and before he could think again, Bobby shoots off the bench and towards the stage. Quickly cutting the music off, he steps up to the microphone.

“Hey, listen up!”

The crowd stops dancing and turns to the commotion on stage, Allie included.

“We got a musician in our midst. With a little encouragement, we might just get him to give us some live music. Don Hume! Get up here. Get up here!”

The crew rushes around Don and despite his protests, they drag him up by his arms and carry him towards the stage. As they’re settling him down around the piano, Bobby motions to Chuck, quietly telling him to go find Allie and to bring her upfront. Chuck dashes off, racing through the crowd before finding the young girl towards the back of the room. She gives him an odd look when he stops abruptly in front of her, slightly winded from his frantic search.

“Moch is requesting that you come up front,” Chuck makes a grand gesture of holding his arm out for her to take, which she does hesitantly. Bobby had something in play, and she was suspicious. In a way, Bobby thought that above all else, if he could get both Don and Allie to let loose with a little fun and music, then he could call his plan a partial success. He hoped, however, that Don’s little performance might give him some courage. Don settles in at the piano and looks out to the crowd, just as Allie steps into place between Bobby and Chuck.

He forces himself not to freak out with Allie front and center. He glances back at the piano then back to Bobby, then to Allie. She looked beautiful. Her hair is down, blonde curls falling down her shoulders, and right then and there, Don decides that dark green is his new favorite color. Her full attention is on him, and for those few seconds, he felt like he was in heaven. Tearing himself away, he turns to the piano fully and takes a few deep breaths. This is it, he thought.

Before he can second guess himself, he starts off the first tune that comes to mind- the same tune that Allie had been humming to herself at practice. Don played the first few notes and Allie broke out into a huge smile, recognizing the tune immediately. Soon everyone was dancing and singing along with the JV crew singing the loudest. Enamored with Don’s newfound confidence, Allie could hardly look away even with Bobby, Chuck, and Roger taking turns twirling her around every so often.

They could dance and sing all night, but as Don plays the final notes and the song comes to an end, the crowd erupts in cheers. For a few moments, Don takes in the cheers and applause before he turns to the crowd and bows his head, looking up with a smug smirk. Quite the opposite of his usual shy smile. Allie catches his gaze when he looks up. She’s hooked the second they lock eyes. She almost feels dizzy when Don’s smug smirk is accompanied by a quick wink in her direction. A deep blush rushes to her face, her lip taut between her teeth. Now, she’s the one in heaven.

When Don descends from the stage, he’s greeted by more celebration from the boys grabbing him up and patting him on the back with each telling him how great of a job he did. Others from the crowd doing the same. Allie stood aside, waiting her turn to congratulate him after all the boys did. Once the crowd had settled down, Don finally turned to Allie.

“That was amazing! You were amazing!”

Someone must’ve turned the big band music back on and turned the volume up because Don could barely hear what Allie was saying. All he could tell was that she was excited and had a huge smile on her face, his smile mirrored hers. He shook his head, raising his voice,

“What?”

She tried repeating herself, but between the music and the crowd they were stuck in the middle of, neither could hear each other. Allie huffs after another failed attempt and grabs Don by the hand. Dragging Don behind her, much like a lost puppy, Allie makes her way outside where it is quieter. Once they make it outside and she doesn't feel the need to yell, Allie turns to Don,

“Geez, It’s too loud in there after all that. I have been trying to say that your performance was amazing and you’re amazing! Where did you learn to play?”

“I’ve been playing since I was little,” Don shrugs, a smile still stuck on his face. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. That was a lot of fun, but uh don’t tell Bobby I said that. He’ll be dragging me up on stage at every party.”

Allie laughs, “I promise I won’t tell Bobby.”

A few beats of silence fall between them as they just take each other in. An idea spurs in Don’s head. The music from inside can be heard softly from their spot on the top landing of the steps just outside the doors.

“Do you want to dance? It’s too loud in there, but it’s not so bad out here.”

Allie nods eagerly, “I’d love to.”

Softly taking her hand in his, Don gently pulls Allie in towards him. Swaying gently to the music, neither of them breaks their comfortable silence for a few moments. Resting her head on his collar, the pair are closer than ever. Ignoring the fuzzy feeling in her stomach, Allie is the first to speak up. “You did really great today, Don. You and the whole crew. I have a good feeling about this year.”

“Thank you, today felt good. It was fun,” Don replies. “It felt nice to have someone there cheering me on too. I’d win every race if it meant you were at the finish line.”

“Well,” Allie smiles bashfully, looking up at Don, “Don’t go around telling the crew I have a favorite. They’ll all get jealous.”

Don chuckles, “I won’t tell.”

Even in the dim lighting, the two are fighting off a blush, hoping the other won't see. To distract them both, Don steps back and raises his arm, letting Allie twirl in place a few times. Her soft giggle fills his ears as her dress flares slightly, making Don smile. His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s saying it to himself,

“You look beautiful.” A beat passes. “You always do.”

Allie’s breath gets caught in her throat, as Don pulls her back to him. Her voice is equally as quiet when she looks up at him and replies,

“Thank you.” Allie hesitates after finishing her sentence, trying to find the courage for her next words. “Don, I-“

She can barely get Don’s name out before a familiar voice rings out,

“Hey, lovebirds! Might want to come back inside, they just brought out a cake with all our names on it!”

Huffing at Bobby’s rude interruption, Allie steps away from Don slightly, who rolls his eyes at the coxswain. He wants to pull Allie back to him as she steps away. He keeps their hands connected, but his eyebrows are furrowed, “You were saying?”

Allie shakes her head, smiling softly, “It can wait, let’s get inside.”

…

Eeekkk! I couldn't decide if things were going to go further, but I'm feeling a slow burn for this one. More chapters to come!

#don hume #boys in the boat #don hume x oc #don hume x original character #don x alllie #jack mulhern #don hume x reader

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runariya · 28 days

Text

My Beloved Villain (JJK) • Chapter 4

pairing: hero!Jungkook x villain!female reader genre: dark romance, gore, villain!AU, hero!AU, slow burn fic rating: MDNI, 18+ warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, fluff, inner conflicts between good and bad, thoughts about murder, lies, date night, fluff, Jungkook is a hopeless romantic (let me live, I can't write him any other way), detailed description of assass!nation and fighting, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 7.3K

a/n: not edited - sorry 🥺

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to med school are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • masterlist • 05

Like morning dew burning off beneath the warmth of the sun, the anticipation for your upcoming date with Jungkook became a soothing balm, easing the sting of your failed plans as they fade into insignificance. The thought of it has been with you all day yesterday, lurking at the corners of your mind, filling you with an unfamiliar, innocent lightness. There is something about the idea of being with him—outside of your daily routines, in a space where you can allow yourself to relax, just for a moment—that makes everything else seem distant and irrelevant.

And as the hours of the day passed in a series of shared classes, the world shrunk to just the two of you, a comfortable rhythm that left you both physically drained but somehow still energised by the sheer presence of one another. His attentiveness, the way he slid a snack bar onto your desk just when your energy had begun to wane in the afternoon, made you feel like a simple girl worth of care. And though you don’t often let yourself indulge in such sweet feelings, you couldn’t help but hope that you’ll find a way to return his kindness tenfold.

Now, in your very first class of the next day, you sit side by side in the lecture hall, fingers quietly tapping at your laptops as you take notes on the professor’s monotonous ramblings. It’s the same droning voice you’ve been subjected to since the class started an hour ago, and the coffee that once kept you alert is losing its grip quicker than you hoped it will, leaving you teetering on the edge of exhaustion and resignation before the day even started. Every word of his feels like it's passing through a fog, and you find yourself struggling to focus as the professor drones on and on and on.

It’s only when an incoming email notification pops up in the lower-right corner of your screen, and, almost in perfect synchronicity, you notice the same alert flash on Jungkook’s laptop beside you, that the fog barely lifts. The click of typing halts as you and Jungkook pause, exchanging brief glances with raised eyebrows before turning your attention back to the notification.

The subject line catches your attention first, sent from the university’s secretariat. The body of the email, however, is harder to grasp in its entirety, your eyes skimming the opening lines, as you catch only fragments—words like visit, top-students, and mayor. A deep sense of unease begins to build in your chest, even before the loud rap of knuckles against the lecture hall door interrupts the class.

Instinctively, you look up as the door creaks open, revealing the dean standing in the entranceway. His gaze sweeps over the room, disinterested in most of the students until it lands on you and Jungkook. His face splits into a smile so fake it looks like it was sculpted by hand, each muscle strained into place where you know they’ve never been there before. He exchanges a few words with the professor—empty pleasantries at best—before addressing the room in a louder voice.

“Jungkook, Y/N,” he calls over all the heads sitting in front of you, “you’re dismissed for the rest of the day. Please, follow me immediately.”

The wild noise of your inner darkness roars to life, a deafness that fills your ears and clouds your senses. The discomfort ripples through your body, tightening your grip on your laptop, but you can’t focus on anything other than the way your heartbeat has quickened. You don’t trust this sudden summons, don’t trust in you not having the control. Not at all.

“Come on, let’s go,” Jungkook whispers, nudging you lightly with his elbow as he begins to pack up his things. His smile is small but proud, as though this is a reward, a recognition of his hard work.

You follow him on autopilot, closing your laptop with a dull *thud* that echoes across the silent lecture hall. You barely notice the eyes on you as you both rise from your seats, barely register the beginning of curious murmurs or the professor’s lackluster attempt to regain control of the room. The only thing that barely grounds you is the presence of Jungkook beside you, his excitement not affecting you in the slightest.

When you step outside, you’re met by your friends, the rest of the group classified as “top students”. Yoongi and Jennie stand with bored indifference, neither seeming particularly interested in the sudden shift in the day’s events. Hoseok, on the other hand, mirrors Jungkook’s enthusiasm, his smile wide and full of good-natured anticipation. But it’s Taehyung who catches your eyes. He throws you a glance—concerned, questioning if you’re okay—but you shake your head subtly, silently willing him to stay calm. Whatever is happening, you’ll figure it out soon enough.

The dean doesn’t give you much time to think, as he’s already moving, expecting you all to follow like obedient ducklings. “Mayor Park will be arriving in half an hour,” he explains hurriedly, his voice clipped with stress. It’s only now that you notice the small sweat beads on his temple and neck, his white dress shirt turning translucent under his arms. “The press will be here as well, so be prepared for a spectacle. Mayor Park is here to meet you all, give some motivational speech, and for the usual PR. It’s crucial that you present yourselves well. You’ll be representing the university, so do not embarrass us! Go grab your lab coats and make yourselves look respectable. We’ll meet back at the main building in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes, you hear me—no later!”

“Yes, Dean Yoon,” comes the collective response, though it’s more out of habit than genuine respect.

As the dean disappears down the hallway, the group begins heading towards the autopsy building to retrieve your lab coats. There’s some tension hanging over the group, though everyone seems to handle it differently.

“This is such a waste of time,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks beside you. “Like any of us care about some politician showing up to stroke his own ego.”

Jennie chuckles softly, flicking her hair over her shoulder, grazing your face as she walks before you. “It’s all for show. He doesn’t care about us either. We’re just props to make him look good in front of the press.”

“Props in lab coats,” Hoseok adds with a laugh. “But hey, free publicity, right?”

Jungkook is still smiling, his steps lighter than usual as he walks beside you as well. “I think it’s kinda cool. It’s not every day you get to meet Mayor Park, right? Maybe it’ll be fun.”

Yoongi gives him a pointed side-eye but doesn’t argue. Jennie just shrugs, her expression one of mild amusement as she looks over her shoulder, while Hoseok just grins, clearly not as bothered by the situation as Yoongi is. Taehyung, however, remains quiet, his usual playfulness subdued as he walks close behind you. You can feel his concern on your back, even though he says nothing, which you’re grateful for.

The enthusiastic conversation between Hoseok and Jungkook resumes all the way to the lab and while retreating your coats, but you stay quiet, lost in your own thoughts as you make your way to the autopsy building. The upcoming meeting with the mayor sits truly and utterly wrong with you, it disturbs your mind and peace, an unease that you can’t shake, making you restless, jumpy even. You hate not having control, especially when he’s involved, but you try to focus on the present, on the normalcy of walking with your friends, and preparing for nothing other than yet another tedious formality in your academic life. But it’s hard, the discomfort remains and clings to you like fluff to an old sweater.

