#god I’ve been wanting to make far cry ocs for SO LONG

[imogenkol]

WELCOME TO EDEN’S END - Far Cry 5

[template by @unholymilf]

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  Danger lurks in every corner of Small Heath now, a place in which you're forced to stay. A place where Changretta and Section D are ready to get you. As you're trying to work things out with Arthur following your violent argument, Polly tells you something that will definitely complicate your role in the Vendetta.

Words: 6.8k

TW: Angst, mention of drug use, canonical violence, mention of murder, mention of self-harm, co-dependent relationship, grieving.

Notes:

✞ This is chapter 13 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense and better.

✞ Quite a long chapter I admit, certainly the longer. The future chapters won't be as long I swear -- it's just that there was a lot of small "plot twists".

✞ Lucy is @emotionalcadaver's OC.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT

The thick fog of the night danced in front of the car’s headlights, swirling at the wind’s discretion. The driver, keeping an eagle eye on your dainty silhouette, had started the engine as soon as he saw you storming out of your house, disheveled and crying.  He only waited five seconds before driving at a very slow pace, scanning the misty streets of foul-smelling Small Heath to find you. For a short while, he was convinced you had managed to escape from his watch and, admittedly, the persistent fog only complicated the task further. “Fucking bitch”, he pestered, turning left on the next street as the car’s wheels squealed against the wet concrete of the road but you didn’t hear, far too deafened by the unremitting drumming of your own heart. You stopped your race near a field, and sat on a small wall, feeling your body wear out now that the adrenaline's effects were dispersing. Once settled, you buried your face in your cold palms and squeezed your eyes shut. Where should you go? What should you do? Were all of Arthur's promises empty? What will happen to your marriage now? Will Tommy keep ruining your life? All these questions played on repeat in your skull, like the unsettling loop of a broken record echoing in a murky abandoned house. And along the haunting tune resonated your and Arthur's voice, from a not-so-far memory.

"I'll marry you one day."

"You're already married, Arthur."

"I don't bloody care, it's you I want ay. Fook Linda, fook the family, fook the rest of the world. It's you. It has always been you."

A shiver ran down your spine as your mind went back to the night you had this conversation. You could almost feel the warm sensation of his naked skin against yours, as he cradled you to his chest, legs entangled, and his cologne all over your bedsheet. The first time you made love.

"Listen, I know you're scared and I know I’ve got a bad reputation. But if you give me the chance to be your man, I swear to God you'll be the only one for me. Look at ya. How could I want another woman? They can all die. I'll never, fucking never, cheat on you."

"But with Linda--"

"It ain't the same. We're talking about you. My sweet angel. My soul mate. My saving grace. The other part of me broken self."

"... Alright. Promise it then."

"Cross me heart and hope to die."

"No drugs either? Like, a bit of snow occasionally never killed anyone but apart from this, no relapse okay?"

"No drugs but..." He paused, gently taking your hand in his, and kissed all your fingers one by one "But in exchange I want ye to stop hurting yourself. I saw the inside of your thighs so please, no more cuts ay?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." You smiled, interlocking your little fingers together in a sweet pinky promise.

You pressed one trembling hand against your mouth at the bittersweet memory, tears tingling your eyes and blurring your vision. A muffled sob escaped from your plumped lips, then a second, and finally tears came in waterfalls. It's been a long time since you really cried, and here you were. Weeping like a lost kid.

Despite the darkness of the night and the patchy coat of the fog, the stalker caught sight of the long crimson streaks that ran down one of your frail arms. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as his hand reached for the gun hidden in the glove box. Finally, he thought, he was a short moment away from a very sweet vengeance he had spent years carefully planning. A little excited sigh escaped from his mouth while his fingers caressed the cold barrel of the gun, already aroused at the idea of pointing the canon against your head the moment he would force you to get in his car. Even if he knew that the wisest thing to do after your capture was to drive you to them, he thought about going on a little stroll with you. Maybe he'll bring you to an isolated land to shove you on the muddy ground, and make you regret the day you decided to murder his brother in the small mountainous town of Haute-Falaise. Only after he had ruined you enough, stealing every ounce of your dignity, he would drive you to Section D's headquarters. With a bit of luck, he could keep hurting you a little bit more before they decide to pull the trigger and repaint the walls with the contents of your brain.

The roots of his hatred had started the day he realized that each time he closed his lids, his brother's eyes haunted him. Or at least, the two hollow and dark holes on his face since his eyes had been gouged out. There was also the blood, running from his mouth, ears, nose, and even streaming down his cheeks in crimson tears. Maybe he should have listened to the local police when they told him not to look at the corpse, but he had to do it. To his questions, even the forensic pathologist couldn’t answer. The only certainty the experts agreed on was that Christian’s lungs and heart had been smashed to a pulp from the inside and that he had stab wounds all over his body just like the other four corpses found. Five corpses and nothing else. The murderer was nowhere to be seen: no one had witnessed something, not even heard the slightest muffled scream. It was as if Death came, struck them with his scythe, and left without a trace.

Closer. A little bit closer...

You jumped at the sudden and unexpected sensation of a man’s hand squeezing your frail shoulder. As nimble as a cat and as quick as a lightning bolt, you jumped from the wall and unsheathed the dagger you kept hidden in your right lace garter, “Who the fuck are you?!” You hissed, voice burning with fury and frozen eyes darting at the stranger. You had been so quick to react that the man, vaguely confused by what just happened, found himself in quite a poor situation. Indeed, he didn’t expect a young woman to press the tip of a sharp blade against his carotid artery, ready to slit it.  God knew he was a fearless fighter, but you had been too unpredictable, even for him. And yet, he didn’t move nor particularly react despite the unpleasant surprise.

“Heaven Shelby?” He asked.

You snarled and bared your teeth at this unfamiliar voice calling you by your name. If marrying Arthur Shelby had taught you what real love was, you had also learned how to become even more deadly than you already were. Seemed like the Shelby's wariness had turned you feral.

“Make one more step and I’ll bleed you like a fucking pig.” You warned. The cold wind of the night blew in your hair, making your long white locks dance behind you like the ghostly veil of a dead bride. He frowned, unsettled by its uncommon color. What disturbed him the most though was maybe the pale and haunting color of your eyes, whose shade reminded him of two cursed aquamarine stones.

“Mrs. Shelby. I mean no harm, ‘specially not when facing such a young and delicate lady,” He started, the corner of his lips stretching in a fathomless smile despite the awe you inspired him. His small and cunning fox-like eyes squinted as he grinned. Somehow, he didn't seem to mind the blade that was still threatening him as if such a situation was casual -- and it was. If anything, he was impressed by your fierceness and the hatred that shone in your iris, which created a striking contrast with your little frame and doll face, “Well not as delicate as I’ve been told.” His smile widened at his own comment, “It’s dangerous out’here m’lady, I’ve spotted you by chance and thought I’d bring you home safe.”

“Dangerous.” You snorted, unable to hold your sarcasm. “Get the fuck away from me.” Each word from your mouth was dripping with caustic vitriol, leaving no doubt about your hostility and lethal potential. Judging by your quick and deadly reaction, you were certainly more than capable of taking care of yourself -- in truth, he could tell you wouldn't hesitate to end his life. But instead of backing up, the man carefully brought his fingertips on the shining surface of the dagger and pried it away from his throat in a slow movement without breaking eye contact with you.

“A car is following you.” He informed you.

“What?” This phrase hit you like a train, impairing the fierceness and self-confidence you’ve been showing. Surveying your surroundings quickly, you did notice the shadow of a car not so far away in the distance with its headlights shut and two glistening eyes staring at you from the driver's seat. The moment the shadow understood that you had spotted him, the car headed away from you in a loud engine roar and disappeared in the misty night. Fuck, the lad was right: someone had been following you. You sniffed, still in shock, and quickly wiped your tears with the brush of one knuckle before tricking your anxiety into focusing on your unexpected savior again. Your armed hand might be hanging loosely from your slim body, but your fingers were still firmly wrapped around the dagger’s handle. It was an expensive and deadly blade, gifted by one mysterious red-head woman whose hair reminded you of a wildfire. You had trouble remembering the name — Lucy? Something like this. What you knew though was that this troubled soul was called ‘Tommy’s little spy” by the Shelby's family, but since you couldn’t care less about your brother-in-law’s personal life you didn’t investigate further. The girl had been nice with you, that was all that mattered.

Even armed and feral, you felt vulnerable. At your big confused eyes and at the sight of mascara running down your cheeks, the man couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could pass off for his daughter or maybe because you were just a few years older than his own son? He slightly tilted his body to one side to let the weak beam of a street light disclose his face and overall appearance: long and messy gray hair, thin lips, small glistening eyes, and a mysterious and slightly disturbing grin.

“Mrs. Shelby, you should come with me.” He advised, then he extended his arm, about to lay his strong hand on your shoulder a second time when you stepped back to avoid his touch with a dissuasive hiss. He stopped, “Lemme bring you back to your husband. It’s Arthur Shelby, ‘m I right?” This time, he simply offered you his palm and waited for you to make the first step. You replied to his invitation by looking dagger at him: if your eyes could kill, this one would already be sleeping with the fishes.

“No.” You protested, as stubborn as a Shelby by birth. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the mention of Arthur, the thought of him coming back home all coked up and intoxicated was still fueling your rage like gasoline thrown at a destructive fire. The last thing you wanted at the moment was to see your husband. If someone had asked you, you’d have answer that what you sincerely wanted was John and his comforting arms. John and his beaming smile. John and his way of teasing you, his jokes, his softness, his cockiness... Yes, that was John you wanted, and you wanted him now. But the cruel truth was that John wasn’t there anymore. He was lying dead and cold in a morgue, leaving you with nothing but the insufferable pain of his loss and your head screaming. “I don’t want to see him.” You asserted and fled the man’s gaze, who soon understood the situation — with age came experience, and from experience he could recognize the aching expression of a young woman wounded by the hazards of love. These Shelby men… He thought with a certain disdain. Oh, he had not been irreproachable all his life either, but a woman’s heart was a gift he missed every day of his life since his wife’s death. The mysterious lad softly reached for your wrist and, not minding your feral nature anymore, he brought it closer to his face to examine the open gash on your porcelain skin.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I did this to myself.” You broke the physical contact right away and pressed your palm firmly on the still-bleeding wound. Adrenaline had pumped so hard through your veins that the pain had been numbed: only now your nerves were slowly wakening up,  sending unpleasant tingles where the cut was. While he observed you carefully, the man wondered why such a young and fragile thing like you would do this to herself.

“Seems like you had a harsh night, kitten.” He stated with a slight fatherly tone which surprised you before he noticed the goosebumps on your skin. The situation had been so exceptional that he completely obliterated that you were barefoot outside, in the freezing temperature of Birmingham’s night, wearing nothing but a short dress. Without further ado, the man took his long black coat off and put it over your shoulders. While you still shot him a suspicious look, the warmth in which he wrapped you felt good. Your muscles relaxed and your hand closed on the two sides you brought together near your throat to protect it from the wind. “While I get why y’don’t wanna go home, ‘specially if you fought with your man, you have to understand that being alone at night in Small Heath is not safe. Let alone currently, with Changretta’s men trying to murder you all. Maybe you’d like me to bring you to Thomas instead?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple mention of your brother-in-law’s name. The sensation of his lips against yours was still burning your flesh and even hours after your last encounter you couldn’t get rid of his cologne’s scent that was still lingering on your hair and skin, “I’d rather get fucked by a horse than deal with this bastard.” The man blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to have such a foul mouth -- that was why let out a soft chuckle, to which you replied with a very faint smile.

“Alright kitten… I get it. No Shelby men. And what about coming with me to my vardo? My son has lit a campfire and he is cooking some rabbits. Would you like that?” He suggested, one brow raised and his fox-like grin widening almost to his ears. 

“You still haven't told me who you are.”

The man took off his brown hat at your clever comment, “Ah yes. Where are my manners ay?” His dark blue eyes glistened with a cunning gleam as he slowly nodded “The name’s Aberama Gold. Nice to meet you.” 

“You bloody idiot… Sit here and don’t do anything stupid anymore.” Polly instructed her oldest nephew as soon as he had entered the room, pointing to an empty chair with her half-consumed cigarette. All alone with Ada and his aunt, who were still waiting for the other guests to come, Arthur took place and kept his head down. Polly simply took a long drag from her black cigarette and exhaled, smoke coming out of her mouth like the Devil as she quietly observed Arthur’s eyebags and bloody knuckles. Soon after your departure, she had heard the cacophony of screams and thuds coming from his house in Watery Lane. When she witnessed all the blood, destroyed furniture, and shards of glass in the living room, she had been was convinced that Arthur had murdered you out of jealousy or something. Fortunately enough, the situation wasn't that dramatic -- at least for her. After throwing herself at her nephew and forcing him to calm the fuck down, she did her best to keep the oldest Shelby brother from hurting himself more than he already did. When things got quieter, she had even scolded him as she did when he was a kid — except that all the other sermons he had been through in his childhood were nothing compared to the anger she had unleashed when he had confessed about taking drugs again.

“Is she coming to the meeting?” She finally inquired, one of her elbows resting on the wooden table and her cigarette consuming itself between her fingers.

“Don’t know Pol.” Arthur’s usual loud and gruff voice was reduced to a shy, hoarse, and saddened whisper. No matter his attempt at distracting his mind, his thoughts always came back to you. Only you. He didn’t know where you were nor if you’d come back to him and that was slowly driving him crazy. Or more than he already was. Arthur felt his fragile sanity slipping through his fingers and knew it wouldn't be long before he went berserk if it turned out you really left. Also, he was growing frustrated and agitated about sitting here in the betting shop, waiting for a useless meeting to start instead of looking for you. All he wanted was to burn this city to the ground and make it bleed until he found you and brought you back home where you belonged. That is to say by his side. Nevertheless, Polly had advised him against this decision, convinced it would only fuel your rage against him even more. She wasn’t wrong though, you needed space.

The fierce Aunt stubbed her cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and leaned toward her nephew to grab his wrist with one of her cold and sly hands. It snapped him out of his crumbling mind. “You’re insanely lucky to have a woman like her in your life, Arthur. Don’t be an ungrateful cunt by letting your addictions ruin the most precious thing you have. The bland and momentarily relief snow grants you will never hold a candle to Heaven. Understand?” She warned with the same tone she used when a young Arthur came back home all bloody after fighting at school. “Hey. Look at me.”  The gangster sniffed and raised his steel blue eyes to his Aunt, his lips trembling and dimples appearing on his cheeks as he clenched his jaws. How right she was. Even when snorting a ridiculously huge amount of snow he didn’t feel better. In fact, his high had been insipid when compared with how you made him feel, blissed out and in pure ecstasy, when his lips crashed against yours. An unpleasant surge of electricity crossed his body at this thought as he remembered how his whole being yearned for you. “She’ll come back. I know she will, and you’ll make up for your idiocy. But let me warn you, boy. Witches usually don’t believe in second chances. If she gives you one, don’t ever fuck it all up anymore, or she’ll tear your bloody heart from your chest and smash it in front of your beseeching eyes. And you’ll consider yourself lucky if she only did it figuratively. ” At these murderous words, which felt like another stab, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood on his tongue.

“I’ll do that.” He concluded, closing his hands in fists in a vain attempt to keep his temper quiet despite his spiraling thoughts. Thoughts that revolve around either you and how he would end his damn life if you ever left him. With a loud bang, a strong rope, or hell, his own razor blade, he didn’t care. Polly simply nodded and sat straight again as the other members of the clan entered the room one by one and took place, waiting for Tommy. At each footstep, Arthur raised his head with impatience, wishing it was you and internally screaming when he realized it wasn’t. HeavenHeavenHeavenHeaven… It never stopped, the thought of you compulsive and maddening. He cleared his throat and grunted nervously, his gaze glaring at an invisible dot on the wall that was facing him.

Tommy erupted in the room, a placid expression etched on his face as always, giving the impression he was in complete control of the situation. Was he? No one was truly sure about that. He stood fearlessly in front of the small crowd, far from being impressed by public speeches, and let his turquoise eyes wander on every face. Sometimes you wondered if Thomas Shelby would better drop the criminal life and start a political career. After all, he had all the required qualities: manipulative, sweet-talking, dishonest, and heartless. Tommy took one look at his brother’s face and quickly got a broad understanding of what had happened -- It wasn't particularly difficult though considering how Arthur belonged to the expressive kind. His eyes usually talked before he even opened his mouth. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. If it was because of the... kiss, or his moment of confusion as he liked to call it. Yet, his sharp instincts knew that Arthur hadn’t been informed of this little event otherwise he would have certainly gone straight for his throat no matter the family blood running in their veins. Loyalty had its limits, and the limits bore your name. When he noticed your absence, Tommy discreetly clenched his sharp jaws for even if he loathed you, you had your place among the family for the meeting and the rest of them would probably not vote if you weren’t there. Nevermind, he thought. He had barely parted his lips when he heard the clicking sound of heels approaching and with the sound came your perfume. Just like Arthur, he immediately recognized the spring-like fragrances of your scent, especially now that he had buried his nose in your silvery mane.

Arthur’s heart made a leap in his tight ribcage as he saw you bathed in the warm light of the betting shop, dressed like the day you left the house except for your hair that was styled in two French braids cascading down the small of your back. He wanted to get up and embrace you, choke you in a hug, or fall on his knees to beg for forgiveness without minding the other people in the room but Polly’s strong hand squeezed his thigh to prevent him from doing so. Thus, all he did was just staring at you with pitiful and beseeching eyes. But you didn’t look at him. In truth, you didn’t look at anyone. Ignoring the burning sensation of Tommy’s turquoise iris following you, you passed by him and headed right to the free chair between Polly and Arthur. As soon as you sat next to him, he obliterated the world in favor of your heavenly presence as he usually did when you were around. The lanky gangster tried his chance and his fingers shyly searched for yours under the table. He was dying to feel your touch again, the coldness of your frosty skin being the only remedy to his troubled soul and broken mind. However, you denied him your affection by slightly shifting your hand away from him no matter how hard it was for you too. Your rejection stung him more painfully than a white-hot blade. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harder but instead of making a scene or bursting with both rage and frustration, he tried his best to be a good boy and simply lowered his head as an unruly child who had just been scolded. His lonely hand rested on his thigh he nervously rubbed, desperately trying to chase away his sadness.

“John is dead.” Tommy exhaled loudly and made a short pause as if he was still processing the awful truth. John. Is. Dead. Your frail fingers fidgeted the fabric of your dress at Tommy’s statement, doing so only to avoid digging them into your own flesh and scratching it until you bleed. For a micro while, Tommy's self-confidence flickered, afflicted by his baby brother’s savage murder, before he regained composure and his eyes darkened again, “Esme’s back on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded, they say it’s 60/40 in his favor.”

“There’s no number, there’s no percentages” Polly cut him off, “So the hand, the hand beneath him stops his falling. Spoke to someone… My son will live.” It was more or less all you’ve heard of the conversation, for your mind soon drifted. As Tommy kept talking, your frozen eyes as glacial as Dante’s latest ring of Hell locked on your husband. Observing him with great attention, you tried to look for anything that would prove he was high. But despite a huge deal of effort, you didn’t see any grain of white powder near his nostrils. Arthur’s eyes weren’t dilated, his hands didn’t shake and his breathing was as soft as quiet. If anything, he looked awfully tired and miserable. To be honest, you could not help but think about how bad you missed him and how handsome he was in his suit even if your mood was still sour and resentful.

Arthur grunted, distracting himself from the pain by following the conversation and playing his henchman role. He took a golden bullet out of the pocket of his trousers and, holding it between his thumb and his index finger, looking at its shiny surface on which he had carved Luca’s name: “Yeah, Well… The bullet’s been written… It says Luca.” He paused, a glimpse of John’s face reflecting on the gold for half a second. “When the time comes and it will come… Me as the oldest brother —“ He swallowed again, John had disappeared, “Will put this bullet into his fucking head.” He concluded his speech by putting the said bullet on the table, the metallic sound echoed in the room and chilled you to the bones. Your eyes were still focusing on Arthur, but this time it was because you felt worried for him. Despite his rough and tough demeanor, the slight tremor in his voice and his need to take short pauses had betrayed his profound sorrow. You closed your fists on your dress because of how much you hated to see him in pain. All you wanted was to hold his arm and support him in these difficult times but you were certainly as pretty as stubborn.

“There’s been some bad blood between us.” While he had ignored you for most of his speech, Tommy’s intense gaze fell on you. Feeling the ice of his eyes burning you, you cocked an eyebrow. Was it a pathetic attempt to apologize? Or was he blaming you for it?

Bad blood… Polly scoffed. You snort. That was the least he could say.

It felt like an eternity before little King Shelby spoke again, not paying attention to his Aunt’s and your attitude. He looked at the ceiling, looking for his words then he went on, “Until this business is settled we stay together. We stay here…” To assert his claim, Tommy explained how the family would be safe as long as they stayed together, surrounded by an army of faces they already knew. His plan was simple: all the family remained together until they manage to kill Luca Changretta. Until then, no one was allowed to stray away from Small Heath. Arthur's first reaction following this suggestion was to turn his head towards you, looking with concern for far too well he knew you didn't wish to stay. A small sigh escaped from your plumped lips as you dived into his sad eyes, but you remained silent. Worst, you remained awfully placid and hated yourself for looking so much like Tommy for a short while. The rest bored you to hell and blurred into a mush of unintelligible bribes of conversation, except for the mention of Aberama Gold and Johnny Dogs’ complaints about the man. Savages he had said. The same word he had used the first time you met him. She's a freakin' savage, Arthur. An evil creature straight from the woods! Rolling your eyes, you bit your tongue to keep your mouth shut, and not scream at Dogs to tell him that Aberama Gold might be a savage but at least he took care of you these last few days better than any members of the Shelby clan did. At least not before interminable months of insults and death/suspicious stares. As the conversation went on, Polly put a glass of whisky in front of you but you pushed it away almost immediately -- you've been feeling nauseous since you left Watery Lane so drinking strong alcohol was the last thing you had in mind. Thus, you simply passed the glass to Arthur, who certainly needed it more than you.

“… Which means we have to agree to end this war between us.” Thomas Shelby might be addressing the whole family, but you knew his words were mainly aimed at you, which only made you move your foot impatiently under the table. Ending this war, of course, you thought. And what about the last two years of misery you’ve made me undergo each time we met? What about the moment you strangled me? And what about all the awful things you said after thrusting your tongue in my fucking mouth?  These would have been all the things you would have screamed at him if your legendary coldness had broken. Which, fortunately for everyone in the room, hadn’t.

Truthful to himself, Tommy asked for the family to vote.

“Peace.” Arthur finally decided, taking the glass and gulping down the amber liquid it contained in hope it would numb him. It didn’t. As surprising as it was to hear the oldest sibling choosing a non-violent approach to a conflict, you knew it was the best decision to make. So as everyone shared their opinion, you thought deeply about yours until your turn came. At first, you didn’t realize it was already your time to speak — only the sudden silence and the weight of a dozen eyes on you could snatch you from your mind. And among the pair of eyes, the one that burnt the fiercest was Tommy’s.  

“Now we’re asking for my opinion?” You said, sarcastic venom coating your words.

“Angel, please…” Arthur whispered, but you waved off his comment with a disdainful gesture of the hand. He currently wasn’t in the position to advise you. Not after hurting you like he did. 

“Truce.” You stated, coldly. The word left your mouth with the power of a guillotine’s blade on an inmate’s neck and surprised everyone in the room. In truth, they were all convinced you would disagree with the idea. Polly and Ada offered you a warm smile, while Tommy lowkey nodded in approval at your wise decision.

“Five for peace, two for truce.  Let’s get on with the war.” He concluded, turning around and walking out of the betting shop without one last glance at any of his family’s members: his scheming mind already focused on the next part of his plan.

As always, Tommy couldn't live without pulling the strings.

As the room cleared out and people left, you remained alone with Arthur in an uncomfortable silence. Because you had nothing to tell him, you got up from your chair and proceeded to walk to the exit without uttering a single word but the tall gangster caught you by the wrist, forcing you to stop. His long fingers closed around you a bit too bluntly than he intended though. You winced and as a result, he immediately let go of you, showing his palm open to indicate that he didn't mean to hurt you.

“Heaven, please." His gravelly voice called. "Enough with the cold treatment…  I can’t. It’s hurting me.” He said rather slowly, for putting words on his emotions was not something he was used to. Most of the time he just yelled and resorted to violence. , “I beg ye, go back home, angel.”

"You had promised me, Arthur." You articulated.

"And you had also promised me not to hurt yourself anymore." His gruff voice raised a little bit, threatening to turn into frustrated yellings because he didn’t know how to properly communicate his emotions, especially not when they were so obsessive and overwhelming. But Arthur didn’t want to scream at you so what he did was take a deep inhale to force himself not to be his usual loud and rude self. “You also promised to me, love.” He repeated in a calmer tone even if his quivering upper lip and twitching mustache showed how much he was struggling.

“So now we both understand how it feels when the other part of your soul breaks a promise. What a great step forward we’ve made.” That was mean. So mean you could barely believe that such an awful taunt came from your tantalizing mouth — but even though you instantly regretted it, you didn’t falter. No matter your mad love for Arthur and the untamable desire to throw yourself in his arms, you weren’t going to bend: things needed to be clear right now or they’ll never never be.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m fucking sorry alright?!" He growled, opening his arms as to silently ask you what he had to do for you to believe him. "I swear there isn’t a second during which I’m not regretting everything I did and said to you.” He finally admitted, long arms falling along his slim body, “I wasn’t meself even if I know this ain’t no excuse. I won't do it again. But…Please Heaven I can’t go on without you. And I don’t want to.” The only answer to his pleadings was a heavy silence combined with your frost-like gaze.

Arthur’s eyes lingered over your arm until they fell on the deep cut you had inflicted upon yourself. This is what it feels like when you take drugs. The powerlessness he had felt when he watched the blood running down your skin and soaking the fabric of your clothes was etched in his mind: he, who had promised to protect you against everything, realized he couldn’t save you from yourself if you chose to destroy you… And that powerlessness was the same you experienced when he egoistically relapsed. That was a harsh lesson, but a lesson he had learned.  “Please forgive me.” He begged and sucked in a sharp breath as if he was physically in pain, yet he still took your arm in his hand with indescribable softness and, with his free one, caressed your still swollen and red gash.

Your dainty body stood still, trying not to give in to the delightful sensation of his warm skin against yours but your heart sunk in your chest “You have to understand that you cannot act like a jerk, hurt me, treat me like shit and then come back with your puppy eyes, and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t work like that." You said.

“So you're not coming back...” His voice broke, warm hand closing on your wound.

Your touch. I need it. It's a damn physical need.

“Don’t be stupid Arthur…” You sighed, the traits of your angelic face softening, “That’s not what I said."

"So please, love. Forgive me. I'll do whatever ye want. I'll get on my knees right now if that's what you want." His body shifted, closing the distance between the two of you until his arms wrapped around your waist. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the sight of his enchanting blue eyes, whose color was so different from his brothers. Slightly darker, far less colder. With your heart beating fast and your mind buzzing, you couldn't keep your fingers from gently grazing one of his cheeks. He half closed his eyelids at the sensation, the tremors of his body already calming down now that you were touching him.

"I don't want you to get on your knees. And I don't want to make a dog out of you like Linda did. All I ask for is my husband, who I know is a wonderfully strong man who doesn't need any chemicals to face the world. Not anymore." Your holy voice sounded like the purest melody in his ears like God's mercy whispered to him. Lulled by your words and strokes, Arthur would have purred if he wasn't already fighting against tears of relief.

"I've been such a fucking bastard... What the fuck is wrong with me eh? I still can't believe every mean thing I've screamed. The words I told ya, they're eating me sick brain." He gritted his teeth, "I don't fucking deserve you." Noticing that his breathing was getting faster, you wrapped his neck with your arms and lifted yourself on your tiptoes to lay a kiss on his chin.

"Stop it, Art. Don't beat yourself." You whispered in his ear, one hand lost in his perfectly slicked hair. "You want me to forgive you? Well; show me that all these promises you made weren’t empty. That our wedding can overcome everything, even the worst. Prove it to me." As you spoke, you softly rocked him from left to right, trying to calm his anxiety. A sigh escaped from your lips: you just couldn't abandon him as everyone else did. And part of you cursed him for making you feel so weak, especially when he was looking at you with his confused puppy eyes.

“I’ll show you then, angel. I’ll show you because without you birds don’t sing anymore.”  He nodded, softly rubbing his cheek against yours. You could feel his heart drumming against your bosom, crying for yours to open up to him again. “I'll show you I'm still a good husband." His lips trailed down your cheek to capture yours, but the moment he tried to kiss them you slightly turned your head to the other side to deny him access to your mouth. He clenched his jaws.

“Go find Thomas and organize the funerals with him." You simply instructed, taking a step back to free yourself from his arms. The lanky gangster nodded and left, head down and arms swinging as he walked away.

All you wished now was that he truly meant what he said.

All alone in the betting shop, you leaned against a wall and closed your eyes, needing a bit of peace to reorganize your thoughts and soothe your overwhelming emotions. Moreover, you had to come to terms with the idea of living near Tommy, here in Small Heath. It has been only weeks since you left your small house in the forest but you already missed it. Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of two cold hands grasping you by the shoulders. When you reopened your eyelids, you were met by Polly’s motherly smile and dark gaze. Eyes so black it outmatched the bark of the most ancient trees you had ever seen. And just like these trees, they had something mystical, as if they were keeping the Earth's secrets and infinite wisdom. For sure, Elizabeth Gray was a woman of nature, born in the wilderness and raised among the soft whispers of the leaves. You even wonder if her body contained blood or if it was amber sap that was coursing through her veins.

“I’m happy you came back, white Devil.” She said with a soft smile. Since the day she heard Tommy spat the insult at your face, she decided to reverse the curse and use it as an affectionate nickname for you -- an idea you found absolutely delightful.

“I’m a Shelby now, everyone says so… So I suppose my place is here.” The melancholy of your grin betrayed your thoughts and Polly understood that only now you were starting to understand what bearing this family name truly meant. “I'm not gonna lie, Polly, I didn’t want to come. That’s Mr. Gold who convinced me I needed to. After hours of bargaining, he got me by telling me it would get under Tommy's skin.” 

“You call him Tommy now?” She teased, trying to make you smile but little she knew her remark had the opposite effect. You pursed your juicy lips and looked away.

“Something happened with him right.” The fierce Aunt frowned, observing your face as if she would be able to find an answer to her question hidden in your holy traits. Now sincerely concerned, her grip tightened on your shoulders, like benevolent roots anchoring you to reality. While she knew the difficult and rocky relationship you had with little King Shelby, she had never seen you display such a dreadful expression when his name was mentioned. 

“Something always happens with him anyway. But that’s not important.” You closed the topic, not wanting to talk about him any longer. The fucker had done enough to infect your brain, so you didn’t want to give him more space. "Do you think Johnny Dogs says the truth about the Gold? I mean, I'm not Romani but the Gold are nice to me and--"

"Heaven. Oh Lord." She cut you off, her smile swept away from her face so quickly you blinked several times.

