#its getting so bad i need a weekend when i can get pass out drunk and get to not worry about assignments and due dates | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

visceravalentines · 3 years ago

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All the Time in the World

Dilf!Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

7.3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Your regularly scheduled weekend tryst with your Southern gentleman is interrupted by your dad's fancy work party. Or is it?

Smut & fluff & just a smol dash of angst, age gap, dad’s best friend, semi-public sex, Daddy kink, oral, fingering, dirty talk & praise from both Bo and the reader (get it babe, pour filth into HIS ear), soft orgasm denial, creampie, cockwarming, light bondage, reader's parents get very drunk and reader drinks in moderation, reader wears a dress, she/her pronouns used, reader referred to as darlin', baby girl, pretty thing. If you need a pair of surrogate parents to imagine since they have a significant speaking role in this part, here is who I picture while writing lol.

Next Friday was going to be a big night.

Your dad had been spearheading a massive, important project at work for the last year and it had finally come to its conclusion. The company was hosting a gala to celebrate, with your father as a guest of honor. You and your mother were invited, of course, and expected. No chance of getting out of it.

“It’s stupid,” you said to Bo.

The two of you were on his back porch, getting an early start on the evening’s beer stock. “It’s going to take the whole night. They have an open bar and everyone always gets wasted at his work functions. My parents included."

“It ain’t stupid,” Bo said. “You’re just mad it’s happenin’ on a Friday night so you can’t sneak your ass over here after work."

“So what if I am?"

“So what if y’are?" He took a swig of his beer. “Come over Saturday. I’ll even stay in bed for ya."

“What a sacrifice."

“I’m a giver, darlin’, you know this."

You pushed his knee with your bare foot. “What’re you gonna do without me Friday night? Work on that Cadillac in the garage?"

“Actually, I got a date."

You choked on your beer. “What?"

“Y’know Maggie Harper two doors down?"

You rolled your eyes. “Bo, isn’t she married with like, six kids?"

“Ain’tcha heard, baby girl? I’m a homewrecker. Ruinin’ marriages and robbin’ cradles."

“If you go on a date with Maggie Harper, I’m texting Bradley from Gulfport."

He scowled. “Bradley from Gulfport’s gonna end up a cold case." You giggled. “What’re you wearin’ to this party? Bet I’m missin’ out."

“You are. It’s a very nice dress. Pretty low-cut. Slits up the sides."

“Damn." He shook his head mournfully. “Guess I better take you somewhere nice so you can wear it for me."

“I’ll send you a picture."

Bo shot you a mischievous look. “Would you do somethin’ for me?"

You regarded him suspiciously. “Depends."

He leaned on the arm of his deck chair. “Leave your panties at home and send me a picture o’ that."

Your mouth fell open. “You’re serious."

“Always, darlin’."

“You’re filthy."

“You bring it outta me."

“Don’t blame it on me."

“Ain’t nobody else around."

“My mom is gonna be there."

“Well you don’t have to show it to her."

You laughed, sipped your beer while you considered. “Alright. I’ll do it."

He grinned. “You’re the best, baby girl."

The weekend passed too quickly, as it always did, and the week flew by too. Friday afternoon, Bo flipped the sign on the shop door and turned to you with a sigh and the most forlorn expression he could manage.

“Dunno what I’m gonna do with myself all alone tonight."

“Don’t say that, you’re making me feel bad." You wrapped him in a hug. “I wish I didn’t have to go."

“Nah, it’s a good thing. You gotta support your dad."

“You’re right. Have to earn some points while I still can. Maybe it’ll cushion the blow when they find out you’re paying me for sex."

“Darlin’, I guarantee it will not." Bo kissed your forehead. “You’re comin’ over tomorrow?"

“Of course I am."

“I’ll pick up more o’ those snacks you like."

You smiled up at him. “You’re a sweetheart."

“Only for you, baby girl." He kissed you, long and sweet. “I’ll text you later,” he said with a wink and a smirk.

You got ready for the evening at your parents’ house. The dress really was something, black with a smattering of delicate beaded details, the neckline a deep V, the floor-length skirt long enough that even with the slit up both sides, you weren’t worried about the consequences of fulfilling his request. It hugged your figure in all the right places, made you feel sexy and confident. You wished he could see you in it.