The others still continue their conversation, Hoseok teasing Jungkook about his excitement, while Yoongi mutters something sarcastic about politics, but still, you just can’t seem to pay attention as the words fly over your head, your mind too preoccupied with the ominous feeling that’s been growing inside you since the dean’s arrival.

The walk back to the main building feels longer than it should, each step weighted down by the knowledge of what’s, or rather who’s waiting for you. As you near the entrance, the sight of the press setting up their cameras and microphones inside only heightens your unease. The dean is already there, waiting for you with a forced smile plastered on his face, his eyes darting between the clock and the approaching figure of Mayor Park’s entourage.

You all line up in a neat row inside the grand lobby of the main building, the sterile scent of freshly cleaned floors filling your senses, while the cameras are being prepped before you. The silence among you as you stand there doesn’t do much to make your thoughts clearer, every train of thought again and again broken off by the occasional shuffle of feet or the rustling of lab coats as you adjust yourselves into position. The others stand with varying degrees of interest and boredom, but you can’t seem to focus on yourself, can’t shake the consuming tension that’s been knotting tighter in your intestines since this fuss began.

Just as you get your breathing to even out, the grand doors swing open, and Mayor Park enters with a flourish, his well-tailored suit pristine under the lobby lights. He walks with a politician’s disgustingly practiced grace, his smile wide and calculated for the cameras now running. But your focus isn’t on the cameras. No—your gaze locks onto the three figures walking your way, your inner demon waking as if never slept to begin with.

The darkness spreads within you in milliseconds, making your skin prickle as your focus settles into one of a sniper. You’re eyes lock on Sangwook, his presence reminding you bitterly of the night you almost had part of your revenge, the night Pulse interrupted, the reason you’re still fighting this war at its beginning, still caught at the beginning of the shadows, still haunted by unfinished business. You can feel the darkness rising even more within you, clawing at your insides, hungry, restless like you’ve been the past half an hour.

But you force it down. Not here. Not now. Not with Jungkook standing beside you, not with your friends all around you, and certainly not with the press before you, cameras poised to capture every moment of this charade. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you bite back the urge to confront the devil and his companions. This isn’t the time for vengeance. You have to regain and stay in control. You have to keep up the act.

As Mayor Park steps forward to greet each of you in turn, offering hollow words of encouragement and praise, you school your expression into something neutral, something polite. But inside, the storm rages on, a battle between the light you’ve been trying so desperately to embrace and the darkness that has been your constant companion for so long. And when it’s your turn to shake Mayor Park’s hand, you can feel everyone's eyes on you, as if watching, waiting.

His hand lingers before you, PR-smile still fixed on his face, but his eyes—they are as empty as they were on that fateful night, void of anything possibly human. For a moment, you consider leaving him there, hand outstretched and waiting, watching the false warmth fade from his expression. But against your instincts, against your demon raging inside you, you reach out.

You clasp his hand strongly, calculating your movement, as your grip tightens deliberately around the base of his hand. And when for a millisecond his eyes flicker down to where your hands are joined, you know you’ve pressed the Ulnar nerve just right, sending sharp jolts of pain shooting through his pinky and ring finger, showing him that you did not break, that you rose from the ashes of the very flame he set to your family.

“It’s good to finally meet after all these years,” he says, his voice dripping with saccharine mockery. “Your father was such a loyal employee.”

The words, the false description of your father’s job, are poison, seeping into your veins, igniting the fury into a massive fireball that explodes under your skin. Loyal. A word meant to twist the knife deeper. You hold your smile, hollow and cold, a ghost of something real. Jungkook stands beside you, his confusion barely concealed as his gaze shifts between you, the mayor, and the tension between your clasped hands.

Dojin leans closer, tightening his grip, voice dropping to a near whisper as his disgusting perfume engulfs you. “You know, you look just like your mother. Truly angelic.”

Something inside you snaps. But the smile on your lips only widens, growing more hollow, more sinister. The words slither through your clenched teeth. “Funny, isn't it? It almost sounds like you’re seeking absolution in my resemblance to her. How quaint.” Your voice is laced with venom so sweet it almost passes as kindness.

For the briefest of moments, his smile falters, and beneath it, the rage—the same rage that lit up his eyes all those years ago—flares up, hot and visceral. But he masks it quickly, releasing your hand, and turns away to spout his lies to the press, painting the air with rehearsed phrases that drip with insincerity.

Jungkook leans in then, his voice soft but still filled with honest concern. "What was that?" His words are gentle, but his eyes are searching, trying to piece together the puzzle of your interaction.

You tilt your head slowly towards him, the smile still lingering on your lips, twisted and lunatic. “Just what it looked like,” you murmur, offering no more. The truth is buried too deep, and even if you tried, you know he wouldn’t understand the whole expanse of it all without disclosing everything. Sensing the wall you’ve built, or realising for the first time that there is one, Jungkook says nothing more, though you feel his eyes linger on you.

As the circus of an event winds down, the room empties, leaving behind nothing but the fading echoes of empty speeches. You drift with your friends towards the door, slipping back into the flow of meaningless chatter, though your mind remains miles away. Right before you step outside, you catch a fragment of the faint conversation of Dojin and his bodyguards, but it’s Jungkook who draws you back, his body shifting into your line of sight, blocking your view of the men who ruined you.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you ask, your voice distant, as if you’ve just returned from some far-off place.

Jungkook repeats himself, his tone gentle, patient. “I was asking if you’re okay.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you reply, the lie slipping easily off your tongue, though your mind screams otherwise. 'Save me,' you think, but Jungkook doesn’t hear what you cannot say, and instead, he watches you again for a beat longer, blinking in his concern. But eventually, he lets it go, leaving the darkness surrounding your mind in peace.

Standing before your closet, your fingers linger over hangers as you wrestle with a rising panic. The wardrobe, once a reliable collection of your well maintained comfort, now seems to mock you with its lack of options. It feels absurd, really—the way you’ve spent nearly an hour staring at clothes that have never failed you before. But this time, the stakes are higher. This isn’t just another day, another class, or another mindless hangout with friends. This is a date with Jungkook, and not just any date—your first real date. The thought sends your mind spinning in circles, reexamining every outfit with a critical eye that never seems satisfied.

You keep telling yourself you’re overthinking it, and maybe you are, but as the minutes slip by, your nerves cling tighter around your brain. A decision must be made, and eventually, as time conspires against you as well and forcing your hand to make a forsaken choice, you settle on something that has always made you feel like the best version of yourself—simple yet chic. The outfit flatters your silhouette just enough to remind you that beauty can be effortless when it’s honest, so you pull it on, check yourself in the mirror, and despite the chaos in your head, you can’t help but feel a spark of confidence. You might have just overthought your way into something that actually works—yey!

Makeup follows, the ritual of it calming your frayed nerves, brushstrokes turning anxious energy into something delicate and intentional. By the time you’re done, you hardly recognise the reflection staring back at you, though you’re not sure if that’s because of the makeup or the sight of yourself as you once were.

A knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts, and you take a deep breath, smoothing your outfit one last time before going to open the door. But when you pull it open, you’re not met with Jungkook's familiar face, not at first. Instead, an enormous bouquet of white hydrangeas and roses takes up most of the doorway, its sheer size almost comical in its grandeur.

Jungkook is barely visible behind it, but he leans to the side, a soft, tentative smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with a brightness that catches your breath so painfully good, you have to suppress a choke. You’ve seen him look at you countless times, but this time, there’s something different in his gaze—something that makes the air between you crackle with emotions never spoken of.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice light, almost playful.

Your face splits into a wide grin, the sight of him nearly lost behind the monstrous bouquet sending a ripple of giggles through you. “Kook, you really didn’t have to.” But even as you say it, you know how much it means. He always knows how to surprise you, how to make you feel cherished in ways that words sometimes fail to capture.

His smile softens, eyes sparkling as he steps forward, handing you the bouquet which you barely can engulf. “I wanted to,” he says simply, and there’s an earnestness in his voice that makes your heart beat just a little bit stronger. “You deserve the world and more.”

You stare at the flowers, your heart swelling as a few tears threaten to blur your vision. “I… I’m speechless, Kook. This is…” you laugh, your voice shaking just enough to betray the emotion within you. “But why this size? That’s so expensive!”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he watches you cradle the bouquet in your short arms. “I’ve seen you scrolling through Pinterest enough times to know what you like,” he teases.

The flush that creeps up your neck feels like a deep red now, your face burning as you attempt to play it off. You turn towards the kitchen, the flowers still balanced poorly in your arms. “I’m going to need a bigger vase for these,” you joke, though you’re already searching for a bucket, anything large enough to hold them.

Jungkook follows behind, his presence filling the small space of the dorm with warmth you didn’t know was missing. As you find a suitable bucket and begin filling it with water, you steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. His cheeks are flushed now, too, but it’s the way his eyes never stray from you that makes your heart flip. There’s something different about him tonight. He’s always been kind, always attentive, but now it feels like every glance carries weight, like there’s a depth to his affection that wasn’t there before, or maybe you just never noticed it as clearly until now.

And it’s true—you’ve had a fondness for oversized bouquets ever since that one evening, deep into Dojin’s election campaign, when your father came home later than promised. He had been swept up in the political race and, in the chaos, forgot to call ahead. Your mother, of course, wasn’t angry. She knew him well enough to recognise that his silence wasn’t intentional. Still, despite his exhaustion, your father returned the night after with a massive bouquet, much like the one Jungkook had just given you, though your father’s was overflowing with red roses.

“Here, let me help.” Jungkook steps up behind you, effortlessly lifting the now full bucket from the sink as though it weighs nothing. “Where should I put it?”

“My room,” you answer softly, already reaching for some wrapping paper to wrap around the bucket’s base. “I need to dress this up. I don’t want to ruin the aesthetic.”

Jungkook follows you to your room, heaving the bucket and flowers onto your desk while you immediately start wrapping around it. He spins lazily in your desk chair, making you giggle despite the nerves that still flutter within you. As you carefully tie a ribbon around the makeshift vase, your voice, hesitant and quiet, resonates through the silence and small space between you.

“So… why hydrangeas and roses?” you ask, casting a glance at him, curious to hear his reasoning.

Jungkook stops swirling, his feet grounding him as his cheeks flush with again with faint colour. “Ah, well… they reminded me of you,” he admits, his voice growing quieter with each word while his hands run up and down his thighs. “I mean, their meanings reminded me of you.”

Your fingers still against the ribbon as you turn to face him more fully, the question evident in your gaze. “Their meanings?” you repeat softly, not sure what to make of his answer.

Jungkook doesn’t look down, still his shyness intensifies. “White hydrangeas symbolise grace… and heartfelt emotions,” he murmurs, his voice cracking slightly. “And white roses… they represent purity, innocence… and new beginnings.”

You think you might faint at his words, your innocent self celebrating deep within you at the thought of a new beginning. Could this—what’s happening between you and Jungkook—be more than just a first date? Could it be the start of something new, something untouched by the darkness that has followed you for so long? You’ve spent so much time buried under the burden of your past, so much time chasing shadows and vengeance, that the idea of starting fresh feels almost foreign and too soon. But with Jungkook… maybe, just maybe, you could find a new way forward.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion as you reach for him. Jungkook takes your hand without hesitation, his thumb tracing gentle patterns over your knuckles. His eyes never leave yours, and in their depths, you find something you never thought you’d feel again—hope.

“Let’s go,” Jungkook says quietly, pulling himself to his feet, his fingers still entwined with yours as you leave your dorm and walk off into the early night.

The restaurant Jungkook has chosen is familiar, a cozy little Italian place you’ve visited before with your friend group. But tonight, it feels different from all the times spent here. There’s a quiet intimacy to the way the lights cast an amber glow over the tables, and the soft strains of music seem to weave around the two of you, creating a cocoon that shields you from the rest of the world and everything that haunts you.

Jungkook pulls out your chair for you, a small gesture that makes your heart explode into confetti, making you fall for him deeper and deeper. His kindness isn’t new, but tonight, it feels magnified, every little thing he does carrying more weight than usual. As you both settle in, you can’t help but feel the shift in the air between you—the way it softly hums with something more than just friendship, something deeper and sweeter.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Jungkook begins as he picks up the menu, his eyes scanning the options but his attention clearly divided. “About how… you don’t always feel like you deserve nice things.”