"What's the matter, Pol?" You asked, eyebrows frowned.

Freeing your shoulders, her left hand grabbed one of your breasts to squeeze it softly while the right one felt your abdomen at different places, looking for something you didn't know. The more she touched you, the more her facial expression seemed concerned. Completely taken aback by her sudden behavior, your lips parted in surprise as you watched her.

"Does Arthur know it?!" She inquired, her dark eyes switching between you and your tummy.

“Does Arthur know what?"

“That you’re pregnant.”

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @bluevenus19

[the-golden-comet]

✨OC Interview Tag✨

Thank you for the tag, @illarian-rambling ! I’ve done all the main OCs thus far, but I can bring out Johnny Astrum from Lone Star Rangers for this one

Were you named after anyone?

Nah. Astrum’s the name that runs in the family. Come from a buncha cow herders. Figures, right?

When was the last time you cried?

I don’t cry. I get even.

Do you have any kids?

I’m on the move too much to settle down. Bounty huntin’s not the cozy lifestyle you wanna raise a family in.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Depends. Sometimes that’s how you lure a target. Gotta use the best tactics to draw the varmints out, y’know?

What is the first thing you notice about people?

If there’s a bounty on ‘em. They act all skitterish, always check in’ over their shoulder, always lookin’ to see if anyone’s following’ em. That’s why you gotta act cool so you don’t draw suspicion on yerself.

What is your eye color?

Uh….you probably can’t see my eyes too well. I’m made out of natural gasses. You probably shouldn’t stare at me too long neither, lest you wanna go blind. Definitely makes my job harder—can’t blend in too well.

Scary movies or happy endings?

I’ve been scorned too many times by past partners. I’ll take a scary movie, if they even work on me.

Any special talents?

Wranglin’, Herdin’, Gamblin’, Blowin’ smoke rings and shootin’ through ‘em.

Where were you born?

Andromeda Majoris IV, in the Astora Galaxy sect. That’s where all the Astrums were reared.

Do you have any pets?

I used to work on a farm with my folks. Had cows, horses, chickens, pigs, sheep, you name it. Once I get enough credits to settle down, I’ll get a plot on a gentle star galaxy, raise my own livestock.

What sort of sports do you play?

Do darts count? I have a pretty mean streak o’ darts. Can usually take home lots of credits if the bettin’s high. Definitely have ended in lots of saloon shootouts.

How tall are you?

Oh, I don’t know…maybe 6’8? Bounties have always said I’m an imposing feller. Tried to get to my soft side. Too bad their heads were worth more than their compliments.

What was your favorite subject in school?

School? My parents taught me on the farm. So, I guess….raisin’ animals was my favorite? Or maybe growin’ our crops…I didn’t like reading none….math, maybe. You gotta know how much water to give to the soil, n’ how much feed to the cattle.

What is your dream job?

God damn, if I could just be a farmer and raise animals for the markets, that would be ideal. I got caught up in wanting to be a star….and despite bein’ one in body, in spirit I just wanna settle down, y’know? Bounty huntin’s great n’ all, but my astral bones’ll get weary one o’ these days, and I gotta have a backup plan.

I’ll tag (no pressure): @wyked-ao3 , @autism-purgatory , @sunglasses-in-the-bentley , @madi-konrad , +open tag! 💖

[legolasbadass]

Office Hours, Part 30

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague…

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: T

“I have some news,” I announce to Beatrice on the phone the next day as I stand in my living room, sorting through my books to try and get rid of a few. Richard and I agreed that we both needed to do so; otherwise, the house would turn into a maze of books. So far, however, I have only managed to part with three novels, despite the hundreds of tomes in my flat. 

“You’re engaged!” Beatrice practically shouts. 

“What? No!” I reply with an incredulous laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Why would that be ridiculous? You and Richard are perfect for each other.” 

Despite the ridiculousness of her hypothesis, I smile, then say, “Richard and I are going to live together.” 

Beatrice’s squeal is so loud I have to pull away from my phone. “Oh my God—really? This is so exciting! When did this happen?” 

“He asked me last night,” I reply, still smiling. 

“Just like that?” 

“Well, no, not exactly…” My smile fades away, and I take a deep breath, trying to dislodge the knot in my chest. “It turns out what Richard was hiding from me is that he received an offer for a visiting research post … at Harvard.” 

“What? So, wait—I’m confused—he’s moving to Boston?” 

“In September. For around eight months.”

“Oh, Lor, I’m so sorry….” 

I shrug, though my voice falters as I say, “It’s okay—I mean, I’m really going to miss him, but we’ll make it work.” 

“If anyone can survive long distance it’s you two.” She pauses, then sighs in annoyance. “But damn, I can’t believe he didn’t tell you sooner!” 

Despite my vexation, I hasten to defend him. “He only got the official offer yesterday, and he said he didn’t know how to tell me because he was afraid he would lose me.” 

“That man is so precious,”  Beatrice replies with a hint of longing, causing me to chuckle. 

“Of course, I would have liked for him to tell me sooner, but I can’t be mad at him,” I go on, absentmindedly running my fingers over the spines of the books before me. “Or should I be mad? I don’t know … I’ve been asking him for weeks if he was alright and for news about his work with Dr Griffin, and he would just shrug it off—or lie! But he didn’t want to keep it from me—he just didn’t want to hurt me. And how could I be mad at him for that?” 

“Just because you’re not mad at him doesn’t mean that you’re okay with the fact he didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah … I just want to be as understanding as he was with me when we first started dating, you know?” 

“And I think that’s so great of you! Really, I don’t think I would have handled that as well as you,” Beatrice says with a chuckle. 

“Well, I did cry like a baby, too, so…” 

“Oh, honey,” she coos. “I’m sure he understood.” 

Recalling his soft kisses and tight hugs, I nod to myself. “Yeah. He’s really upset, too, and torn—he’s not sure what he wants to do. But I told him he has to take this opportunity, otherwise, he’ll regret it. And I reassured him that we would find a way to make it work and we’d savour every moment we have together until then. That’s when he asked me to move in.” 

“So when are you moving in?” Beatrice asks excitedly, knowing just what to say to make me feel better. 

“Probably right after the spring term. We only have three weeks until the term starts, which doesn’t give me enough time to sublet my flat, pack, and get settled there earlier.” 

“You can count on my help on your moving day.” 

“That’s sweet of you, but you really don’t have to! You’re moving yourself so you’ll already be super busy—” 

“Nonsense, I’ll be there to help and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind,” she replies emphatically, causing me to smile. 

“You really are the best, you know?” A sudden knock on the door surprises me. “Hold on—someone’s at the door.”

“We can talk later. I’ve actually got some chores to do and I should get up my butt before it becomes flatter than a pancake.” 

I laugh, then say, “Alright, move that butt and we’ll talk later.” 

My heart is considerably lighter as I hang up and make my way toward the door. After fiddling with the old lock for a moment, I open the door, only to find my parents waiting for me on the other side with wide smiles.

“Oh—hi!” I exclaim in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Do we need a formal invitation to visit our daughter now?” Mum asks with a chuckle as she shakes off the rain from her plaid coat. Dad merely continues to smile at me as he squeezes my arm. 

“Of course not,” I reply, choosing to ignore the edge in her tone. “Come in! What brings you here?” 

As I close the door behind them, Dad says, “We were visiting a friend of your mum’s not too far from here, and we thought we haven’t seen Lorelei in a while—so here we are!” 

“And I’m glad you are!” I say with a smile, though I realize I have to tell them I will be moving in with Richard, and my stomach twists itself into knots in anticipation of their reactions. I thought I would have more time to prepare for this conversation. “Can I get you anything to drink?” 

Dad opens his mouth to reply as he shakes off his coat, but then his eyes land on the open boxes in the living room. “What’s with the boxes?” 

There goes my plan to soften him with a beer. 

“Are you moving?” Mum immediately follows up. 

“As a matter of fact, I am.” I take a deep breath and cross my arms over my chest as if to shield my heart from their judgment. “Richard asked me to move in with him. And I said yes.” 

“Really?” Mum says as she watches me intently. 

“Yes.” Neither of them speaks for a little while, so I add, “Is that a good ‘really’ or a bad ‘really’?” 

“I’m just surprised! I mean … it’s fast, isn’t it?” 

I gulp. “The thing is … Richard was offered a visiting researcher post at Harvard. He’ll be moving there in September for a little under a year.” 

My parents exchange a confused look, then turn back to me. “So, he’s moving away … but you’re also moving in with him?” 

“Yes. I mean, he’s not moving away forever. That’s temporary.” 

“Still, are  you sure that’s a good idea?” Dad asks. 

I open my mouth to respond, but Mum interjects, “I think what your dad is trying to say is that … long-distance relationships can be difficult. I know you both love each other very much, but that might not be enough once he’s miles away on another continent. We wouldn’t want you to rush into this and end up heartbroken and homeless if it doesn’t work out.” 

“Don’t worry—I know this is a big, and I know long-distance relationships aren’t easy. But Richard and I have discussed it and we really want this. It really makes it easier to accept he’ll be moving away when we’re taking this important step together. Besides, when you know something is right, what’s the point in taking things slow?” When neither of them objects, I say, “Dad, you told me once that it took you just a few months of knowing Mum to realize you wanted to marry her. I feel the same way about Richard.” 

Dad looks at me for a few moments before taking a deep breath.“Richard is a good man,” he says, and those simple words warm my heart.

Mum softens, and she glances at Dad before replying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I think it’s wonderful—but I’m your mum and I can’t help but fret.” For a moment, none of us speaks, but then Mum sighs, and a look passes over her face as if she is just now digesting the news. “You’re really okay with him moving to America?” 

“It doesn’t matter whether or not I’m okay with it. It’s not my decision to make. I’m heartbroken but I really am happy for him—he deserves this opportunity!” Mum steps toward me and tentatively reaches out to squeeze my arm, but when a trembling sigh escapes me, she pulls me into her arms and squeezes me tight, comforting me in a way only a mother can. “I love Richard so much. It might not last—you’re right—but I owe it to him and to myself to believe that it will. At times, it scares me—I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love him. And I’ve never lived with a partner before—I have no idea what to expect! But Richard isn’t afraid. He’s in one hundred percent, and I have to meet him halfway. I want to meet him halfway, even if it means I’m not following my plan,” I say, my heart hammering uncontrollably in my chest. 

I have never liked uncertainty. I have always liked to know where I am headed—to follow a well-laid path free of surprises—but now, my life is a web of unpredictability. Can Richard and I weather the distance and remain as close as we are now? Or will the novelty of this new chapter fade, leaving us with the bitter reality of separation? Part of me selfishly wishes Richard had never been in contact with Dr. Griffin and received this offer from Harvard so that everything would remain as it is. I wish he could stay here in Oxford with me. Everything would be simpler. But I know life does not work that way. Life is like a tangled ball of wool, ensnared in knots and loops, and sometimes, in order to untangle it, it has to become even messier first. I can only hope that the thread I am now following will lead me to the right place. 

Worry still clouds Mum’s eyes, but eventually, she offers me a soft smile. “As long as you’re certain this is what you want and you’re happy, then I support your decision, darling.” Then she turns to Dad and says, “Can you believe this? Our little girl is moving in with her boyfriend.” 

“I’m not a little girl—I’m turning 30 soon!”

“Don’t remind us!” Dad exclaims with a groan, causing me to laugh. “I think I’ll have that drink now.” 

***

The house is quiet when I slip inside, a box full of books in my arms. The smell of garlic and tomatoes fills the air, awakening my already rumbling stomach, but the kitchen is dark and quiet. I frown. Richard always listens to music when he cooks. 

“Hey—I’m back!” I exclaim as I kick off my loafers, then make my way further into the house. 

To my surprise, I find Richard in the living room, stretched out on the sofa as he stares up at the ceiling. He seems lost in his thoughts, and the deep frown wrinkling his forehead tells me they are not pleasant thoughts. When he notices my presence, he offers me a soft smile, but it does not reach his eyes. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

I frown and set the box on the coffee table. “Are you alright?” 

He nods but avoids my gaze, and when I reach out to caress his arm, he says, “You really think I should accept the offer?” 

Surprised by the vulnerability and uncertainty with which he speaks these words, it takes me a moment to answer. “Well, it’s not my decision to make, but … yes, I do think you should accept. I saw how excited you are about the project when we talked about it last night.” When he does not respond, I sit on the coffee table so as to face him. “Darling, talk to me.” 

With a sigh, he slowly rises and looks deep into my eyes, his large hands coming to rest on my thighs. I suddenly realize just how tired and stressed he seems; the low light accentuates the dark circles under his eyes, and his tousled hair bears the evidence of his restless hands. 

“I’m sorry for putting you through this…”

“Don’t be,” I hasten to say, swallowing heavily. “This is such an exciting opportunity.”

“I just … I’m worried you’ll resent me for it.”

“Why would I?” I respond with an incredulous chuckle, confused but also devastated by the fear that overshadows his usually bright eyes. 

“Because … because I’d be choosing my career over you—” 

“What? No—you’re not choosing your career over me,” I reassure him as I reach for one of his hands and intertwine our fingers. “This is just something you need to do.” When he does not respond, I squeeze his hand and ask, “Where is this coming from?”

It takes Richard a while to gather his thoughts, and when, at last, he opens up to me, his voice is laced with a level of insecurity I have never seen in him before. “Did I ever tell you about my ex—Rebecca?” 

“I think you mentioned her once or twice,” I reply with a shrug, slightly confused.

“We’d been together for three years when I received an offer to come work here in Oxford.” He gulps heavily, and I caress his hand with my thumb, hoping the soothing gesture will offer him the reassurance he needs to go on. “I didn’t expect her to uproot her whole life for me, of course—and I didn’t ask her to, but … she told me I had to choose. She told me it wouldn’t work between us if I accepted the offer and moved to Oxford. But how was I supposed to reject an offer like that? 

“I chose to come to Oxford because I knew it was the opportunity I had waited for my whole life, but then I spent years wondering if I had perhaps made the wrong decision. I thought I was going to marry her and—and have kids with her … but I ruined it all.” 

I swallow back the ache in my heart and shake my head. “You didn’t ruin anything. Your career means a lot to you and if she couldn’t understand how important this opportunity was for you and didn’t even want to try and make it work, then it simply wasn’t meant to be. Sorry—I know that’s a shitty thing to say,” I add with a nervous chuckle. “What I mean is … the right person won’t make you choose between them and your career. Trust me—I was once afraid of dating a colleague I was crazy about because I worried I’d be jeopardizing my career, but he showed me that I didn’t have to choose between the two.” 

Richard chuckles, his lips curling into a soft, irresistible smile before he pulls me onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around me, he holds me tight and rests his head on my chest, and as I caress his hair, I feel his heartbeat slow down to match mine. 

“Look, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sad,” I say in a quiet voice as my fears tighten their hold on my throat once more. “I wish you didn’t have to go. But I would hate myself if you rejected this offer because of me, and I think you would, too.” 

“I could never hate you,” he replies, his voice even deeper than usual as he reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on the curve of my jaw. 

“Yes, you would! And you’d hate yourself, too, for messing up this opportunity. I know you want to work on this project—” 

“I do.”

“Then go for it!” I say with a smile that I hope feels sincere despite the tears clouding my eyes. “It won’t be easy—I know that—but I meant everything I said last night. We can get through this. I promise I won’t run away this time.” 

Unable to hold back my tears any longer, I bury my face in the crook of his neck, not wanting to make this any harder than it already is for him. His skin is warm against my cheek, and his familiar scent is as comforting as the large hand that now traces circles on my back as he presses a lingering kiss atop my head. 

“Promise me you’ll come visit as often as you can?” 

“Only if you promise to come back home as often as you can,” I reply into his neck. 

With one hand on my chin, Richard gently coaxes me to look up at him, and my heart flutters like it did when we first began dating as the deep and unwavering love shining in his azure gaze caresses me. 

“Yes—I promise I’ll come back to you as often as possible,” he replies, causing me to smile as he leans in to nuzzle my nose before capturing my lips in a slow, teasing kiss that fills my whole body with yearning. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him deeper into the kiss and press myself against him until no space remains between us. One kiss becomes two, then three, until we are forced to pull apart for air, our lips swollen and our breathing uneven. With gentle hands, Richard wipes away the tears staining my skin, then presses a series of soft kisses over my puffy cheeks, not stopping until I return his smile. It is even darker in the room now, but the softness in his gaze is clearer to me than ever before. 

“What’s with the box?” he asks after a long moment of comfortable silence. 

“Hm? Oh—just some books I’m not sure if I should keep or not. I thought I could use your expertise.” 

“Well, a sensible person would tell you you don’t need twenty editions of The Lord of the Rings, but I would never tell you that,” he says with a grin. “Besides, I have as many Shakespeare editions, so I think we might be doomed.” 

“Why do you have so many Shakespeare anthologies anyway? I mean, it’s the same plays in nearly all of them.” 

“But the footnotes and editorial comments are different!” he exclaims. 

“I don’t know if I should be concerned or if I love you even more for that,” I say playfully, my heart already considerably lighter than it was moments before. 

Richard grins. “Oh, I think you know.” I am still giggling when he kisses me, his lips soft and wet as his beard scratches my cheeks in that irresistible way. 

“As lovely as this is,” I begin as I slow the kiss down to a few soft pecks, “I am starving, and something smells divine.” 

“I know how much you like mushrooms, so I made a mushroom rosé sauce. I just need to cook some pasta.” 

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” I say with a smile, kissing him again before dragging him into the kitchen, where we share countless more reassuring hugs and soft kisses as we eat. 

Tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc @sazzlep @albionscastle

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters or added to my tag list, let me know!

[strafethesesinners]

Let me tell you (r OC) something

tagged by @trench-rot​ and @g0dspeeed​ to do this quiz for my ocs! Thank you!

tagging @florbelles​ @blissfulalchemist​ @deputyash​ @nightwingshero​ @shallow-gravy​ @direwombat​ @nuclearstorms​ @socially-awkward-skeleton​ @strangefable​ @purplehairsecretlair​ @harlow1898​ @josephslittledeputy​ @henbased​ @adelaidedrubman​ @yeetslovescheese​ @a-far-cry-from-my-main​ @fourlittleseedlings​ @depyotee​ and whoever wants to!

you are love I think I have been chasing after you my whole life. It took me too long to understand that you are, in fact, everywhere. You are in everything we do, in everything we are. You are what keeps us going, you are what makes us human. I don't think you are made for me though. You look good on other people tho, people who know what to do with you. I don't think I will ever be able to do you justice. I am not sure what you look like, I just know that you are there. I know you care and you will be around till our dying days. You will persevere, you are the strongest thing in the world. you are all we have left. And be patient with people like me, I promise we are trying.

you are sunlight I think I have lost many hours of my life in an attempt to keep you close. I mean, can you blame me? You are warmth and comfort. There is no rush with you, you are patient and kind. Because you feel like sunlight and hope...yeah, I think you feel like hope. something about you feels like I have made you up and you could disappear any second. you are everything I'm not and admire you. You are the closest I can get to an idea of what love is supposed to feel like. Please stay around for a little while longer, I need you.

a memory I can't erase we knew each other once. I still see you in everything. you once felt the closest I've ever felt to home. I gave everything I had to prove to you that I was worthy of your love. but sometimes, everything isn't enough. I miss you every day a little more. you knew me better than anyone else. you're a stranger now. I still need you, and maybe I always will. maybe in another life, we could've worked it out. I wish things would have been different. I loved you, god, I loved you so fucking much. and I guess I still do...I guess, I still do.

[ladyniniane]

One song for every OC

Aka: “My blorbos x Florence and the Machine”

I was tagged by @violets-in-her-arms-writes thank you for this tag, it’s everything I wanted to do :P

Rules: Assign a song that fits the vibe of your OC.

So here are the songs that fit some of my FE3H OCs (It would be too long if I did all of them). As usual, if you want to read the story, it’s here (in French).

Maeve Fresnay - “Free” by Florence and the Machine

I'm always running from something/I push it back, but it keeps on coming/ And being clever never got me very far

Is this how it is? / Is this how it's always been?/To exist in the face of suffering and death / And somehow still keep singing

Explanation: Maeve is a very sweet, caring and sensitive character. Because of that, she’s very adept at reading the world around her and receptive to other people’s emotions. And that often makes her anxious. However, she has a lot of inner strength and maintains a positive attitude in spite of everything. And since she’s a musician by vocation but decided to join the army to follow her friends, she in fact keeps singing in the face of suffering and death.

Enid Fresnay - “Cassandra” by Florence and the Machine

Well, can you see me? I cannot see you / Everything I thought I knew has fallen out of view / In this blindness I'm condemned to / Well, can you hear me? I cannot hear you / Every song I thought I knew, I've been deafened to / And there's no one left to sing to

Take me back / Oh, drunken gods of slaughter / You know I've always been your / Favorite daughter

Explanation: Enid is Maeve’s older sister. She’s a cold and damaged woman who has sworn revenge on the dark mages who captured her and experimented on her when she was a child. The turn of events has made that she and Maeve are now separated. Enid thinks her sister is dead and Maeve is hoping that she’s alive. Enid fears that there’s no place for her within this world. This song perfectly reflects this feeling of alienation. Enid is also a fearsome warrior, something that the last line perfectly conveys.

Mencia Ordelaffi - “Girls against God” by Florence and the Machine

What a thing to admit / That when someone looks at me with real love I don't like it very much /Kinda makes me feel like I'm being crushed Is this something that you would like to discuss?

Oh God, you're gonna get it /You'll be sorry that you messed with me

Explanation: The rest of the song doesn’t really fit but those lyrics are perfect for her. Mencia grew up with an abusive mother and as such, isn’t really used to being loved and doesn’t like feeling vulnerable. Her anger burns inside of her and she uses it to power through life. Her story starts as she’s disfigured following a major battle, her first real battle, a really painful ordeal. She will now have to live with scars on her face. Still, she’s determined not to give up and will overcome all obstacles.

Anselma von Arundel - “Daffodil” by Florence and the Machine

I'm not bad, I'm not good / I drank every sky that I could / Made myself mythical, tried to be real / Saw the future in the face of a / Daffodil

We practice resurrection every night / Raising the dead under the moonlight And in the gloaming, I start to cry / You're a perfect pearl hung in the sky

I never thought it would get this far / This somewhat drunken joke Sometimes, I see so much beauty / I don't think that I can cope

Explanation: Well, Anselma isn’t exactly an OC. She’s technically a canon character, but the only things we know about her in the game are her name and a few glimpses of her personnality. So here, we’re talking about the version of  her that I developed.

Anselma is a survivor. She has been the concubine of an emperor and the wife of a king. She was forced to take part in a plot against said king because the conspirators were threatening to harm her biological daughter. Baldy injured when the assination took place, she’s now living in secluded area. The “perfect pearl” makes me think of how she sees her adopted daughter, whom she often compares to the moon. Meeting this child gave her a new objective and a chance to make things right for once.

Sometime ago I made some edits centered on Anselma and those lyrics, so it’s time to use them!

Bonus: “King” fits the vibe of so many of my characters that I have to mention it:

But you need your rotten heart / Your dazzling pain like diamond rings You need to go to war to find material to sing / I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king

I need my golden crown of sorrow / My bloody sword to swing My empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology / I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king

Je tague @lilias42 (si tu as d’autres chansons associées à tes histoires et tes persos ça peut être super sympa ! Si tu veux le faire, bien sûr).

[firecrackerhh]

Yknow when I really think about it I don’t really give a shit if someone doesn’t like Viv’s stuff.

Cuz ultimately they can cry and bitch and moan about her all day long, doesn’t change the fact she’s still gonna do what she’s gonna do yknow?

My problem lies where some criticals have this fucking superiority complex where they fucking think they’re better than us fans just because they look at something “critically.” Even though there’s more to critical thinking than constantly fucking bitching about how bad you think something is, something they have yet to figure out.

Frankly, they aren’t better than us, they’re just obnoxious.

All they do is cry about Viv and how terrible her writing is, or how the color palette is bad, or how this or that relationship is toxic, or sometimes they don’t even bother with the show, they just start shit-talking Viv as a person.

I feel like if you have so many complaints about a work to where you want it to be something else, Just write a fucking fanfic and move on, instead of wasting time with something you clearly dislike. Stop lying to yourself about how you want to see it improve when in reality you just want it done your way.

It’s fucking weird, like they expect us to just keep listening to their stupid bullshit with no complaints, yeah you have a right to free speech, so do we, you say something fucking stupid, don’t be surprised when people call you out on it. They act like they get fucking harassed by us when in reality we’re just responding to them normally? Yeah maybe some people in the fandom are passive aggressive or respond with memes or whatever but that’s only because so many antis and criticals are fucking blockheads and nothing we say matters to them anyway so why bother? Can’t argue with a brick wall.

If you think Viv’s writing is so fucking bad, and every episode just keeps reinforcing that opinion, then why keep watching it? Swear to God I legit think some criticals are fucking masochists or something.

I’m not saying you can’t criticize either show at all, but if your criticisms revolve around how her characters “all look the same.” Or how Vivzie portrays demons or angels in an inaccurate way (even though demons and angels don’t fucking exist) then perhaps, I’m sorry to repeat something you’ve heard a million times before, it just isn’t for you.

It isn’t like Viv ever SAID she was aiming for accuracy anyway, if you think that, that’s your fault my dude. You are the idiot here.

I know those aren’t the only examples of course but they’re the ones I thought of off the top of my head.

Look, I don’t think Viv is a fucking goddess among us mere mortals or any of that horseshit, she isn’t infallible, but she’s a fucking human being! She’s a human being who frankly I think does not deserve half of the constant fucking bullshit she probably is forced to bear witness to every time she goes on social media. She doesn’t deserve to get fucking doxxed or get patreon shit leaked or whatever because some of y’all are fucking douchebags who get some fucking thrill out of making shit harder for someone who hasn’t done anything to you. She isn’t the literal devil.

But, though I’m sure she would appreciate the sentiment, I don’t have the energy to waste on debunking obviously bullshit claims about Viv, other people do that shit online as is, I just…it’s exhausting man.

I just like it for what it is. Isn’t perfect, nothing is, but I’m not asking for perfection! What I’m looking for is a good time, and so far? I’ve been enjoying myself, irritated as I can get by hearing stupid people online. Isn’t my fault I’ve been hyperfixated on her shows since 2019.

It for whatever reason has brought me far more joy than I honestly expected. Like I made OCs, I’m almost on 40 chapters of my fanfic I’ve been writing since late 2019, maybe everything I’m writing is garbage but hey, I’m having a fun time, anyone who has a problem with that can suck it.

It isn’t like this is the only thing I’ve liked that gets nothing but constant bullshit online. Sometimes I honestly think it’s best if we just didn’t bother even speaking to critics and antis, it’s obvious they’re as set in their ways as we are, why bother? Unless they say something truly reprehensible in which case we bring the wrath of God (Satan?) upon them.

Well, there’s my 2 cents. Though I think I turned 2 cents into 20 dollars with how long my ramblings tend to go on for.

🔥🧨Firecracker out🔥🧨

[hesperantha]

Hiiiii, I just wanted to tell you that I recently binge read all your fics and I just couldn't stop myself from giving how I felt reading both Set Me Free and Teardrop so I'm sorry for the long post ahead 😅 (and I did note take how I felt after reading both fics)

Set Me Free

One of the best fics I've read so far. I love how everything seems open ended to begin with which sets for like a mystery between OC and Yoongi from different eras but so clear on how their situations are per time frame. That actually made me emotional cause like the attraction plus the longing are heightened even more but at the same time their time with each other is shortened. I really like this fic so much, it's something I'll re-read every so often.

Teardrop

This literally fits the term "what a ride!" Again I can't explain how I love this series! It made me laugh, cry, all types of emotions present here. I kinda saw myself with OC and how she thinks and takes everything in situations, specially challenging ones, where overthinking and what ifs. Also the events OC and Yoongi went through and their growth, like maybe that's really the only way for them to understand their own and combined situation or standing in life but one thing for sure is they're a team, ever since their relationship started as roommates, their dynamic works, they just get each other even though sometimes it's unclear or so but they both really care for each other. God I just love this story and this couple so much, this is something I'll re-read every so often, even though I already know what happens, I'll still cry or laugh.

I'm also wanting to know their other future stories (no pressure!) but I'm happy how their present life was shown in the latest chapter.

Thank you for making all those stories!!! You are such a good writer. I will be here to re-read your current fics and read your future ones too (again no pressure 😂) 💜💜💜

I am absolutely blown away by this ask and tbh screenshotted it right away because I wasn’t sure it was real. Especially hearing that you read Set Me Free and enjoyed it - I’ve thought so many times about pulling that one. It was the second fic I ever wrote posted. I know I’ve grown as a writer since then, and it can be hard to look back on something older without cringing and thinking of all the little (and big) things I would change if I were writing it now. Now I think I’ll keep it up 💜

In terms of future stories for the Teardrop pair… I don’t have any planned. That doesn’t mean something else won’t come to me, but if I add anything else it will be a bonus, not part of the story. That said, I’ve been kicking around the idea of checking in on biker JK (90% be, 10% do) and seeing what that himbo is up to.

[neowinestainedress]

Come back...be here ; nakamoto yuta

title: come back...be here | part of the “loving him was red” series

pairing: nakamoto yuta x oc |

genre: smut, ceo au, fwb au, dilf!Yuta, aged up!Yuta, age gap (23 her and 37 him), angst

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl), phone sex, guided masturbation, sex toys, public (office) sex, light exhibitionism, dirty talk, minor degradation, rough sex, implied oral sex (f and m receiving), praise kink, minor restrained sex (with a belt), angst, Yuta’s kind of harsh with her sometimes, power imbalance (she’s head over heels for him and would do anything just to be with him and he takes advantage of that)

summary: Falling for a man that could be your father is not a wise thing to do, and it’s even worse when he’s worlds away and the rules at the start were very clear, no feelings on the line. But she had never been good at following them, and now, she was paying the price. 

words: 12.776k

taglist: @meowniee @commentgirl @b1kon131 @blossom-rea @kyungsooislifeu @jenosbliss @multistan30​ | if you’d like to be added comment on the masterlist of the series

a/n: I’ve worked on this for ages and had so many blocks but I’m very happy with how it turned out. It may probably be one of my favourites story I’ve written so far for this series. I tried to experiment a little so the storyline is not linear but I hope everything it’s still clear. Feedback is always appreciated, it motivates and I always like to hear your thoughts! 

You said it in a simple way, 4 AM, the second day. How strange that I don’t know you at all. Stumbled through the long goodbye. One last kiss, then catch your flight. Right when I was just about to fall.

“You can’t possibly think that, right?” Mr Nakamoto asked, voice incredulous, staring at her tear-streaked face; puffy cheeks, red eyes, and lips getting tormented by her teeth. 

“I just… I thought you cared,” she replied, sniffling, and cursing herself for not being able to stop crying. She looked so pathetic right now, so vulnerable in front of his eyes, so small and weak compared to his composed state, even now. Unscratchable, as if what she had just told him meant nothing.  

“I did, I mean, I do. I care about you, but not like that,” Yuta replied. “Stop crying, it won’t change things.” 