Before you left your room, you tossed the pair of panties you would have worn onto your bed, took a picture, and sent it to him. Call it a teaser. He responded promptly with a single text:

Minx.

You grinned and tucked your phone in your bag.

The gala was being held at an upscale hotel downtown. You rode with your parents and arrived considerably earlier than most of the guests. You made nice with the introductions, smiled politely, retained nobody’s name, answered the same three questions about college until you were ready to snap.

The night had only begun. You were ready to go home.

Playing the dutiful daughter with nothing under your skirt was a new kind of thrill, you had to admit. It was probably better to sneak a scandalous picture now, before the crowd really arrived.

You snagged a champagne flute from a server’s tray on the way to your table, drank it too fast looking for a little extra courage. You’d never taken a nude in a public place; to be fair, there wouldn’t be much of an audience in a bathroom stall.

When the champagne was gone, you excused yourself and wandered through the building until you found a restroom a little ways away from the event hall. Naturally, the bathroom was impractically luxurious to match the rest of the hotel, brightly lit and opulent. At the far end from the door, there was a vanity with three low stools upholstered in velvet.

You considered this for a moment. Those stools were cute. You didn’t particularly want to take a picture of yourself straddling a toilet. Maybe…if you were quick….

Desperately trying to seem inconspicuous, you crossed to the vanity, double-checking each stall to be sure it was empty. When you were sure you were alone in the bathroom, you perched on the stool, pulled out your phone.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You really did look good tonight; it was a damn shame you weren’t going to see him until tomorrow. You snapped a couple selfies, made sure to get the dress and the way it hugged your chest in frame.

Then you adjusted your skirt, glancing behind you with trepidation. You’d had sex in a barn two weeks ago, you reminded yourself. And blown him at work on the clock. And fucked in your bedroom during a block party.

God, he was just stripping away your inhibitions right and left, wasn’t he?

You shook off the realization that you loved it and tugged your skirt up the rest of the way.

After taking a few pictures with your legs in slightly different positions, and then quickly readjusting your dress to salvage a little modesty, you scrolled through to pick the best shots. You could feel your face heating up as you examined yourself, but you knew he was going to love them.

You’d sent him nudes before, but only a couple times, and always from the comfort of your bedroom. No matter how self-conscious you felt, they were always well-received.

As it happened, he had quite the artistic eye when it came to the dick pics he sent your way. No grainy, overexposed, oddly cropped pictures where it looked like he may have just accidentally dropped his phone into his pants. No, you got well-framed mirror selfies, full-body shots with his hand wrapped around his cock or his thumb tucked in the waistband of his boxers.

They were worthy of salivation. He was always saying Vincent was the artist, but as far as you could tell, Bo was a born photographer.

The vanity had been a good choice. Hopefully he’d be impressed. You texted him one shot of your face and two of your pussy and called it a night.

By the time you returned to the event hall, he still hadn’t replied. You were slightly disappointed, but didn’t want to blow it out of proportion, so you tucked your phone away and jumped back into social hour with your dad’s coworkers. It absolutely necessitated another flute of champagne.

You were zoning out during your dad’s eighth rendition of the same story about golf, pleasantly floaty and counting the minutes, when he deviated from the script.

“Oh, here’s the guy I was telling you about, Bo Sinclair. Let me introduce you!"

The words hit your ears like a slap, sobered you up in an instant. You glanced up and sure enough, your smug Southern gentleman was crossing the room, giving Johnny Cash a run for his money in an all-black suit and tie, hair slicked back, gorgeous.

You didn’t even feel your jaw drop. He looked incredible. Moreover, he was here.

He greeted your dad with a smile and a handshake, then those baby blues fell on you. “Good seein’ you,” he said with gentility, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You look absolutely stunnin’."

Every drop of champagne in your body rushed to your head and every ounce of blood rushed south and you lamented the fact you were not wearing underwear.

“Sorry honey, probably should’ve mentioned your boss was going to be here,” your dad said.

“No, it’s – fine,” you said.

“’S alright, she doesn’t get enough o’ me at work,” Bo said brightly. “Thanks for invitin’ me."