You freeze for a moment, the words catching you off guard. You weren’t expecting him to bring it up again, especially not tonight. You’d mentioned it just this once, offhandedly, in a situation that felt light at the time, but apparently, Jungkook hadn’t forgotten.

“I just… I want you to know that you do,” he continues, his voice settling around you like a warm blanket. “You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

You smile, though it’s small, tentative, as you look down at the menu in your hands. It’s not easy to accept his words, not with the weight of your past still clinging to you like tar, but his sincerity makes it harder to dismiss them outright. He means what he’s saying—he truly believes you deserve more than the shadows you’ve been living in.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice quiet as you meet his loving gaze.

Jungkook nods, smile widening as he reaches across the table to take your hand. His touch is warm, grounding you in a way that makes you feel more present, more here. You’re not sure when you started feeling this way about him—when his presence became something that could chase away the darkness. But sitting here with him now, with his hand in yours, it feels like maybe this was meant to be all along.

The conversation flows easily after that, the two of you slipping into the familiar rhythm you’ve always shared, but there’s something new underneath it all, a current of something stronger, something that feels a little like the beginning of love. It’s in the way he smiles at you when you laugh, the way his fingers linger against yours when he hands you the bread basket, the way his eyes soften into puddles of shining stars when you catch him staring at you across the table.

"It does feel different, doesn’t it?" you ask, fingers playing with the edge of your napkin.

"Yeah," he says, leaning forward slightly. "But good different."

You nod, letting your gaze fall to the candle flickering between you. "It does. We’ve been here so many times. But it—" You pause, smiling softly. "It feels special tonight."

Jungkook grins, cheeks flushed as he glances at the menu. "So, tell me something I don’t know about you."

You bite your lip, thinking. "Well, my childhood was... complicated." You choose your words carefully, keeping the truth buried beneath layers of vague recollections. "My parents, they passed away when I was a teen."

He looks up from the menu, his expression gentle. "I read about that fire. I didn’t want to bring it up... I’m really sorry."

You offer him a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "It’s okay. My mom was cooking dinner that night... things just went wrong." The words are light, brushed off like the remnants of a distant memory. You’re careful not to let him see the truth that festers beneath.

He nods slowly, his gaze searching yours. "And after... you lived with Taehyung?"

"Yes," you say, exhaling a soft breath. "His family took me in. We’ve been close ever since childhood." You lift your glass, taking a small sip before continuing. "And now... here I am, med school and all."

Jungkook chuckles lightly. "You're amazing, you know that? Everything you've been through... and you're still standing strong."

You meet his eyes, feeling a warmth spread through you, something fragile but blooming despite the faul soil. "Thank you. How about you?"

“My childhood? It was… pretty normal, I guess. My parents were always around, super protective. Especially my mom. She used to hover a lot,” he says with a soft laugh, a warm, nostalgic smile spreading across his face. “She’d always pack me lunch, even in high school. And not just a sandwich or something small. I’m talking full-on bento boxes, with little designs in the food. It was kind of embarrassing back then, but now I look back and miss it, you know?”

“Oh, I can tell, you’re still eating like a bottomless pit.” You joke, knowing he likes it when you’re this playful.

He glances at you then, you expect him to laugh with you, but his smile is dimming a little as he continues. “My dad… he was strict, but he just wanted the best for me. Pushed me hard, made sure I always had something to work towards. But… I was a bit of a handful,” he admits with a grin. “I think I drove them crazy sometimes, always running around, never sitting still. My older brother had it together, but me? I just wanted to do everything at once.”

“That’s totally normal, Kook, don’t beat yourself up for this.” You reach for his hand, cradling it to soothe any doubt he has in himself.

His gaze softens as he shrugs, almost shy. “They gave me a lot, though. Support, love… I was really lucky.” He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking up to meet yours after staring at your joint hands. “But I didn’t always appreciate it back then. You know how it is when you’re young… you don’t really see everything they do for you until you’re older.”

“Yeah.” You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to stir the conversation away from this heavy topic. You appreciate his honesty, you really do, but it’s the bitter taste of you holding back the truth, that blocks your thoughts from forming.

Thankfully, Jungkook leans back in his chair, his expression softening as he studies you. "So, what do you like? I mean, aside from making everyone in class jealous with your grades?"

You laugh, a genuine sound that cuts through your mind’s fog. "I like simple things, really. Music, books, late-night walks... And you?"

"I’m pretty much the same. Music, of course... and working out, boxing. But I’m guessing you already know that," he adds with a sheepish grin. "It helps me clear my mind, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that," you reply, nodding. "Sometimes, you need something to take the edge off. For me, it’s those cute kitten videos."

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow. "I didn’t know that."

You shrug. "Well, now you do."

He smiles, a tender smile that makes you want to capture it like a polaroid. "I like learning things about you."

You return his smile without a beat, your heart light and singing as you say "And I like sharing them with you." And the conversation doesn’t seem to crease after that.

By the time the meal is over, you’re both lingering in your seats, reluctant to let the night end. You know you’ll have to return to your dorm eventually, but for now, you’re content to stay in this moment a little longer, to savour the warmth that fills the space between you.

As Jungkook walks you back to your dorm, the night cool against your flushed skin, you can’t help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this way—since you’ve allowed yourself to feel this way. And as you reach your door, turning to face him, you realise that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something good.

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence swirls around you, but it’s not uncomfortable, filled with all the things you want to say but don’t quite know how to express. He steps closer, his hand finding yours once again, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But instead, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the gesture so sweet, so tender, that it makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

“Goodnight, ___,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“Goodnight,” you reply softly, your voice barely more than a breath.

As you watch him take a step back, your heart feels light, full in a way it hasn’t been in years. There’s still so much you don’t know—so much uncertainty about what the future holds—but for the first time in a long time, you feel hopeful. Maybe this is just the beginning, but it feels like a good one.

As Jungkook walks away backwards, still smiling at you, still reluctant to let the night end, something shifts within you, and it’s like the light that forced your brightness within you to shine in its full force, dims with every step he takes, taking it and all the warmth with him as if it always was his to begin with. The smile on your face turns brittle, plastic, and a hollow sensation settles in your chest. Behind the mask of sweetness and light that you’ve worn for the evening, the impatience of the demon within you grows, gnawing forcefully at the edges of your control. The demon magnifies, stretching and clawing, until all remnants of joy and happiness dissolve into the endless void aching for revenge.

You step inside your dorm, and as the door clicks shut, the smile falls from your lips like a discarded veil at a wedding. You waste no time, and strip off the clothes that made you feel beautiful just moments ago and replace them with the black gear you’ve come to associate with your truth and fate.

Something inside you flips, like a switch toggled into place, and just like that, you’re gone—no longer the person who had been with Jungkook at dinner, no longer the person who basked in his warmth. You’re someone else now. Someone darker. Someone deadly. There’s no joy left. No happiness. Only a singular, burning purpose that consumes everything else. The void inside you aches for release, for the satisfaction of revenge, and it’s all you can feel now.

You begin to prepare methodically, stretching your muscles and joints, warming your body for what the night demands from you. You remember the conversation you overheard between Dojin and his stupid bodyguards—Chulsoo will be alone tonight. The thought lingers. You wanted to start with Sangwook, to make him the first, but maybe fate is offering you a different path. Maybe this is a sign that Chulsoo, taller and stronger though he may be, is meant to go first. It doesn’t matter in the end; they will all fall. Every last one of them.

You slip out of your dorm and move through the neighbourhood, undetected, a shadow among shadows. It’s a path you know well, the routine of it bringing you a twisted kind of joy. The city’s pulse begins to pick up as you near the bustling nightlife, where buildings stretch higher into the sky and people crowd the streets, oblivious to the darkness lurking in their midst. You stick to the alleyways, your steps light, your movements fluid, until you reach the first landmark—an alley beside a Chinese restaurant.

You pull yourself up onto the trash bins outside, the narrowness of the space making it easier to scale the walls like you’ve done countless times before. From there, it’s a series of practiced motions—small leaps from one rooftop to the next, each building taller than the last as you make your way toward your destination.

At last, you arrive at the balcony of Chulsoo’s office, your landing soft and graceful, almost feline in its silence. The city buzzes far below, but up here on this skyscraper, it’s eerily quiet. The office is dark except for the dim night lighting of the building, casting long shadows across the room as if painted with charcoal. You glance around to make sure no one is near, your senses tuned to the slightest disturbance. The night is lonely, just as you’d hoped.

You slip behind one of the balcony posts, peering inside through the glass. The office’s low lighting is enough to spot what you came for. There, seated at Dojin’s desk, is Chulsoo. He’s lounging in the chair with his feet propped up on the desk, watching a football game on his phone. The back of him faces you, his attention completely absorbed in the small screen.

You test the sliding door’s lock silently, and to your satisfaction, it moves without resistance. Unlocked. Another careless mistake on his part, another beautiful wrapped gift to you. The door opens just enough for you to slip inside, the noise of the city creeping in faintly, but he doesn’t hear it. He’s wearing earphones—his second mistake. It feels like luck is on your side tonight, but you know better than to trust in fortune. You’ve come too far for that.

The demon inside you snarls in anticipation, laughing menacingly as you creep up behind Chulsoo. You catch your reflection in the darkened screen of Dojin’s computer—the mask you wear, its smile wide and empty, mirroring the cold emptiness and lunacy within you. Childhood remains oblivious, lost in the game playing on his phone, unaware of the storm about to descend upon him.

In one swift motion, you lock your arms around his throat, pulling him into a headlock. His phone slips from his hand, clattering to the floor with a broken screen. His body reacts instinctively, muscles straining against yours as he thrashes. But it’s his feet—still propped on the desk—that give him the leverage he needs. With a powerful push, he throws himself backward, sending both of you tumbling to the ground. You hit the floor hard, the weight of his body crashing into yours, pinning your legs awkwardly beneath the chair.

But you only grit your teeth against it, refusing to let it slow you down. Chulsoo wrestles to free himself from your grip, and you dig your elbow into his front, trying to regain the upper hand. He’s taller than you, stronger, and he uses his size to his advantage, rolling over in your hold to straddle you, his hands finding your throat in an instant. You twist beneath him, trying to slip free, your body burning with the effort as your vision starts to blur.

You manage to kick the chair out from between you, throwing his balance off just enough to create an opening. In a flash, you’re on your feet again, lunging for him. The fight spills out of the office, your bodies colliding with walls and furniture as you grapple for control. Everything happening all at once—punches and kicks, blocks and dodges, the sound of grunts and gasps echoing through the empty office space. Chulsoo grabs a heavy glass ashtray from the desk, swinging it wildly at your head. You duck just in time, the ashtray shattering against the wall behind you.

He’s relentless, coming at you with the kind of brute force that could only come from someone used to winning fights by sheer size and strength alone. But you’re quicker, more agile. Every time he lands a blow, you counter it with something sharper, something faster. The office transforms into a battlefield, chaos reigning as desks are overturned, chairs sent crashing to the floor, papers swirling in the air like torn shreds of white flags that will never be surrendered. The metallic tang of blood fills your mouth where one of his punches grazed your lip, but you taste it with satisfaction, the pain fuelling your determination even further.

Chulsoo grabs you by the collar, throwing you towards the door that leads to the staircase. You crash into it with a heavy thud, the impact sending the door flying open, while feeling your joints blocking through your back and ribs. A low “Uff” escapes your lips as you hit the railing behind you, the cold metal biting into your spine. But there’s no time to catch your breath—Chulsoo charges at you, full force, his eyes wild with the intent to finish you off.

At the last second, you spin out of his path, and he crashes into the railing with a sickening thud. He staggers, dazed, and you seize the opportunity, wrapping your arm around his throat from behind yet again, pulling him into another chokehold. You tighten your grip, feeling the demon within you thrashing against the cage of your control, hungry for the kill. You could end him right here, with your bare hands. It would be easy. It would be satisfying. But something goes wrong.

Chulsoo’s foot slips against the slick floor, his balance faltering. Before you can tighten your hold, he stumbles backward, his body teetering dangerously over the edge of the railing. His eyes widen in panic as he tries to grab hold of something, anything, to stop his fall. But there’s nothing to hold onto.