She pursed her lips together and looked at the ground; she knew that, but she couldn’t control herself. “So, you don’t love me?” 

Yuta scoffed and ran a hand in his hair, “God, baby, no.” 

“But –” 

“No, stop,” he said, cupping his hands around her shoulder, making her lift her gaze again, “listen to me. What even made you think that?” 

“We did, we, oh come on, you know why,” she cried. Why was he humiliating her like that? 

“We fucked, and yes, it was amazing but that’s it. I thought it was clear.” 

“But you made me stay so many times and you were nice to me,” she tried to justify but he just chuckled again, and she couldn’t get if it was for the disbelief or to mock her, but either way, it hurt. 

“What was I supposed to do? Throw you outside after we were finished? Did you want to feel used like that? Was I supposed to treat you harshly?” 

She shook her head, lips sealed together, not able to say a word. It had all been in her mind, everything. 

“Why me then?” 

“What do you mean why you?” He asked, furrowing. “You’re pretty, gorgeous even, but it’s not what I’m looking for. I’ve already been tied down, baby, and it didn’t work out. I’m not getting into another marriage and with a kid like you.” 

“I’m not a kid,” she almost screamed back at him. She hated when he made her feel all the years of difference between them. She hated when he highlighted the biggest problem of their relationship. 

Yuta sighed and then pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t understand how you can be serious. Like, seriously, what’s making you believe I would fall for you?” 

“Why not? What do I have that’s not enough? What’s wrong with me?” She screamed, feeling tears fall fast on her cheeks. She loved him, more than she wanted to admit. She was deep down into that, and she meant absolutely nothing to him. But she didn’t want to let go, there had to be something that tied them together, there had to be… 

Yuta mumbled something and then sighed, “You’re beautiful and smart. You know I’m proud of you but that doesn’t mean I love you. I don’t, and I never will.” 

“But why?” Her voice came out strangled and weary. 

“Listen, listen,” he said, grabbing her again when her sobs got louder. “Stop crying, please. Seriously, it’s pathetic, just stop.” 

But at his words, she just felt like she wanted to cry even harder. 

“You can’t be serious. You can’t really believe that? Are you crying to manipulate me into you or are you genuinely sad?” 

She didn’t answer and instead drifted her gaze away. “God, you’re really into this, fuck,” he whispered, running a hand in his hair. “Well, I guess now it’s late but, baby, it was just sex.” 

“But –”

“No, stop it. It was amazing, fuck, you’re really fucking amazing, and I would do it all over again but that’s it.” 

“So that’s all I am to you? Sex? A hole to fill?” 

“Okay, now you’re exaggerating. I thought it was clear that I needed to get my mind off and you were always there, you would pick up all my calls, answer all my texts, you’d do anything. I thought you were into me just as much as I was into you.” 

“I was, I am, but I did it because I thought you really wanted me.” 

“I wanted you, baby. You have no idea how good you made me feel, and how much you helped get my mind off my ex-wife, but I’m not getting into something serious again. I don’t want commitment.” 

I told myself, don't get attached, but in my mind, I play it back spinning faster than the plane that took you.

“Are you sure of what you’re doing?” Sooyoung asked, staring at her with a judging expression. 

“Why? What’s wrong with that?” 

“What’s wrong with that? He’s almost forty, Alyssa, he could be your father.” 

She rolled her eyes and then skimmed through the lingerie in front of her at the store, trying to choose the perfect piece for the night. “It’s just for fun,” she replied, picking a black set and studying the details. “He’s super hot, and well, rich, might turn helpful.” 

Her friend scoffed, shaking her head, “Yeah, you’ll need the money once it’s over and he’ll send you to therapy.” 

“Oh my god, I thought you were going to support me.” 

“Yeah, me too. When you told me about this new man you were fucking, I imagined you were talking about someone around your age not a divorced man with a child, like, what? Six years younger than us?” 

“And what’s the difference? He’s not married, I’m not being a homewrecker.” 

“But he’ll break you.” 

“No, if I don’t get attached,” she replied, shrugging, deciding to go for the black set she had eyed before, waiting for her friend to follow her around. 

“We all know you will. He’s rubbing right there where your daddy issues want to, am I right?” 

“Shut up,” she half screamed, glaring at her friend. “I told you it just happened, and it’s just for fun. I need sex, he needs it too and we’re fine.” 

But now she was regretting not listening to her friend. Because Yuta was always away. He was out, flying through different cities, his job and career now being his number one priority again. And she realized how terrible the situation was when she missed him more than she missed his lips, hands, or cock. 

The phone lit up and his contact popped up on the screen making her panic. She took a quick glance at the mirror, she was in a rather terrible state, with ugly home clothes on, and third-day messed up hair, but she had to take it. Mr. Nakamoto was calling her. And she couldn’t waste this occasion. 

“Hi,” she said, voice excited and a smile curling her pink lips as soon as Yuta showed up on the camera. 

“Hi, baby,” he greeted, his voice sounded raspy, but other sounds that she couldn’t quite make out were audible, still she didn’t pay much attention, too happy he had called her.

“What are you doing?” She asked innocently, and he chuckled. 

“Thinking of you,” he replied with a smirk on his face, and she couldn’t help but smile wider. 

“Oh, and why?” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied, biting his lip and rolling his head back, and just at that moment, she realized. He wasn’t masturbating…right? “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, God,” he groaned, gulping as he forced his eyes open again. “Your tits, your ass, the way you clench around me.” 

She felt sad, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but stop the excitement from gushing inside of her. He was thinking of her. Her body was keeping him up at night. That was better than nothing, right? 

“Oh, and what were you thinking about?” 

Yuta snickered and then positioned the phone in a way that showed his entire body, finally revealing his throbbing hard cock to her. “You were all dolled up in my bed when I came home after a long day at work, and I started kissing you, and you started squirming under me, opening your eyes slowly, mortified you couldn’t stay, fuck, awake for me, but then, shit, I told you it was fine.”

She gulped, pressing her legs closer together, already feeling herself get wetter, trying not to drool at the sight of his hand pumping his dick up and down slowly, making drops of pre-cum roll down the length. 

“And then I moved my hand on your body, fuck,” he muttered, “show it to me, come on,” he encouraged, and she listened immediately. Her hands moved to lift up her shirt and then pushed her pants down. 

“Like this?” 

“Everything, I want to see everything,” he moaned, forcing his head up to look at her through the screen, staring at her as she got rid of her panties too. “Spread yourself for me,” he ordered, stilling his hand around his base, “show me how wet you are already.” 

She hesitantly opened her legs, pushing them up against her chest as she tried to comfortably lay against the mass of pillows behind her, hoping the phone wasn’t going to fall from the way she positioned it in front of her in a made-up standee with some of her college books. 

“Shit,” he moaned, rolling his head back and biting his lip to muffle a groan, “perfect. You are perfect.” 

Her chest itched at his words, heart pumping louder in her chest and stupid butterflies flying in her stomach. 

“What – what were you doing to me in your dreams?” She dared to ask, nervously biting her thumb’s nail in anticipation, wanting to hear those dirty thoughts spill out of his lips. He wasn’t really vocal in bed, or with his feelings in general, always composed and put together, knowing exactly what to say, and, most of the time, it didn’t take him words but just one look or nod to get his point across. But right now, he was so open, and she liked that, seeing him vulnerable, her subconscious tricking her into thinking that maybe they were lost for each other just the same. Fooling her into thinking he liked her just as much as she liked him. Making her fall into a trap that was so big, but her lust and love hazed brain couldn’t see it and painted it rainbows. 

But Yuta didn’t get it, she simply seemed desperate in his eyes, greedy for more, ready to follow any of his commands with the snap of his fingers and he loved it because he truly couldn’t see what truly was behind her big brown eyes staring at him behind the screen. “I slipped my fingers in your panties,” he whispered, starting to pick up the movements on his boner again, “you were drenched, dreaming of me, of my cock filling you up,” he continued, getting lost in the sight of her body, it wasn’t even close to having her under him, close, panting, squirming, but it was better than nothing, better than his fist and only imagination. “Slide your fingers in, babe.” 

She nodded briefly before her right hand slid down her leg and reached her wet pussy that was already dripping on the cover of her bed. Her fingers smeared the wetness on her folds and then her body easily welcomed two fingers inside, the pleasure making her head roll back and her mouth part in a low gasp of relief. 

“Good girl,” he praised, squeezing his cock, “now move them,” he ordered, “slowly, let me see how you stretch yourself out.” 

And she obeyed, trying to don’t give in to her needs but to listen to him and pump her fingers inside at a slow pace to give him what he wanted. 

“So pretty,” he moaned, only looking at her pussy getting stretched from her digits. “Wishing it was my cock, don’t you? It would fill you so much more, right? Just how you – fuck – want to.” 

“Yes,” she breathed out, legs falling more open, shame long gone in the back of her brain as she tried to feel more and reach deeper, curling them up, feeling her sensitive spot.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned. “Can see you glisten from here, shit.” 

“It’s for you,” she moaned, “only for you.”

“I know, baby,” Mr. Nakamoto replied, starting to move faster, “you don’t want those other boys, do you?” 

She shook her head, looking at him, asking him with pleading eyes if she could move faster and when he nodded, a smirk on his face, she didn’t waste time starting to thrust harder into her. 

“Need to hear you,” she pleaded, eyes half-lidded and glossy. 

“Want me to moan louder? Want to hear how hard you got me?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“Grab your dildo, first,” he said, surprising her, “come on, I know you fuck yourself with it when I’m away. You might as well fuck yourself for me in front of me.” 

She hummed nonsense, and carefully pulled her fingers out of her before turning around to open the drawer next to her bed and grab the pink sex toy. 

“Suck it,” he ordered when she faced the phone again, bringing the toy to her lips to get it wet. It felt weird being behind a screen, doing something so dirty and intimate and yet being so far, but she couldn’t hide that it was still hot. “Good, and now fuck yourself for me.” 

Yuta’s lips parted in a moan when the tip of the toy slipped past her entrance before she pushed it down completely. 

“Fuck,” she moaned when she started moving it inside out slowly, taking time to feel it stretch her and rub against her sensitive flesh. “Feels good, but not like you.” 

“I know, baby,” he moaned, “I know. Wish that was my cock instead, don’t you?” 

She hummed, cupping her left boob with her free hand and grinding her hips against the toy to bring herself more pleasure. 

“I’d fuck you harder than that,” he breathed out through gritted teeth, groaning as he watched her hand wander on her body and wishing it was his instead, he missed her soft skin, and the way her body would squirm at his every touch, or the way her lips brushed against him, letting out whines and moans. “Fast and deep just how you like it.” 

“Yes, please,” she moaned, eyes closed, walls squeezing at the memory of them together, and hands trying to replicate his speed and his angles.  

“You want that?” He asked, pumping faster on his cock. “Should I give it to – shit – to you when I come back?” 

“Yes, yes, please,” she begged, glossy eyes staring at him through the screen. 

“Won’t even drop by my place but – fuck – come to you, yeah? Want me to run to you just to fuck you?” 

She nodded, trapping her lips in her teeth, muffling the embarrassing sounds coming out of her chest. 

“So needy,” Yuta mocked, hand moving quicker around his hard throbbing cock. “Fuck, wish it was your pussy clenching around me. I bet it is, right? Squeezing so tight around that toy, you can – fuck – barely pull out.” 

“I’m so wet,” she whispered, throwing her head back, no matter how much she wanted to see him, the pleasure was too strong, and the lewd sounds of his hand around his boner and his groans were enough, she knew exactly what he looked like right now even if she wasn’t watching. She could see him stand on top of her, hands at the side of her head, greying brown hair falling down in front of his face, lips parted, and eyes open, never parting from her face and body.

“I know, I can hear your dirty sounds. Is your pretty pussy so desperate for me?” 

“Yes. Miss you,” she breathed out, chest heaving, “miss you so much.” 

“I’ll be back soon, babe,” he reassured her. “But I need you to come now, got it? Would you do it for me?” 

She bit her lip hard but nodded, lifting her head up again, wanting to see him come, letting her brain imagine that all his cum would’ve been into her, leaving her something to hold on to, no matter how dirty, disgusting and wrong it was, it was better than nothing. 

“Yes,” her voice came out in a whisper while her hand started pumping faster inside her and her legs pressed against her chest so she could reach deeper, “I’m close.” 

“Yeah, me too, fuck,” he moaned. “You’re so, so pretty, dripping all over the sheets for me, moaning just for me. Moan my name when you come.” 

And she did, keeping her eyes on him, lips divided, letting out shaky chants of his name mixed with moans, shocks rocking her body as the orgasm hit and they came together, on different sides of the world, but together. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, shoulders dropping and head falling against the headboard of the bed in his hotel room, “that was exactly what I needed.” 

She smiled timidly, shaking herself out of the lust-haze and getting shy, pulling out the sex toy and placing it on top of the drawer before swiftly covering herself again, while a bittersweet feeling spread in her chest. 

“Glad I could help,” she replied, not looking at him, pretending to be focused on the sheets and how to avoid the wet spot on them because she wasn’t what he needed but her sex was what he needed and it would’ve been fine, it should’ve been fine, that was what they had agreed on and yet all the times she had reminded herself to don’t get caught in something bigger, apparently, had been useless because right now she was there, missing him, not only his body, and the amazing sex, or the money. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, sensing her shift.  

“Yeah, just tired, I guess,” she forced a bright smile to curl her round full lips before pressing them in a tight line to swallow the way she hated being alone so much. Yeah, maybe it was just that. She missed the company, it surely had to be that. She couldn’t be that dumb to let herself truly get under somebody like him. 

“Yeah, it’s late in New York, isn’t it?” 

She nodded, sitting again on the bed, and grabbing the phone so he could only see her face now, “It’s past midnight.” 

“I hope I didn’t wake you up,” he said, smiling, almost looking tenderly and she cursed at herself when her eyes curled up and her heart jumped in her throat at the comfort that his sweet smile and his caring words made her feel. 

“No, don’t worry. I was about to go to sleep; I had just finished something for Uni.” 

He hummed, rolling his eyes at the word ‘university’, luckily for him he had left that hell in the past. “Full due to the exams?” 

“Yeah, but I’m doing great.” 

“I know you are, you are smart, have a great road ahead.” 

“I hope so,” she simply replied, tucking a strand of her tight curls behind her ear, hoping her heart would stop beating so loud in her chest. He probably didn’t even truly think that, it was just niceties, something he had to say to don’t make it look like he didn’t even remember what she was graduating in, not that computer science ever looked interesting in many people’s eyes. 

“How was the meeting?” She changed the subject, stretching her legs, and then falling back against the mattress as she watched him clean up the mess and get back into his sweatpants – how much she would’ve loved to have him there with her, in his comfy clothes, the ones he rarely used since he was always at work and even at home it was rare to see him like this. She wondered if his ex-wife felt the same, or if with her, he showed his ‘casual-self’ more often. She couldn’t lie, she felt a little bit of jealousy of that woman, because even if now they were divorced, she had him, in a way she could only dream about – 

“You’re not listening, aren’t you?” Yuta’s chuckle brought her out of her thought, damn, got caught with her hands in the cookie jar. 

“No, sorry,” she confessed, awkward smile on her lips, and a hand running on her face, diferting the gaze from his body. 

He smiled, shaking his head. “It went well, I was saying. But maybe you need to sleep. Would never want to be the reason you collapse in class tomorrow.” 

She giggled, turning to the side, bringing the other pillow close to her, imaging it was him. “I don’t have class tomorrow, I think I’ll go to the library to study with Sooyoung, though.” 

“Good, you still need some hours of sleep if you want to put something in your little brain.” 

“Don’t say that!” She huffed. “You make me sound dumb.” 

“It was an affectionate use of little. I’d never think that of you.” 

But he was wrong. Because she was dumb, incredibly dumb for believing that this – whatever they had going on – could be something more than sex. She was dumb because being good at school is useful to nothing if you can get fooled so easily in everyday life. 

“Fine, I’ll let you go to sleep too.” 

“Yeah, need some good hours of sleep too.” 

“Goodnight,” she greeted, waving her hand in front of the screen. 

“Goodnight, babe,” he replied with a smile before hanging off the call. 

And she laid there for eternal ten minutes, staring at the ceiling, holding the pillow close to her chest, squeezing tight it would’ve exploded if it was made of other materials and then let herself go into ugly crying. 

If she could’ve gone back in time and slapped herself for letting herself get caught in this, she would’ve. But she couldn’t, and she was screwed. 

And this is when the feeling sinks in, I don’t wanna miss you like this. Come back, be here, come back, be here. I guess you’re in New York today, I don’t wanna need you this way. Come back, be here, come back, be here.

When Yuta came back from Seattle, he did as promised. Because if there was something Mr. Nakamoto knew how to do was how to keep promises. 

And under other circumstances, she would’ve loved that, but now she hated it. Because to keep his promises, to fulfill what she had begged for, she was under his hold once again. Squirming in his hands as they ran on her skin with the hunger of those who have been starved for months. 

Touching every inch, squeezing and making her shiver again, and again. 

Every move, a command she would follow with no hesitation, like a puppet on his strings. 

Down on her knees, bringing him the pleasure he had longed for. Taking him all. Wrapping her lips around him and doing exactly what he wanted. Hard, and fast, and then slow, and sloppy. And then up again, against his lips, greedy and soft at the same time, but probably that was only an illusion, a kind feeling behind those rough gestures she wanted to put on herself because she needed to believe he cherished her more, that deep down, somewhere, he wanted more.  

And that thought, that foolish thinking, was enough to let her feet drag her body into her bedroom, messy, full of pictures hanging on the wall of her best memories with her friends, with vinyl against the wall and posters of her favourite movies. A screaming reminder of how he didn’t belong there, with his suit and tie, expensive watches, shiny lacquered shoes, and pulled-back hair. 

But if he didn’t fit in her world, then why did he fit perfectly in her? 

Between her legs, in the hollow of her chest, against her parted lips, intertwined with her fingers and inside of her. 

If he wasn’t meant to be there, why he was there? 

Fucking her so perfectly in a rhythm of a symphony of their own. 

Filling her in a way no other ever did and no other ever will. 

Fitting into her, in her wet core, in her bleeding heart, and deep under her skin. 

Perfectly, like a sculptor carving in the marble a picture that existed only in his brain. 

That was why it all made sense in her pleasure-dusted brain. That was why it also always made sense after, during the afterglow, wrapped in his arms, holding her gently, caressing her back or her waist. He looked like he belonged there. It looked like he wanted to belong there. 

He liked her. 

No. 

He loved her. 

There was no way he didn’t when he was staring at her like that, caressing her cheek so tenderly, intertwining their fingers so softly, and telling her how beautiful she looked while the golden hour lightened up her skin and made her look something close to an angel. 

Making her heart swell in her chest, thump so loud it was sure he could hear it against his rib cage. 

There was no way he didn’t when he hoisted her up and walked her to the shower and helped her get cleaned up, taking time to let the soft sponge pass on her skin. And then helped her dry with the towel, before going out and cooking something with what she had in the fridge, scolding her for the way it was almost empty and how she couldn’t live like this. All for her to roll her eyes and remind him that he wasn’t her father. 

And then the reminder; he needed to go back to his son for the weekend and she couldn’t call. Yuta wanted no distraction when he was with him since he tried to make the best out of the few days he got to physically spend with his son since his ex-wife moved to England with her new family. 

And Alyssa hummed, bitterly, almost venomously, just to want to slap herself for being jealous of a seventeen-year-old kid. How stupid that was? How immature of her it was? She had to do better, it was just going to be a matter of time and then Yuta would’ve brought her with him, making them meet. They could’ve all gone out together to a fancy restaurant, or watched a movie, or done other things families did. Right? It wasn’t so absurd. Yuta was there, this already was familiar, cosy, lovely. He was cooking for her, leaving kisses on her forehead or against the palm of her hand on any occasion. They were dancing in the kitchen while he recommended her songs to play on Spotify. He was letting her in, showing her a more intimate part of him, his taste, his hobbies, his habits. 

She wasn’t crazy, or dumb. She wasn’t seeing things. 

This was real. This was good. 

And the stinging pain, the cutting reminder that they were simply two worlds apart and could never work it out, slipped her mind because in her small kitchen, in her bed, and in her heart, they were already making it work. 

The delicate beginning rush. The feeling you can know so much, without knowing anything at all. And now that I can put this down, if I had known what I know now, I never would've played so nonchalant.

When they first met, she never could’ve imagined how it was going to end. 

The blinding lights from the expensive chandeliers of the big room in that palace shined and reflected on the mirrors that decorated the walls. Music filled the ambient along with people chatting. But all of that didn’t matter when Nakamoto Yuta stood right in front of her; brown hair pulled back, black suit fitting perfectly around his body, expensive watch on his wrist. 

“Oh, sorry,” she had mumbled when she almost spilled the liquid of her glass on him. Her eyes wide open while she wanted to be absorbed by the floor when she realized who was standing in front of her, not only expecting to be yelled at but also being thrown out of that event. 

But the scold she was expecting didn’t arrive, he was looking at her with a kind smile on his face as he slowly shook his head. 

“No worries,” his voice sounded like velvet, with a hint of something spicy hidden behind. “It’s chaotic here, isn’t it?” 

Her mouth opened and closed swiftly, while she damned herself, begging herself to please let out something, anything that wouldn’t have made her look like a fool. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of people,” she replied, fingers clenching around the neck of the flute in a way that was very much against the etiquette of the place and the event. 

“It can get overwhelming,” he added and then looked around. “Are you alone here?” 

“Y-yes,” she half-lied, she had somebody, her boyfriend, soon-to-be ex-boyfriend considering how he treated her. “I mean, not really, I, uhm, he left me alone when we arrived.” He was a businessman, ugh, just started and he already felt like the whole world revolved around him and barely spared her a glance the entire night, too busy talking with other people like him. 

The older man tilted his head, “Your boyfriend, I guess?” 

She nodded, “Ex, soon.” 

“Oh, sorry, had no idea it was that bad,” he apologized, eyes scanning her up and down, trying to make it look casual and don’t appear too caught up in the shape of her body. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, lowering her head, not able to bear the way he was looking at her. His eyes were so intense she felt she could combust. 

“But he’s not here,” he noted, eyes locking into hers when her gaze lifted up. The confidence he emitted made her knees buckle and her breath get caught in her throat for a second. 

“No, he’s not here.” 

“Maybe we could go somewhere quieter. You know, all these people are starting to get on my nerves,” he chuckled, but he was serious, he truly couldn’t stand those events after a while. All those people he couldn’t bring himself to care about, but she… she looked like somebody he could care about. The beautiful red dress wrapped around her frame gracefully, her long black hair falling straight around her neck, the light makeup adorning her beautiful face. Fuck. He definitely was interested, but maybe this wasn’t a game to play. 

She nodded and simply followed him outside of that room. 

“Really? Just a bedroom?” Mr. Nakamoto huffed when after countless doors closed, finally one opened. 

She chuckled, pushing a shorter strand of hair out of her face, and then said, “It’s fine, it’s not like we’re going to use it for… yeah, you know.” 

A smirk curled his beautiful lips as he turned around to look at her, the blush was barely visible behind the black colour of her skin, but he could bet her face was burning up, and her nails were hitting on top of each other nervously. 

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to cheat on your lovely boyfriend,” the words slipped his mouth before he could think, she thought, it was just a playful remark about how shitty the person she was dating was, right? He wasn’t hinting that if she was single he would’ve… 

“Mh, yes, not a cheater, even if he deserves it,” she spat out, trying to don’t just stay there and let her mind run a thousand miles about the grown man in front of her. God, he could’ve been her father. No, he was the father of a boy a few years younger than her, that was just… so wrong. 

“What’s running in that pretty little mind, uh?” He asked, popping the bottle of champagne he had secretly stolen before leaving the big room and pouring a glass each. It wasn’t like somebody was going to complain to him, Nakamoto Yuta, for borrowing a bottle of alcohol. 

She stilled, lips pursed together, eyes attentively looking at his every move. She couldn’t tell him she was thinking about his hands around her body instead of that bottle. She couldn’t tell him she was thinking about his lips. She couldn’t tell him she had the fattest crush on him for years and now that she was locked in a room – a bedroom – with him, her heart – and her pussy – were beating a thousand miles. 

“Just… uhm, my…” 

“Cat got your tongue?” He joked, straightening up to hand her a glass. 

“No, I’m just a little sad,” she lied. 

“Sad?” Yuta asked, cocking his head to the side and bringing the glass to his lips. 

“Yeah, for my boyfriend, was expecting a great night.” Partially it was true. She knew she should’ve stopped expecting anything from him, but she still was a dreamer, a hopeless romantic, it was pathetic even how terribly she craved love and those bullshits of fairytales. “Got all dressed up for him. Picked his favourite dress, best high heels,” a low sniffle rolled out of her mouth. She hated it so much how his only focus was work and nothing else. She was also busy with university, but she always managed to find a little time for the people she loved, but when it came to her, people never did much, always paying her dust. 

“Hey, no,” Yuta cooed, reaching her, two fingers lifting her chin up, eyes meeting her watery ones. “No men’s worth your tears,” he reminded her, gently caressing away the salty drops that stained her face. 

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, shaking her head, feeling her whole body burn at the touch. Hating herself for acting like a victim when she was right there, going crazy about a man twice her age when she had a boyfriend ten rooms before this. “This is embarrassing, sorry. I don’t cry usually,” she apologized, trying to don’t be her usual self and run an open hand on her face and then dry it on an expensive dress, trying to at least once be more like a lady. “Not in front of strangers at least.” 

Yuta smiled, offering her a napkin after understanding her struggle trying to find some place to dry her tears. “No worries,” he reassured her, lifting his hand to caress her – now dry – cheek. “It’s my fault for bringing him up. Maybe we should focus on something else, don’t you think so? Let the night slip away.” 

“Yeah, I think we should,” she replied, smiling faintly at him, holding tight in her hand the white cotton napkin, and never letting it go. 

The second meeting was the thing she expected even less. When heartbroken in the club she saw him again. And maybe his sweet words or the way he was dressed, so casual compared to his usual attire, led her to his bedroom. 

It was wrong. As much as she wanted to try to hide it, she knew it was wrong. But he made her feel alive, he made her feel wanted. Something she had never felt before, not this strong at least. 

“Are you sure about this?” Yuta asked in a low whisper while his hands roamed on her body and his lips tortured her neck. It was clear as the sky she wanted this, her body trembling under him, her chest rising fast, her lips parted and her lower body grinding against him desperately. But he wanted to hear it from her. 

“Yes, please,” she begged, voice hoarse already and hands slipping in his hair to bring him closer. 

The older man smirked against her skin and swiftly pulled her up in his arms to walk toward the bed. 

When he got up to get rid of his clothes, she stared at him in awe. Everything about him was luxurious, from the way he stood, proud and tall, to the expensive jewellery adorning his wrists, and the minimalist black and white room they were in. 

“Like what you see?” He asked, shaking his head to move a strand of hair out of the way, grinning proudly at her face. 

She nodded, biting her lip in embarrassment, and drifting the gaze from him, but it didn’t last as he kneeled next to her again, only covered with his underwear, and lifted her head up. “No, pretty, look at me.” 

“Good, and now answer, do you like what you see?” 

“Yes,” she replied, barely able to let out the sound. 

His hands swiftly undressed her completely, running on her body as if he already knew her by heart and playing with her as if he was a master at it. 

And probably that was exactly what made her fall so deeply, the way he was so good at playing her like a violin. If only she knew how addicted she would’ve gotten to his touch; his fingers caressing the skin of her thighs, between her legs, pressing against her sensitive core making her squirm, moving fast, making her drip. Or how addicted she would’ve gotten to his lips; soft and tempting, kissing her skin, trapping her nipples in his mouth, and then going down, moving smoothly against her wet pussy. Or how addictive she would’ve gotten to the way he fit effortlessly inside of her, almost as if they were made for each other, as if their bodies had been sculpted just to intertwine together. 

She never felt so right under somebody, his body pushing back against her with a rhythm that sent her to hell and heaven and back, their moans mixing in a sweet melody. 

And they were strangers. Complete strangers. An almost forty-year-old divorced father, and a twenty-three-year-old college girl. Silly girl, she would’ve called herself now if only she knew how naïve she had been to fall into his trap. 

And she knew it was wrong, she knew it from the start that it couldn’t have worked out, but Yuta was so… so nice.

Yeah, he was nice, caressing her face once they were done, and asking her if she was alright. He was kind, as he got up to grab a wet cloth and pass it over her body before inviting her to take a shower, showing her where his bathroom was. And he was so nice to gently let her stay over, and even proposed to eat some leftovers he had in the fridge – the only thing he could offer her – in case she felt hungry after the moment of passion. 

And she was dumb enough to say yes to everything, to stay there, and let him pamper her with attentions she never even received from her boyfriend. Attentions that mislead her more and more with each passing day. 

And maybe it wouldn’t have hurt that much if only it didn’t keep happening. She should’ve just said ‘no’ when he proposed to exchange numbers and she would’ve never drunk called him in the middle of the night because she felt lonely. And probably he should’ve known better than let a young dumb girl crawl in his arms to call for help, especially if that help turned into another fuck. Probably he should’ve been able to control himself and don’t give in. But none of them did what they should’ve done to save themselves from this mess. 

So she was once again in Yuta’s bed, rolling around, night after night as it soon became a habit, mistakes piling up on each other. 

But it was funny. 

Yuta was everything she could’ve ever asked for, handsome, smart, gentle, and good in bed. 

And back then she couldn’t even imagine that what started so beautifully would’ve led her like this. A crying mess, begging for him to come back, begging for him to love her. Because apparently what Yuta always showed her, wasn’t love, but he was just acting nice. 

Now that she could’ve put this down, now that she could see the clear picture with no clouds in her mind, she would’ve never started playing this game. 

As much as it hurt, as much as she couldn’t stop crying for him, she knew it was wrong. She now got how it couldn’t work. How much it would’ve hurt even more if they kept going.

She knew she was going to heal, but not yet, not now that she was once again sitting on the floor, next to the window, wearing one of his shirts he had forgotten one day and never took back, getting high in his fading scent, trying to grab on the last shadows of him. Crying loudly while she tried to imagine what he was doing. 

She wondered if Yuta was in London, or Tokyo, or Melbourne or in what far city of the world. Not that it mattered anymore, he wasn’t hers anymore anyway. Maybe he had already moved on, maybe he had already found another silly girl that easily fell in his arms, maybe right now he was fucking her just like he used to do with her, whispering sweet words he didn’t believe in, touching her like he cared. 

Not that it mattered anymore, Yuta was long gone now, even if maybe he was in New York, sitting in his minimalist living room, watching something on the television, or still answering work emails. 

Everything went wrong, and now she couldn’t change it. 

Taxi cabs and busy streets that never bring you back to me. I can't help but wish you took me with you.

Yuta was a caring father, that was for sure. Considering how early he had a son and how he always put him before anything else. She wished she had a father like him while growing up, maybe right now she wouldn’t have all these problems. Maybe right now she wouldn’t be crying over Yuta just because he was back in London with his son.