“Oh, you had to be here,” your dad was saying. The rest of the conversation was utterly lost on you; you were too preoccupied with the scent of his cologne, how his shoulders filled out the jacket. He was handsome as hell in a suit. He played innocent remarkably well, only shooting you the occasional glance, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards every time.

Blessedly, the lights dimmed, signaling to everyone that the evening’s presentation was about to start. You, your father, and Bo returned to the table where your mother was sitting nursing a second – or third? – glass of wine.

“Mind if I sit here?” Bo asked as he slipped into the chair beside you.

“Not at all,” you said.

“Got your text,” he murmured. “Think I’m gonna need a closer inspection."

“Are you talking shop at the dinner table?” your mom interjected.

You could feel, actually feel, your soul leaving your body.

“Apologies,” Bo said with a smile. “Y/N was sendin’ me pictures of her friend’s truck, might wanna sell it. Looks real nice in the pictures, but I always say, y’never know ‘til you take it for a ride."

Your soul did in fact leave your body. Your mother did not seem to notice. Bo flashed you a wicked grin and nudged your foot under the table.

The lights went down even further and stayed that way as the CEO started her speech. You felt Bo’s fingertips brush your knee, squeeze your thigh. He winked at you when you gave him a sidelong glance, then folded his hands primly on the tabletop.

You slipped your foot out of your shoe and ran your toes up and down the back of his calf, stoically did not acknowledge when he looked at you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him slip his phone out of his pocket, type something short. As he tucked it back away, your bag buzzed conspicuously. Your mom looked over, made a shushing face.

You focused on the CEO, tried to ignore him as he shifted in his chair. Out of the corner of your eye, he vanished. Seconds later, you felt his fingers on your ankle, and then his lips on your knee. You jumped, startled, and he popped back up from beneath the table, smiling.

“Tyin’ my shoe,” he whispered. You bit your lip and rubbed his spit off your skin.

The speech ended, the lights came up, and shortly thereafter servers began bringing around the first course.

"So Bo, how's my kid doing down at the shop?” your dad asked halfway through his salad. “Giving you all kinds of trouble?"

You stopped chewing, braced yourself for the innuendo.

"Aw, she's a delight," Bo replied. Your eyebrows went up. "Smart as a whip, friendly with the customers, real fast learner. Works harder'n me. I'd keep her around forever if it was up to me, but she's got bigger and better things comin' her way for sure."

He smiled at you, a genuine, affectionate smile, and you tried your hardest not to light up too much. “Thanks, Bo."

“Jus’ the truth, darlin’." He looked at your parents. “She’s somethin’ special."

"I'll drink to that," your dad said.

As guests finished their meals, many of them wandered to the wide-open center of the room where couples were dancing. Your parents got up from the table to join the handful of people already swaying in slow little circles, your mother admonishing Bo to keep an eye on you.

"You here all by yourself, pretty thing?" he said once you were the only two left at the table, scooting his chair a few inches closer to yours.

"You look sexy as hell," you told him. “I didn’t know you owned a suit."

"Thank you, darlin', don't get much occasion to wear it." He fussed with his cuffs. "Think the last time was at Les's weddin'."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you were going to be here."

"I told ya I had a date."

"You didn't tell me it was with me!"

He gave you a sultry look. "Who else would it be with, baby girl?"

You gazed back at him with open adoration. "You can't just show up here looking like that saying nice things about me."

"Why not?"

"Cause there's no hayloft to hide in."

He laughed. “If you’re that desperate, we can get a room."

You shook your head. “I don’t think they rent by the hour here."

“Probably right." Bo stood up suddenly. “Why don’t we visit the courtyard instead?"

“The what?"

“C’mon, baby girl." He flashed you a mischievous grin, offered you his arm. “It’s real pretty. And real private."

“Bo!” you exclaimed. “My parents are here!"

“When are you gonna stop bein’ sensible and start trustin’ me?"

You stood up and took hold of his elbow. He set a quick pace around the edge of the room toward the door. “When are you going to behave appropriately in a public setting?"

“Darlin’, if you think I’m just gonna sit here and stare at you when you’re wearin’ a dress like that with nothin’ underneath, then you ain’t been payin’ attention."

You stole a wary glance in the direction of the dance floor. You couldn’t see your parents; hopefully they couldn’t see you either. “You are going to get us in trouble."