With a final scream, he tips over the railing, his body plummeting into the abyss below. The sound of his fall echoes through the stairwell, punctuated by the sickening thud of his body hitting the railings on the way down. You watch, frozen, as his limp form finally crashes to the ground below, a twisted heap of flesh, bone and blood.

This isn’t how you wanted it to end.

The rage that fills you is immediate and scorching. The demon inside you roars, seething with frustration, its hunger again left unsatisfied. This was supposed to be precise, fucking controlled. You were supposed to kill him with your own hands, not let him fall like some clumsy idiot. This… this is unsatisfying to all end. Again.

You grip the cold metal of the railing with white-knuckled fury, your mind spinning with barely contained rage that courses through your veins. Every inch of you aches for release, for some way to expel the unforgiving heat that burns beneath your skin. But there’s no outlet. There’s only the hollow victory of Chulsoo’s broken body far below.

The door behind you creaks open, and you feel him before you even turn around.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to school your expression. When you finally turn, your face masks, twisted into a smile that never reaches your eyes—a smile that could only belong to someone who no longer cares.

Pulse stands there, his eyes wide with shock as he surveys the scene. He knows immediately that he’s too late. His shoulders slump, the weight of his failure settling over him like a shroud. You can see the realisation dawning in his eyes—he’s failed to stop you this time.

Without a care, you walk towards him, your steps slow and. Graceful where no grace is found. He watches you approach, his gaze searching for something—an explanation, perhaps, or a hint of remorse. But there’s nothing for him to find. You’re empty. The void inside you yawns wider.

As you pass him, you glance up at him with that same twisted smile, teeth painted in your own blood and murmur, “You’re too late, Dulls. Try harder next time, yeah?” You give his chest a light pat, a condescending gesture that only deepens the devastation in his eyes.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t react. He just watches you disappear into the night, unsatisfied and unseen as you came, leaving nothing behind but the wreckage of your vengeance.

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • masterlist • 05

a/n 3: hope you've enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like! And to spice things up even more, we'll do a little game through the story:

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

taglist: @darkeneddiary, @dumbheadblog, @jksusawife, @jayhoneybeecomb, @kookienooki, @hagridshaircare

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magicshopaholic · 7 days

Text

Part 1: A Rainy Day

Summary: Namjoon is on holiday with his girlfriend - and without Namjoon, all hell breaks loose.

Pairing: OT7 x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, fluff, angst, chaos

Word count: 6.9 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language

A/N: I can't believe we're finally here! This fic has been in mind for so long, slowly evolving from a concept with a soundtrack to a whole outline and now to a complete half of a fic! Everything from the song to the situation to the leap that most of the characters will take feel like a milestone, so here's hoping it's a good one *insert gatsby meme*

The teaser to this fic got a lot of reactions :D so to make it worth the anticipation, this will be split into two parts. It is set a week or so after Dinner at the Kangs'. Enjoy!

Tagging: @bbl32@quarter-life-crisis2@dreaming-with-happiness@faearchives@margopinkerton@purpleseoul7@confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids @whoisbts @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “bittersweet symphony" by the verve

teaser | main masterlist

November in Seoul rolls around unexpectedly soon and occupies its usual position: a harbinger of the cold and white winter months, making the heat and humidity of summer a distant memory.

With BTS’s world tour officially at an end, followed by its normal uptick in concert clips and dance challenges floating around the internet while the company celebrates amidst figurative piles of cash, the members finally have the luxury of a few weeks off work where seeing them off stage and in casuals is the new novelty.

This includes Namjoon as well. After a tumultuous year of heartbreak and pain and longing, along with the real and genuine fear that he may have to give up the girl of his dreams due to extenuating circumstances, he and Kaya mutually decide that they need time away to reconnect with each other. Leaving behind their homes in Seoul and Amsterdam respectively, they reunite at Auckland Airport from where they take a cab in relative anonymity to begin their vacation.

With Namjoon gone, the company automatically takes it easy on the group as well. With Namjoon gone, the members manage to relax, able to keep an additional distance between them and the company before work inevitably starts again and the nomadic life of sleepless nights, dance practices and event appearances resurface.

Perhaps they underestimate their leader’s role in their lives, or it simply does not occur to them just how dependent they all are on each other after a decade of working, living and breathing in synchronicity. Namjoon is only gone for three weeks in total - but with Namjoon gone, all hell breaks loose.

With Namjoon gone, one member crosses a line.

With Namjoon gone, one member unintentionally makes a mess.

With Namjoon gone, one member makes a joke without realising its consequences.

With Namjoon gone, one member does something he’s ashamed of.

And with Namjoon gone, two members kiss someone they shouldn’t.

—

“Screen, food, lights - check.” Jimin tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he frowns at his phone screen, eyes flitting between it and the writing pad he’s hastily scribbling on. “Need to pick up the champagne - oi, Jungkook, can you give me a ride to the liquor store? My car is getting serviced this weekend.”

“What about your Toyota?”

“It’s at my apartment. That’s farther than the liquor store.”

Jungkook pauses and looks up from the stove, across the kitchen island from Jimin. “Wait, the liquor store is in the building. Why do you need -”

“Not that liquor store,” interrupts Jimin patiently. “I need to go to the one in Gangnam, which has the tasting menu and assortments.”

“Why -“

“Because it’s Sooah’s birthday,” answers Taehyung from where he’s lying down on the sofa, scrolling through his phone and not bothering to look up. “Normal champagne won’t cut it. Not for Kim Sooah.”

Hoseok frowns, coming up from behind Jimin and peering at the writing pad. “Why not? Wait - why do you need professional lighting and sound equipment?” he asks, reading from it. “And food from Golden Pig? I thought the lunch was at MOBO Bar. Hang on -“ He looks bewildered. “Isn’t her birthday tomorrow?”

“The lunch tomorrow is for all her friends,” supplies Jungkook, pouring a steaming pot of cooked ramen into a bowl. “Tonight is just hyung and Sooah.”

“Yes, and don’t anyone be late tomorrow.” Jimin reminds them in a business-like tone, continuing to check things on his phone and tick them off. “I know you guys have to film a thing tomorrow morning, but make sure you come straight there. And, seriously - can anyone drive me to the liquor store or not?”

“I have a Zoom meeting starting in five minutes,” says Hoseok, clapping him on the back, “or I totally would. What about Yoongi?”

“He’s not here. He left for a meeting in Incheon this morning,” chimes in Jungkook again. “Won’t be back until later.”

“How much later -” Hoseok starts to ask, but is cut off by Jimin huffing.

“So no one can take me to the liquor store?” he demands. “Which is, like, twenty minutes away? I wish Namjoon hyung were here,” he adds sullenly, shaking his head. “He would’ve driven me.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” says Hoseok indulgently. “Taehyung, you can take him. Your car has a ton of extra space, too.”

“I’m busy,” answers Taehyung listlessly, still on his phone. When no one responds, he looks up to see all the other three staring at him. “Fine, I guess I could,” he agrees with a huge sigh, clambering off the sofa and trudging to the dining table, sliding into the seat adjacent to Jimin’s.

Jimin narrows his eyes. “It’s not such a big deal, you know. You can just give me your keys if you want.”

“Yeah, why are you in such a mood today, anyway?” Hoseok asks, his hands on the back of Jimin’s chair.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, running his hands over his unwashed face. “I’m just…” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Hungry, I guess.”

“Hungry?”

“That’s code for horny,” says Jimin, raising his eyebrows nonchalantly when Taehyung looks up to glare at him, but doesn’t disagree.

Hoseok snorts as Jungkook joins them with his ramen, silently sitting across from Taehyung. “That must be some dry spell if you can’t help out your buddy,” he says, a bit pointedly.

Taehyung observes Jimin for a moment, then sighs. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s go to the liquor store. I’ll help you look for the best champagne out there - and since you’re not driving, you can try every single thing on the tasting menu,” he offers in a moment of generosity.

Jimin’s head snaps up from his phone. “Really?” When Taehyung nods, relief floods his cherubic face. “Thank God. Because I - I really need tonight to be absolutely perfect -”

“I know, I know,” interrupts Taehyung, clapping him on the shoulder and standing up. “I’ll just grab a quick shower and we’ll go. Jungkook,” he says, waiting for the younger member to look up in surprise. “Want to come along?”

Jungkook, who’s polished most of his bowl clean by now, looks up at him with wide eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah,” answers Taehyung evenly. “Why not?”

There’s a flicker of doubt in Jungkook’s eyes which he seems to partially blink away. “Yeah. Yeah, no, yeah - I mean - sure.” He scoops up a large bite of noodles with his chopsticks and inhales it. “Jus’ give me a minute,” he says through a mouthful of food.

Taehyung nods. “Ramen looks good,” he says after a moment. “Can I have a bite?”

Jungkook nods instantly and pushes the bowl across the table. Taehyung takes a bite, slurping the sauce until he’s swallowed the entire thing. “Delicious,” he says honestly, waiting just long enough to see Jungkook smile before turning around and heading into his room.

—

“This one’s fruity,” decides Jimin, smacking his lips and frowning seriously. He places the small glass down and picks up another, giving it a sniff and proceeding to take a sip. “But this one is definitely more bubbly.”

It takes a lot for a liquor store to provide a tasting menu for champagne, but for the correct price, it can be done. Taehyung isn’t entirely sure how much Jimin has paid for this particular round of testers but he gives his honest opinions, careful to keep his friend’s spirits high for today.

It hadn’t occurred to him back at the house, but it seems obvious now why Jimin is so anxious about tonight. If Taehyung’s hunch is correct, it’s because it’s Sooah’s first birthday since they’ve gotten back together after years of sniping and occasionally hooking up, and Jimin has taken on the pressure to make it perfect to the next level.

“I like this one.” Jungkook points to a bottle on the shelf. “We had it after the last concert, remember?”

Jimin looks up briefly and shakes his head. “Chandon is the last resort, if I find nothing better today. Come on, it’s Sooah’s birthday. Chandon is way too basic.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows but says nothing, his eyes meeting Taehyung’s, who takes his hunch to be correct.

“I’m going to go see if there are any other bottles at the back,” says Taehyung, leaving Jimin to overthink the little glasses of bubbly liquid. He stops by one of the staff and leans in. “Can you bill a Chandon anyway?” he asks in a low voice. “Just in case?”

“Of course. Should I combine it with Mr Park’s other purchases?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Put it on my tab.”

The staff nods and takes a bottle up to the register as Taehyung turns the corner to another shelf full of champagne, Jungkook a few steps behind him.

“That was nice,” he comments, hovering at the edge of the shelf.

“He deserves it,” mutters Taehyung, feeling slightly guilty about his standoffish behaviour at the dorm a little while ago. “Guy’s stressing way too much. I know Sooah will love whatever he’s planning. She’s chill that way.” He pauses. “What is he planning, anyway?”

“I mean, I don’t know all the details but I think it’s one of those movie screening things at the park.”

“In public? At the park? What - are they going to sit in the back and pour out champagne while everyone else is drinking cokes and beers?”

“What? No, he rented out the whole park,” explains Jungkook. “It’s just them, with a huge screen and seating and food - and champagne, I guess. He’s got professional sound equipment and heating and blankets and everything. He really went all out.”

Taehyung stares, a bit horrified but mostly impressed. “Wow. That actually sounds really romantic.”

“It does,” agrees Jungkook absently, peering at the label of a bottle where he’s still standing at the end of the aisle. “I just hope it goes well.”

“So do I. And I hope it doesn’t rain,” he points out. “It’s been drizzling every day and raining in parts of the city. It could really put a damper on the whole outdoor movie thing.”

“Yeah. Hopefully it won’t.”

“Hopefully.”

A slightly awkward silence falls over them. Taehyung glances over at him to see him pick up a bottle of whiskey from the opposite shelf. He turns the bottle over in his hands before looking at the price tag, letting out a low whistle and placing the bottle back.

“What about you?” When Jungkook looks up, Taehyung continues. “Any plans today?”

“Uh, not really.” He pauses. “I have a date, actually. Kind of.”

“Yeah? With the tattoo artist?” When he nods, Taehyung grins. “Nice. Why aren’t you more excited about it, though?”