And she knew it was selfish to wish to always keep him with her, but she couldn’t help but wish Yuta would take her with him once, just once.

But it was already a miracle he had picked up the call, probably only because in London was six in the morning and he had to get ready for a work call he couldn’t postpone, and his son was sleeping. 

“You never bring me with you,” she cried over the phone, curled up against the window of her flat in New York, looking outside at the busy neighbourhood, even if it was around two am the streets were always alive, but never enough to bring her to him. 

“I can’t,” he told her for what felt like the nth time. “Are you crying?” 

“No,” she lied, sniffling, trying to move the phone from her face so he wouldn’t hear, but she could hear his faint laugh from the other side of the phone. 

“I know you are,” he said, voice soft, and she couldn’t help but wonder about what he was doing from the other side of the world, maybe he was also sitting at the window like her, maybe they were mirroring each other’s body. “Do you miss me that much? Can’t get some boy your age when I’m gone?” 

She shook her head, before remembering he couldn’t see her, “No,” she replied faintly, “I want you.” 

Yuta chuckled again, and she could see him run a hand in his greying hair as he did, “I’ll be back soon, baby,” he reassured. “Want to have fun in the meanwhile?” He proposed, considering he was alone in his room, his son’s was two rooms away, and he could spare some time before he would’ve had to get ready for the day. 

“No, can we… can we just talk?” She asked, voice shaking, and it seemed absurd she felt herself die from embarrassment to ask for something that was the most normal thing two people could do. “I miss our talks.” 

Yuta hummed, “Want to hear me rant about the last affair I nailed?” 

She chuckled, “I’m sure you did. It was the big deal with the Chinese agency, right?” 

“Yes, managed to convince them to invest, somehow. Honestly, for once, I have no idea how it happened,” he chuckled. 

She smiled, holding her knees closer to her chest, “If you hired me as your secretary, I could’ve helped you.” 

“If I hired you as my secretary, you know we won’t get one deal done,” he joked. 

“That’s because you can’t resist me,” she teased, fingers moving against the window, following the traces left by the raindrops that that afternoon storm brought. 

“Yeah, it’s quite impossible to do that,” he replied, then a moment of silence followed before he talked again, “I miss you.” And if she wasn’t sitting on the floor, she surely would’ve fallen on it, knees weak, shaking, and hands sweating.

“M-me too,” she whispered, thumb trapped between her teeth. 

“Yeah, you called me crying,” he reminded her, chuckling softly. “Don’t you have parties to go?” He asked, and she heard some movements in the background but couldn’t make them out, probably he was picking the suit for the meeting. “Seriously, you should also hang out with people your age.” 

She huffed, rolling her eyes, and leaning her head against the wall, “Don’t say it like that.” 

“But it’s true. What do you even do when you’re not with me?” 

“I have friends,” she said, “my age,” she added, huffing. 

“Then why you didn’t go out? It’s Friday, you should be at a club, right now, or well, maybe you should just be back from a club, given the hour.” 

“I didn’t want to,” she said, “felt a little sick,” yeah, sick because I’m missing you, she wanted to specify, but didn’t. 

“Oh, really?” He asked, and the worry behind his voice made her smile. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, “probably it’s just tiredness.” 

“You should go to sleep, then,” he said. “I don’t want to keep you up.” 

She hummed, but she would’ve preferred listening to his voice all night than staying up and thinking about him and how she couldn’t have him how she really wanted to. If she had him there, on the other line, it would’ve felt like there wasn’t the whole world keeping them apart. He would’ve felt a little bit closer, just enough that she would’ve stopped feeling that hole in her chest. 

“Can you stay in line until I fall asleep?” She asked, and then, when she heard silence on the other line, she added, “I’m feeling a little anxious, I don’t know why. Just for a while.” 

“Yeah, I mean, I still have to finish getting ready so you can also keep me company,” he said. “Turn on the camera so I can see when you fall asleep.” 

And with the thought of him on the other side of the world, but still so close to her, she fell asleep soon after, feeling warm. Tricking herself that everything about that was normal. Dreaming of him. Dreaming of them. Of a place where they could exist without hiding and pretending that what they had was nothing. A place where he could take her with him, where she could officially be his girlfriend and not a secret. A place where he didn’t have to travel so often and be so far away from her. 

But unfortunately, that place only existed in her dreams. 

And this is when the feeling sinks in, I don’t wanna miss you like this. Come back, be here, come back, be here. I guess you’re in London today, and I don’t wanna need you this way. Come back, be here, come back, be here.

“How many times do I have to tell you to don’t come here?” Yuta scowled, swiftly looking around the hall of the floor of his office before locking the door behind. 

He turned around and sighed loudly when he saw her leaning against the wall, teasingly smirking at him and twirling a strand of hair in her finger. 

“Mh, I don’t know?” She cooed innocently. 

“Probably not enough if you keep disobeying,” he replied, caging her with his body, and placing his right hand next to her on the wall. 

She wet her lips and rolled her eyes. 

“Maybe I need to teach you the lesson again.” 

She huffed and pushed him away, walking toward the desk. “Just because I missed you.” 

Yuta raised a brow and followed her. “You don’t have to come here, you know it.” 

“Why? You don’t want people to know you fuck girls that are your son’s age?” 

“Alyssa,” he warned, staring at her sternly. 

“Fine, I’m sorry,” she replied, sitting on the chair in front of his behind the desk. 

“What are you doing here? I won’t ask twice.” 

She shrugged, before opening her small bag and pulling out the red lipstick, “Wanted to see you. I told you,” she answered before running the lipstick on her lips and sending him a flying kiss. 

“I can’t pay attention to you, right now.” 

“Oh, c’mon, you can always pay attention to me,” she purred against his ear, tracing a finger down his chest. 

Yuta rolled his eyes and then squeezed them shut. It was hard to resist her, especially now that she was wearing a pencil skirt that hugged her ass perfectly and a top that showed too much of her skin. 

“We can be quick,” she pouted, suddenly dropping the confident attitude she tried to put on. “You know I make you feel good.” 

“Why don’t you go to one of the boys in college? Are they all busy?” 

She whined, crossing her arms on her chest, “They are not like you. I don’t want them.” 

Yuta scoffed and then unexpectedly grabbed her chin forcing her to look at him and making her gasp. “Of course, they aren’t. You need a man; you need a man that knows how to fuck you right.” 

Her heart skipped a beat, knowing that he was down to finally do something. 

“Answer me. Are the little boys at school not enough?” 

She hummed, “No, they’re not.” 

A satisfied smirk curled his lips before he leaned down to finally kiss her. She moaned at the contact and tried to run her hand in his hair but he immediately pulled away. 

“No, no, baby,” he cooed, swiftly grabbing her wrist and turning her around. “I need to work, you won’t mess up my look.” 

“But, please -”

“No complains or I’m not letting you come, got it?” 

She nodded and let him bend her over the desk. 

“And now let’s see what you’ve prepared for me,” he hummed, running a hand on her thigh up to her ass and spanking her before slowly moving the skirt all the way up. 

“It’s the set you gifted me.” 

“I see. You like it when I dress you up, don’t you? Love it when I take care of you in everything.” 

She nodded frenetically, enjoying the way his hands moved on her skin, gently, and slowly. 

“The little boys can’t do it, right? They can’t spoil you like I do.” 

She shook her head, mouth hanging open when his fingers started moving over her – already wet – panties. 

“You soaked them, already,” he grinned, feeling the wet patch of the lace. “Thinking of me, baby?” 

She hummed, turning around to look at him, but Yuta pressed a hand on her back and pushed her down against the desk again. 

“Woke up thinking of you,” she confessed, voice shaky as his digits started moving faster on her. “But you weren’t there.” 

“And you thought that disobeying me for a dick was a good idea?” 

A smirk formed on her lips but no answer came out of her mouth. 

“I definitely need to teach you a lesson,” he said, fingers hooking in the crotch of the panties, pulling them away from her body before letting it go again. 

She moaned and he grinned. “Like that? Want me to do that again?” 

She nodded, but Yuta didn’t listen. “How unfortunate, if you listen maybe you’ll get what you want.” 

He fumbled with his belt and unzipped his pants. “Come here,” he said, grabbing her wrists and pushing them against her back, he swiftly tied them together and tugged enough for her to be completely still. “That’s better.” 

“I can’t move,” she complained, squirming, ass wiggling from side to side. 

“That’s the point,” he whispered, leaning close to her ear, before slipping her wet panties down her legs. “Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, and she hardly followed, unsteady heeled feet moving to part herself. 

“See, you can follow orders when you want to.” His hand landed on her ass, caressing her soft skin and then parting her cheeks apart. 

“Please,” she begged, pushing her ass back at him, desperately needing him to fill her. 

He didn’t answer, instead, he simply started rubbing the tip against her. “Come on, beg for it if you really want to.” 

She wanted to curse at him but simply started pleading for more. 

“Sound so pretty,” he moaned lowly, knitted eyebrow as he stared at her wet core trying to take him in, pussy leaking more as his girth started to teasingly stretch her. “Are you that desperate for me?” 

“Ye-yes, please, need you,” her eyes squeezeòld shut as her head fell forward, flat against the cold metal of the expensive desk. 

Yuta bottomed out, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of her walls welcoming in and then clenching around his size before they opened again to see her mouth parted and her manicured hand scrape against the desk. 

“Mo-move, please?” She asked, turning around for what she could and staring at him with a confused expression. Heartbeat skipping in her chest and shame filling her up as she realized how much control he had over her. 

“Do you think you deserve it? What about the lesson I have to teach you?” 

“No, please, please, you can do whatever you want with me,” she breathed out with a shaky voice as he dragged out of her, only the tip filling her up. 

Mr. Nakamoto quirked a brow, “Anything?” 

“Yes, I’d do anything for you,” she replied. “Fuck,” a moan ripped past her throat when he slammed into her again, harder than the first time, and his fingers dipped in the soft flesh of her waist. 

“I think you’d do anything for you,” he teased, leaning against her back, lips brushing against her ear as he moved her hair to the side to fully see her. “Come here, fuck, beg for me to fuck you hard on my desk when the whole company can hear.” 

She mumbled high-pitched moans, moving her trapped hands, trying to touch him. 

“Shut up,” he warned, “you don’t want me to stuff your mouth, do you? Or maybe you do want them to hear you, you want them to know you’re mine.” 

“I – I,” she whimpered, not knowing what to say. She did want this. She wanted the whole world to know she belonged to him and him only, but he didn’t want the world to know. “I’m yours.” So she replied with the only thing that was sure about.

“I know,” he replied with a smirk, straightening his back again. “My favourite little girl.” 

She mewled at his words, eyes closing again, as the dirty sounds of their wetness squelching and their skin slapping hard against each other filled the office. And it was good it was soundproof, but honestly, even if it wasn’t, she couldn’t care. Maybe a part of her wanted them to be found, to have an excuse to brag about being his, and his only. 

“C’mere,” he ordered, yanking her up by the belt around her hands, “Don’t trip,” he said as he started to walk away from the desk. 

She gulped, shaking her head to brush off the dizziness, “Wha-what are you doing?” 

“You said you were going to do anything for me, didn’t you? Said you want everybody to know you’re mine. It’s time to prove it,” he whispered against her, pushing her body close to the big window that faced the city underneath them. 

“The other – the other building, they can,” she stammered, “they can see us.” 

“Isn’t this what you want?” 

“Yeah,” she mewled, giving up trying to hide that, no matter how humiliating that should’ve been, she found that hot and her pussy was getting wetter at the thought of getting fucked against there. 

“Good girl, and now take all that I give to you,” he groaned, picking up a fast pace again, thrusts so hard that her eyes rolled in the back of her head and louder moans started to roll out her lips, not caring about anything anymore. 

“See, you love this,” he teased, moving his hand in front of her to push down the top, boobs springing up against the glass, nipples hardening even more at the contact with the cold surface. “Love taking my cock, mh?” 

“Yes, yes,” she whimpered, bucking back at him, ass bouncing against him, making him groan at the sight of the giggling flesh. 

“You’re so hot, baby girl,” he praised, “taking me so well. You’re – fuck – leaking down on the floor. Are you so wet for me? Or is it,” he stopped, groaning when she clenched harder around him, “is it for the people watching you? Hearing you? Knowing how worthlessly you let me treat you.”  

She hummed something under her breath, feeling her body burn up in shame for his words, but even more because that was turning her on so badly, and for the pleasure that was getting to her head, bringing her so close to the edge.

“I’m close,” she slurred out, not capable to answer him but only focused on herself and her needs and the way her body was trembling in anticipation.  

“Gonna come around my cock, princess?” He asked, and the unusual pet name took her breath away even more, making her nod swiftly. 

“Yes, gonna come for you, only for you.” 

An – almost – tender smile curled his lips, “Good girl, no silly little boy can come close to you. You’re mine,” he groaned close to her, wrapping one arm around her stomach, pushing her closer to him while the other hand was still on her hips, slamming her hard back on his cock.  

“Yes, yours. I’m yours. Please, please,” she wailed, voice shaking and legs about to give in as the knot in her stomach tightened.

“Come for me, come all over me.” 

And she did, coming all over his cock, more cum dripping out, mixing with his, making even more of a mess inside of her and down between her thighs, while he came hard, hips slamming messily against her to ride their high as deep groans rippled out of his lips, until he came to a stop, holding her in place to don’t make her fall. 

“Good girl,” he whispered, leaving a peck against her cheek while he untied the belt on her wrist and then slowly pulled out of her. “Are you okay?” He asked as she turned around, resting tired against the glass, and he adjust the top back in place before handing her a napkin to clean up. 

“I’m good,” she replied, fucked-out smile on her face, as she tried to fix the mess and watched as he put on his boxer and pants and once again got back looking like nothing had happened. And she couldn’t get how he could always seem so immune to anything. 

Getting that it was time for her to leave, she said, “I’ll call you Saturday,” after fixing her skirt, putting her panties back on, and trying to recompose herself so she wouldn’t look too fucked out. 

“No,” he replied immediately. “I’ll be with my son, you know we can’t talk when I’m with him.” 

She huffed, and almost rolled her eyes at him. “But why?” 

“You know why,” he replied, fixing his tie and then the watch on his wrist. “No calls, no texts, nothing. I’m with my family and you can’t come in between.” 

“Fine,” she muttered, trying to hide the bitterness in her voice. She hated when this happened. And she wondered how long it was going to take before he was going to make them official. But the more time passed, the more the feeling sank in, he was never going to make them official. 

“Hey,” he called, pulling her back against him. “Don’t sulk. You know I’ll miss you, but he still doesn’t know,” he kissed her lips gently and all her anger almost slipped away. “Also, you know the effect you have on me. Don’t be selfish and leave a little bit of me to my child.” 

Another hum rolled out of her lips, “’kay,” she replied, smiling faintly at him and then grabbing her bag, “I’ll leave you to your job, then.” 

“Yeah,” he replied, walking her to the door, “are you going to study?” 

“I guess, it’s not like I have many choices.” 

Yuta laughed lowly, and then said, “I’ll call you when I come back, okay? Study this weekend so we can have all the fun you want.” 

She wanted to propose a date, but then simply nodded, closing her mouth before those words could pass through, and then waved at him, walking out of his office. 

She just needed to be patient. 

Everything was going to be fine. 

This is falling in love in the cruelest way. This is falling for you when you are worlds away. In New York, be here… But you’re in London, and I break down ‘Cause it’s not fair that you’re not around.

“I wanted you, baby. You have no idea how good you made me feel, and how much you helped get my mind off my ex-wife, but I’m not getting into something serious again. I don’t want commitment.” 

When reality hit her, she felt trapped in that house that never felt so cold. And crying in front of him, while he was rejecting her, treating her so coldly, and pushing her away, was humiliating. Yet, she couldn’t seem to care. She couldn’t stop the tears from falling and her body from shaking when it hurt so bad. When she passed by his house to confess this wasn’t what she had imagined, she never thought it could end this badly. She imagined him smiling at her, taking her in his arms, and kiss her, and telling her he felt the same, telling her he wanted to try for real. 

“I’m not like your wife,” she replied, daring to look at him, seeing him huff. 

“I know you’re not like her, you’re nothing like her, babe,” he replied. “But I’m not made for this, not anymore.” 

“Am I so bad? How can I… you said I was attractive, you said I was smart, and I had a bright future headed and now? Was it all fake?” 

“It wasn’t fake, but you need to understand I’m not the man of your life. What did you think about us? I truly don’t get it how you could seriously think this would work.” 

“I could make you happy.” 

Yuta sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning around, walking around the living room, trying to calm down and not finding the courage to look at her in that condition. “I don’t need you like that to be happy. Have you ever thought about why you are so attracted to me? Why you crave me so bad?” 

She sniffled, looking up at him, trying to stop her lips from quivering, “What – what do you mean with that?” 

“I am fucked up, I won’t lie to you and say that fucking a girl half my age is the most ethical thing that I’ve done in my life, but you, you’re not okay either for craving a man my age.” 

“Are you blaming me now?” She asked in disbelief. 

“I’m not blaming you for feeling things,” he said, reaching her again, placing his hands on her shoulders, trying to make her calm down, “I’m telling you to focus on why you feel those things.” 

“You can’t analyze who you love, or… or why you do.” 

“Don’t say that,” he warned her, raising a brow.  

“But I do. I love you. I love you so much and you hurt me so bad. Do you know what it feels like to don’t be loved back? To be used? To be just… just some fun?” She broke down crying again, gaze meeting the floor because the way no emotion – but pity, and maybe disgust – was written on his face, hurt her even more. 

“We sorted this out when we started. You knew it was just sex,” he retorted, quirking a brow. “And you don’t love me, you love the hole that you think I’m filling in you. I cannot be your father, Alyssa.” 

“Shut up,” she replied almost screaming, standing up and walking away from him, feeling her head explode. 

“See, I’m right. He is the missing thing in your life but men twice your age won’t fix the problem. I cannot fix your broken heart, I just broke it more, and I’ll keep doing it because I’m not cut out for commitment anymore.” 

“You’re not made for commitment because you think that every woman is like your ex-wife,” she screamed, “You think that all of us are going to cheat on you behind your back and get pregnant with another man before a divorce. You could have so much more than an empty house to come home to after work. Love, affection, somebody that asks you how – how your day went,” she sniffled, shaking her head, “You could have a loyal person by your side.” 

He sighed, “I know, I saw how loyal you are. How dedicated you are. But are you sure what you do is loyalty and not pure submission to try to keep people in your life? Are you sure you don’t get on your knees to worship the ground of the people you love because you are terrified the moment you’ll stop, they will leave? That is love for you, isn’t it? Servitude it’s not loyalty, babe. And it isn’t even love.” 

She pressed her lips in a thin line to suppress the embarrassing loud sob that menaced to slip out. Because as much as she hated what he was saying, she knew he was right. She had spent her entire life crawling when it came to love, and now it wasn’t any different. 

“Do you really want to crawl by my side your entire life when you could have someone that truly loves you? You are amazing, I do believe that. I would have no reason to lie to you about the person that you are. But I’m not a good lover, not the good lover you deserve to have by your side.”

“I’d crawl,” she sobbed, “by your side be-because you’d make me do that. It’s all up to you, why can’t you just… just… try?” 

“Do you wish to get married? Have kids? Build a family? Is this what you see in your future?” He asked, grabbing her hands in his, and when she tried to read him, he warned her, “And don’t give me the answer you think I want to hear.” 

“I don’t know what I want, I don’t know… I just… I want you.” 

Yuta sighed, letting go of her hands, “You can have me as a friend, as a fuck buddy but nothing more,” he replied. “And seeing how deep you are into me… probably it’s better if we stop seeing each other completely.” 

“No,” she replied, almost falling on her knees, feeling the ground shake underneath her. “Please, no. Am I even bad at sex now?” 

“You see how much you’re tearing yourself down for me? It’s not what you deserve.” 

“You didn’t care much these past months,” she spat out, now feeling anger take over sadness.  

“I thought you were having fun, I never imagined you were being miserable for me. We were both having fun. We had agreed on something with no strings attached, Lyssa,” he explained. “But now, after what you told me, I cannot pretend that nothing happened. I can’t keep hurting you.”  

“We can have it. I don’t – I don’t mind as long as I can have you. As long as I feel good, nobody ever made me feel what you did.” 

“You can find sex in every corner of this world. You are hot, there’s no way you cannot find a boy your age that wants and will be able to treat you right without all these,” he gesticulated, trying to find the right words, “these imbalances and pain and distance.” 

She lowered her heart, feeling her heart clench in her chest even more. “You didn’t play me, I was okay with that.” 

“I probably did, my experience should’ve made me see some signs before it would’ve led us here, before I could let you get too deep into me.” 

“What if I won’t find anybody? What if nobody will make me feel what you made me feel?” 

“You will,” he reassured her, tone not so stern like before but caring, and worried. “Listen, I hate my ex-wife now with every inch of my body, but the intimacy you feel when there’s love, it’s nothing compared to some dirty, random fucks around, okay? The person of your life will know you deeply, in ways nobody ever could, in ways I never could. You will feel so much joy and happiness and…” 

“But I love you. I feel like this when I’m with you. I didn’t feel like I feel with you when I was with my ex, and we were dating.” 

“It will pass.” 

She stared at him in shock, voice shaking, “It will pass? That’s all?” 

Yuta didn’t know what to say. He was trying to explain his point of view, trying to make her see why it was better for this to come to an end but she didn’t want to listen to reason. “What do you want me to tell you? You cannot love me so deeply, you barely know me. You love an idea of me, something that doesn’t exist, something that you made up to fill –”

“Some holes my father left, yeah, you told me already,” she finished, rolling her eyes and shutting him off with a wave of the hand.  

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, tilting his head to look at her, heart hurting after seeing how much she had cried and how much she was shaking, trying to hide it uselessly. 

“Yes,” she replied, throat burning, “I hate you. So fucking much. You know what,��� she stopped, sobbing, “your wife was right,” she said, feeling her lungs close and the air thin in her throat, “you deserved it. All the pain… the way, the way she, fuck, hurt you. I hate you so much, I – I,” she stammered falling on the floor, tears falling freely, violently, sobs coming out loudly, a cry so desperate she almost screamed, balling herself up to hide the pathetic scene from his eyes, feeling like she was about to pass out. And if he didn’t scream at her the first time they met, he was surely going to do it now after the harsh words – she didn’t even mean – thrown at him and the act she was putting on. 

But he surprised her once again, just like the first time. Yuta kneeled to her side anyway, placing a hand on her back, caressing it slowly, and she wanted to fight back, push him off of her, even slap him and leave, but she had no strength at all. And when he opened his arms to let her fall apart in them, she gave in, head resting against his chest, wet cheeks staining his blouse, and hands clasping hard around him. Inhaling his musky perfume and letting it get in her head for the last time. 

“I hate you,” she kept mumbling, holding tighter around him, wanting to curse him even more for being so much, for being something she simply couldn’t have. And it made perfectly sense why this was wrong, why this was fucked up to be more honest, why he was right about everything and probably they shouldn’t have even started in the first place. She would’ve thanked him, one day, maybe, with a sober mind and a mature heart. But now she was still the naïve dumb girl that craved love and attention no matter how wrong they were, and that Alyssa couldn’t care about what was morally right or rational. That Alyssa hated him and loved him at the same time, and hated herself even more for not listening to her friend’s warnings, to her mother’s words, and even to her brain the few times it had turned on and reminded her that she needed to run away from there. 

And Yuta knew what she felt, what was going on in her brain right now that he was lulling her in his arms. He had made the same mistake eighteen years before when he fell and married and had kids with a woman ten years older than him. And even if it was late, he was trying to save her, at least from the big staining wound of a life together. He had made a mistake giving into the pleasure the first time, but he hoped she could understand, forgive him, forgive herself, and don’t let it drag her down.  

“Let me make dinner, and then drop you home. I’m not letting you walk back alone,” he said when, after two hours on the floor, they got up and she was about to make her way to her things to walk out on wobbly legs. 

She wanted to retort, go home and cry all night until the sun lit up the sky again just to carry herself out of her bed and break down on her couch, but decided to stay. Silent, torturing her fingernails to don’t watch him cook dinner, to don’t let her brain get fooled again into an idea of familiarity that had never been there. Eating dinner in silence without lifting her gaze from the plate. And driving back home in the passenger seat with her gaze locked outside at the city, escaping that cage at least with her eyes and mind.

This is when the feeling sinks in, I don’t wanna miss you like this. Come back, be here. Come back, be here. I guess you’re in New York today,  and I don’t wanna need you this way. Come back, be here. Come back, be here.

I don’t wanna miss you like this. Come back, be here. Come back, be here.

“You will find someone someday that will give you what you truly need,” Yuta told her before she could step out of the car once they arrived in front of her complex, lamppost streets barely lighting up the pathway and cars driving past beside them. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve been the bigger person and don’t give in to you in the first place but I…” he sighed, running a hand in his hair. “I didn’t think you cared so much. Hurting you this bad wasn’t my intention and if I’m doing this,” he looked at her, “if I’m putting an end to us, it’s to protect you. I know it’s late and I know you hate me now, but I hope you will understand one day.” 

One day. One day she would’ve understood. And thanked him. And looked back at this crush as the dumbest thing of her life. 

But for now, she could only hum and nod, trying to don’t break into million pieces again. 

“Yeah, I know it wasn’t your intention,” she forced a smile on her face before gripping the handle and opening the door. “So, it’s over, over?” 

Yuta nodded, “I’m doing this for you.” 

“Fine,” she replied, stepping out of the door. “If we see each other around, somewhere, can I… can I greet you?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” 

“Good,” she mumbled, “Thank you for dropping me by.” 

“Nothing. Don’t cry over me, I’m not worth it.” 

She hummed, crossing her arms on her chest to warm herself from the cold, and then met his eyes one last time, “Good night… and good life,” she whispered the last words, but he heard them anyway. 

“You too,” he replied, and then she closed the door, taking a step back, and waiting for his car to drive away, getting lost between the thousands of other souls that walked in New York, with the certainty she was never going to see him around again, watching him disappear from her life forever. Knowing that his lips were never going to graze her skin again and his hands were never going to intertwine with hers. 

And she stayed there, still on the crosswalk, wind blowing on her face and tears streaking her cheeks. Feeling her heart crumble because she missed him already, and the idea of not being able to see him again, hearing his laugh take over his serious face, and listening to him talk for hours, killed her. 

She was going to get over it, one day, she truly was. 

But now, all she could do was stare at the empty spot in front of her while tears flowed freely and sobs rolled out of her mouth loudly, not caring about the few people that walked around her just like they didn’t care about her and her broken heart, feeling the same emptiness his ghost left in her chest. Yuta had been gone for only ten minutes and the only thing she wanted him to do was to come back… be here. 

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[yoonpobs]

Omg requests are open AAAHHH

may i request an oblivious oc and tsundere yoongi who likes holding oc's hands and idk like maybe oc thinks it's bc his hands are cold and his friends make fun of him and oc only realizes yoongi likes her when they spill his secret

as a yoongi stan, this is my guilty pleasure and this absolutely KILLED ME ily for asking this 🤣and double update today???? who am I????? 

hope you enjoy this v fluffy and v yoongi piece <3

pairing: tsundere!yoongi x oblivious&clumsy!oc

genre: FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF

warnings: lots of squealing into ur pillow moments. taehyung, jimin & jin being the saviours tbh

words: 3, 136

Yoongi is staring at you like you spilt milk over his favourite pair of sneakers and you have no idea what to make of it.

“Uh …” You drag, blinking up at him with wide eyes when all he does is level you with a blank stare.

You can hear the distinct chatter of your friends in the background, likely already having their go skating around the rink. They always left you and Yoongi alone, for whatever reason it may be. But you weren’t complaining, you wanted to give him your gift in private!

But when Yoongi only stares at the mass of knit in your palms as you hold it out to him, you can only feel your ears flush an embarrassing shade of red at the subtle gesture of rejection. 

Yoongi was by no means a malicious person, but he was very clear-cut. He was straightforward and it was definitely one of his qualities that you admired the most about him. His ability to mitigate any situation, or look at things objectively was something that you struggled with for the most part of your life. Which is why some people would mistake him for cold or uncaring, but you knew better. 

“Do you … do you not like it?” You ask meekly, eyes darting everywhere but his as they continue to stare you down.

Yoongi doesn’t say a word. Instead, he grabs your hands with his larger palm where your gift lays and observes it, scrutinises it as if he’s there to pick apart any stray strand of yarn. His hand, despite his exterior, is soft and gentle when he holds you; and your brain short-circuits for a good five seconds when he traces a thumb over your knuckles.

“It’s cute.” He shrugs.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Your eyes dart down to your hands and somehow you find them in a familiar position. His fingers intertwined with yours and his palm engulfing yours entirely.

“T-Then why don’t you—” You try to pull away, making an effort to dangle your hand-woven mittens in front of him in hopes of attracting his appeal towards it.

But he doesn’t even bat an eye, just sighs and squeezes your hand tighter.

“I’m holding your hand.” He says pointedly, shooting you a serious stare.

You stutter for a response, and despite the chill in the air you hope he can allude to the redness of your cheeks a result of the wind that blows past you and not the flustered state you find yourself in when he tugs your body closer to his.

You suppose you found a bad spot to give him the mittens because you nearly stumble into his chest at how wobbly you are on skates. You planned his gift for weeks, fully aware that your group of friends was intending on coming to ice-skate. 

“I’m really bad at ice-skating. I’ll just slow you down.” You huff with a frown, still attempting to tug your hand away.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I literally don’t care.”

You gape at his bluntness and scowl when he only offers you a lazy smirk. His hand is still tightly wrapped around your own, and you sigh, knowing that it was hopeless to fight against Yoongi when he was far stronger than you were.

“I can skate with Tae or something, he and I are pretty much—“

“No.” Yoongi blinks.

You splutter, “E-Excuse—?”

He snatches the mittens from your other hand and shoves them into his pocket. The action is so quick that you can barely register the way Yoongi is tugging your forehead as you flounder on your feet, already feeling unstable at the way the ice is set on making you fall.

But Yoongi is there like he always is, and he rests a gentle palm on your waist and shoots you a rare and soft smile that makes your heart weak.

“I’ll teach you.” He says it like it’s obvious, “Just hold my hand.”

“Yoongi, I really don’t think—” You weakly protest when he pulls you closer until you’re nestled comfortably by his side, his face set forward as he blatantly ignores you.

“Stop being so stubborn and hold on tight.” He scolds, squeezing your hand when he feels your fingers loosen its grip.

You pout, your other hand patting your cheek in hopes of easing the burning of your cheeks.

.

Lest to say, you are horrid at ice-skating and you wished you stayed home.

Your two left feet was probably the least interesting thing about you, yet it was the one thing that left a lasting impression on the people you’ve met. Whether it be because you tripped up a flight of stairs as you rushed to your next lecture, or if you accidentally torpedoed into a bush while you were attempting to penny

“How are you even real?” He huffs, fingers intertwined tightly with your own. You’re grateful he has a lethal grip on you because you don’t think you’re ready to be doused in ice, even if it was at your own accord.

“I’m sorry!” You whine, hand still clasped with his.

Yoongi doesn’t let go, even if you’re stable on your feet. He never does. He only holds your hand tighter, grumbling something about your clumsiness as he uses his spare hand to adjust the strap of his bag over his shoulders. When he shoots you a look, you feel very much like a scolded child as you pout up at his narrowed eyes.

“What would you do if I wasn’t holding your hand, huh?” He laments, eyes rolling while he tugs you towards the direction of your friends who have somehow all gathered at the corner of the rink.

You stare at your feet, tittering to keep up with his long strides as he keeps the hold on your hand firm. 

“Look, I don’t ask to be swept away—!” You retort petulantly, but Yoongi completely ignores you as he squeezes your hand in response, right as he stops in front of your friends.

You’re still sulking when Yoongi doesn’t let go, shooting you a look that has you pursing your lips shut. 

“Lovely for the two of you to join us,” Jimin snorts.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you miss the lethal glare he shoots at your mutual friend.

“I’m sorry that my skating skills can’t keep up with you,” You huff.

You see Jin’s eyes dart down to your intertwined hands, before looking up; a knowing smirk on his face that you can’t decipher.

“Seems like Yoongi has it all settled.” He snickers, nudging Jimin by the side.

You can feel Yoongi roll his eyes next to you, even if you pout at Jin’s words.

“At this rate, I think you’re basically joined by the hands,” Jimin says smugly.

You blink.

“She’ll fall,” Yoongi says blankly.

“Look, I said I’d skate with Tae but he’s so adamant!” You cry.

Yoongi shoots you a dry glare, before briefly releasing your hand. You splutter for a second, surprised at the sudden coldness that engulfs your grip and the emptiness that you feel when he no longer has his fingers intertwined with your own.

“What—?” You furrow your brows but Yoongi pats you on the hand to ease your confusion.

“I’m getting you hot chocolate. Your hands are freezing.” He murmurs, and to prove his point; he grabs your fingers and rubs soothing circles on your knuckles to provide you with any warmth he could.

If your hands weren’t warm, then your cheeks definitely were. You couldn’t hold eye contact with Yoongi because he was staring at you so intently that you may have been the one to melt into a puddle on the ice.

“But the mittens—!” You call, but he’s already skating away to the confectionary stand where they sell hot chocolate.

You sigh, dejected as you frown. Did he really hate the mittens that much?

“You are so stupid.” Jin gawks at you with a shake of his head.

You turn your head so fast that you nearly fall over, but Jimin’s grip on your wrist prevents you from doing so.

“And clumsy, God, no wonder hyung won’t let you go.” He scolds.

You frown, “Hey! What the hell is up with the slander?” You whine.

Taehyung stumbles into the conversation, quite literally almost smashing his body against the divider but he manages to balance himself by gripping the hell out of Jin’s shoulders.

“You deserve it,” He sticks his tongue out as you gape at him.

“What?! Why?” You hiss, “You literally just entered the conversation!”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “And I’ve had to see you and hyung doddle around each other for ages so spare me the fucking brain cells because clearly, you need it more than I do.”

“What—?” You splutter.

“You are literally the densest person on this planet.” Jin blinks.

“What are you guys even talking about?” You cry.

Jimin shoots you a dry look, willing the God’s above to give you a semblance of rationality or logic to put two and two together.

“The hand-holding? The constant going out of his way to do things for you? The fact that you’re the only person he’ll ever smile at even if you do the dumbest shit ever?” Taehyung exasperates.

You blink.

“It’s winter and his fingers get really cold—!”

Jin groans, tugging at his hair in frustration.

“No, you idiot! Yoongi literally doesn’t get cold. He’s the human equivalent of a furnace! He literally doesn’t give a shit if he freezes to death. The only reason why he ever holds your hand is that he wants to!” He yells, grabbing you by the shoulder as he shakes your body while you stare up at him with wide eyes.

Does that mean—?

“He hates the mittens?” You cry, face crumbling.

You see Taehyung, Jimin and Jin’s face fall as they all share a look of disbelief.

“I’m sorry but I have no way to defend you.” Jimin blinks.

“I just wanted to do something nice for him! He’s always taking care of me and I thought knitting him a pair of mittens would help with the cold …” You mumble, eyes darting down to your feet as your voice trails off into a whisper.

“Okay, I know I promised hyung I wouldn’t say anything until she figured it out herself but I can’t take it anymore.” Taehyung seethes to the other boys.

Your eyes dart up, furrowing in confusion as Jimin and Jin’s eyes widen at Taehyung’s statement.

“Figured what—?”

“Dude, Yoongi is going to kill you,” Jin warns.

Taehyung scoffs, “Like I give a shit. I’m losing brain cells listening to her speak so this is an act of self-preservation. He’s going to thank me and so are you.”

“What are you—?” You huff.

“Yoongi likes you!” He exasperates, throwing his hands into his air.

The silence is overwhelming, as the four of you simply blink at each other. Your brain is processing his words, but it doesn’t really make sense. You’re confused as you attempt to deduce the meaning behind it until you come to a conclusion—

You look over at Jimin, “Are the two of you—?”

Jimin wants to scream.

“No, oh my God! Yoongi likes you! You!” He shakes you so hard that your head spins, “He likes you so much it’s disgusting and cute so you better do something about it and not accustom us to this torture anymore, okay?!”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder. You blink up, and you see Yoongi offering you a cup of hot chocolate, eyeing the rest of the boys weirdly as they stand there with tightened expressions.

“Here you go,” He says softly, helping you blow onto the steaming cup before gently placing it into your hand.

It warms you up immediately, and you only then managed to piece together what Taehyung and Jimin just told you. The realisation dawns upon you as a scandalised expression makes its way onto your face. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, observing the odd behaviour of the four of you as the three boys ignore his pointed gaze.

“L-Let’s go take a seat,” You stutter, pushing on his chest with your free hand as you attempt to skate away from the wandering eyes. The pressure was too much.

“Hey, hold on, you’ll fall.” He gently chides, doing what comes as second nature to him as he grabs your other hand, giving you a squeeze of reassurance.

As the two of you skate away, you miss the sighs that leave the three boys’ lips.

“So, is there a reason why you tried to skate away like you were an Olympian?” Yoongi asks when the two of you managed to settle down in a small bench outside of the rink, tucked a decent distance away.

You look down at your palms, squeezing around the hot chocolate as you pay attention to the steam that escapes the surface.

The words from Jimin was essentially still haunting you, and you wondered if this was some sick joke of his to get back at you for mixing up his toothpaste with his shampoo a few months back. You sulk because this was a really mean joke and your feelings were about to get really hurt if he was lying to you.

“Hey,” Yoongi murmurs, hand reaching out to tilt your chin up to look at him. His stare is so intense that you find yourself cowering away, cheeks red and embarrassed. “Look at me.”

You can’t.

“I-I … there’s nothing wrong!” You squeak, eyes travelling and landing on different people that wasn’t Yoongi. Anyone that wouldn’t cause your insides to melt with just his gaze alone.

Yoongi purses his lips in disapproval, sighing before he sets his hot chocolate by the table next to the bench and turns to face you. You knew that you had no place to run, especially when Yoongi essentially traps you with his eyes, observing your every move.

“You’re shaking.” He points out.

And only then do you realise that you were shaking, and your hands were basically vibrating with the hot chocolate. You cursed at yourself, and the cold.

“I-I’m cold.” You chatter.

Yoongi frowns, reaching out his hand to immediately grab your own to warm them up. But when you spot his hands, you squeak, immediately retracting them as if he was about to bite them off. 

You realise how it looks, and you notice the slight drop in Yoongi’s expression when you reacted the way you did.

“Are you—?” He begins to ask, slow and tentative.

“Not my hands!” You blurt out.

Yoongi pauses for a second before he relaxes his posture and raises a brow at you in questioning.

“Okay …?” He drags, “Where are you cold? Do you need my jacket?” He asks.

You curse at yourself because you didn’t know how to get yourself out of this situation. Especially now that Yoongi was patiently waiting for your response. Your thighs were essentially brushed up against each other, and his body was leaned over ever so slightly that you catch every strand of eyelashes on his eyes.

You were so weak.

“N-No, I … you can keep your jacket.” You stutter, shaking your head as you pat his puffer down when he goes to shrug it off.

Yoongi’s frown deepens, “Well, can you tell me where so I can help—?”

“My lips!” You declare, voice high pitched and loud enough that it attracts a few stares from bystanders.

Yoongi just stares at you, and you’re mortified when you realise what you said, but you can’t seem to stop now that you’ve already dug a hole for yourself.

“My … lips … they’re ... cold,” You clear your throat, blinking up at him with a false sense of determination in hopes of shielding the way your face is undoubtedly on fire right now.

“Your lips … are cold?” He articulates each world tentatively as he observes your face for any reaction.

You nod.

“Yeah. Cold.” You say.

Oh my God, shut up!

Before you can even run away, and it’s as if Yoongi expects you to flee, he pins your hands down with his own and draws closer to your face so quickly that you can barely even catch his next move.

And kisses you.

Smack on the lips.

He pulls away too fast for your liking, and you’re gaping at him like a fish out of the water when you realise what he did.

“You—” You croak, pointing a finger at him.

But Yoongi leans in once more, pressing a firmer kiss to your lips, one that sends your brain into overdrive as you feel yourself melt into his hold. If you were cold, you definitely weren’t anymore. Not when Yoongi is pressed against you like a warm lover by the fireplace.

He pulls away first, again, and you notice the tip of his ears turning red before he offers you that charming smile of his.

“Took you long enough,” He sighs, reaching out to cradle your jaw in his palm. And only then do you realise that Jimin was right, his hand is warm.

“W-What?”

He rolls his eyes fondly, ignoring the way you stare up at him with confused and wide eyes; likely still absorbing what just happened.

“Just hold my hand,” He tuts, reaching in between the both of you to intertwine your fingers together once more as he rests your combined hands on his lap.

“Does this mean …?” You ask shyly, head ducking away from his eyes.

He smiles at you, and you notice that it’s the same look he’s always had whenever he speaks to you.

He brings the back of your hand to his lips and presses a gentle peck to it, causing heat to rise to your cheeks all over again.

“You warm now, cutie?” He murmurs.

You melt, “Oh my God! Don’t—just—I’m literally going to die!” You whine, shoving your face into his puffer as you scream at his suaveness.

He chuckles, low and deep as he unlocks your hands to wrap an arm around your body, tugging you closer until you’re practically glued to his hip like a koala.

“Don’t die on me now,” He sighs, “Just got you to myself.”

“I hate you so much.” Your complaint is muffled into his puffer, but you can feel his grin on the top of your forehead when he presses a warm kiss to it.

“That’s disappointing. I like you very much,” He returns.

You blush, but you don’t push him away when he laughs into your hair, the sound making you melt further into his arms.

You liked him, too.

[mxpseudonym]

More, Even If It’s Too Much

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x OC or she/her pronouns Reader

Summary: Arthur falls for his innocent, young bookkeeper who doesn’t actually have an innocent bone in her body

Length: 1396 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Age difference, Manipulation, Unhealthy-ish ideals

Request: for the arthur smut idea - how about the reader is younger than him, maybe her 20s and she is somehow around the shelbys a lot and he falls madly in love with her but doesn't want to bother her cause she seems really innocent and sweet, but in reality she is daydreaming about how he would just have his way with her and she teases him a lot, maybe by sucking on lollipops or whatnot, until he just can't hold it back and somehow they get it on🥵

A/N: I felt rusty when I was writing this, but it was a joy. I hope you like it! I took a liberty and made it a tiny bit dark. If anyone wants to hear about my analysis on my own story, I may just have to share.

--

He said her name, but all she could hear was a snap. 

Pulling Arthur into his office on a quiet afternoon and lifting the hem of her dress to reveal what his Christmas bonus bought her was the last straw to break under her many efforts. Her gaze lifted from where she ran her fingers over the lacy hem of her new garter belt and looked into the dark eyes of her boss. 

Arthur looked frustrated and maybe even a bit angry. His fists clenched, and his jaw tightened like he was on the verge of barreling over the line he'd drawn. Her wide eyes narrowed, and her innocent smile shifted into a wicked smirk. This was perfect. He was perfect.

"Have you finally noticed me, Mr. Shelby?" 

She was sure the paperweight that cracked against the floor was expensive, but the experience of finally having Arthur push her onto his messy desk was worth more than the whole of this shady company. 

"Notice you? Fuckin' hell, lovey, you're all I can think about."

His lips were a bit chapped against her soft ones, always prepared for the possibility that Arthur would lose his good sense like she knew he could. 

She'd been around the Shelby's since she started running numbers as a preteen. There wasn’t a day that she didn’t have a crush on the older man. He was all heart, a dangerously open book that she wanted on her bedside table very night. Now as a young lady with a knack for bookkeeping, she was the only thing Arthur insisted on taking to the London offices during the Shelby Co Limited expansion and she was glad. 

It wasn’t until a couple of years before when she turned 20 that she realized how much more she wanted to know. What did he look like when he was content or overwhelmed with pleasure? Would he ever get mad at her? About what, she wondered. She wanted to know everything.  

Tommy wasn't so sure about it at first. It wasn't a secret, after all. Arthur couldn't touch her without going red and went out of his way to make her life easier any way he could. At some point, even she had to tell him to stop making her so many cups of tea just how she liked it. The eldest Shelby had been ready to risk everything for her for ages. But it wasn't the pining that worried the perceptive middle Shelby. 

It was the look she had when no one was watching. Her eyes, only ever set on Arthur, were insatiable. And anything or anyone who pulled Arthur's concentration away from her received a glare that could kill. But maybe what worried Tommy more was that Arthur was a fool. 

He was too convinced she was a nice girl who fixed his hair with a tender touch and laughed brightly at his silly jokes. Even when she got Arthur to do whatever she said or steered other women in the opposite direction just to keep his attention, she was still young and assuming to Arthur, which only worked to her advantage.

Nice girls finished last as far as she was concerned. She may have been young and seemingly innocent, but she didn't desire the mad dog of a man without knowing him. With his inability to avoid a devilish addiction, Arthur Shelby only needed to be tempted to devour her. He only needed a little hand brushing, a compliment on his appearance paired with a giggle, a low-cut blouse. She knew it, and Tommy knew she knew it. 

"Tommy says I put you on too high of a pedestal," Arthur mused one day when they stood in the back alley of the Eden Club for a smoke break. 

Well, Arthur lit his cigarette and forgot to inhale while his eyes followed her swirling tongue around the lemon-flavored lolly. Deciding to quit smoking was an all too convenient addition to her seduction plan. She reached up and plucked what was left of his cigarette from his fingers and tossed it away. She raised her candy to his lips instead, and he was obedient in taking it, making her chuckle. 

"It could be higher." 

Arthur didn't waste any time, or rather, he didn't quite know how to go slow. It was all or nothing. It was hardly looking her in the eye or hungrily taking in her taste in the back office of the Eden Club. 

His calloused hands still had a slight tremble to them even as they pulled down the soft sleeves of her dress, leaving it to pool around her waist, but one hand pressed against the desk beside her, caging her in, while the other trailed along her skin, leaving her gasping. She wasn't going anywhere. A gasp escaped her lips, and a shiver ran down her spine when he ghosted over her nipple. She jumped slightly when his lips ghosted over her ear. 

"Are you afraid, lovey?" He rasped in a way she'd always wanted to hear directed at her. 

"I'm afraid you'll stop," she answered, her own voice desperate. Arthur leaned back suddenly and looked down at her. Now he wondered just how blind he'd been. Was she always this forward with him? 

"And I thought you were a sweet, pure lamb." 

She placed her hand over his and guided it lower, beneath the bunched of fabric, and pushed aside cotton until her breathing was shallow and Arthur was dipping between her slick warmth. And yet, her eyes never left his. She licked her slightly parted lips while Arthur swallowed. 

"How could I be when you leave me like this every day? I'm not nice, Arthur," she revealed, desperate as ever. "I'm greedy." 

She kept his pace easily. It was fluid if you could call it anything other than ravenous. Clothes were forgotten on the floor next to the holsters and the guns. Their names flowed between moans and cries, getting cut short or sighed at an exquisite movement. 

Pressed between Arthur and the wall, she was still trying to adjust to his size but refused to let him slow down. She'd been thinking about this for too long, and her own hands weren't enough anymore. Even Arthur teasing her a bit at the beginning, rubbing the head of his weeping cock over her entrance and around her sensitive bud, had been agonizing enough to make her cum before he even put it in. She was losing count of every peak she was experiencing, but all that mattered was that he moved with no resistance. Every sound and experienced movement he made sent heat straight to her core. Arthur was no saint, and he'd certainly been around the bend, but she just as hungry as he was. That was a first. 

"More," she moaned as her eyes rolled. Arthur let out a haughty laugh that she didn't mind.

"You think you can take more?" He asked, but he tightened his grip on her thighs and thrust hard and deep into her in the same moment. She could only dig her nails into his shoulder and tug at his hair with a silent cry. "What are you greedy for?" 

"You," she finally gasped loudly at the resulting deep thrusts. 

"Me?"

"I want every part of you. Even if it's too much," she whined and grabbed Arthur's face in her hands. He was looking at her, watching her, in awe as her eyes welled up and she tightened around him. "And I want you to look at me only. Just always at me. Oh god!" 

She shook and bucked against him, her eyes closing tight and her nose scrunching up. Still, Arthur kept her wish of never letting his eyes leave her contorted, euphoric face as she mumbled his name even as he followed her release with his own. She really was something else.

It was perplexing to see her transform back into the girl he thought she was. Even with her cheeks warm and a silly grin on her face from their salacious act, she still looked precious and not like the vixen dragging her nails down his back and biting his skin just moments ago. It made him want to apologize for being so rough. She'd have plenty of bruises of her own in the morning. As if she sensed what he thought while he helped her into her coat, she turned and pulled him down into a kiss. 

"Arthur, thank you for taking me so seriously." 

"Well, I've loved you for a while, haven't I?" He asked, turning again. She perked up with her usual smile. 

"Good. Because I want you to want me more than anything else too." 

He scoffed and shook his head. Something else entirely. He reached up and pinched her cheek.

"When you say something like that with such a pretty face, how can I say no, lovey?" 

[nanaminokanojo]

BLOOM | Sukuna X You | Part 3/3 [COMPLETED]

CHARACTERS: Sukuna X You | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Maki | Fushiguro Toji | Baby Megumi | Megumi's Mom (OC) CHAPTER COUNT: 3/3 WORD COUNT: 10,900+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | smut | ooc sukuna | female reader | modern au CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity/strong language | alcohol use | age gap | smut/sexual intercourse SPOILERS: N/A

collection masterlist

one two three | Bloom Masterlist

“You up for it?”

You were sitting at your usual spot at Maki’s. It was still quite early so the pub wasn’t as crowded as it usually is, and it was a weekday. You were there to meet Sukuna but the owner suddenly started chatting you up like she usually does, beating around the bush for a bit before she finally asked you a favor. Apparently, they’re under-staffed and is in need of another waitress but hiring a new one was out of the question since it was a temporary post, just until the person who really works for her recovers from a broken ankle.

“It’s just from four in the afternoon to eight on weekdays, and since you’re usually hanging around here during those times, I thought of asking you. We’re just really short of hands for the next week,” she said, flashing you a rueful smile. “I asked Ieiri but she’s in the middle of her internship.”

Maki had been there for you before, talking to you when you had issues you couldn’t share with your friends and always giving you free non-alcoholic drinks during your exams, and you didn’t see anything wrong with helping her out for once. You’ll earn from it, too. “Sure. When do I begin?”

She clapped her hands excitedly which took you aback. She’s always so tough, barking orders here and there or putting rowdy customers in their proper places, that you didn’t really expect her to be all giggly and excited all of a sudden. “You’ll do it?”

“Yeah, why not?”

She hugged you then. “Oh my god, Y/N. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You waved her aside, chuckling. “It’s fine. It’s for a week anyway. No big deal.”

She sighed in relief. “You don’t know how much weight you’ve taken off my shoulders, so it is a big deal. Okay for you to start on Monday?”

You nodded.

“I’m giving you all the cherry blossom tea smoothie you want.” She grinned cheekily at you then. “And speaking of cherry blossoms, I noticed you and Sukuna coming here together. Are you together now?”

You felt your face heating up at the mention of the man's name but you shook your head. "Not yet."

"Yet?"

You chuckled awkwardly. "We're working it out, I guess. We're not exclusively dating though and he isn't my boyfriend..." You felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. It's the first time you're saying it out loud, what Sukuna isn't to you, and you had to admit the notion was kinda disappointing. But the problem was with you. "Yeah...just that."

"He likes you though. I see the way he looks at you." Maki smiled knowingly at you. "Does this have something to do with your no dating policy? It's ridiculous if you ask me. Sukuna is a good man."

Ah, straightforward as always. "I know that. That's why I'm letting him have a go at changing my mind."

"And is he successful so far?"

"He's almost there." You frowned then, catching her comment about him. "You seem to know him well."

"We go way back," Maki explained. "My old man still owns the pub when he was a student and he came here all the time listening to me and that old geezer fight."

"Oh. That must have been a sight."

"Plus he's friends with my cousin, Toji."

You tilted your head in question. Sukuna never really talked about his friends, and he has never introduced you to any of them. It’s the first time you’re hearing about that side of him. “Really? What was he like back then?”

Maki snorted. “He was an idiot who had too much time in his hands. He’s smart, but had a penchant for mischief. I mean, I guess you already figured that out just looking at him. Nobody really thought he would end up to be this big-shot architect.”

You laughed. “Really?”

“Toji’s influence, I guess. That one’s a bigger idiot.” She looked deep in thought for a moment then said, “Why his wife chose him instead of Sukuna is a puzzle.”

You were confused. You did not know what she was talking exactly, and why her cousin’s wife should have chosen Sukuna was beyond you. For some reason, you didn’t have a good feeling about it, then you remembered what he told you before about dating just one person.

Could it be… “No…” You didn’t even realize you said that out loud until Maki held onto your hand, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry. I said too much.”

“Well, don’t stop now,” you found yourself saying, unable to help it. “Is the situation what I think it is? Your cousin’s wife…He told me before that he only ever steadily dated one girl. Is it…?”

Maki nodded, grimacing. “They cheated on him six years ago.”

“So, he lost his girlfriend and best friend?” You felt your heart break at the thought. You might not have known him back then, but you couldn’t help but feel bad on his behalf.

“Yes. I’m not saying it’s his fault, but he’s hardly ever there since he was busy.”

“It’s not enough grounds for them to do that!” you stated loudly, feeling genuinely hurt for him. Damn, if he dated just one woman ever and never had a relationship again before you – for six years – then that spoke volumes of how much it affected him afterwards. You caught yourself and flashed Maki an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

“Understandable.” She sighed. “He went overseas and didn’t come back until just two years ago. Guess why he came back.”

“Why?”

“To attend their wedding.”

You didn’t know what was more messed up, but you also know Sukuna to be a genuinely good person. If he disappeared for that long only to come back to attend his best friend and ex’s wedding, then it only meant he totally forgave them. If he was giving another relationship a chance, particularly with you, then it also meant he has healed. How he could be so caring and affectionate towards you despite what he went through astonished you, but maybe that’s just how he really was as a person.

“Are they okay now?”

“Yes.” She laughed slightly then. “You should see how he dotes on Toji’s son.”

Maki ruffled your hair, seeing how you’ve reacted. “Just one piece of unsolicited advice, Y/N. If you decide to be with him, be certain about it and don’t ever hurt him.”

You only nodded, taking her words to heart. She was right. Just as you were afraid to be left alone, nobody deserves to be hurt like that. You wanted to be angry at the fact that his own best friend did that to him but at the same time, you were proud of him for coming out of it while maintaining a good view about the whole concept of relationships and perhaps love. It radiated in the way he treated you, and all the effort he is putting into making things work despite your hesitations.

He arrived a few moments later, showing you that crooked smile of his. You both had one beer, and over that, he asked about your day and he told you about yours. When you were finished with your drinks, he said, “Mind going out for a drive? I wanted to tell you something.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t meet his eyes after what Maki told you, and several times, he asked if you were okay to which you responded affirmatively, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

Sukuna took you to the cliffs just around the city limits, parking his car a few yards from the edge enough to have a good view of the sea of lights below. When he killed the engine, you disembarked from his Jeep, walking closer to the edge when you felt his hand on your arm.

“Not too close to the edge,” he said, looking at you with concern written all over his face, but before he could ask what was bothering you, you said, “You were going to tell me something.”

At that, he sighed as if in long-suffering. “Yes, that.” He looked at you seriously as if he was going to tell you something grave only to end up saying, “I’m going to be away for two weeks starting Monday. I’m going to London.”

Momentarily forgetting about your conversation with Maki, you blinked, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Why did you have to look like you’re about to tell me you’re going to be executed or something? Jesus, Sukuna.” You laughed despite yourself.

“Don’t laugh. I’m annoyed.” He pouted. “Aren’t you sad? Two weeks is a long time. I won’t get to see you, and I have to check for time zones if I want to talk to you over the phone.”

You held his hand, twining your fingers with his before raising it to plant a kiss on his knuckles. “I will miss you, but you don’t have to be so upset about it. I’ll be right here when you come back. Stop being all dramatic.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re funny.”

He rolled his eyes, but then said, “So, before that, I was planning to take you to meet my best friend and his wife on Saturday. I’ve been telling them about you…”

The rest of his words faded, the only thought registering in your head was how he mentioned his best friend and his wife. You were going to meet them. You couldn’t say no to that given that they seem to play integral parts in his life despite what happened. “Okay.”

“You’re gonna love their little boy,” he said excitedly.

“Sure…”

“But really, Y/N? You won’t have a whirlwind romance with some college brat while I’m away?”

You let go of his hand, stepping back. You didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. Not when he was speaking from experience. “What do you take me for?!” The words came out a little harsher than you intended, the resentment you felt for his previous relationship resurfacing.

He arched a brow at you, puzzled at your outburst. “Y/N, I was kidding.”

Not able to hold back anymore, you turned away from him as tears started flooding your vision. You didn’t even know why you were crying over the whole thing, and you just felt like an idiot as you faced him again, frantically drying your tears.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He looked alarmed as he held onto both of your hands, stopping you from wiping harshly at your face. “Why are you crying? Is it because of what I said?”

You shook your head. “No…no. Can I hug you though?” you asked and he almost laughed as he himself drew you closer, wrapping his arms around you. “You never have to ask.”

You did the same, holding onto him tightly, hoping it was enough for you to get rid of any feeling of hurt left in him if there was any to begin with; that it was enough for him to be at ease where you were concerned when he goes away. Still, you wanted to make sure. You stayed like that until you’ve calmed down, thinking you were doing it more for yourself than for him.

“What brought this on?”

“You won’t get mad?” you asked between hiccups, looking up at him.

“Why would I?”

“Promise me first. I just don’t want to hide anything from you and it’s been bothering me.”

“Okay. I promise.” As if to emphasize his words, he pecked you on the tip of your nose. “Now what is bothering you?”

“Since you mentioned your best friend,” you began, “Toji, right?”

He eyed you, nonplussed. “How did you know?”

“Maki told me…” You started tearing up again. “She-she told me w-what happened. Everything…so I know…Please don’t get mad.”

He clucked his tongue. “That woman. Seriously.”

“I’m glad she told me and I’m sorry if I pried, but I can’t…”

“Is that why you’re crying?”

“Y-yes.”

“Why?”

“Because they hurt you.”

His expressions softened. “Silly.”

You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around him. “It’s not silly. Nobody deserves that, least of all you. You’re always so good to me, and I can’t imagine anybody doing that to you, least of all your best friend.”

Sukuna’s hug tightened a tad, placing his chin on top of your head. “No sense crying about it anymore, Y/N. I’ve forgiven and forgotten. It wasn’t their fault if they felt that way when I went away. They found common ground, I guess. Toji thought he was losing his best friend and she felt the same way.”

“Okay.”

“If it isn’t too much to ask, I want you to get to know them, too, just like I want to be close to Satoru, Suguru and Ieiri. They’re important to me.”

“Okay.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes.” You met his gaze. “If they’re important to you, then I will do that for you and meet them.”

He wiped away your tears then. “Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it,” you mumbled, breathing in deeply. “Sorry you had to see me like this.”

“You don’t have to hide anything from me.” He shrugged then, snickering. “Maki’s timing sure is impeccable.”

And so, Saturday came and you held onto Sukuna’s hand as he helped you out of the Jeep after parking in front of a two-story house with pale yellow walls and white shutters. Before it was a small, well-tended yard surrounded with white picket fences, very much like the house you grew up in under the care of your grandfather. A small, plastic slide and swing set was placed on the grass along with a tiny bike and some toys in the sandbox.

“You okay?” he asked, interrupting your reverie. When you nodded, he said, “You’re not gonna cry, are you?” making you smack him on the arm. “Ow?”

“Serves you right.”

Just then, the door opened revealing this couple you assumed to be the Fushiguros. They looked good together, both with raven hair with their equally dark-haired little boy who looked about eighteen months old, all chubby cheeks and pudgy cuteness.

Toji was this big, hulking man with a vertical scar on the right side of his mouth which oddly added to his charm instead of marring his handsome face. He was carrying his little boy in his muscular arms, taking the edge off his tough looks. He was the first one to approach.

"Hi. Y/N, right?"

"Yes, hi." You shook his hand, smiling genuinely despite your previous notions regarding him and his wife who also stepped forward, taking your hands in hers. She was beautiful, too, and she gave you this feeling of coming home with her bright eyes and kind smile. You couldn’t blame Toji for falling for her, then again, Sukuna used to be in love with her, too.

"You're so pretty!" she said as a way of greeting. "I'm Mirai. It's nice to meet you."

Toji glanced at Sukuna, the gesture injected with meaning. "It's nice to finally meet you. Typically, he's quiet, but he won't shut up about you."

"Shut up," Sukuna muttered.

"It's nice to meet you both." You chuckled. "He isn't quiet around me either." Then your eyes shifted to their kid. You weren't exactly enamored with the idea of children, but you understood what Sukuna meant. "Hi, little angel," you couldn't help but say to the boy who was looking at you with wide, sparkly eyes framed with long lashes. "Your son is lovely."

"Thank you," Mirai returned happily, watching her son reaching for you. "Aww, Megumi likes you."

"Megumi," you repeated. "Blessing?"

"Yes," Toji said proudly and you gathered from his statement that he named the baby.

You looked towards Sukuna as if for assurance as you reached out. "May I hold him?"

"Sure." Toji handed Megumi to you and you followed after them as they led you and Sukuna into their home, marveling at how well-behaved he was, just leaning against your chest and sucking on his thumb, all warm and smelling like baby powder and everything that reminded you of happiness.

The two men went to the living room to catch up while you went to the kitchen with Mirai who was curiously asking you one thing after the other.

"Sukuna told us you're a student. What are you studying?" she asked as she stirred something in a pot.

"Comprehensive literature," you answered, untangling Megumi's hand from your hair.

"Are you sure you're okay carrying Megumi?" Mirai threw you a rueful smile.

You nodded, beaming warmly at the child. "I don't mind. He's so adorable."