Jungkook gives a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. I was thinking of blowing it off. Going to the gym, maybe. Namjoon hyung usually joins me on Fridays and we spot each other on the bench press but I guess I’ll have to go alone today. Unless you want to come along?” he asks hesitantly.

Taehyung had spent a couple of hours at the gym yesterday but he nods anyway. “I’d love to, but why are you avoiding your date?”

“I’m not avoiding it. I haven’t worked out in, like… three days.”

“So come back and work out.” Taehyung frowns. “I have nothing to do all day so I’ll be here whenever. You may want to go easier on the weights with me, though.”

Jungkook chuckles, sounding relieved. “Give yourself a little more credit than that, hyung.”

“Please. Namjoon broke the lock on my bedroom door with one hand the day he left when he was looking for a spare set of Airpods.” Taehyung shakes his head. “He’s a menace, and he just adds to it whenever he starts working out.”

Jungkook laughs. “We’re definitely less clumsy in the gym than he is, that’s for sure. Is seven pm good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dilara has been pestering me to give boxing a shot, so, you know. Tonight might be the night.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. That’s a good idea. I mean -” He shakes his head, as though getting rid of a fly. “It’s… it’s an idea.”

Taehyung is about to comment on this strange response but notices Jungkook gazing intently at the whiskey shelf again, his ears slightly red, and decides not to.

Ever since the Samsung event nearly a month ago, Jungkook has been almost walking on eggshells around Taehyung. Taehyung wishes he wouldn’t; that night had been awkward at best and contentious at worst, and had been entirely unexpected on various fronts. However, he and Dilara had awoken the next morning in an air of mutual forgiveness and shared an intimate couple of hours before breakfast, filled with silent apologies and hope.

Regarding Jungkook, Taehyung had had every intention of giving him the cold shoulder for a while, at least, still somewhat peeved at the sudden confrontation from his very non-confrontational friend. As it turned out, the moment they’d all reached Seoul and climbed out of their separate SUVs, Jungkook had cornered Taehyung outside their building and begun apologising profusely.

That had taken him more off guard than their argument last night; Taehyung had tried to get a word in amidst the explanations but looking at how horrible Jungkook clearly felt, he hadn’t had the heart to give him any more grief about it. Somehow, the whole situation had ended with Taehyung comforting Jungkook, telling him to forget about it, that he understood he and Dilara were friends.

Jungkook had looked like he wanted to say something more but he’d shook his head instead, and they’d hugged until Dilara stepped out of her SUV. Jungkook had skirted around both of them for the next few days until Dilara had left Seoul, after which Taehyung had gently but categorically told Jungkook to chill out.

He isn’t sure if Jungkook has got the message yet. He thinks he has for the most part; they’ve hung out many times since then, for work, with other friends - but maybe the mention of Dilara has suddenly made him clam up again.

“Sir.” The same store staff who was ringing up the Chandon appears from behind the shelf. “Mr Park has picked out a Cristal that will be delivered to his residence shortly. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Taehyung starts to say as he and Jungkook begin moving towards the front of the store. As the younger member continues on his way, Taehyung stops. Retracing his steps, he picks up the bottle of whiskey that Jungkook had been examining.

“Can you add this to the Chandon?” he asks, waiting for the store staff to nod before he joins his friends.

—

Seokjin [12:30] Are you working late today?

Seulgi [12:33] Not sure. Why?

Seokjin [12:33] I’m on my way back from Annyeong now so I should be in Seoul in a couple of hours. Wanted to see if you maybe want to go out tonight?

Seulgi [12:36] It’s supposed to pour today. And doesn’t look likely with my calendar anyway.

Seulgi [12:37] But I’ll try, in case something opens up.

Seokjin doesn’t reach Seoul until almost three hours later. The long solo drive was a nice way to get some time to himself, especially with the mild anxiety that had started to creep up over the last couple of days, almost as though he was forgetting something. He would’ve spent a lot less time driving but the traffic was maddening; as per the radio, it was due to people driving in and out of the city for the weekend combined with rain warnings.

He reaches the dorm to find it empty. Ordinarily, he would’ve gone back to his own apartment but something about being back in his childhood home for a week, along with Seulgi’s distant demeanour, makes him want to be around his friends for a little bit.

As it turns out, none of them seem to be home at the moment but he knows they’re here: there’s a bowl in the sink with ramen sauce smeared on it; a Gucci hoodie he knows is Jimin’s is draped over the back of a chair; Taehyung’s bedroom door is slightly ajar, the bedcovers unmade and clearly slept in.

Seokjin sinks onto the sofa and lies down on it, closing his eyes and preparing for a nap. He has no plans for today whatsoever, especially if Seulgi doesn’t get back to him. He isn’t entirely surprised at her mood; ever since he’d ventured into the territory of him and Nari, she’d begun distancing herself from him.

He couldn’t blame her; he had no idea what he was walking into with Nari and the fact that Seulgi had to stand by and wait for him to figure it out would have to rankle. He wasn’t fully surprised when, a couple of days after the fact, she confessed to Seokjin that it wouldn’t be the worst thing to take some time apart.

Sleep doesn’t come to him, not really. He dozes off at least half a dozen times without actually falling asleep, his mind constantly replaying the last few weeks, with that nagging sense of stress and anxiety a constant in his mind. Seokjin lazes around until he marks the attempt futile, just as the front door opens and Jimin strides in with his phone to his ear, followed by Taehyung and Jungkook trooping in behind him.

“Hey, hyung,” they chorus, Jungkook falling onto the sofa next to Seokjin. “When did you get back?”

“Just a little while ago.” Seokjin looks around at them, rubbing his eyes. “Are you guys also staying here this weekend?”

Before any of them can answer, one of the other bedroom doors opens and Hoseok steps out, stretching and yawning. “Hey, hyung. How was the champagne tasting?” he asks Jimin, who holds up a finger as he continues talking.

“Oi, Hobi, you’re here, too?” Seokjin frowns, bewildered. “Wait, have you been here this whole time?”

Hoseok nods and points noncommittally to his bedroom as he walks over to the dining table to peer into a bag that Taehyung has placed on it. “Ooh, Chandon. Is that the one he picked finally?”

“Jimin chose the Cristal,” says Jungkook. “And he’s getting it delivered.”

“He did and it is,” confirms Taehyung, and says no more.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “Okay. And what about the Jameson?”

“That’s for Jungkook.”

Hoseok just about catches Jungkook’s surprised look before Seokjin speaks again. “So - wait, I thought Jimin’s lunch was tomorrow.”

“Sooah’s, and yes,” says Jimin, getting off the phone and finally looking up, seeming a bit frazzled. “Tonight is just me and her. There was some kind of confusion with the food,” he says to Taehyung, who’s giving him a questioning look.

“Oh, hey, if Sooah is going to be with you tonight, does that mean Chaeyoung will be home alone?” Hoseok asks.

“I guess,” answers Jimin vaguely as his phone rings again. “Damn it, it’s the park coordinator again.”

“The park?” Seokjin raises his eyebrows sceptically as Jimin takes the call, and turns around to look out the nearest window. “It’s already drizzling. It’s supposed to pour tonight, you know?”

Hoseok shrugs, while Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t matter. Jimin is in charge and if he wants to give the birthday girl a night in the park, he’s going to make sure it happens.”

And suddenly, Seokjin knows what he’s been forgetting.

—

“Okay, wait.” Jimin exhales sharply and closes his eyes. “You said that you do have an option of a makeshift roof or something - but now you’re saying you don’t want to do it? I put a deposit down on the whole place,” he reminds him.

“Mr Park, I’m saying we can do it but I don’t recommend it,” says the coordinator patiently. “We use that for light drizzles or snowfall but the downpour that’s been predicted will render it useless.”

“There’s been a downpour predicted every single day of this week and nothing has happened,” he points out. “I’m okay to take that risk.”

“It’s not just the furniture, Mr Park.” The coordinator sounds mildly stern now. “It’s a lot of expensive sound equipment as well and I cannot, in good conscience, risk having it outside -“

“Okay.” Jimin interrupts him, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think. “What if we moved it to slightly earlier?”

“It’s already drizzling, sir.”

“Fine, do you have a different spot in the park?” He asks through gritted teeth. “Something more canopied, perhaps?”

The coordinator hums vaguely and there’s the clicking of a keyboard in the background. Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung, who’s approaching him with a questioning look, and mutes the call.

“I’m going to kill this guy,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I've been planning this for a month and he’s pulling the rug out from under me now?”

“I mean, he may have a point. If it rains then your plan is ruined - but it’ll probably stop in a bit,” Taehyung adds hastily when Jimin glowers.

“God, I hope so,” he says, although even he is starting to think that it might not. “I can handle a slight change of plan with the venue but the rest of it has to be perfect. There’s the food and the cake, and - oh, did the champagne arrive?”

“Er, not yet.” Taehyung checks his watch. “They said they would send it in an hour, right? Should’ve been here by now.”

Jimin is about to swear but just then, the park coordinator says something. He waves Taehyung away, accepting an encouraging clap on the back, and gets back on the call.

“Sir, we might have something on the other side of the park,” he suggests hesitantly. “The view is not the same, but it fits the general requirement.”

“The view - you mean it doesn’t have a view of the Han.” Jimin takes a deep breath, preparing to choose his battles. “Okay. What is this other side of the park? Where - how - I mean, what does it look like?”

“It’s in a way that the screen and the projector and all the sound equipment will be protected, but you and your companion will still be able to enjoy the beautiful outdoors.”

Jimin frowns. “How -“ Somehow, all he’s able to picture is some kind of garage where everything is stuffed in and just two lawn chairs and dragged out onto the grass.

“It’s available for inspection now, sir. But we don’t have a lot of time as we need to confirm the booking at least two hours before the actual event in order to make preparations.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and he lunges after Taehyung, grabbing his hand and checking his watch. “It’s almost five pm! I was supposed to have the venue from seven pm anyway!”

“You are an esteemed client, Mr Park, so we can make that exception. Our staff is very efficient and can help you -“

He resists the urge to scream over the phone at someone who, at the end of the day, is just doing his job.

“I’ll be there,” he says quickly and hangs up. “Okay, I’m heading out,” he adds to nobody in particular, but Taehyung follows him into his room anyway.

“Everything okay?” he asks, stopping at the doorway.

“No. Actually, you know what? Yes,” says Jimin firmly, shedding his clothes and throwing on the outfit he was planning to wear (comfortable jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket, plus a Gucci hoodie of his that Sooah loves to snuggle in). “It will be okay because there’s really no other option.”

“Look, I’m sure it’ll work out fine, but… I mean, I’m sure Sooah will appreciate the thought no matter how it goes,” he reasons.

“You know, I’m sure she will,” agrees Jimin hurriedly, “but I need this to be more than just a thought. Okay? Because this is - this is -” He struggles for a few moments before giving up. “This is Kim Sooah,” he says finally.

Taehyung looks like he wants to say something but instead he simply nods. “Okay, go, then. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah - can you bring the champagne down there once it gets delivered?” he asks immediately, rushing out of the room and gathering his phone and keys. “The food and cake will come there directly - hang on, I need to check out -” He fishes out his phone and makes a call, tucking the phone in between his ear and shoulder.

They reach the living room and Jimin scans it to see Hoseok, Seokjin and Jungkook in front of the television, sharing a large bowl of popcorn while a football match goes on.

“Jungkook, I’m taking your car.” Jimin grabs a bunch of keys from the side table and, without waiting for a response, dashes out of the front door.

The park coordinator may not have been completely wrong; the rain is already at a steady speed, enough that most people have pulled out their umbrellas and the roads are starting to get jammed. He drives to the park anyway, a little unsettled at seeing it completely empty this time of day, leaves the Gucci hoodie in the backseat and runs inside towards the office.

The coordinator seems to be waiting for him. “Right this way, Mr Park,” he says immediately, barely giving Jimin time to run a hand through his damp blond hair before ushering him out under a black umbrella.

“This is the alternative?” Jimin asks a few minutes later, staring up at the thick cloth separating them from the rain.

“Yes - now I know it’s not probably what you pictured but it’s the best we can do in such short notice, Mr Park.”

“Actually, this is exactly what I pictured,” he murmurs, heart sinking. It does look like a makeshift garage in front of them, like something he would’ve planned back when they were in high school, using a bedsheet for a screen and a Bluetooth speaker for an innovative night out, with instant ramen and cokes. He’d hoped that now, all these years later, they were finally due for an upgrade - but the universe clearly had other plans.