Mirai smiled lovingly at her son. "Isn't he? I was so happy when I first had him and saw how much he looked like his dad."

"Yeah, he's like a mini version of Toji. He has your eyes though."

“Thank you.” She grinned. "So, how long have you known Sukuna?"

"Just almost half a year. Around that."

"Guy's whipped for you, Y/N."

"I heard that!" Sukuna called out from the living room. He suddenly entered the kitchen, plucking Megumi off your arms saying, "My turn. How's my favorite boy?"

You just snickered, your thoughts elsewhere. It got you wondering if you would even have met Sukuna if things didn't turn out the way they have. You were picturing Sukuna standing beside Mirai instead of Toji but you just couldn't and it got you contemplating that maybe things ended up the way they did because that's what's meant to be.

As opposed to your resentment to what they did to him, you were now glad, perhaps even thankful and more understanding of Sukuna's reasons for letting things go and remaining friends with them. Because if those things didn't happen, you won't have him. Because if they didn't turn out that way, you wouldn't be watching him being all silly and adorable with Megumi, giving you a picture of what kind of father he would be when he did have kids. Because then, you wouldn't be considering the possibility of a future with anyone…with him.

Then you froze as your feelings for him became clearer. Because why else would you be spending all your time with him, being close to him and getting to know him? Why were you so keen on making sure he was happy? Why were you hurting on his behalf? Why was the world suddenly a better place despite the fact that you're supposedly alone?

It was simple. You're in love with him.

"Y/N?" you heard his deep voice resonating from inside your head then louder as your vision began to focus. He was standing in front of you with Megumi in his arms.

"Huh?"

"You okay? You were spacing out."

"Just thinking." You bit your lower lip, looking apologetic.

"Getting lost in your own world again, I see?" he teased.

"Getting lost in yours is more like it."

He and Miriai looked at you at the same time, the latter giggling pretty much like Ieiri whenever you told her about Sukuna. "You two are so cute."

You brushed the comment off, approaching her. "How can I help?"

You set the table with Toji's help, listening to him talk about Megumi and Mirai with such profound fondness and pride. Just like Sukuna, his appearance was an irony to his funny and soft personality it was disconcerting.

"It's great to have guests over. We rarely do this but Sukuna comes here every Saturday, and well, he isn't a guest anymore," Mirai said as she fed Megumi.

"Thanks for having me then," you replied, still fixated on their kid who was babbling about with his mouth full while he repeatedly knocked a plastic spoon on his high chair.

The conversation was light, circling on their old days, but you knew they were trying to skirt around the ugly things. Mirai regaled you of how Toji got the scar on his mouth. Turns out he and Sukuna were street racers at some point. "Easy cash," as the former had put it. "I mean who wants a part time job if you earn thousands a night?"

"So, what do you plan to become after you graduate?" she asked you again.

"A writer, maybe?"

At that, Sukuna started telling them about your date at the fancy restaurant and how you pretty much nailed the story of the lone old woman who gave you wine. "She's amazing like that," he said fondly, absently patting you on your thigh.

"I'm sure Y/N here finds you impressive, too," Toji teased. "Right, Y/N?"

"Yeah, he smells awfully great it's making my thoughts incoherent," you sallied, "But jokes aside..." You let your voice trail off on purpose, gauging his reaction.

"What?" he prompted.

"That's for me to know," you finally stated, making the couple laugh.

"No fair!"

After lunch, you helped Mirai clean up. Megumi was asleep in his crib after his meal and the guys stood by the backdoor, enjoying some beer. You dried the plates quietly while she washed and told you about Toji.

"It's like raising two kids, really," she told you. "He doesn't pick up after himself and our Megumi is more considerate than he is."

"But you love him," you teased.

"With all that I am." Her eyes strayed to Sukuna then. "Cherish him. Don't let that one get away."

At her words, you felt the same hurt you did when you first learned what the real deal was with them from Maki. You blood boiled out of the blue as thoughts started racing in your head a hundred miles per second. How dare she say that to you when she herself let him go? How dare she hurt him like that and yet keep him as a friend?

The sound of something breaking brought you out of your trance, and you realized the plate you were wiping had fallen onto the floor. But your attention was on her, your steely eyes hard and intense as you said, "You're the last person I expect to be telling me such things."

"I..."

You stepped away from her only to be met by Sukuna's disappointed expression, but you ignored that as well as you turned away. "Excuse me,” you said, bowing slightly as you walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, grabbing your bag before walking out of the house.

The crisp autumn air blew coldly against you, ruffling your hair and your dress as you stood there, not really knowing where to go or what to do. Suddenly, you felt stupid for saying something like that to Mirai when she had been nothing but nice towards you, her and Toji. You also liked their son. And judging by how Sukuna looked at you, you had this niggling feeling that you've ruined it all, eating at you from the inside out.

Just then, the door opened and closed behind you. You didn't have to turn around to know it was Sukuna who followed you out. You've grown so accustomed to his presence that at times, he only had to look at you and you already understand what he wants to convey.

"Y/N, sweetheart, what's going on?" he asked, trying hard to keep the edge off his tone.

You didn't turn to face him, afraid of what you will see. "You heard what I said. Do I really have to explain?"

He walked around you, grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you slightly. "I thought we're over this. I thought I already explained this to you."

That doesn't cut it, you thought but opted not to say it. He might have told you that he has forgiven and forgotten, and although you weren't involved in it, you still felt displeasure whenever you remembered it. It wasn't as if Mirai and Toji did you wrong, and it wasn't as if you had the right to say shit but she didn't have the right to tell you anything either knowing to herself what she had done. You didn't want to hear anything from her about what you ought to do and decide where Sukuna was concerned. It just didn't sit right with you.

"I know. I'm wrong. I get it," you snapped, shrugging his hands off you. "I wanna go home." You started walking away from him, but you stopped when he said, "What is wrong with you?"

You turned back, breath snagging as you let out a mirthless chuckle. "What is wrong with me?" you repeated, your voice coming out soft but with a bitter edge to it. "I know I am wrong for blurting out the things I did, and I am sorry."

"Y/N –"

"But don't strip me of my right to be angry when Mirai tells me to cherish you and not let you go as if she has any right to do it," you cut him off. "I didn't have the right to call her out on her transgressions to you, but don't tell me I can't cry or be mad at the fact that you had to go through all that because I care too damn much for you!"

Your eyes started to fill with tears as you regarded him, seeing the world come alive with blossoms dancing in the wind while in reality, the world was at its last legs, leaves falling all around you. Whenever you looked at him, you felt like everything was flourishing, filling your existence with beautiful things in an abundance of colors. "I'm so in love with you that I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt. I hate it when I know you're tired but you still smile for me anyway. I hate it when you look disappointed whenever I hesitate and couldn't make up my mind."

"I'm sorry for reacting the way I did. I was being a jerk, but that's how much I love you. I love you, Sukuna, more than I can possibly tell you. I can't pretend I don't."

"Say that again," he murmured.

"What?" you demanded gruffly, too caught up in your emotions to comprehend.

"You said you love me. Say it again." Now he looked like he was about to cry, eyes glistening even as he smiled wide with joy, drawing nearer and taking your hand in his.

You sighed in relief, feeling your chest loosen up. It felt great saying it out loud. Beyond just great. "I love you."

The moment you let go of the words, you were wrapped up in his warmth, his arms tight around you while you listened to the thundering beats of his heart. He held you at arm's length, looked deep into your eyes as he cupped your face and leaned in to claim your lips in a brief kiss. Spring has come in the middle of autumn, filling your senses and making you feel like you could fly. He held you in place, eyes closed as he touched his forehead to yours, letting out a shaky laugh.

"Do you mean that?" He opened his eyes slowly and you were lost in their depths as you nodded. "Yes."

"You haven't asked, but I happen to be just as in love with you if not more."

"I already knew that. How can I not when you show me every day? It's comforting to hear you say it out loud though." You smirked at him. "You know, when you don't think I'm asleep."

He stiffened against you. "You heard that?"

"God, it was so hard to keep my eyes closed and stop myself from reacting when you told me you're in love with me."

He clucked his tongue. "You waited this long to respond to me?"

"I told you I didn't wanna give it to you half-assed. I’m giving you my heart just as I want yours, and if you’re ready to entrust it wholly to me, I can’t just reciprocate with pieces of mine."

“You had it since the first day we met. I didn’t have to see everything else to know you’re the one who owns it.” Sukuna kissed you on the forehead, hugging you to him and just standing there with you, watching cars pass by the road, reveling in his proximity and his warmth. You didn’t need much of anything if you had him.

But then you broke out of his hold, realizing the mess you’ve made.

"What is it?"

"I have to apologize to our hosts. Stay here," you stated, walking back to the house to find the couple in the living room, standing there as if they were expecting you to come back. Without hesitation, you bowed before them. "I sincerely apologize for what I said. I should not have said that to you, Mirai. And it isn't my intention to indirectly hurt you, too, Toji. I'm sorry."

"What is this girl saying?" you heard Mirai say as she approached you and hugged you tight. "You silly girl. We deserve that and we don't deserve Sukuna. Everyone just gave us a free pass, and we were glad you were brave enough to say it to us like that. You have nothing to apologize for."

"Still..."

Toji shook his head. "No, Y/N. Thank you. For loving Sukuna and for giving us the chance to finally forgive ourselves, too."

At that, you smiled, nodding in understanding.

When it was time to leave, Megumi woke up and you had the chance to say goodbye to him, too, holding onto him until you had to get out the door.

"Visit us anytime, Y/N," Mirai said, winking. "Sukuna doesn't have to be with you."

"So, you're throwing me away cause you have Y/N now? Some friends you are," he sniped, causing another round of easy laughter.

"I'll come by soon," you promised, pecking Megumi on the cheek. "See you, angel."

***

"So, you're officially together now?" Suguru asked, helping you pack for the trip to the mountains Sukuna had planned, scheduled immediately after his return.

"Two weeks ago, but he had to go to London," you said, and in the next second, Ieiri and Satoru both brought out their wallets, handing bills to Suguru.

"I knew there was something different when he drove you home that afternoon."

"I can't believe you three are betting over my relationship with Sukuna," you muttered, zipping up your small luggage.

Suguru won fair and square though. He had been right to ask from the start when he walked in on you and Sukuna making out on the porch when the latter dropped you off. The drive then was quiet but you had the shut the guy up for teasing you about that "one hell of a confession," as he had put it. But he immediately took control, shoving you against the wall beside the door and kissing you stupid.

"What did I say about raising her on my own?" Suguru gloated, slinging an arm over your shoulder much to the annoyance of your supposed two other parents.

Satoru scoffed. "I was the one who did the hardest job of interrogating him the first time he came and brought our little girl dead drunk!"

"Yeah, he said you're intimidating," you told him, chuckling, and he positively glowed until you said, "But he said you apologized afterwards so..."

Suguru and Ieiri laughed hard at him.

"On a more serious note, Sukuna isn't gonna be as lucky the moment you get hurt, Y/N," Satoru stated calmly and the other two nodded in agreement. "Just putting it out there."

You would do the same for them, too, so you also agreed. "And if I'm the one causing him shit?"

"That's on him, too," Suguru said, ruffling your hair. "You're our princess, Y/N. It doesn't matter who's right or wrong when the time comes. You'll probably get an earful from us, too, cause we like the guy, but you will always have us first."

You clucked you tongue. "You're all being dramatic, but thanks. Much appreciated."

"It's the first time you're going steady with anyone. We're just making sure we've covered all the bases," Ieiri stated.

"Yeah, and before we forget..." Satoru took something out from under your bed, handing it to you.

You eagerly looked into the bag, thinking it was a present but you wanted to throw it at his face the moment you found out what it was.

"I got the bigger sizes cause Sukuna looks loaded in that department. Special edition, ultra-thin in – wait for it – mixed berry flavor." He winked. "Wrap it before you tap it."

"Ha ha, Satoru. You're really funny." You motioned to hit him, but laughed with him nonetheless as you rummaged through the bag. "Where the hell did you even get these?"

"Ordered them in from Amsterdam. You're welcome, princess."

"You're fucking weird for handing me rubbers, but thanks, dad." You handed the bag back to him. "You're giving them to Sukuna yourself though."

"Fine!"

And that he did when Sukuna arrived to come pick you up, strictly telling the man to open it in private much to the latter's confusion. Still, he accepted graciously.

"Don't open that thing," you said the moment you were in his car.

"That makes me want to open it now," he said.

You clucked you tongue, and shook your head. "Do that when I'm not looking." You tilted your head to have a better look at him, reaching over to make him face you. You frowned at the dark circles under his eyes. "What have you been doing in London?"

"Not sleeping enough is one of them, and I'm jetlagged." He took your hand in his and started planting butterfly kisses on your fingers. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." You cupped the side of his face and leaned over, pecking him on the lips. "You're going to sleep the moment we get to our destination."

"But –"

"No buts." You took the key off the ignition. "And I'm driving." You got out of the car, rounding it to the driver's side, opening the door. "Scoot."

Sukuna grinned at you. "Is being bossed around what it entails to be your boyfriend, sweetheart?" he asked, swinging his legs towards the door.

You moved closer, standing between his legs. "And if I say yes? Do you want out?" you asked, flashing him a sultry smile as you drew closer to him, your breaths mingling.

"I can't say I don't like it." He kissed you, deeper than the peck you gave him earlier.

"It's safer if I drive," you spoke against his lips. "Move."

"Just this once," he acceded, moving towards the passenger side while you climbed behind the wheel, gunning the car out of the property. But opposite to his words, he was asleep not an hour into the drive.

You never really realized how long two weeks could be until you had to wait for Sukuna to come back safe and sound. Though your time had been occupied by your studies and every other thing you did, you were always distracted by your phone, waiting for his messages and calls that you had to find yet another distraction in the form of a new video game you've gotten over the mail just two days after he left. But that was just momentary as you finished it in three days of continual gaming. You even went to visit the Fushiguros the weekend prior much to Mirai's delight just to have a semblance of familiarity where Sukuna was involved but it just made you miss him more.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, indeed. You could just laugh at yourself over the past days, thinking yourself selfish at the thought of not wanting him to go anywhere you couldn't easily reach him. But now that he was back, you are back to normal, and you knew you have to come to terms with accepting that it is a part of his job to be away from you every now and then if things are going to work out for the two of you.

You're whipped, and you know it. You've accepted that. Now, it's just a matter of not allowing yourself to become too dependent on his presence.

Sukuna woke up when you stopped for gas three hours later. Why he had to choose such a far off place to bring you to was beyond you, but you weren't complaining in that you'd go wherever he was, but it was more for the fact that he came straight out of the airport and yet he was traveling again and by car, too.

"You okay?" he asked while you munched on gummy bears, standing against the Jeep as you filled it with gas. "We can switch."

"I go on farther road trips with the boys and Ieiri every time we have the chance. Stop worrying about me."

He whined sleepily, his voice coming out thick, trapping you against the car with his body. "You're crabby today. It doesn't feel like you miss me."

"Oi, I had to order a new game just so I won't send stupid texts telling you to come back home. How dare you doubt that?"

He burst out laughing. "So you were nerding out while I was away?"

"Pretty much. Don't run away when one day, you walk into my room and find a monster holding onto my controller in the middle of pizza boxes and a whole lot of other mess. That's me needing to be brought out of my hole."

"Hey, don't do that when I go away for business trips." He looked seriously worried now. "You should do your normal routine."

"So don't say I didn't miss you because I was nearly that monster nerd I was telling you about." You popped a green gummy bear into his mouth. "And I'm still driving."

The drive continued for another two hours with you reaching the foot of the mountain at the side of the highway where you really had to switch with Sukuna since you didn't know the way.

"You didn't bring me here to murder me, did you?" you quipped, seeing how thick the forest was on the one-lane road going up the mountain. It was such green world that you almost wanted the feeling of being lost

"Probably. You're too bossy today."

"Hey, that's me being nice."

"I won't. I have other things in mind to do with you." He grinned mischievously at you, winking to which you just shook your head.

Soon enough, you reached a small, traditional village which was pretty much turned into a hot spring resort. Sukuna stopped at the largest building in the vicinity, telling you to wait in the car as he disembarked, returning very shortly later with a key dangling on his thumb. The drive continued for another twenty minutes until he parked in front of this old-style house which didn't look old at all, located at a much more secluded area of the resort. He handed you the key, telling you to go ahead while he unloads your stuff.

Yup. There was nothing old about the facilities at all with the south-facing side made entirely of glass that looked over the private hot spring and a view of the mountains beyond that. The kitchen was as modern as it could get, and judging by how Sukuna was carrying bag after bag of things into the fridge, he planned to cook during your entire stay there. You took over the job while he carried your luggage into the house. Poor thing did the shopping before coming to pick you up without telling you.

"Go shower and sleep. I can handle it from here," you told him when he entered the kitchen again, muscular arms crossed over his wide chest, eyeing you appreciatively.

Instead of doing as he was told, he came up to you, standing behind you, hands fastening onto your waist as he drew your hair to one side. He nuzzled your neck, slowly making his way up your jawline where he pressed his lips and lingered there for a bit. You smiled, reaching up with your hand to place it on his cheek.

"You need to rest, my love."

"Say that again," he whispered.

"You need to rest?" You teased, feeling him nip at your ear. "My love?"

"You keep annoying me today."

"You keep commenting about how I'm behaving today," you countered, facing him. "Come on, let me boss you around for now. You really need to get some shuteye."

"You'll let me boss you around later then?"

"Deal."

***

"Back already?"

You looked over your shoulder as you combed through your hair when you heard the sliding door open. A smile graced your lips seeing as how Sukuna looked better, more well-rested and more like himself after a long sleep, only coming to at nightfall. He took a dip in the hot spring after dinner and was returning from it.

He came in wearing that dark blue yukata provided by the resort, feeling your face grow hot when you realized you were ogling him yet again. How can you not when the garment hung loosely over his shoulder. He didn't bother tying it properly, and from the partition of the robe, you can see the broad expanse of his chest, the smattering of inked patterns following the sinews of his form.

It wasn't the first time you were seeing his tattoos, the artistic floral and tribal patterns making themselves known to you that day you woke up to him naked from the waist up. However, you did not realize they expanded all the way down the right side of his body, all the way down to the outer area of his thighs. Since he was just wearing a pair of boxers underneath the yukata, when he stepped forward, you were able to see it, and as curiosity won over you, you didn't look away even when he raised a brow at you, the ghost of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.

You stood up, walking slowly towards him, stopping when you were less than a foot away. Your eyes shifted hesitantly between his face and that area of his anatomy silently asking for his permission to see more of it but your hands refused to move midway.

"What is it?" he asked, not exactly sure as to what you were trying to do.

Biting your lower lip. "M-may I..." You couldn't say it out loud so you pointed at his tattoos, feeling a lump forming on your throat when you realized how bold you were being.

"You don't have to ask," Sukuna whispered, taking your hand and placing it on his chest, warm and alive underneath your palm, while he drew his robe apart, eyes intent on you as you followed the expanse of skin that served as a canvass to the artfully-made representation of the four seasons in a single branch of a cherry blossom tree, meandering downwards. From his chest going down the length of his side, your hand traced over the colored patterns of smaller branches that progressed from summer to winter. Your fingers lingered over his iliac crest where new buds of the familiar pink blossoms that promised spring were immortalized on his skin.

Sukuna's breathing had deepened the moment your hand reached lower, and you relished the fact that you had that effect on him, too. You could feel heat behind your eyes as your blood rushed up to your head at the realization that you could do that to him, and even greater than that, the reality of just how much you wanted this man in front of you, how much you wanted to make him yours in every sense of the word and how much you wanted to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the moon that was filtered by the mist rising from the springs through the open sliding doors, you looked up at Sukuna, the man you love with every single fiber of your being, leaning your head on his chest, listening to his beating heart that mirrored the thrumming in your chest.

You brushed your lips onto his bare skin, trailing kisses across his chest before looking up at him and letting yourself be devoured by those deep, hooded eyes as you stepped even closer.

"You're beautiful," you breathed out, pulling him down towards you, tears pooling in your eyes when he finally kissed you, taking your breath away.

Sukuna's large hands roamed your body as he continued to mold your mouth against his, his tongue pushing between your lips which you welcomed with your own, loving his taste, hot and wet and stirring you alive. His hands were warm and nimble as he kneaded the flesh of your hip through the fabric of your kimono, traveling lower to where the garment parted so he can slide his hand underneath. They made their way to your ass, squeezing hard before he slid lower, hooking both of his hands under your thighs. He lifted you up, urgently maneuvering your legs to wrap around his waist.

Neither of you came up for air even as he walked deeper into the room where the bed was, pawing and hungrily devouring each other, what began as a gentle kiss turning into a scorching show of dominance as you both took from each other, not quite getting enough.

"I love you," he rasped, breathless as he nipped at the shell of your ear. "I want all of you."

He then continued kissing you, seizing you at the back of your neck, roughly nibbling on your lips then progressing towards the columns of your throat, spreading the V that formed the collar of your robe. You ran your fingers through his hair, intoxicated by his scent, your toes curling as his hands travelled to outline the sides of your body possessively.

Sukuna then returned to your lips after leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your chest and collar bones, and you kissed him back just as fervently as he pressed you down against his clothed crotch, making you shiver as you felt stirrings at the pit of your stomach. You gasped at the feeling of him poking against your thigh but before you could recover, he entered his hot tongue into your mouth again, gently luring yours to mingle with his. You just let him have his way, not quite believing what was happening as you felt your skin bursting into flames wherever he touched you.

Sukuna lifted you slightly off the bed, putting you down so that you were facing away from him. From behind, he guided you towards the pillows and snaked his hands around your waist, reaching for the sash of your robe and tugging on it. When he was successful, he tossed it somewhere on the floor and reached over your shoulders, slowly feeling for the lapels of the robe, making sure his fingers brushed against your skin, sending jolts of electricity all over your body as he peeled the garment off you in deliberate and calculated slowness, coupled with his mouth following the train down your nape to your shoulders before he pushed you face down on the bed.

"Oh god," you whispered, fighting for air as he gathered your hair to your left shoulder and licked the shell of your ear. "What are you thinking about? You're too stiff. Relax," he said in that deep, sensual voice that turned your legs to jelly.

You grabbed onto the pillow, anticipating what he was gonna do next when you felt his febrile tongue making a trail on your right shoulder, the action morphing into sloppy, wet kisses going down your bare back until you could not feel your robe anywhere near your body anymore. He has already undressed you.

You were on edge and just hyper aware of everything he was doing and every single touch he left on your body made you feel like it was leaving a mark and being absorbed by every cell in your system. It felt good being this close to him, being touched by him and you wouldn’t really mind if he marked you everywhere. You wanted to be his and you wanted the world to know.

His hands travelled everywhere it could touch, pushing you to the edge and making you feel like you were burning slowly, the kind that made every corner of your body tingle with anticipation. What you didn't realize was how tight you were holding the pillow to yourself until he suddenly mentioned it.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?" Your voice came out at a higher pitch, making you want to smack yourself. This was that you wanted and yet you were being all jittery.

He chuckled softly, stopping his ministrations. "What are you doing?"

At that, you pushed yourself off the bed a bit and turned your head sideways to meet his gaze from over your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“Yes?”

“Overwhelmed,” you whispered, chuckling slightly. While it wasn’t your first time, everything felt new with the added sensations that your deep emotions for him were throwing into the mix. “How do you want me?”

He turned you over on your back, chuckling. "For starters, cut out the pillow hugging." He pried the thing off your arms and chucked it against the headboard. Sukuna then hovered over you, pinning your hands on either side of your head then began his assault on your neck going lower and lower until he reached your left breast and started licking and tugging on your nipple, his other hand busy kneading the other.

“You are beautiful,” he said, mouth moving against the swell of your flesh while his other hand took possession of the other hand, tentatively squeezing with his long fingers.

You let out a moan, craving for more but not certain whether you could take it or not with your heart feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest. You wanted him to touch you more and as if he read your mind, he returned to kissing you intensely until you thought you couldn't breathe, well aware of how his other hand was taking off your panties. Your heart was beating erratically in your chest as you anticipated the moment, but halfway down your thighs, he raised himself a bit and laid himself on top of you, burying his face into your hair.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked cautiously as he raised himself slightly, looking into the depths of your eyes as if he was looking right through you.

Cupping his face, you rose slightly on your elbows, pressing your lips at the corner of his mouth. "A hundred times yes. I'm yours," you said with all the conviction you could muster in your hazy state – love drunk, kiss drunk, Sukuna drunk.

At your response, he latched his lips onto the skin of your neck, kissing lower and lower, passing over your breasts where he lingered, biting and sucking gently. You hissed as you watched him progress downward, his mouth doing all the magic from the valley of your chest down to your stomach, his hand reaching for the garment he had taken off you halfway down your legs, discarding it. The rough pads of his hands brushed over your thighs, pushing them apart as he lowered himself between them.

You let out a sharp cry when he licked a long stripe on your nether lips, his hot tongue swirling over your sensitive nub. He hummed in approval upon tasting you while he teased your folds with two of his digits. Without a warning he simultaneously pushed his fingers into you and sucked on your clit, building a rhythm that had you seeing stars with every thrust, coaxing out whimpers from your slightly parted lips. Your hips bucked towards him when you felt him reaching deep enough to touch your sweet spot again and again.

Sukuna anchored his arms around your thighs, his elbows on the mattress as he held you steady, continuing to lap at you and move his digits inside you as you felt that familiar sensation of coming undone, guiding you through it until you released so hard your juices squirted out despite his fingers still inserted in you, making a right mess of his mouth, chin and hand.

You spasmed against him but he didn't let go, continuing with his ministrations. He removed his fingers from inside you and started eating you out like a starved man, catching all of your essence from your initial orgasm and cajoling you into another one as he shoved his tongue right into you.

Your hand reached down, fingers tangling with his cherry blossom locks, not knowing whether you want to push him or keep him right where he was. He moaned as he felt your walls clenching, the vibrations caused by his voice stimulating you further, and in no time, you were releasing into his mouth again, your high hitting you like a speeding truck, slamming onto you and leaving you a shaking mess.

Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to calm down, chuckling in between each intake of breath when you felt Sukuna planting ephemeral kisses on your feverish skin, working his way up this time, worshipping your body before catching your lips in his where you tasted yourself on him.

"Can I eat you forever?" he asked with a groan. "You taste exquisite, my love."

"Alright," you panted, "But before that..." You looked him in the eye, running your hand down his chiseled abs until you reached the band of his boxers, excitement filling you as you palmed his crotch over the fabric. You snickered when his whole body seized on top of you, but you were just as out of breath feeling how massive and warm he was against your palm. You bit your lip as your hand moved, rubbing him slowly. Sukuna's eyes drooped a little as he drank in the clouded look in your eyes.

Satoru wasn't wrong about the condoms, and it further got proven to you when you pushed Sukuna’s underwear down and he rose up to his knees, finishing the job. You swore your eyes were going to pop out of their sockets when his length was released from its restraints, slapping against his stomach, thick, long and standing proud, its pink tip leaking precum that dripped down, following a prominent vein on its underside. You never wanted to put anything in your mouth as much as you wanted his dick, but the idea of it stretching you and ripping you apart from between your legs was more intriguing.

Sukuna smirked down at you. "Like what you see, sweetheart?"

"That's an understatement." You swallowed hard, taking you herculean effort to look at his face instead. "I don't just wanna look at it though."

He reached over to the nightstand, taking out that familiar bag from Satoru, quickly rummaging through it. "I'd be insulted if that's all you wanna do." He said as he took out a packet, about to rip it but you shook your head, taking it away from him.

He arched a brow at you. "You don't...Are you –"

"Stop asking me if I'm sure. I'm certain as I'll ever be." You smiled at him. "Or maybe I'll change my mind if you keep asking."

Laughing, he bent down, positioning himself between your legs as he took possession of your lips once more. You took a deep breath when you felt his tip nudging between your folds, teasing you while he busied himself with tracing the topography of your body as if committing it to memory.

Watching him now, you wished you've met him earlier in your life, loved him longer than you have at present. If you knew someone like Sukuna would come to care for you as much as he does, even in acts that are mostly governed by sheer instinct and senses, driven by need and lust, you would have combed the earth to find him. He cares so damn much for you that you knew he will find it in him to stop if you just said so even at his own expense.

"Sukuna..." his name spilled from your mouth, wanting him all for yourself, body, heart and soul. "Baby, please..." You were pleading, but for what, you didn't know exactly.

"Yes, my love?" he questioned, a smug grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched the mess that you are beneath him. "Tell me what you want."

"You," you whimpered, raising your hip to meet his cock, hard and burning on your skin. "I want you," you breathed out, the delicious torture in your voice coming to a crescendo when he thrust in agonizingly slow, making your wish his command.

He stretched you, gradually, gently as if he was afraid to break you, but your breath hitched for a different reason entirely. His girth left a slight burn as he pushed in, the rapturous feel of him invading your space and being wrapped in your flesh making a heated mess out of you as you grabbed everything you can get a grip on – the sheets, his shoulders, the pillow nearest to you – trying to anchor yourself from the sudden high of knowing he was inside you.

Your eyes watered at the sheer thought of being connected to him so deeply, and you found yourself falling to blissful surrender when he finally bottomed out. You felt him twitch inside you, but instead of moving as he wished, he cupped your face, delicately brushing his fingers over your flushed cheeks. He had that look of disquiet as he examined your expressions.

"You okay?"

You nodded, beaming in your state of stupor. "Please…move."

Sukuna begins to do as he was told, sliding in and out and acquainting you to his rhythm, his intense eyes hooded yet intense as he regarded you, aware of every nuance of your expressions with every single thrust. He started picking up the pace when he felt you wrap your legs around him, hitting you deeper every single time.

Pleasurable groans elicited from Sukuna's lips as he held himself up, driving his hips against yours repeatedly. "You're so tight," he rasped, his snagged breaths hot on your ears. "You feel so good."

"So good," you repeated, completely going out of it when the mere brushing of his rod against your walls drove you over the edge. You clenched tight around him and he let out a groan, eyes rounding when he realized you were close.

"Let go, baby. Cum for me," he said between pants as he pounded onto you unrelentingly.

You spoke broken syllables of his name as you came around him, riding you through your high. Acid white flashes started to flash behind your eyelids, your back arching from the bed as you keened loudly, too enraptured and absorbed in the pleasure that he was giving you.

However, before you could even recover, Sukuna lifted you off the bed, holding you against him so that your breast were rubbing against his taut chest. You wrapped your arms around him, gripping onto his shoulders while you sat astride him on your knees.

"You'll give me one more, won't you, my love?" he said, thrusting up to you whilst he gripped your waist so tight you knew you will have bruises after, making you meet every single push of his thick length.

Both your moans filled the room along with skin hitting skin, the friction between you two kept at bay by the sheen of sweat that covered your bodies. He held onto the back of your neck, roughly kissing you, your tongues dancing the lovers' minuet. Your lungs begged for air, but you were reluctant to be released from Sukuna's wild kisses while he fucked you senseless.

"Fuck," he growled through gritted teeth. "I love you," he whispered repeatedly like a mantra.

You felt him getting harder inside you as he hastened his pace, ramming into you faster and stronger, and in no time, you were screaming out his name as you came undone again with him following shortly after you did, a deep groan falling out of his mouth in a dragged out note when he spilled his seed inside of you, making you feel even fuller, your walls throbbing around his softening length.

Spent, you both fell back on the welcoming softness of the mattress with him still inside you. He landed on top of you, catching his breath while he rested his head on the crook of your neck while you wrapped your arm around him, your fingers carding through his damp locks.

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” he purred in hushed tones once he caught your breath.

Your brows furrowed in perplexity. “I didn’t do anything.”

He shook his head, pulling out and rolling away, his eyes between your thighs, watching as your mixed juices dripped down on the sheets. “I’m not just talking about your body and how you felt. That in itself is amazing, but I’m referring to everything that you are.”

You felt heat creeping up your neck, all the way to your scalp. Abashed, you covered your face with your hands. “Don’t say things like that. You’re making me a shy mess. Geez.”

“Hey, look at me.” He clucked his tongue when you didn’t move, taking your hands off of your face. When you finally did as you were told, he said, “I mean it. Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re real.”

“I should be saying that. You’re so kind to me, and I feel how much you care for me every single time you say or do something. And I’m just selfish, really.”

“No, you’re not?”

“I am, Sukuna. I want you all to myself from that time you first kissed me, but I didn’t really do much to make that happen because I’m also a wimp, so thank you for going the extra mile for me.” You smiled slightly, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

“Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true. You’re always the one putting in the effort.”

“Because I want to.” He suddenly sat up, pulling you by the arm to lift you up when you gasped, feeling a sudden jolt of pain at the base of your back and the joints on your thighs at your sudden movement. “What’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed.

You raised a finger, moving on the mattress on your own while you held onto his arm for support. “Give me a moment.”

Sukuna regarded you with wide eyes. “Did I hurt you?” He sat beside you, wrapping arm around your shoulder and soothingly rubbing your arm. “Are you aching anywhere?”

“A bit, but it’s the good kind.” You smirked at him. “You’re amazing,” you said, imitating his tone earlier when he said you’re beautiful, your eyes traveling to his crotch. “You wrecked me, my love.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or be upset. “You say the most outrageous things and it doesn’t help that you don’t hold back either.”

“Too shocking?” you offered.

“Scandalous!” he quipped, chuckling and you joined in on the laughter, the merry sound breaking through the stillness. “Can I carry you now?”

“Sure.” You lifted your arms, latching onto his neck, letting him take you to the bathroom.

“Let’s wash up and take a dip.”

You nodded and let him have his way around you, standing on the shower stall with him as he did everything while you just held onto him, your legs still wobbly. He kissed you on the cheek, the action soft and delicate, filling you with happiness. You can’t believe he is real.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he spoke against your skin.

You pulled away from him, placing your hand on either side of his face, and with a triumphant smile, you said, “I’m not. Never will be.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more. Don’t argue.” You pecked him on the lips.

Sukuna beamed at you toothily. “Alright, sweetheart.”

He carried you out of the bath and out of the sliding doors that led to the hot spring, setting you down into the water carefully as if you’d break if he didn’t take caution. The hot water felt glorious on your skin, immediately melting the knots of your muscles as you sat between his legs, both of you submerged chest-deep.

“Damn, that feels good,” you sighed, mollified as you leaned against Sukuna’s broad chest, closing your eyes in bliss. “I can stay here forever.”

“Are you talking about the hot spring?”

“Yes and no,” you said without hesitation. “The water feels nice, but it wouldn’t be complete without you holding me.”

“You’re being sweet now after bossing me around earlier?” He wrapped his arms around you, placing his chin on your shoulder. “We can always come here when we both have free time. And I’ll always hold you like this.”

“I like that.”

“I love you,” he mumbled, nuzzling on the spot below your ear and breathing in deeply. “You smell divine.”

“I know. I smell like you.”

“Thank heavens then cause that’s what seemed to lure you to me,” he kidded.

You just smiled, reaching blindly to place your palm on his cheek, trying to get a semblance of reality although it was already staring you in the face, the emotions and sensations he has making you feel very much real, but you seem to be in a dream state, unable to come to terms with the fact that spring has finally come for you in the person of the man whose arms held you tight and close to his heart.

“Sukuna…”

“Yes, my love?”

“Thanks for existing."

-THE END-

So, I made Megumi's mom's name here "Miriai." I made her an OC because I can't just keep referring to her as "she/her." It's quite confusing. I hope this doesn't bother anyone. I cringed, too, trust me.

Okay, Toji is also OOC here. Haha! I went all the way with conjuring these characteristics and since Sukuna, my love, is super soft here (he has cherry blossom tats XD), why not Toji, too?

Anyway, I would like to say thank you to everyone who read this fic! Stay tuned for more. Love you guys :)

Additional notes are available in the masterlist, particularly on the reasons why I wrote some things the way I did.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210630]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES FULLY CREDITED TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

By Your Side

Word Count: 1,057

Characters: Derek Hale, Reader, OC Characters (mentioned)

Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader

Warnings: angst, slight torture (nothing graphic)

A/N:  ahh, yes, nothing like a little 3AM word vomit

Masterlist

You leaned your head against the wall, trying to keep yourself in a vertical position as your wrists remained tied above your head. Your hair was sticking to your face due to your sweat, your clothes were ripped, and you could barely make out anything clearly. Your clothes and body were covered in dried blood from your wounds.

You lost track of how long you had been there for, trapped, and all alone. You were breathing shakily, fighting to keep your eyes open, along with fighting whatever drugs were forcefully given to you.

It had been two months, maybe even longer since you were home. Safe and with your kids. All you wanted was to be with them again, and hold them again, they were both so little.

Instead, you found yourself locked in some sort of attic, being tortured for information. The shapeshifter had come in five times in the past two months, shifting into every familiar face you knew, attempting to trick you. It knew that you were desperate to get out, but you still continued to fight.

You were zoning in and out of consciousness as you heard loud banging on the locked door before it burst open.

“(Y/N),” Derek ran to you, putting his hand on your head as he held you up slightly.

Your eyes watered, as you scoffed.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groaned.

 “God, what did they do to you?” he asked softly.

“I’m not falling for it this time,” your voice was shaky as you used what little strength you had to push away Derek.

“Fall for what? (Y/N/N), I’ve been looking for you for so long,” he said softly.

“You looked inside of my head. You could’ve shifted into anyone. Out of all the people, you chose Derek, really?” you laughed softly, as his face fell.

“I don’t know what they did, b-but we have to go,” he said softly.

“Y-You could've picked anyone. Someone that cares about me, someone who loves me, w-who trusts me. But you chose Derek? Come on, now,” your throat was burning as you tried to swallow your spit, closing your eyes softly.

“(Y/N), of course, I care about you…” Derek’s eyes watered slightly.

“We’re married. How could you think…” his voice faded out as he looked at your broken figure, clenching his jaw.

“I haven't seen my husband for longer than a day in the past year, and you want me to believe that he dropped everything to try and save me? Maybe you shifters aren't as smart as you think,” you let out a bitter laugh, before wincing softly.

Derek felt guilt rise in his chest as he broke the chains off your wrist, while your body immediately slumped over before he grabbed you.

“You've lost a lot of blood,” he lifted up your body, while you leaned against his chest.

You let out a soft cry, feeling your heart aching. You wanted to believe you were saved, but you knew deep down it wasn't going to be true.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” you cried softly.

Derek stroked your cheek softly, running out of the attic.

Your eyes began to flutter, as you fought for them to stay awake. You found it difficult as you fought all the pills and bleeding. 

You felt the cool air hit your skin as you jumped slightly in surprise.

That was new.

In all the forms of psychological torture, you never made it this far out.

You felt your heart aching as you bit your lip.

“Derek?” you whispered softly.

“I-It’s me. It’s me, (Y/N/N),” he replied.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, putting you in the car gently.

“Come on, we have to go to the hospital. Please, stay awake (Y/N/N),” he stroked your hand as a tear slipped down your cheek.

No matter how hard you tried, you found yourself unable to stay fighting as you closed your eyes.

Maybe it was time to let go.

---

You gasped softly, sitting up in the bed as you looked around your hospital room, as Derek jumped up, running to your side.

“H-Hey,” he said softly.

“Derek,” you whispered.

“It’s me,” he nodded.

Your heart was aching you stroked his cheek.

“W-Where are the kids?” you asked.

“They’re just waiting in the waiting room. They’re both fine,” Derek replied.

You could see the sadness and pain in his face as he took a shaky breath before opening his mouth once again.

“Did you mean what you said?” his voice broke.

Your eyes watered slightly as you looked down, your hand falling from his face.

“(Y/N), please answer me,” he said softly.

You immediately felt guilt washing over your body as you wiped your eyes.

“Y-You know that I-I love you and that I care about you, and of course I trust you,” you sniffled as you kept your gaze down.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” he shook his head.

“You don’t… no,” you tried to hold in a sob as you looked up at him.

“I know, I-I… I know you love me and that you care about me,” you started, taking a shaky breath.

“I just miss you, so much. I feel like we’re drifting apart and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. You’re never home and when you are we always end up fighting over something stupid,” you cried softly.

He held your hand softly.

“I’m taking a break from all missions,” he said softly.

“What? Derek…” you shook your head.

“We need time to be together, and work out everything. I hate when we fight and I hate being away from you for so long. You could've been safe if I was around more,” you stroked the tears from his cheeks.

“This wasn't your fault. And people need you out there,” you said softly.

“The people have Scott, they even have Stiles. Right now, I need to be here, and by your side,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead as a small smile crept up your lips.

“I love you,” you said softly.

He sat in the chair next to your bed, stroking your hand as he smiled.

“I love you too, (Y/N/N).”

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable  ( Jungkook x Oc ) Chapter 8

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3   Chapter 4 Chapter 5   Chapter 6  Chapter 7

Chapter 8

“Heartbreak looks good on you...” My sister commented impishly, watching me slip the teardrop earring into my lobe, the ruby red stone glinting in the dimlight of the bedroom. 

It was a couple of weeks since my uncle had come over and today, all the important clan leaders from around the country would be heading over to pay their respects to him. As one of the oldest surviving vampires, he commanded a lot of respect and no one really wanted to be on his bad side. 

Which just made me love Jungkook all the more because I couldn’t forget how he’d literally thrown himself in between us that day. I wanted to give him  everything  in return but apparently, all i was allowed to give him was space. 

My father had visited me everyday , giving me a very cryptic, ‘ I’ll make sure the two of you get your happy ending, dearest but you need to trust me and stay away for a while. Just a while. ’. 

But it seemed so impossible, so far away and just so unlikely that I was beginning to lose hope. 

It didn’t help that I hadn’t actually seen Jungkook in these two weeks . Namjoon took his place and my only connection to him was Joowon , who told me his father was busy ...that he stayed with Hwasa most evenings . I felt jittery and nervous and even more so today because of the lavish party being hosted in the Grand Ball Room, which was easily the biggest room in the entire estate. The last time it had been opened was for my parent’s wedding a whole two centuries ago.  

For once I couldn’t hide in the daycare in sweats. My uncle apparently insisted that i be present for the party tonight. 

It only made my anxiety skyrocket. 

I was a mess when it came to formal parties with century old vampires. I had all the formal training of course, but still the etiquette lessons were long forgotten and lot of those cranky old bats had very archaic ideas about what was allowed and what wasn’t. 

I  didn’t want some entitled century old vampire pawing at my neck for a drink tonight. I really didn’t. 

But i had done my part. Put on a red dress, the backline dipping all the way down to the base of my spine , let one of the make up artists in the clan have a go at my face and even put on blood red lipstick. 

I grunted , trying to yank the small lace and leather garter up my thigh. It had a holster for a dagger, the small ornate silver one that all the women in the clan carried. The dagger was crafted with the Hwang crest on its handle and I carefully sheathed it in, patting my thigh to make sure it wouldn’t slip down my limb. 

“Don’t make fun of my misery.” I glared at her and she actually laughed. 

“Sera, you feel too much too deeply. Jungkook isn’t going anywhere. He’ll come around. “ She said gently.

I shook my head.

“I don’t want to wait though. I... I don’t know why I hate waiting but I do..”

“He looks like a kinky bastard. Tell me, did you guys try anything ...I don’t know..risky?”

Nothing riskier than getting edged in front of a whole hotel full of guests and then getting fucked in the back of a car. Oh, did I tell you he spit in my mouth? And I loved it.

“Not really.” I lied but I could feel my face heating up as I turned around, back to the mirror as i felt my ears burning.

My sister shrieked so loud I jumped, nearly knocking over the bottle of perfume on the dresser.

“Oh my God, Sera, you naughty little bint! Tell me now!!!” She screeched and i flushed.

Like hell i was telling my sister what we had done.

“It’s private!!” I hissed when she tried to yank me and she laughed. 

“You’re shy... aww that’s cute. But that’s just because you recently got un-virgined . Bet you  can’t wait for him to desecrate your special place again, huh?” She waggled her eyebrows. 

“That is the single most disgusting thing you’ve ever said.” I gagged.

She laughed again. 

“Relax. He was your first. Happens . But like I said, don’t worry about him being serious about this. I think he is. You guys had sex and dad knows that. And yet somehow he’s still walking around with his had attached to his shoulders. Do you really think father would have let him live if he didn’t have feelings for you?”

I frowned.

“That’s not fair. It was consensual. He didn’t force me into anything or tell me he had feelings ....”

She scoffed at that. 

“Please tell me you still don’t think he hasn’t got feelings for you. He went batshit-crazy when you went on that date with Yugyeom. Jimin thought he was having a stroke or something. Dude’s so gone for you it isn’t even funny.”

“ Fat lot of good that does me! ” I snapped. “ If he doesn’t acknowledge those feelings he might as well not have any. And so far he’s made it abundantly clear that he’s not going to act on them. Ever.” 

“Because he’s clearly involved in something dangerous.” She said easily, making me blink.  “I’m not supposed to be telling you this but I’m kind of sick of you moping around like the world is ending and I’m just going to trust you to be smart about it.”

“What do you mean dangerous?” I whirled around to glare at her, pulse racing. 

“I have no clue. Dad and Jungkook are working on something.  But they’ve been huddled in the administrative building for three days now and no one has seen them . So i don’t really know what it is they’re planning. But I’ve always wondered if Jungkook was hiding from something. It would explain why he’d work as a bodyguard...with his skills he could be so much more.  ”

Frustration bloomed,  this time laced with worry. I wanted to know what was going on. God, if i could only see him. A glimpse would be enough. Just to make sure he was okay. Just to hear from him that he was okay. That he was going to be safe. 

“Think he’ll be at the party?”  I asked softly, feeling a whole lot pathetic at the way my heart lurched hopefully. 

My sister gave me a very mischievous smile. 

“Maybe . Maybe not. You look ravishing by the way.  And everyone out there wants you. Literally. Don’t forget that. Don’t be easy. Make him beg a little. ” She winked. 

I frowned. 

“He won’t beg. He’ll turn the tables around and make me cry.” I shuddered.  . Which really wouldn’t be that hard . I felt like I was always on the verge of tears these days. 

The knock on the door made us both look up. 

“Who’s escorting you tonight?” My sister asked gently. 

I shrugged. 

“No one. I’m just gonna walk in there by myself because I hate all of you. ” I grabbed the small bejeweled clutch from the table and hesitated just a second. 

God , I had no strength for tonight but there was a possibility that Jungkook could be there tonight. And I wanted to see him, if for no other reason than to kick him in the teeth. 

 I slipped into the strappy peep toe heels, stumbling a little because i wasn’t used to them. 

Swearing at the sharp pain shooting up my heel and shin, I wrenched the door open. Ignoring the simpering man on the other side, i stalked right past him. 

It was going to be a long , long night 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ballroom looked ....for lack of a better word : overwhelming. 

Whoever was in charge of the decoration had clearly taken the budget, quadrupled it and then pretty much ordered one of everything. I stared at the sheer overdose of satin and gauze and felt myself shuddering. 

Red and black was the theme for the night and I half wished I’d chosen to wear something in turquoise blue just to give my eyes some sort of relief. But there was no denying that it looked especially lavish, the huge hall big enough to fit a dozen foot ball fields, the high ceiling that seemed to stretch right up to the heavens and the million candelabras and chandeliers hung all over the place. 

The carpeted floors felt soft under my foot and it was still early, only a few pople flitting about while the ushers and helpers rushed about, tweaking deatils, rechecking placement charts, placing refreshments on the table. Small bottles of blood arranged neatly on the table and I rolled my shoulders, eyes darting around to find someone familiar. 

Kim Minjae and Kim Mingyu were just entering the hall and I grimaced. God, no. But i watched as they casually posed in front of the blood red backdrop, while cameras flashed and i frowned. Were supernatural tabloids really that starved for material? 

“Sera, go on, you need to get your picture taken too!” My aunt materialized out of nowhere , dressed in a puffy red gown with ruffles and I shook my head. 

“Later... i need a drink.” I said quickly, escaping her clingy fingers and rushing away . 

As the only human in the entire damn place, I would have to walk all the way to the bar on the far corner of the ballroom to beg for a drink. 

I was half way there when a commotion at the door made me look up. My father had arrived with him a majority of his counsel and a bunch of other guests as well. I stared, my eyes zeroing in on a very familiar figure , my father’s arm wrapped around his shoulder.

Jeon Jungkook stood right next to my father dressed to the nines and with a dazzling smile in place. 

I gawked at him. 

Trying to process what it was that I was seeing. 

He was smiling. He had the audacity to smile after ignoring me for two whole weeks. 

I took a deep breath.

“You better have a pretty darn good explanation for the radio silence you treated me to the past two weeks. “ I intoned dully to myself , trying to ignore the way he looked, completely at ease in the spotlight. 

He turned a little to the left and his gaze caught mine. I watched as he smiled and shook hands with the people around him before whispering something to my father. 

I dug my heels into the floor, glaring as he extricated himself from the elite crowd and slowly began walking over. God, i wanted to kick him so bad. 

He stopped in front of me, looking expectant and my anger merely doubled in intensity. 

“Anything you wanna say, Jeon?” I snapped. 

“You’re beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Red is your color, angel. I wanna see you in it more often. “ He answered at once. 

My mind went distressingly blank for a whole thirty second. 

“ Did i fucking offer? ” I demanded , angry. “ I’m not dressing up for you. Ever. You ignored me for two entire weeks Jungkook! i didn’t know where you were...what you were doing...” 

“Sera, I’m sor -” He began but I squawked in disbelief, shoving him away hard. He stumbled, more in surprise than from the impact but he looked surprised .  

I felt myself shaking in anger. How dare he?

“Oh, no. No. You do not get to waltz back in with a simple sorry.... not after treating me like shit the past two weeks...Absolutely not.” I snarled, shoving him again but this time he didn’t budge. Ugh. 

I made to move past him but he grabbed my elbow , yanking me back till I crashed into his chest. It was humiliating , the way my body practically vibrated with pleasure from being near him. His arms around me felt like heaven and I’d spent two whole weeks in purgatory. 

“You need to stay with me Ms. Hwang. I’m your bodyguard, remember?” He whispered, lips pressing against my neck, breathing in my scent  and I glared at his arms.

“No you’re not. Namjoon is!! Where is he?” I asked angrily , but he pulled me closer, hands resting on the bare skin of my back as he hugged me tight, lips latching onto my neck, breathing deep and my knees buckled. i had missed this. So much and even if this was all i got, I wanted to savor it. Savor it even if I hated him for the way he treated me all the fucking time.  

“Missed you.” He whispered, lips wet and wanting , damp on my skin as he pressed kisses along my shoulder. I loved it but I knew he was going to leave me again and that just made me angrier. 

“You’re a liar.” I choked out. 

“No. I’ve lied about a lot of things but never about how you’ve made me feel, Sera. You set me on fire.”

I choked, anger and affection flooding my senses, confounding me because it was like being caught in an endless game of push and pull. 

I trembled, fists punching his shoulder in protest but he didn’t move. I could feel eyes on us and it made me flush. How dare he... How fucking dare he. 

“Let go of me! You said you don’t want me so let me go!” I said petulantly and he made a small noise of protest. 

“That’s not true angel...you know it’s not. I want you... Want you so damn bad , i ache with it.” He whispered the words into my skin and I bristled. 

“Fucking liar, let go of me!” i was going to cry. Actually burst into tears in the middle of the ballroom. 

He didn’t let go of me. 

Instead his fingers fluttered down my bare back, feather light and maddening , tracing a path down my bare skin and I gripped is jacket at the electric contact. 

i trembled, my thighs shaking but I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I wanted him. I swallowed, shaking my head. 

There was no music and we weren’t even near the dance floor. I couldn’t imagine how we must look to the people around us. But it was hard to think of that when I could feel him all over my body, could feel his heartbeat pulse right against mine and when his arms felt like an anchor , grounding me . 

“You think I need you.” My voice shook a little, “ I really fucking don’t Jungkook and I want you to remember that. I don’t need you. I don’t need to touch you . I’m fine with you never touching me ever again. ” I lied, gripping him harder. 

My words didn’t match my actions at all and he seemed to realize it, chuckling lightly and letting me press myself closer into his warm, solid body. He kept his arms around me, waist pressed into mine and thighs hard and solid against mine.

“I know that... i need you far more than you need me.” He said sweetly, kissing my brow and stroking my hair. He slipped his fingers into the strands, running the silky length between his fingertips , his voice brimming with fondness . It hurt, the fact that I couldn’t have this all the time. 

That somehow I was only offered glimpses of this Jungkook. Little snapshots of a what our life together could be but when I tried to draw closer, he always pulled away. 

I glared at him wanting to demand more answers 

. And then my eyes fell on the small dagger sheathed into his belt. My sister’s words floated into my mind. Was Jungkook running from something? 

“Are you in danger?” I whispered, softly. “ Darling, i need to know if you’re in trouble. I need to know.” 

He trembled a little at the endearment. 

“Baby, I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry about me alright. It’s important that you stay safe. “

The words brought no comfort of any kind. 

I stared at him. 

“What is it with the people around me spewing platitudes in my face without telling me what is going on! Do you just not trust me?” I asked desperately, hurt blooming. 

Jungkook swallowed.

“i trust you with my entire life Sera. But, I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He said gently.

I rolled my eyes. 

“Please....you’re five centuries old , so can you leave the whole cliché knight in shining armor back in the dark ages and just treat me like your equal? I’m not a helpless damsel in distress Jungkook...!!” 

He nodded, reaching for me again but I pulled away, wrapping an arm around myself. He hesitated, hands stretched out to touch but hovering a few inches away . 

“you’re right. I was out of line. But to be fair your father was very firm that I had to stay away from you...no contact of any kind till tonight. “

“And what’s so special about tonight.?” I asked , upset at how little i knew about what was going on. Jungkook’s gaze softened, and he pressed a palm to my cheek, thumb tracing circles on my jaw, before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. 

“ You’ll see. “ He smiled, “ And as for the rest of it, we’ll talk about this . I promise. We will....tonight after everything ends. I need to go now. Your father’s waiting for me,” 

I clung to him, feeling abandoned all over again. 

“What are you guys upto?” I grabbed his arm but he gently pulled my fingers away. 

“I’ll come find you. “ Was all he said before moving away and I groaned in disbelief. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uh oh. I can recognize that look. On a scale of one to ten , how much trouble is Jeon Jungkook in?” Namjoon asked gently, watching me glare daggers at the man in question as he hung around near the front of the hall, surrounded by clan leaders.

 He was meeting everyone, apparently a social butterfly and i couldn’t fathom it. The last time we’d had a party he’d sneaked off to get laid with Helena. 

Speaking of who,

“She’s going to castrate him. I can feel it.” The sultry eyed vampire, sat next to me, her long nails tapping the scarlet drape of the table as she watched me, eyes heavy and hot, gaze trained on my neck.

 I’d never felt more like prey. 

“ Nice to meet you Helena.” Namjoon said casually taking the seat next to me. Great.  I was caught between two vampires that knew exactly how gone I was for Jungkook and exactly how ....not gone he was for me.  The night just kept getting better. 

“Always a pleasure daddy.” Helena said , eyes dancing with wicked mischief and Namjoon choked on his wine, spewing it all over the table. I stared at the pair in disgust. 

“Disgusting.” I snapped. “Look at him. He hasn’t looked at me in an hour. How am i supposed to believe that he wants me so much I set his skin on fire.” I demanded shrilly. 

Both of them went quiet. They looked very uncomfortable and i felt myself flush. 

I glared at them , self conscious. 

“What?! Jungkook said so himself.” I protested. 

Both of them began guffawing. 

“I’m never letting him live this down.” Namjoon chuckled and I rolled my eyes. I could feel eyes on me, everywhere. Everyone’s gaze flitted to me every few minutes. Some of the younger vampires hovered a discreet distance away but had their gazes trained on me . 

Everyone looked at me except Jungkook. There really was no justice in this god forsaken world, was there? 

Did he really think I was weak and harmless? I suddenly felt foolish . I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t powerless. 

So , so far from it in fact.

I didn’t use my abilities because of how morally ambiguous they were. My father had drilled it into my head, right from childhood, that I couldn’t use my powers without explicit permission from him and I had listened to him. 

Had played the role of the harmless human who just happened to have really intoxicating blood inside her veins. 

But somehow that had ended up with me being pushed out of the loop with the man I loved. Jungkook thought I was some kind of helpless damsel he needed to keep safe and it just...it irked me. 

It was laughable that he thought something could be dangerous to me. 

It was laughable because I  was  easily the most dangerous creature in this entire room. 

i pulled my phone out, texting furiously.

 I want to see you. 

 I stared at Jungkook waiting for him to see. He pulled his phone out read the screen and to my utter chagrin he slipped the phone back in without answering.

 All right, That’s it.  

I stood up slowly, Namjoon stiffening next to me. 

“Where are you going? “ He asked warily. 

“To mingle.” I said casually. “ you can stay here, daddy. I’ll be fine by myself. “

He spluttered again and Helena laughed lowly. 

“I like her. “ Her voice rang out and i smirked, making a beeline to wards the front of the room, where Jungkook stood with a few other vampires around the same age as him. They all straightened at the sight of me, lust evident in their eyes and I saw Jungkook go a little stiff when he noticed I was alone.

“Where’s Namjoon?” He said shortly. 

“With Helena.” i said with a shrug.” Evening gentlemen.” I smiled softly, parting my lips lightly, letting my tongue dart out and wet them before leaving them parted, tongue peeking out. 

Jungkook pressed in closer, arm darting to wrap around my waist but he seemed to think better of it, pulling away again. 

“Sera...” He began warningly but i cut him off. Jungkook didn’t know what he had. 

And I was too fucking beautiful to be ignored tonight. 

“Isn’t someone starting the music? What a terrible bore this party has been...” I said loudly and the men scrambled closer, almost tripping over each other. 

Pathetic really but at least they served their purpose. 

“Should we get you another drink, Sera?” One of them said. 

“Let me go find that Dj...” The tallest of the lot wandered off. 

“You’re right..are you hungry..? Where’s that waiter?” The one right next to me lifted a hand, waving the nearest uniformed helped and I smirked at Jungkook. 

“Having fun?” I asked. 

“You need to go stay with Namjoon.” He said stiffly.

“where’s the fun in that? “ I hesitated, locking my eyes with him and lightly lifting my heel up to rest on the chair right next to him. The slit in my dress fell open, exposing the entire length of my leg, especially the red lace of my garter. 

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the dagger strapped to my thigh, the red and gold stark against the milky white flesh. I rand a forefinger up from my knee to the top of the garter belt, lightly circling the tip over the sharp edge of the dagger. 

“Don’t...” He growled. I smirked.

“Don’t what?” I whispered. 

“Don’t fucking do it, baby... I’ll be really , really mad if you do. “ He was almost shaking with the effort to not grab me and i could feel it. Feel the urge to put me in my place, simmering beneath his skin but he was helpless. 

Any wrong move on me and he would have a dozen daggers in his heart within the next second. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about .” I feigned ignorance, purposefully pressing the thick of my finger into the edge of the dagger, gasping as it broke skin, tearing my flesh and drawing out my blood. 

A collective gasp ran through the crowd around us and it was quite the sight, an entire group of century old Vampires going stiff as boards,  nostrils flared pupils blown wide open as they all stared at me .

 I smiled wide, trying to inject a note of contrition into my voice. 

“Oops. That was clumsy of me. .” I giggled, holding my finger up. the blood beaded over and spilled , trickling down my wrist and I locked my gaze with Jungkook’s, bringing my arm up, licking the scarlet fluid up, tracing its path with my tongue all the way to where the dagger had nicked me before sticking the finger into my mouth with a lewd pop. 

A vampire, about three feet away from me was breathing heavily , grabbing the chair next to him and sinking into it. His fangs were out and his breathing was erratic. i watched his eyes flash red and I laughed.

“I’m sorry. “ I said sweetly and he gave me a blank smile.

“That’s alright, my lady . “ He was almost choking from the effort to stay composed. Poor thing. I let my gaze flit back to Jungkook who had a terrifyingly blank look on his face. 

“You little whore.” Jungkook whispered softly and i lurched. 

“Yours . If you want me. But if you don’t...then anyone’s really.” I shrugged unrepentant. 

“Really? You think any of the vampires here’s gonna want you after the stunt you just pulled? No one wants a needy little slut.” He said casually but I could see him shaking a little. There was a teeny tiny crack in that cocky attitude and I’d never wanted to stick my fingers in something so bad. 

I felt myself grin in anticipation. 

“It’s not about what I think, Jungkook. Its about what I  know.” 

He stared at me. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You think I’m helpless, Jungkookie.... But the truth is... I can turn every single person here into my own personal  marionette if i wanted to. “ I shrugged. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows lifted, lips parting in surprise. 

“I’m listening.” 

I moved to the table in the corner, patting the chair next to me. He took the seat next to me and I smiled. 

“Now watch....” I snapped my fingers, signaling the waiter with the glass jar of lemon soda  and vodka in his tray. 

“Can you let my father know I want to leave the party early with Jungkook here?” I asked gently. The waiter flushed, but nodded and I casually slipped my finger into the lemonade jar, dipping lightly in the fluid.

Jungkook grimaced . 

“That’s disgusting.” 

I laughed. 

“Now let’s see who gets to drink it.” I followed the waiter as he moved around stopping in front of a group of very young vampires, about four or five of them. Two girls and three guys. They all took glasses of vodka from the waiter and i sighed.

“You know what makes my blood so powerful Jungkookie? “ I said softly. “ It’s the fact that it is  sentient.” 

Jungkook went stock still still next to me, lips parting in shock.

“What?” He croaked. 

I nodded.

“My blood is sentient. It can feel and see and control. If my blood mixes with yours, it will dominate your thoughts and feelings. I will literally take over you. But it also needs my instruction. So it’ll put you in a trance..... Leave you feeling boneless and disoriented , easier to manipulate. People think its because it tastes so good and they enjoy the feeling. They don’t know what the fuck they’re opening themselves up to...by letting me inside. “ I wrapped my arms around myself. 

“I’m painted as the beautiful, kind and precious human who needs to be protected....only because I am anything  but. In this room, Jungkook....I’m probably the one capable of wrecking the most havoc.” 