Okay, Jimin. Stop whining. Just think. He takes a deep breath and turns around, wincing a little and trying to ignore how the rain is getting louder by the minute.

“Okay, so it’s… five-thirty,” he says. “Sooah will be here by seven which gives me just enough time to follow up on the food and drinks. What?” he asks, when the coordinator’s assistant looks confused.

“Well, it’s - it’s just -” She stutters, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Won’t the food get ruined, sir?”

“Why will it -” Jimin stops, closing his eyes. The rain. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Sir, we can arrange for a table next to the screen under the roof so you and your friend can come up and take your food and go back outside -” He stops abruptly when he sees Jimin’s incredulous expression. “I mean… it could be like a buffet,” he reasons in a small voice.

“It won’t be anything like a buffet. Sir, come on -” He sighs, at his wit’s end and getting anxious. “Can’t we get - I don’t know - something stronger up there to protect us from the rain? The screen, projector, electronics - all of that is going to be under the roof. The sound is going to be compromised because of the rain anyway - can’t we just get a slightly stronger thing above our heads so the food doesn’t have to move, too?”

The coordinator starts to say something sympathetic when Jimin’s phone rings. He apologises and picks it up immediately. “Taehyung! Come to the other end of the park - no, not that side. The side by the exit parking lot.” He stays on the phone for another minute until he spots Taehyung jogging up the path with an umbrella in one hand and a plain tote bag in the other that Jimin assumes contains the champagne.

“Thank God,” he sighs, shoving his phone back in his pocket as Taehyung reaches him.

“Okay, listen -” Taehyung holds up a hand. “Don’t freak out. But I think when you gave the liquor store your address, you gave them your apartment and not the dorm. But - “ He says loudly, preempting Jimin’s heart stopping in his chest, “I got this as a backup,” he says, retrieving a bottle of Chandon from the bag.

It’s not what Jimin had chosen but the fact that something has found a solution is more than he could hope for right now. In a moment of emotion, he hugs Taehyung tightly.

“Alright,” says Taehyung gruffly, patting him on the back. “Come on now, you have things to do, Jimin. Oh, speaking of which,” he adds as Jimin steps away, “Sooah called me a little while ago. I don’t know if she was looking for hints or what, but I told her you’re working really hard at it.”

“You did?” Jimin can’t decide if this is a good thing. “Alright. Well. Got to get it done, then, I guess.”

“It’ll be great. Don’t worry.”

There’s a clap of thunder and they both jump. Taehyung opens his mouth, clearly looking for words of comfort but eventually gives up. Giving Jimin another pat on the shoulder, he hurries away in the rain, the umbrella barely helping anymore.

—

Stepping out of a hot shower, steam still rising from the bathroom behind him, Seokjin ties a towel around his waist and enters his room. The moment he does, the first thing he sees is the view outside the window, with rain lashing down the city. He stares at it, horridly fascinated, when he remembers.

He sits on his bed, glad he’s in the warmth of the dorm, and makes a phone call.

“Hey,” he says, glad she picked up on the second ring. “How are you?”

“Fine,” says Seulgi, but she doesn’t sound curt. “You?”

“I’m okay. What about you? Are you still at Big Hit?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh, have you looked outside?”

“Oh. That.” Seulgi sighs. “Yeah, it looks pretty bad. But I still have work to get done so I’m stuck here for a while no matter what. All I can do is hope the rain stops sometime tonight.”

“The forecast says it’s going to go on really late,” points out Seokjin, peering out of the window uneasily again. “I can barely see the river from my window anymore. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get home now before it gets worse. I can pick you up,” he offers.

“No. I mean - no, thank you,” she amends, her voice softening a bit. “I told you, I have a ton of work to get done. There are still two whole meetings to go - I don’t think I’ll be able to leave before ten, no matter what.”

“But it’ll get actively dangerous to commute in worse rain than this,” he argues. “The company should care about an employee’s wellbeing over a meeting.”

She scoffs. “You work for the same company, Seokjin,” she reminds him. “How many times have they prioritised your wellbeing over a work commitment?”

To this, Seokjin has no answer. “You have a point,” he admits grudgingly, and is heartened to hear her chuckle. “Okay, but can you tell me whenever your meetings do end? I’ll pick you up - and I’ll drop you to your place,” he clarifies quickly. “If that’s what you want.”

Seulgi doesn’t reply for a few seconds. “Seokjin,” she says carefully, but then sighs. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I don’t know if…”

He waits for her to continue but when she doesn’t, he speaks. “Look, I’m not trying anything,” he says, turning away from the window and feeling the same guilt he’s felt around her for weeks now. “But these are special circumstances. I mean, I don’t know if you have a window anywhere around you, but it is insane out there right now.”

“Alright,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll let you know. Chances are, the rain will stop.”

“Let me know either way.” Seokjin waits until she hangs up, not really sure what he was expecting from this exchange. Seulgi wasn’t off base at all; apart from the rain, the constant nagging guilt at putting her through this period of doubt definitely played a part.

He isn’t any closer to figuring out his stance with Nari. Seulgi feels far away, farther away than a girlfriend should. It’s a mess and all he can do now is wait.

The rain pours harder, the sky darkening and thunder deafening. Jungkook is lazing around the house, doing laundry and other chores while Taehyung is video calling a friend who’s working abroad. Hoseok is a ball of nervous energy, mentioning more than once that he hopes Chaeyoung is okay in the storm and safe at home.

Seokjin just waits, until a couple of hours later, Seulgi finally lets him know.

Seulgi [20:00] Hey. So my second meeting hasn’t even started yet and I think the company has finally caught on to the situation outside. Apparently they got a government advisory about the storm and that it’s only going to get worse.

Seokjin [20:01] So… what? They’re not letting you leave?

Seulgi [20:02] They’re advising us not to. And honestly, I don’t think anyone should be outside in this rain. Apparently parts of the city are losing electricity, too - another team was supposed to have a work dinner in Hongdae but it got cancelled because the whole restaurant shut down.

Seokjin [20:03] How will you get home then?

Seulgi [20:03] They’ve set up rooms here - I think they’ve repurposed the resting rooms that the idols use on the top floor for the rest of us mere mortals. It’s not ideal but it’s better than trying to go out there.

Seokjin bites his lip. It sounds rather like she’s made a decision, albeit grudgingly, and in typical Seulgi fashion, has told him subtly not to bother coming over. It’s hard to argue when she hasn’t said it in so many words, and even harder to justify an argument while being able to hear the wind outside.

“What are you guys planning to do for the rest of the night?” Seokjin asks, looking up at the others.

“Not sure,” answers Taehyung, getting up from where he was lying on the sofa and walking towards the kitchen. “Lazy night in, I think. Jungkook has a date, though,” he adds, grinning.

Hoseok whistles teasingly as Jungkook chuckles, his ears going slightly red. “I do but it’s raining so hard. I’ll probably have to cancel,” he says, giving Taehyung a sheepish smile that Seokjin doesn’t fully understand.

“Okay, so that’s two. Hobi?” Seokjin taps his watch. “What about you?”

“Oh, uh…” Hoseok shakes his head, looking a bit distracted. “Not sure. Why?”

“Just - just curious. Seulgi was just saying that there’s an advisory about the storm floating around and Hongdae has lost power or something, so in case any of you have plans…”

Hoseok’s face goes slack. “Hongdae lost power?”

“Well, one restaurant in Hongdae lost power as far as I know -”

“Chaeyoung lives near Hongdae,” mutters Hoseok, tapping furiously on his phone before putting it to his ear. “Sooah is out with Jimin so she’s probably alone…” He taps his foot impatiently for a few seconds before swearing. “She isn’t picking up.”

“Maybe it’s a signal issue,” Jungkook starts to say, but Hoseok is already off the sofa and grabbing a jacket. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To check on Chaeyoung,” he answers bluntly, rummaging for his car keys in the bowl on the mantle and dashing out of the apartment without any further explanation, the door slamming shut behind him.

Seokjin’s heart races; it’s a gale out there, but this is a sign. Chaeyoung must matter that much to Hoseok, if the decision was that quick for him. He checks his watch again to see it’s a quarter past eight. He traces the familiar route in his mind, calculating how much longer it will probably take him to get there than the average day.

Something clicks and he hurries up off the couch as well, pulling his shoes on before the other two even seem to realise that something has happened.

“Wait, where are you -”

Taehyung is cut off by the front door slamming shut for the second time. Seokjin hurries down the hall, checking his pocket for his phone and keys as he takes the elevator to the basement car parking.

If he had been amazed by the rain from inside the three storey dorm in Hannam Hill, he wasn’t ready for the real thing. The moment he pulls his car out of the parking lot and above ground, the sound of the rain hitting the roof of his car is like gunshots. For a moment, he considers reversing and doing this another day but the fact of the matter is that today is the day.

In the distance, he sees what could be another set of headlights turning down a path and out of the main gates that he guesses is Hoseok. Making up his mind, he heads out, trying to drive as carefully as possible in the severely compromised visibility of the streets.

The roads are largely empty save for buses, some taxis and cars that seem to be desperate to get done with the night. Despite knowing the route like the back of his hand, Seokjin plugs in his phone and turns on the map in case there are road blockages, and starts driving.

He has no idea what Big Hit can possibly do when it comes to building any sort of nightly camp for its employees in the office. All these years, his attempt has remained to stay as far away from that artificially lit building as he possibly can, preferring to cling on to the vestiges of normal life outside of it.

Namjoon will know. The answer comes easily to him and even though the leader is on holiday, Seokjin decides this is enough of an emergency to disturb him during it. He calls him and waits, still driving through the rain as best as he can, the roads flowing and reflecting the street lamps, the sheets of rain falling with a vengeance.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, possibly because it's his last few hours of vacation. Swearing uncharacteristically, Seokjin dials the next best person. The line crackles and a woman’s voice, a bit far away, sounds abruptly before another takes its place.

“Hello?”

“Yoongi,” says Seokjin gratefully, swerving down a lane and wincing as he splashes a row of bikes parked along the side of the road. “Listen - have you ever seen the resting rooms on the top floor of the company building?”

There are sounds at the other end, of similar rain and splashing water. The woman’s voice floats again, a soft “Shit” in the background before Yoongi speaks.

“What?”

“The resting rooms on the top floor,” repeats Seokjin urgently, honking at what he thinks might be another car coming the opposite way. The side mirrors are completely useless by now. “Have you seen them? What are they like?”

“Oh, that? The ones for the idols?” There’s a screeching sound on the other end and Yoongi swears this time. “They’re fine, I guess. I’ve crashed there a couple times after all-nighters.”

“Really?” Relief washes over Seokjin but before he can say anything further, the voice at the other pierces the air.

“Yoongi - that’s a tree!”

“Fuck!” Another screeching sound, a loud one, and then silence. “Uh… hyung,” says Yoongi, sounding uncertain. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

The line goes silent but Seokjin has what he wants. He just hopes Yoongi is okay and makes a mental note to call him in a little while as he pulls onto Hangang-daero, passing building after building - museums, a school, the ramen joint where he and Seulgi had first gone to almost a year ago… he keeps going, barely able to see the flyover in front of him through the rain. His wipers work overtime as he passes the last building before the bridge, seeing the company logo flash momentarily in his rearview mirror before it disappears.

The areas off the main road are darker somehow, the roads narrower, trees thicker and the rain seeming even more stifling. But the closer Seokjin gets, the more he’s convinced that he’s made the right decision. He parks the car in his regular spot and, holding his hood over his head, sprints across the street as the raindrops pelt him until he enters the building, already fairly wet.

He doesn’t dither; running upstairs to the first floor, he knocks on the door, thankful that there’s a sliver of light underneath. Behind him, the storm rages on. As he waits, Seokjin turns to look outside the window in the corridor, seeing small gusts of wind and trees moving with the force. Twenty seconds and his socks and shoes are drenched; he slides open the window slightly and immediately backs away, the wind and droplets hitting him instantly.

The sound of the door opening is the only thing louder to him than the rain. He turns around, his heart hammering.

“Seokjin?” Nari frowns, in a college hoodie and faded jeans, thick socks on her feet. Her hair falls unbrushed down her shoulders and she’s clutching a sheaf of papers in one hand. “What are you doing here?”