“Sera...”

“Nobody knows except for my father and I because...well... just the scent of it makes people chase me down. Can you imagine what they’d do to me if they knew the true extent of my powers.” I said bitterly. I let my gaze shift back to the kids with the drinks. The drinks that were tainted with my life essence.  

I watched them take sips of their drink and felt the mild tingling in the back of my head. Like a gossamer thread forming and wrapping around me and I swallowed. It was easy to ignore and I never had any trouble ignoring it when I let my family feed from me. Because I trusted them. 

But these kids though. My body thrummed, focusing on one person. 

The girl in the red halter top. 

“See the girl with the red top and black skirt....” I swallowed. “ She slit the throat of an old woman on her way here.” 

Jungkook swore next to me. 

“I can see the woman... she’s on her knees , begging for her life. She’s really old.” 

That wasn’t all. i could feel the grip of the dagger, the push of the blade against skin, the pull as the flesh gave in, the blood spurting out onto my fingers the scent of death as she bled out. 

I felt nausea bubble and I severed the connection forcibly. The girl’s pretty face didn’t match her filthy insides. i couldn’t stay in her head. The tendrils began wrapping around my head as  the four of them took more sips. 

“When I want... i can influence their thoughts. It takes more effort but it’s possible. it’s why my father wanted to make sure you actually wanted to be with me. He thought I’d coerced you . which I can . if I want. But I didn’t. I don’t do that ever. ” I shook my head. 

Jungkook’s brows raised. 

“By coerce you mean....”

“It can be as simple as influence your decision... but if I really put in the effort, i can make people physically do what I wanted. “ 

“Physically?”

I smiled.

“Remember the boys from my college ? the ones who nearly drained me out?” 

He nodded. 

“My father didn’t have them defanged. They did it to themselves. Literally stuck their own hand into their mouth and ripped their fangs out . Because I wanted them too.” 

Jungkook looked like he’d stopped breathing. 

I swallowed.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you that if you’re trying to protect me by withholding information, its kind of unnecessary. I can take care of myself.” 

“Alright. What do you want to know?”

“Just tell me what’s going on  “ I sighed.  Jungkook gave me a piercing look. 

“Remember Joo Won’s mother?” 

“The witch you killed?”

“Her father’s out for my blood. He doesn’t know where I am as of now. Your father thinks one of his lackeys must be in attendance today so he’ll know where I am.... and  he’ll come for me. And when he does... I’m going to end it .”

I stared at him.

“ Okay. “ I swallowed. “ How dangerous is he?” 

Jungkook laughed without mirth. 

“I’m not sure if I’m coming out of this alive.” 

Blood rushed to my ears, so fast I felt momentarily lightheaded. My entire body rejected the mere idea of Jungkook getting hurt. And to hear him talk of it so lightly, it messed me up badly. The fragile hold I had on my mind snapped. 

“No.” I said angrily. 

Across the room, the girl in the red halter stumbled,  clutching her head .

  Anger and the urge to hurt clawed up inside me and I tried to get it under control. 

Fuck, I had to sever the connection fully before i did something terrible to her..

 But it wasn’t happening, 

In fact the more i tried to get away the more her conscience seemed to be wrapping around mine., 

 Distance. I had to put distance between us. 

I need to leave now,  I pushed the thought in through the connection and  i watched her as she stumbled away from her friends, hands buried in her hair.

“Sera what the fuck... “ Jungkook grabbed my arm, eyes wide and panicked and I trembled. 

I felt guilty and scared because there was a reason i didn’t do this and the reason was quite simple. This power...or whatever you wanted to call it, It was bigger than me. I couldn’t control it . 

My blood was sentient and sometimes it could control me , just as easily as it controlled others. 

“She’s just leaving... I just made her leave because I’m not .. I can’t. ...fuck...” My head swam as I tried to get my bearings. 

“ okay that’s it...we’re getting out of here.... ” Jungkook stood up, reaching for me and I blinked, disoriented and dizzy. “Come here, baby I got you...” 

I let him wrap his hand around my waist, half lifting , half dragging me out of the ballroom and into the hallway. I gripped his chest, stumbling. I wasn’t tired, just struggling to get my head on straight . 

But the scent of him calmed me. 

“I need you.” I whispered. “ I need you to be safe Jungkook. I’ve spent too long pretending to be something I’m not but with you... I’m.. You... You make me feel human. Truly human. “ 

“Fuck... hang on. I’m gonna take you to my cottage.”

I blinked

“your what?”

“My cottage. Hang on...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Jungkook opened the door to the cottage, I felt a little like myself again. But my body thrummed , my skin on fire, my fingers trembling with adrenaline. 

“you look like you need to lie down.” He said gently.

I glared at him. 

“The last thing I need is to lie down.” I snapped.

He held his hands up.

“Alright. Calm down, baby..... Why are you so upset?” He asked soothingly and I scoffed.

“ You fucked me in public and the next day  you looked like you’d been handed a death sentence, when my father suggested that you court me and then... you disappeared for two whole weeks....and now you turn up and tell me that your life is in danger. You do all this shit and I’m  not allowed to be upset? ” I said angrily.

He hesitated. 

“I merely meant it would be dangerous. I am not actively trying to die.” He said softly.

“As for the rest of it.... I’m not the same person I was a month ago Sera.... You.. You’ve managed to claw you way into my heart and the only reason I didn’t want to court you was because of what I was involved in. I told you that...the baggage I’m carrying is too much for me to even think about being with you.... That’s the only reason. “

I stared at him. 

“Are you telling me you fell for me too?”

Jungkook smirked a little.

“You were fucking me all the time without touching me. How could I not fall for that utterly shameless gaze of yours. You were your heart on your sleeve and your heart is always filled with filthy thoughts about me Sera. You make it way too obvious. “ He said teasingly. 

“I don’t want you to die.” I said petulantly. 

“That makes two of us. “ He smiled. “ What do you want, Sera?” 

“Want you.” I said automatically, too raw and upset to think too much about it.

“You have me.” He stepped closer, hands resting on my shoulder, eyes earnest and i hated how much I wanted to believe him . But heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak had taught me that it was all a lie. I didn’t have him and now ....there was a possibility I could never have him. 

“No, I don’t.” I shook my head, angry. “ Don’t lie to me. I don’t have you.” 

Jungkook made to touch me again but I shoved him away, hard.

“you’re angry. “ He said thoughtfully. “ I understand that. You have every right to be angry. And I’m sorry I can’t tell you what you want to hear right now...Not until this whole debacle ends. But Sera...look at me...”

I bit my lips staring at him.

“I’m here. Now. I’m not going anywhere. It’s just us. You and I. Don’t worry about what happens next. Don’t. Let’s not worry about any of that. I’m here and I’m telling you I’m yours. You have me now.” 

I stared at him, tilting my head as I took him in. 

He didn’t move , merely staring at me evenly.

“You know.... you aren’t the only one who hates being ignored.” I said softly. 

I felt weird. 

Different. 

None of the usual nervousness or anticipation but instead a sort of burning need to  take. To reach out and pin him down , force him to follow through on his promise that I  had him. 

“ I’ve been giving too much of myself to you, Jungkook ...for way too long. I think it’s time I get something back.” I whispered. 

His lips curled in a small, impish smile and he looked a decade younger. His eyes flashed with mischief and anticipation. He looked eager....desperate even and I wondered if this is what I looked like all the time with him. 

“And what would that be...my queen?” he whispered meekly. 

“You. “ I said simply. “ All of you. Your words... your pain...your pleasure... your moans and your very breath. I want to take all of it.” 

I could see his pupils dilating even from the distance between us. 

“Its yours, sweetheart” Jungkook  bowed his head gently, holding his arms out. “Tell me where you want me...how you want me...” 

I glanced around the room. Not the bed. Not yet. 

There was a very sturdy looking chair in front of the small table in the corner. 

“Put that in the middle of the room and sit down.” I pointed at the chair. 

He smiled.

“You want me to stay dressed?” He asked carefully and I nodded. 

“Very well.” He moved to get the chair, placing it in  front of the bed. He sat down carefully. 

“Anything else?” He asked gently.

I narrowed my eyes at him 

“Yes. Keep your mouth shut unless I ask you something.” I said with a smile. His eyes widened in surprise. But he didn’t protest. 

I took in the sight of him on the chair, dressed in his perfectly fitted tux , legs spread and hands on his knees, eyes wide and alert as he stared at me. Pretty red mouth shut obediently. 

I moved closer till I was standing right between his thighs. His hands came up to grip my waists instinctively and I glared.

“Hands’ to yourself Jungkook. You don’t just get to treat me as you fucking like and then touch me without my permission.” I snapped. 

He lowered his hands , letting them rest on his knees again.

“Do you want to touch me , baby?” I whispered pressed my palm to his face before letting my fingers trail up to his hair. it was soft and silky to the touch, the strands like fine silk. 

“Yes.” He answered simply. 

“Then you need to earn it.” I threaded my fingers' into his raven locks, gripping hard and yanking his head back . i stared, fascinated by the ivory length of his neck, the little mole there and i pressed a kiss to his skin. I let my teeth sink in , just a little and then a little bit more. When he shifted, I pulled back, licking the skin to soothe the sting.  His breath caught and he gasped, eyes widening a bit and a small, ‘ fuck’ leaving his lips. 

I pulled back , keeping my fingers in his hair , gripping lightly, before reaching down with my free hand. 

“You have such a pretty neck and it make me wonder what it feels for your kind...sinking your teeth into people and feeding from them. Too bad I don’t have fangs. But you know what I do have?” I winked . 

I brought my leg up, the front end of my shoe resting on the small empty space on the chair , right in the V if his legs. If he moved even a little, my toes would brush the straining length of his cock visible even through the black of his slacks. He was so hard I knew it must’ve hurt. 

I gripped his hair harder and tilted his head down to he could stare at my thighs, specifically the dagger in my garter. 

“I want a taste . Of you. Can I?” I asked gently staring at him, fingers fiddling with the dagger and unsheathing it. 

He nodded. 

“Words. Please.” I smiled.

“Yes...fuck yes.....please...Sera...” 

“Good boy.” I winked, bringing the dagger up to his neck. It was really sharp and I used the tip to lightly draw a small dash, an inch below his ear. I watched the blade tear through the flesh, light and delicate, the skin cleaving and scarlet liquid bubbling up. I chased the flow with my tongue, licking it into my mouth and Jungkook trembled in the chair, jerking forward.

The movement jolted my foot onto his crotch and he grunted, grabbing my ankle when I made to move it away, keeping my heeled foot on his clothed cock. I swallowed,  little out of my league but i stared at him, at the sheer intensity of the desperation in his eyes and I inhaled ....before gently bringing my toes down to press into his cock. 

He moaned, thighs trembling and I  dropped the dagger to the floor.

I slipped both my hands into his hair, holding his head in place as i bent low to capture his lips with mine, sticking my tongue inside his mouth while grinding my foot down into his cock. I licked into his mouth, chasing the warm heady taste of him, my fingers tightening in his hair for leverage and I wondered if he was wet.... If his cock was weeping precum, dribbling into his slacks .

I pulled back to stare into his eyes but he had them shut.

“Look at me.!” i demanded,”  wanna see you...” 

His eyes fluttered open, doe- like and warm and swimming with pleasure and I’d never felt more powerful in my life. I moved my foot slowly, in small controlled circles for a few seconds. 

“You wanna cum in your pants like this? Rutting on my foot like a little mutt? Or do you want to get on the bed and touch me like you wanted to...?” I whispered softly. 

Jungkook swallowed and his fingers tightened on my ankle. . 

“Wanna cum like this.” He said taking me by surprise. I raised an eyebrow. 

“Really... then what about me...?  I want to get fucked too Jungkook ..? How’re you gonna do that if you cum so fast.....” I snapped, gripping his hair harder and he groaned. 

“I... I’ll fuck you again... i promise.. I’ll fuck you hard and make you feel good... just..let me cum...please.. It fucking hurts...” The way his voice cracked a bit on the last few words made my heart jerk inside my ribs. I found myself fighting the urge to give him everything. 

I smiled instead, kissing his lips again.

“Thank God for fast refractory periods huh, my big bad vampire?” I bit his lips, tugging it between my teeth , before reaching between us and slipping the shoe off my foot. Jungkook trembled, gripping me for support when I pulled my foot away and I let him cling to me for a second, before dropping the shoe down and pressing my bare foot on his erection. I spread my toes over the head, pressing down just a little and he inhaled sharply when i circled my toe on the wet patch . 

“Go on them. Make yourself cum.” I whispered, leaning down and kissing him again. He grabbed my ankle with both hands, rutting up into the balls of my feet, hips thrusting up and I let him lick into my mouth, messy and wet as he chased his pleasure. 

I felt him stiffen underneath me, followed by a wash of dampness under my sole and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close and letting him bury his face into my neck as he trembled through the aftershocks. He gripped my waist, hands shaking as he held me and i waited, worried if I should take my foot off or not. I could feel my legs beginning to cramp and I swallowed.

“You okay?” i whispered.

“Yeah.” He grunted. “ Fuck..that was...” he laughed a little. 

“We’re not done.” I said pressing a kiss to his cheeks and stroking his hair back gently. 

He hummed, gently gripping my ankle and lifting my foot off his crotch. I brought my leg down, wincing a bit. 

“Should we get on the bed?” He whispered. 

I nodded, yelping when he stood up with me still in his arms, he carried me over to the bed, dropping me lightly. 

“Strip.” I said quickly. “ All of it. Want you naked and stretched out on this bed for me.” 

He moved quickly, stepping out of his clothes with ease and I sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing the black tie he discarded. I took off my panties, leaving my dress and the garter belt on. 

 Jungkook naked was a sight i could never tire off and I watched as he climbed into the bed, lying down in the center, legs splayed slightly and hands by his side. 

“Bring your wrists together up over your head” I said quickly and he moved his wrists up , letting me tie them to the head board with his tie as i sat straddled on his chest. I was wet, sopping wet and I felt the trail of dampness I left on his rock hard abs. 

“I’m gonna sit on your face and you’re gonna make me cum. And then , I’m gonna ride you .” I whispered. 

“Fuck.” 

“That’s the plan.”

I scooted forward, resting one knee close to either shoulder before gripping the head board with one hand and the hair on top of his head with the other. Tugging him closer, I lowered my pussy onto his mouth, groaning when i felt soft pressure of his tongue against my center, licking tentatively. 

Jungkook knew what he was doing, and he licked into me with practiced ease tongue slipping into my slit, curling against the walls, before tracing circles around my clit. He used his lips to suckled on the hardened nub , following it up with quick little licks and i slipped a hand between my legs, stuffing three fingers into my cunt to get myself off faster. 

“Oh...fuck... I want... “ I could feel myself shaking and he sped up his movement, licking my lit in quick little strokes and my orgasm hit me like a wave, drowning me in pleasure. I scooted down before losing my strength, collapsing on top of him. The orgasm having knocked me right out of my headspace. I was trembling and shaking, lethargic and completely out of it. 

”Baby...you okay?” Jungkook’s concerned voice came from above and I whimpered. 

“I’m... I’m sorry.... I’m so tired... I...” 

“Don’t worry baby .. i got you. “

I heard the sound of wood splintering and blinked, glancing up. Jungkook had tugged his hands free from the restraint, breaking the headboard in the process. 

I gawked at the scene in disbelief. 

“Did you just....?”

He grabbed the hem of my dress, ripping it up and off me quickly. 

“Fuck..... want to pound you into the fucking mattress my little princess... Such a little tiger aren’t you kitten... so fierce and hot... i loved it baby...you were so good to me ...made me feel so fucking good...” He maneuvered me onto my back and i felt myself blushing at the praise, face heating up as i gripped his shoulders. 

He grabbed the back of my thigh, spreading my legs before lining himself up against my pussy. 

“Fuck...” He slid right in , knocking the breath out of me and i clung to him, whimpering as he pounded into me, hips working so fact I was sure I was going to have trouble walking for a week after this. 

I could feel my orgasm build from the sheer intensity of the thrusts, the hard thick length of his cock pounding into my cunt till i felt swollen and bruised and tender and when it finally tore through me , i was drooling a little, eyes damp with tears and fingers numb from gripping him too hard. 

Jungkook fucked me through the orgasm and chased his own each push of his hips leaving me battered and I bit my lips to stay conscious . When he finally stilled, his cock throbbing as he came for the second time, filling my insides with the wet warmth of his cum, I felt myself shake like a leaf caught in a  storm, my entire body ice cold and trembling. A thin layer of sweat coated my body and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t recover from this for a really long time

“My pretty pretty queen....” He whispered , pressing kisses all over my face as he hugged me closer and I mewled at the warmth of him. 

“Don’t leave me .” i whispered, unable to fight the tug of sleep and exhaustion. 

“I’m right here, baby.” His voice was soothing against my ear as he held me closer. 

Maybe I could have him after all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note : okay. well. that happened.  if you don’t give me feedback this will be the last smut scene. 

jk

but please do give me feedback . i love hearing from you guys. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist. : @ladyartemesia        @veronawrites   @alpaca1612     @bonyg    @unseejuice21  @sppvjj     @ggukkieland     @tae-by-tae      @blr1004      @yoongichild    @stussyjeon  @jellybearo  @sumzysworld   @carolsummerlove@bunniechoon  @unicornbabylover @preciouschimine    @baekhyunatthehaunted-house @craztextae@nikkiordonez12 

@jiminiscricket​  @yeotan07​

@chimchimmy95bts  @jinscharms​

@danietoww04​

[hazbbyhaz]

sleepless || harry styles

twenty six

pairing: harry styles x OC

synopsis: an emotional night

disclaimer: nightmares, child abuse, blood, descriptions of child abuse, kissing

The mind returns in dream

-Amy Bonner

"Did you know that Queen Victoria had a 14 year old stalker who broke into Buckingham Palace at least four times?"

"I didn't know that." Harry mumbles, turning himself on his side to look at Avery. She is lying on her back, eyes trained on the ceiling, saying anything that comes across her mind.

"Apparently he even stole her underwear once!"

"Avery, we’re supposed to sleep." There was a small bat of silence after Harry’s statement. In truth, Avery had been doing everything she could to avoid sleeping, despite agreeing to rest.

"Oh right" She murmurs, closing her eyes before opening them again. "I’m sorry. What time is it? Is it morning yet?"

"It must be around 1am."

"That's not close to morning at all," Her lips start to quiver at the realization. He watches as she takes two deep breaths, shuts her eyes, and turns to face him; the quivering coming to a stop.

"can't we drink a cup of tea? I always sleep better with tea."

Harry can hear the desperation in her voice. He can see her clinging to any possible scenario that will keep her awake. Every possibility that will prolong the inevitable. She needs sleep. At this point, more than anything.

“You’ve had more than enough tea for the night. We can make more in the morning. But first, we have to sleep." Right outside the window streetlights cast ambient light upon Avery's bedroom. The golden rays dance across her face so elegantly; so gently.

Her eyes are trained on something Harry can’t see, but he is acutely aware of her. He can see the three freckles that have made themselves home on her nose, the heart shape of her lips, the cerulean blue hue of her eyes. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

If only he could take a photograph. Try to capture this moment in its entirety, in all of its beauty. Show them how amazing these small, intimate moments are. Or maybe he didn't want that. Maybe he just wanted to keep her close. Keep this for him, and only him.

"What about my Valerian pills? They help me fall asleep."

"Love, don’t they make it worse?"

"Sometimes, but at least I'll be asleep." Her eyes finally trail up to his own. While his are calm and reassuring, hers are filled with fear. Fear that runs deeper than he could ever imagine.

"What do you dream about, Ave?" His fingers caress her cheek, he can feel her breath hitch as he gently brushes her hair behind her ear.

"I’ve never told anyone," She mutters, her eyes never leaving his own. Not for a second. "not anyone I cared about."

"Then let me be the first" With his hands on her cheeks, his eyes fall to her rosy lips. The familiar urge to kiss her resurfaces, flowing from his head to his toes. But he can’t, he knows he can’t. What they have is too delicate to risk.

From the moment that he had met her, he knew that she was alone. He has never seen her with anyone else, never seen her receive a text message or a phone call. To his knowledge, she doesn’t step foot out of her flat unless something important warrants her to do so.

Deep down, he knows that he is all that she’s got. The only person who is there for her in any true sense. The last thing he wants to do is ruin what they’ve created by giving in to his own urges.

Regardless of Harry's string of thoughts, their eyes meet. Sky blue on forest green. As Avery's eyes trail down to his lips, he slowly leans forward, pressing his lips to her own. The kiss is delicate and soft. With his calloused hands gently cupping her cheeks, Avery feels like that of porcelain. Like a fragile piece of glass someone is terrified to drop.

His hands drop from her face to her hip, pulling her impossibly closer. She grabs at his shirt, heavy breaths escaping as their lips briefly part. They are so close to one another, entangled with each other in every way they could, but it isn’t close enough.

His lips taste like earl grey tea and peppermint gum, a blend Avery didn’t know could be so addictive. Her lips taste of bitter coffee, but he doesn’t mind. They’re hers, that’s all that matters.

A few moments later Harry pulls back. He rests his forehead atop her own, leaving a gentle kiss to her nose as they both regain their breaths. Harry's thoughts diminish as he focuses on what’s happening now. The present. It’s only now that he can really see just how Avery is reacting. Her hands are latched tightly to his shirt, desperately trying to pull him closer. Harry's gentle call of her name does nothing to aid in her growing frustration.

He lets her pull him in once again, their lips reconnecting in a more heated kiss. She bites down on his lower lip, letting him know that he can continue. Harry slowly turns them over, leaning up with his elbows on either side of Avery's head, Avery laying on her back. And they kiss. Averys lips continue locking with his own because this feeling is so different from how numb she has felt. How she has been feeling for far too long.

For the first time that Avery can remember, she feels alive. Feeling Harry's lips on hers, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath her touch, it feels like home. Like comfort and safety, like last minute trips to the beach and drinking tea at house parties. It feels like everything finally coming together.

If only she could stay here for the rest of her life - stay right here, in this moment. Forever. Then everything would be alright. No worries, no mean girls, no nightmares, no sleepless nights. None of it. She would be okay. She could handle every thought spiral, every mean word, every single doubt, if she knew that she could come home to this. Know that she could feel Harry's lips on hers at the end of the day.

The small sounds Avery is emitting make Harry slow his movements down "Ave..." he mumbles in between kisses. “Hey hey hey, it’s okay… slow down, love. It’s okay.”

She can’t look into his eyes, he sees the tears welling up in them. Her whimpers only grow louder once she knows that he is aware of them, worrying him even more. In an effort to calm her, Harry starts trailing kisses down her face.

“I’m not going to hurt you… I am never going to hurt you… I don't ever want to do that.” She hasn’t said a word to him in an alarming amount of time, not letting him know what is going on in her head. His kisses trail down her jaw before pressing softly into her neck, right above her pulse point. “Talk to me, love. Please say something…”

“You will leave…” She says it so quietly that he almost misses it. But when those three words hit his ears his own eyes begin to water. He immediately stops his actions, softly cupping her cheeks in his hands. Her lips quivers once again before she whispers “I don’t want you to leave, Harry.”

"I won’t, Avery. I’m not going to leave." He reassures her, pushing another strand of hair out of her face as a few tears roll down her cheeks. "Look at me, please... I know you’re scared, I know. This is something new for the both of us, and new things are always scary."

"God I'm pathetic," Harry wipes the tears away from her cheeks, looking down at the girl below him with empathetic eyes. "I'm sorry"

“It’s okay. You’re not pathetic. If anyone here is pathetic, it’s me because I am just so smitten by you!”

Avery giggles as Harry presses one final kiss to her lips, both of them smiling into it like lovesick idiots. His arms wrap around her before turning them over, settling into a comfortable silence.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” Avery nods her head, looking up at Harry.

"Do you promise you’ll wake me?" Her head is lying on his chest, right above his heart, and his arm is tightly wrapped around her petite frame.

"I'll wake you, I promise."

“Mommy!” I cry, hitting the cellar door with my fists. I can see a little bit of light from under the door, it shines on the staircase all the way down to the floor. I’ve been trying to get her to come here for a while, I don’t know if she can hear me.

“Mommy! it’s really cold…” I still don’t hear her. Hitting the door that many times makes both of my hands hurt. I sit up against the wall next to the door, shivering. The wall is just as cold as everything else. The stones in it hurt my back as I sit.

I got to talk to Daddy on the phone a couple days ago, and he said we would go to the park today. I really want to go, but I don’t know where he is. I don’t want to be here anymore, not with Mommy. I just want to go upstairs to my room. Sleep in my bed with all my stuffed animals and my blankie. Maybe I could stay with Daddy after the park.

“Can I please have my blankie?… Please, Mommy. It’s really really cold!” Sheepy is sitting against the wall opposite me. I grab him and hold him close to my chest. “Are you cold, Sheepy?” I pet his fur, but it’s not as soft as it used to be, and he is missing one of his button eyes. It fell off earlier today.

“Don’t worry, Daddy is gonna take us to the park soon. He promised, remember?”

There is a very loud noise and I scream as the door slams open. Before I can move out of the way, I am falling down the stairs. My head hits the wall and all it’s stones many times before I hit the bottom. I open my eyes and see the bottom of the staircase, my eyes all blurry as I cry out to Mommy. She is standing all the way at the door.

“Mommy!” I try to walk towards her, but my head is so dizzy I can barely move. As soon as I stand I fall back down again. “Please let me out… I know i’ve been bad, but Daddy wants to take me to-“

“Your Father isn’t coming today, so be quiet! For god's sake, how many times do I have to tell you to stop screaming!” She starts walking down the stairs.

“But he promised he would…” All of a sudden I can hear a loud slap, Mommy’s hand hitting my cheek really hard. My ears start to ring as my head hits the hard concrete floor. She stands over me as I keep crying. I can see Sheepy laying on his side not far from me.

"Listen! I don't care what your father said, I need you to be quiet. Understood?"

"Yes, mommy. But can you fix Sheepys eye? Please? It fell off earlier and I can’t put it back on." I grab Sheepy and hold him out to her, she takes him out of my hand. I pull his button eye out of my pocket, keeping it in my hand. "Here's his eye."

Mommy huffs, looking at Sheepy but then she turns around and starts walking up the stairs, his eye still in my hand.

"No! NO! Mommy, the button, you have to take his eye to fix him! He can’t see without his eye! Please don't take Sheepy away from me, please!" I stand up super fast, still very dizzy, and try to walk to the stairs. But Mommy is too far away to hear me and I can’t reach her anymore. I can hear the door close; leaving me down here all by myself.

I lay back down on the floor, it feels even colder down here now. My whole body hurts. I am cold and all alone.

Avery wakes up without a sound. Everything is silent; impossibly still. The silhouette of a tree looms over the room, encasing the space in it’s dark, sinister shadow.

Hot, heavy tears stream down her face, her breath beginning to quicken. Every inch of her body hurts, every movement awakening an ache she didn’t know was there. But of course it hurts, the fall just happened yesterday. How couldn’t it hurt? No body could heal after only a few hours time from something like that. She can feel bruises beginning to bloom beneath her skin, no doubt covering most of her body.

Her anxious eyes roam over her surroundings. She is not locked in the cellar, but sitting atop a bed. It is still cold, so very cold, but comfortable and familiar. She can’t quite place it. Only now is the body laying peacefully by her side of notice to her. Harry is still asleep, his head resting mere inches from her thigh. Harry… where did he come from? Has he just arrived? Did he see the bruises?

The sound of a car backfiring rang through the silence, making Avery jump and her head shoot to the window overlooking the London street. her motion startled Harry awake, he began to stir beside her.

His eyes opened slowly, his gaze falling upon her figure. She was visibly shaking, tears streaming down her face. She looked terrified. At this sight, he was wide awake, quickly sitting upwards.

"Oh Avery, I'm sorry I-I didn't hear you-"

"My arm hurts really bad, Harry." She whimpers, cradling her left arm to her chest. "It hurts so much."

"Where does it hurt?" He carefully reaches out to her, his fingers softly brushing over her skin. To the touch, she was ice cold. No wonder she was shivering.

"Everything hurts…" Harry slowly pulls her towards him, encasing her shivering figure in two blankets before settling her body between his outstretched legs, wrapping both of his arms around her. His hands are rubbing up and down the expanse of her back, the motion attempting to soothe all the distress. Her head rests between his neck and shoulder.

"Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs," Her cries grew to hiccuping sobs, her breath irregular and too fast for her lungs to process. Harry freezes at her words.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

"And now everything hurts, Harry. Look at all the bruises." Her words are spoken through heartbreaking sobs. He looks over her, searching for any evidence of the fall, but nothing can be seen. There aren't any bruises on her, no visible ones anyway. Just her cold, pale, flawless skin. She's hallucinating, she thinks her dream happened yesterday.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

"It's going to be okay, Ave... just breathe" Harry murmurs into her hair, his hand resting gently on the back of her head, lightly pushing it farther into his neck. And as Avery concentrates on her breathing, tears fill Harry's eyes, quietly running down his cheeks.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

"Look... the bruises are already gone." He lifts her blankets ever so slightly, letting his fingertips run over her skin. Harry delicately lifts her arm to his lips, pressing soft kisses to it. Starting at her hands, he trails them all the way up to her shoulder before moving to the other arm. "No more bruises, angel. See?"

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

She nods slowly, pressing her head against his racing heart, her tears now beginning to dry on her raw cheeks. After a few minutes, Harry can feel her stable breaths against his neck. The small puffs of warm air signalling that she has fallen back asleep.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

Harry looks down at her, replaying what has just occurred over in his mind. He leans his head down, Kissing the top of Averys head as all of it catches up with him. He can’t help the sob that escaped his lips, the weight of it shaking his chest, tears falling from his eyes.

At the sudden movement, Avery shoots up. Raising her head to look at him, her eyes meeting his own. A worried expression plastered across her tear stained face.

"What’s happened?" She exclaims, her hands coming up to rest on his cheeks, eyes searching what could have caused him to cry. "Harry, don't cry... is everything alright? Please tell..."

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

That's enough for him to know that she doesn't remember waking up. Doesn't remember crying to him about all the pain. Telling him what happened. "It's nothing," He manages to let out, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, before leaving a lingering one on her lips. "I'm just so happy that you're here with me. That you’re safe."

"I'm happy too." She smiles softly. She wants to press further about what has happened, but she knows now is not the right time. Harry laces their fingers together before bringing their joined hands to his lips, trying his hardest to push all of this out of his mind.

It takes half an hour for the both of them to get settled into bed again. Harry leaving Avery's side only to steep her a cup of peppermint tea. With time, she fell back asleep, this one being dreamless. With her finally at rest, Harry was left awake, watching over her carefully. His hand rests atop her cheek, his thumb carting over the soft skin, letting her know that he is right by her side.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

✨next

✨previous

✨masterlist

✨wattpad

Taglist: if you would like to be added please interact with this post

@serenametanoia @magicalmongerherringfan @caliqueenbed @thebestthingyouneverhad @ramstermind @xovcnus @maisley

not working/ couldn’t tag

@mk1113-posts-blog