He wants to smile; it’s automatic, so he does. Taking a step forward, he thanks his stars he decided to leave the dorm, rain be damned.

“Hi, Nari,” he says, watching her forehead clear just a little bit. “Happy birthday.”

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#bts fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #wkcnet #namjoon x oc #seokjin x oc #yoongi x oc #hoseok x oc #jimin x oc #jungkook x oc #taehyung x oc

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jooheonspinky · 12 days

Text

Trivia: Love Part 5 -Final

Characters: Namjoon x Female Reader

Genre: idol!au, angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: set during the COVID pandemic, mentions of mask-wearing and COVID tests, fluff, fingering, unprotected sex (both get STI tested before visits, as per contract. Not specified in story, but Y/N takes birth control).

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Part 5

Word Count: 5.3K

November 30, 2021

His day off turns out to be one of my favorite days ever with him. After Mr. Choi comes over to watch us complete our daily COVID test, we spend time reading on the couch. Well, he’s reading while his head rests in my lap and I’m studying for the exam I’ll have a week after I return home.

It’s peaceful and relaxing. Any time I have any dark thoughts about how we will probably never have a day like this ever again I push the negativity away doing my best to hold on to the present time.

We have lunch, and just like at breakfast, we talk. The two of us provide one another with glimpses into our personal lives. The information we’d kept to ourselves, afraid of oversharing in the past, now flows freely between us. The more he tells me, the more my heart warms. The more I want time to stop, to keep us locked in this day where it’s just the two of us and no worries of ruining careers or receiving hate and threats just because we want to be together.

“I have an idea,” he announces as we wrap up lunch and gather our dishes.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

He doesn’t say but grins instead as he leaves the food cart outside the suite’s door. I watch as he casts his phone to the TV and pulls up a website. I smile fondly at him as I see what loads. Namjoon beams at me before sweetly kissing my temple.

“I thought I’d share one of the places I love to spend time in.” He guides me closer to the screen, his arm snaking across my lower back to rest gently at my hip. “This is one of my favorite artists…”

I blink rapidly, willing away the moisture gathering in my eyes. The excitement in his eyes and voice makes me long for things I know I can’t have and it hurts. It feels wonderful, yes, but it hurts even more as I hear him explain each piece of art as we move through the virtual rooms of the various art exhibits. A few hours pass as he encourages me to share my interpretations of what I see and he does the same, the two of us grinning when our views synchronize. We laugh when what I get from the work is vastly different from what he does.

But it’s all perfect. Exactly how I imagined it would be if we were to attend a museum or exhibit out in the real world together.

I’m astonished when I see that night has fallen beyond the windows of our blissful oasis. Tomorrow the interviews, practice, and sound check begin again as we come upon the last two concert days. Soon Namjoon will have to go to bed to have enough sleep to get through the hectic schedule. The idea of wasting precious time sleeping has my stomach clenching. I clutch my abdomen and Namjoon looks down at me.

“Are you hungry?”

The thought of food doesn’t sit well with me and I shake my head, my nose scrunching.

“No, but if you are… that’s ok.”

“Why don’t I order us something light and we just chill the rest of the night?”

“Ok.”

I nod and wonder to myself if he’s trying to extend this day as long as possible as well. After tonight, we’ll only see each other for a few hours in the morning before he leaves and then again when he comes back after the concert where he would only have a few hours to catch some sleep before he has to get up again to prep for the last concert.

Time is passing extremely fast, and my visit coming to an end much too quickly now that we know exactly how we feel about each other.

“Food should be up in just a few minutes,” Namjoon informs me.

“Mhm,” I murmur.

I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t even heard him make the call. I smile at him as he approaches me, his knuckles coming to skim down my cheek.

“Are you ok?”

The low, deep tone of his voice rumbles in my chest and makes my smile widen. He’s so sweet and in tune with my emotional state. I don’t think I could lie to him, even if I wanted to. He would know.

“Not really.” I sigh. “My mind keeps drifting to the day I have to leave. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to do that.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows pinch together, his jaw clenching and unclenching. It’s difficult now not to see his feelings for me. How I could ever have been so blind is a testament to my own insecurities and I try not to dwell too much on all the wasted time because of it.

“I’m not giving up on us,” he says firmly, tugging me by the hips so that I’m even closer to him. “We’re going to figure this out, so let’s not worry about it tonight.”

I want to share in the same hope; share in the belief that there actually could be a positive outcome to all this. I will that feeling into the smile I give him and lean up to peck his lips.

“Ok.”

He returns the smile and urges me to the couch where we fall into it, cuddling and watching the baking show I’d had on the day before while we wait for the food to arrive.

December 1, 2021

My belongings lay scattered about the room—books, clothes, and fragments of the days I have spent here with Namjoon. He was at the venue, lost in the rhythm of practice and preparation for tonight’s concert. I wanted the hours to sprint by, each tick of the clock bringing me closer to him. Yet, on the other hand, I wish for time to slow, to savor these fleeting moments before our paths diverge.

I glance around, wondering where to start, but it’s not long before everything blurs as my mind wanders. I think of the contours of Namjoon’s face—the curve of his lips, the intensity in his eyes. How many times did we laugh here, argue there, and get lost in our passion in between? Our shared time here was etched into the walls, into the very air I breathe.

As the night deepens, I trace the outline of our story—the highs and lows, the crescendos and pauses. And I make a silent promise—to hold onto this thing we have, even when miles stretch between us. To remember Namjoon’s smile, the way he says my name and the constellation of moments that defined us.

The suitcase beckons, its emptiness echoing my heart. I close my eyes, willing time to bend—to linger, to stretch, to grant me one more stolen second. But the reality was unyielding. Tomorrow, I will board that plane, and Namjoon will go back to South Korea.

How does one prepare for goodbye? How does one fold deep feelings neatly into a suitcase, tuck it away, and carry on? And so, I pack not just clothes and books, but also the ache of longing—the bittersweet symphony of a farewell. Once everything is put away, I zip up the suitcase, set it by the bathroom door, and sit on the bed.

Outside, the world moves on, oblivious to my inner turmoil. Tomorrow, a driver would arrive—a silent accomplice in our farewell. The stadium would echo with music, and I would sit among the crowd, watching him perform. Applause would rise, but my heart would beat out of sync, knowing that it was quite possibly the final act.

I sigh softly, trying to shake off the sadness knowing Namjoon would be back soon. I climb out of bed and head to the living room to turn on the TV, wanting to be as close to the front door as possible for when he arrives.

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls. I stand the moment I hear the door beep as the lock disengages. Namjoon steps in already showered and changed, his hair still wet. His hair that just this morning had been a dirty blond now glistens a deep scarlet as he approaches me. He walks with purpose, coming straight to hug me without a word. His skin is still heated from his activities on stage.

“Your hair.”

I smile fondly up at him and he returns the gesture, dropping a quick peck on my lips.

Carding a hand through his damp locks he asks, “You like it? The stylists thought it’d be a fun change for the last two days.”

I nod.

“I like it. It looks good on you.” I offer the compliment and his dimples deepen. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes though. “You ok?” I ask.

“Can I just hold you for a little while?”

My smile widens and I nod. He tugs my hand as he settles onto the couch. I start to sit next to him, but he redirects me to straddle his lap.

“Oh!” I breathe as I acquiesce.

He rests one hand on my waist, and the other at my lower back. I tuck mine under his, pressing myself into him and lying my head on his shoulder. We sit quietly for some time, his hand absently rubbing my back as he loses himself in his thoughts.

What must be going through his mind? Most likely the same things I had been pondering on earlier. The hug is as much for him as it is for me. I could sense he was trying to pull comfort from the act, strength to get through our last night together.

Our last night. How had it come so swiftly? This couldn’t be it… could it?

I nuzzle into his neck, pressing a kiss to the soft skin there. Namjoon’s fingers dig into my hip, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he fists my top, gently hugging me tighter to him. I palm his cheek, my thumb grazing his cheekbone as I nip, lick, and suck at his neck, taking care not to leave a mark. His rumble of satisfaction as he squirms beneath me heats my blood, and my heart begins to race in anticipation.

I can already feel him hardening beneath me and my hips instinctively begin to roll along his covered length. Namjoon lifts my top from me, tossing it to the side, my bra following soon after. His hands skim across my skin, as if he is trying to touch every inch of my body one last time. I swallow thickly, trying to stay in the moment, even while sadness washes over me. He reaches up, his hand on my nape guiding me down to his awaiting lips. He kisses me deeply before releasing me.

“Take these off,” he orders, his voice gravelly.

I stand to take my shorts and underwear off and he does the same before sinking back down into the couch. He stretches his arms out to me, guiding me down onto his stiff cock. We both groan as he stretches me deliciously. His hands immediately caress over my ass as I lean forward. Arching my back, my breasts are shoved into his face and he wastes no time to latch onto one of my pebbled nipples.

His name leaves my lips on a moan as my hips grind into him. His mouth moves to give equal treatment to my other breast while his hands on my ass help to push me down onto him, bringing him deeper inside me. The movements are slow at first, my stomach tightening as pleasure begins to build, but as he begs for more kisses, I oblige, our lips locking again as he picks up the pace. His hands shift to my hips to help me match his pace. It’s difficult to keep the kiss going, but it’s with our lips joined that we find ourselves cumming at the same time, our mouths swallowing up each other's blissful exclamations.

We remain seated, him still inside me though softening by the second. With our fingers intertwined, I relax into him as our breathing begins to slow. Namjoon is a man of few words, but his eyes speak volumes. I can see the conflict within him—the desire to stay, to hold what we have close, and yet the weight of duty pulls him away. His job demands sacrifices, and this was one of them. We had known this day would come, but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

I lean my head on his shoulder again, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into me. The TV plays in the background, a mindless distraction from the ache in our chests. The characters on screen laugh, love, and face their own trials. It’s a cruel juxtaposition—our love story unraveling while fictional ones flourish.

“It’s not fair,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes as I break the silence.

My heart hurts the most it has ever and I feel as if it will shatter in my chest at any moment. I sit up a little so I can see his face.

His eyes meet mine, his gaze searching. “I know.”

“What are we gonna do?” I murmur despondently.

He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “But I’m not going to stop trying to figure this out.”

I nod, because that’s all I can do.

“Come on. Let’s shower and then go to bed,” he urges as he begins to stand.

I slide off of his lap and let him pull me along to the bathroom. I feel numb as the warm water washes over us, his hands gentle as they glide over my skin, cleansing away the evidence of our lovemaking from moments ago. It takes all of my willpower to keep from crying again. I don’t want to make this any more difficult than it already is.

When I’m back home and by myself, I can let go then.

I help him shower as well and it’s not much longer before we’re done, dried off and lying beneath the covers. His arms envelop me, my body molding into his.

With a kiss on my shoulder, Namjoon whispers, “Good night, my Nabi.”

“Good night, my Moonchild.”

December 2, 2021

Namjoon’s alarm cuts through my sleep and I jolt up in bed.

“I’m sorry,” I hear him call from the bathroom as he rushes to the bedside table. “I forgot to turn it off when I woke up.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Are you going to be ok to perform today?” I fret.

Namjoon shrugs, a small smile dancing on his lips.

“Once the adrenaline kicks in, I’ll be fine.”

I nod and follow him to the bathroom. I wrap a robe around myself and then brush my teeth as he finishes getting dressed. He exits, and I follow, watching him lace up his shoes before standing and slipping his phone into his pocket.

“So this is it.”

He swallows thickly, taking my hand in his. We walk to the front door, pausing for a moment.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, his eyes locking on mine, the earnestness there bringing tears to my eyes. “It may not be tomorrow or a month from now, but I have to believe we are going to figure this out.”

I hold back a sob as I press my lips to his, tasting the salt of my own tears. It’s a bittersweet kiss—a farewell and a promise rolled into one.

Settling back down on my feet, I sniffle. “I love you.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen before pulling me to him. He hugs me tightly and our hearts beat in sync, as if trying to imprint this moment forever.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs into my hair.

We remain in each other's arms, both reluctant to let go. The buzzing of his phone breaks the moment. Pulling away, I rest my palm against his heart.

“I’ll see you at the concert.” I smile, through my tears. “I’ll be the one cheering extra hard.”

Namjoon chuckles, kissing me again. “I’ll look for you. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Namjoon,” I whisper.

And then he’s gone, slipping out the door like a shadow.

I stand there, the loss of his presence leaving me frozen in my spot. We were two souls caught in the crossfire of fate—a love that defied distance but couldn’t conquer it. And as the clock ticks away, I can only cling to the memory of his touch, the taste of his kiss, and the hope that someday, somehow, our paths will intersect again.

For now, I’m left with the echo of goodbye and the ache of a love that refuses to die.

The chauffeured car glides to a stop at the VIP entrance of the concert arena. As the driver confirms our post-concert rendezvous for the airport drop-off, a staff member approaches, her steps brisk and purposeful. After I step out, she closes the car door behind me, hands me a lanyard and a tote, then leads the way down a stark concrete corridor. My gaze flits about, seeking a fleeting glimpse of the guys before the curtain call. A pang of longing strikes me at the thought of seeing Namjoon one more time; yet, somewhere within, I know an encounter here woud best be left unfulfilled.

She points to the seat reserved for me by Namjoon and I join the sea of ARMY. I settle in, the weight of the moment settling with me. Delving into the tote, I unearthed an ARMY Bomb, a picket flaunting the group’s visage, a towel, shirt, and photo cards that whisper memories of melodies. I meet each of their faces, my gaze lingering on Namjoon’s photo. Within moments he grows blurry as emotions threaten to overtake me.

“Hi!” The chirp of a voice snaps me back to reality as a young woman nestles into the seat beside me. “Flying solo tonight?” she inquires, the smile in her eyes as warm as the stage lights.

A tear betrays me, but her kindness coaxes a smile in return. Though it’s hidden behind my face mask, I hope she can still sense I’m offering her one.

“Yes, just me.”

She nods, understanding painting her features. “It’s super exciting and overwhelming, isn’t it?” she muses, offering a tissue with a motherly touch. “But hey, we’re seatmates now. Let’s make our cheers echo louder than the rest.” Her upbeat personality is infectious, a balm to the bittersweet symphony of the night. “My name’s Kyshanna.”

“I’m Y/N,” I introduce myself and we fist bump with a giggle.

As the lights dim, a raucous thunder of screaming and clapping fills the air. The stage, once bare, now thrums with the promise of the night’s enchantment. A VCR begins to play and there is a collective hum of anticipation as the video plays through. Suddenly, performers dressed in all white jumpers begin to get into formation on stage. The opening chords of ‘ON’ fill the arena, a melody that seems to resonate with the very beat of my heart.

The show unfolds like a dream, each performance a tapestry of sound and soul. I find myself getting lost in the rhythm, the lyrics a salve to the ache that had taken residence in my chest. The ARMY around me move as one, a sea of light and energy, and I let their joy buoy my spirits.

Interlude after interlude, the concert moves on, the time for me to have to go drawing ever closer. I watch as BTS split up between two orange motorized boxes filled with purple and white balloons, the clear plexiglass bearing their logo. They draw louder cheers from ARMY as they pass between the pit and level one seats, ‘Telepathy’ being sung collectively by ARMY and BTS. As the car approaches our area, my eyes lock on Namjoon and I watch him dance and hype up the crowd. I notice the instant he picks me out of the crowd. He looks down, but his hand clutches his heart before looking back up and nodding once. Jimin pats his shoulder, bringing Namjoon back to the moment.

Kyshanna elbows me gently, leaning in to muse, “Namjoon seems a little…I don’t know-” She shakes her head as she ponders what word best to describe what she’s sensing. “He seems really sad.”

I swallow thickly.

“Really?”

She nods. “I hope he’s ok. I know it’s been a while since they’ve performed at this large a scale. I just hope it’s not getting to him.”

“It’s the last day. He’s probably just bummed the tour is coming to an end,” I point out, guilt gnawing at me again.

“Hmm,” she hums pensively.

As ‘Telephathy’ comes to an end, the cart begins to bring the group back to either side of the stage, the music immediately going into ‘Stay’. Just as Jin completes his lines, the car drops them off and Namjoon makes his way across the stage, his rap carrying him towards the center pathway.

“Stay!”

Namjoon’s gaze finds mine again across the expanse of faces. It is fleeting, a mere heartbeat in time, but in that glance, a silent message is conveyed—this was not a goodbye that he wanted and he wished I could stay with him.

“Stay, stay, stay, stay (Always)!”

The words sounded like a plea and it breaks me with each exclamation. I decide in that moment I have to go. It is hurting too much to remain.

“Can you hold this for me?” I say to Kyshanna. “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

She’d told me she couldn’t afford an ARMY bomb, so I leave it with her along with the picket. I had others back at home. I did feel bad to leave without saying good-bye, but I can feel myself getting too close to bursting into full on tears. I leave then, my footsteps as quick as they can be in the crowded building. I flash my lanyard at the VIP doorway and a staff member helps escort me back to the awaiting car.

LAX is not far from the stadium and before I could relax enough, we were already arriving. The airport loomed like a threshold—a passage from one chapter to another. Security checks, boarding passes, and the hum of engines—the mechanics of departure. But emotions don’t follow schedules or protocols. They spill over, uncontainable. How could I step onto that plane, knowing that the sky could possibly separate us indefinitely?

An hour later I settle into my seat and imagine his voice—the timbre that makes my heart ache. His laughter, the way he holds me so gently when we kiss, as if he’s afraid to break me. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his skin. These memories were fragile, like paper birds caught in a storm. Was it too late to reach out and tell him we should keep the contract active? That I would rather have him a few times a year than never more?

The airplane begins to move up the runway and soon we are ascending. As I glance out of the window to the land below that is growing more and more miniature by the second, I can no longer keep the tears locked inside. They spill like rivulets down my cheeks as I make my way toward an uncertain future.

December 31, 2021

Curled up on the couch, the glow of my Christmas tree provides the right amount of lighting I need to read the words of the book I’ve chosen. Lo-Fi Hip-Hop plays softly in the background as I try to lose myself in the pages of the story, but if I am being honest, I couldn’t even tell you what I’d read so far. My mind just won’t turn off. Nothing is helping me get out of my thoughts this evening. Maybe I should have gone to a New Year’s party to ring in the upcoming year after all. Perhaps that would have proven a better distraction than staying home alone.

I snuggle deeper into my blanket and glance over at my tea and think, Nah, this is so much better than being out at a noisy party even if I can’t get out of my head.

I just am not in the mood to party, anyway. It’s been almost a month since I said my goodbyes to Namjoon. Aside from him checking in on me to make sure I made it back home ok, there had pretty much been no communication between us since then. And I didn’t blame him. I had seen the announcement from BigHit, letting ARMY know that BTS would be taking some personal time off in order to spend the holidays with their families, something they had not been able to do since their debut. Not wanting to impose on his family time, I have given him the space the company asked for.

It doesn’t mean I’m not a little sad.

This last visit with him had been a roller coaster of emotions. The two of us had definitely not played by the rules and were feeling the repercussions of it. Neither of us was willing to let this go, but neither of us really had figured out how we could make this work.

I stare at the flickering lights of the Christmas tree, trying to lose myself in the gentle rhythm of their twinkle, when a soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. For a moment, I freeze, unsure if I imagined it. Who would be here at this hour, especially on New Year’s Eve? I reluctantly pull myself from the warmth of the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I shuffle to the door.

When I open it, my heart nearly stops.

Namjoon stands there, his eyes soft but intense, his breath visible in the cold night air. He’s holding a small bouquet of beautiful flowers in shades of purple, dusty rose and white, and his expression is one of determination mixed with vulnerability.

“Namjoon?” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper, the shock of seeing him here rooting me to the spot.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice deep and familiar, filled with something that makes my chest tighten. “Can I come in?”

I nod wordlessly, stepping aside to let him enter. He steps inside and sets the flowers on the entryway table before turning to face me, his eyes searching mine.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he says, the words tumbling out as if he’s been holding them in for far too long. “I couldn’t stand being apart from you and having you think that you don’t matter to me.”

I blink, trying to process what he’s saying, the words not quite sinking in. “But… your family, the break—”

He shakes his head, cutting me off gently. “My family understand. I needed to see you. To tell you that I want to be with you. I don’t care about the rules, the distance, any of it. I just… I need you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

My breath catches in my throat, tears welling up in my eyes as his words wash over me. I can see the sincerity in his eyes, the determination etched into every line of his face. He’s serious. This isn’t some fleeting impulse; it’s a promise, a declaration.

“You… you really mean that?” I ask, my voice trembling as I try to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

Namjoon steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. His thumb brushes away a stray tear, and his touch is so tender that it nearly breaks me. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to be with you, and I’m going to do everything I can to make this work. No matter what.”

In that moment, I realize that all the doubts, all the fears that have been gnawing at me since our last goodbye, don’t stand a chance against the strength of what we have. I drop the blanket and lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hand melt away the last of my reservations.

“Ok,” I whisper, my voice barely audible as the tears spill over. “Ok.”

Namjoon smiles then, a brilliant, relieved smile that lights up his entire face. He pulls me into his arms, holding me close, and I feel the weight of the past few weeks lift off my shoulders. In his embrace, I find the peace I’ve been searching for, the answer to all the questions that have been swirling in my mind.

As we stand there, wrapped up in each other, the soft glow of the Christmas tree casting a warm light around us, I know that we’ll face whatever comes together. Because in this moment, nothing else matters. Not the distance, not the rules, not even the uncertainty of the future.

All that matters is us.

January 1, 2022

My phone pings and I groan, kicking myself mentally for forgetting to switch it to Do Not Disturb earlier. Namjoon shifts beside me, a soft huff leaving his lips. I toss my arm out, blindly searching for my phone to change it to silent mode, but curiosity gets the better of me and I peek at the notification that had woken me up. I gasp, causing Namjoon to perk up.

“What’s wrong?”

His deep voice rumbles up from his chest, the tone thick with worry as he sits up. I wordlessly turn the device towards him, simultaneously switching on my bedside lamp with my other hand. His teeth bite down on his bottom lip, trying to stop a smile from forming. I click the notification in order to see the entire message and Namjoon reads right along with me.

“Hello.

This is BIGHIT MUSIC…”

There’s a flutter in my chest as the reality of the message sinks in. There is no going back now. The announcement stating Namjoon is currently in a relationship has been posted for all ARMY, and non-ARMY for that matter, to see. The fact that the company included a request to respect Namjoon and his partner’s privacy only helps to settle my nerves a smidge.

“What are you thinking?”

His concerned voice breaks me from my thoughts and I realize I’ve been staring blankly at my phone for a minute. Shifting my gaze to his, I take in the pinch of his brow and the attentive curiosity in his eyes. His hand reaches out for mine and I look down at our entwined fingers before looking back up at him.

“I’m thinking that there is no taking this back.”

The corner of his lip quirks up. “No. Definitely can’t take it back now,” he chuckles. “You still cool with that?”

“I mean, I knew you were serious about being together no matter what, but oof.” I shake my head, a heavy breath escaping my lips. “Now that it’s out there like that…I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’m excited, but I’m scared. I’m scared of how ARMY will react.”

Namjoon kisses the back of my hand. “Yes, it’s scary, but you don’t have to be afraid. We are in this together and just like my brothers, I will protect you from any of the negativity that might come of it.”

“Yeah?” I gaze at him with adoration and hope.

“I promise,” he nods earnestly. “Besides, if anyone sends hate your way, they are not a real ARMY, so their opinion means nothing to me. True ARMY are going to be happy for us and it’s their comments that I’m going to choose to acknowledge.”

“Ok,” I smile, trusting him fully.

“Ok,” he beams back, his dimples deepening endearingly. “Come here.”

A shaky giggle full of nerves bubbles up from me, but Namjoon cuts off the sound with a deep kiss as he presses my body into the mattress.

Credits:

Text Divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Moodboard by me.

For moodboard, used:

InCollage for layout, title, butterfly and photos.

Except Namjoon’s photo. Credit to RM x GQ Korea, Vogue Korea 2021

Motionleap was used for the movement within the moodboard.

We have come to the end. My heart feels so happy to finally post it after working on it for so long. Thank you for taking the time to read it. I appreciate it so much. Feel free to comment, like, and reblog. Until the next time!

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