He tossed that damn smirk at you over his shoulder. Your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes, bright and smoldering with lust. “We can hope, can’t we?"

Together you stumbled out of the event hall. He slowed down in the corridor so you could keep pace beside him. He seemed to know where he was going, but the place was a maze to you.

Around the second or third corner, Bo stopped abruptly and pulled you to him, capturing your lips in a kiss. You thought about pushing him away for a second, only a second, before your arms were around his neck and your tongue was in his mouth.

“God, baby,” he breathed. “Wanna touch you so bad."

You slid your hands down his chest. “Then you better find that courtyard."

“’S around here somewhere,” he said, taking your hand and tugging you down the hall.

You rounded another corner and yanked on his hand, pinning yourself between him and the wall. He smashed his mouth against yours, hands on your waist, running up your sides to your breasts and down to your hips. Fiery, you angled your pelvis flush against his, so few layers between you. His fingertips worried at the top of the twin slits of your dress, pawing desperately at the skin of your thighs.

“Uh-uh." You pushed his hands away. “Not in the hallway."

Bo made a disapproving sound. “Then quit kissin’ me like that."

“Never." You pulled him to you by his tie.

He wrested his tie and his lips loose, pointed a finger in your face. “Now who’s gettin’ us in trouble?"

You grinned at him. “I’d kill to get in trouble with you, baby."

He groaned. “Y’promise? I got a gun."

“Cross my heart."

He buried his face in your neck, his kisses manic, and you tilted your head back against the wall in bliss until he sucked hard on your skin. You shoved him away. “Bo! You can’t give me a hickey!"

“I sure can."

“No you can’t!"

He smiled smugly and looped his arm around your waist. “This way, pretty thing."

To your surprise, there really was a door marked Courtyard around the bend. Bo held it open for you and before you could thank him for his chivalry, he grabbed your ass as you passed him. You swatted him away, giggling.

The courtyard was a large area of greenspace smack in the center of the hotel. A fountain burbled in the center and trees and shrubs were planted thickly among the pavers. A smattering of lamps provided wan white light, leaving ample room in the shadows for shenanigans. The early evening stars were hidden from view by the glow of the city, but the sky was a beautiful deep, swelling blue.

“How did you know this was here?” you asked.

“Went with your dad to a golf club happy hour here in the spring."

You winced. “I am so sorry."

“Me too. I hate golf. Drinks were good though."

Bo took your hand and led you to a secluded bench tucked away behind a pair of bushes. It was practically invisible from the door, but plenty of windows loomed overhead like half-lidded eyes. You were hidden beneath the trees, probably. At this rate, you’d be fucking in Times Square by Halloween.

He straddled the bench and you sat between his legs, adjusting your skirt. The cold concrete touched a bare strip of your thigh, made you flinch.

“How much time do you think we have?” you wondered.

“All the time in the world,” he said, kissing you again. His hand wandered from your knee up to the end of the slit in the dress. His thumb played at the inside of your thigh, tantalizingly close to your sex, lighting up the nerves in your groin.

“You look so damn good tonight,” he said. “Drivin’ me wild." You gripped his lapels, kissed his lips, his cheek, the scar on his chin. “Wanna make you feel good, baby girl. Let me make you feel good?"

“Please,” you whispered the way you knew he liked, drawn out and plaintive.

His hand slipped beneath your dress, fingers just parting your lips. Your back arched. His eyebrows shot up. “Soaked, darlin’. Bet you taste even better than you look."

Heat flooded your face and your core. You wanted to see his head between your legs. “Why don’t you find out?"

His lips curled into a smile. “If you insist." He leaned forward and gave you one last kiss before pulling away to kneel on the ground in front of you. He looked up through his lashes like a supplicant at the feet of a saint, hands on your knees, urging your legs open with reverence.

“Nobody in there needs to know you belong to me,” he said, pushing your skirt up and aside. “But I’m gonna make damn sure you know it."

Your fingers curled around the lip of the bench as he blew gently along your slit, following immediately behind with the tip of his tongue. Your breath hitched in your throat. He sucked at your clit, lapped at your arousal, strong hands holding your thighs immobile even as you strained involuntarily to close them.

"Don't you mess up my hair, angel," he warned.

"I wo - oohh." You gripped his shoulders instead, hips rolling.

“Bet I can make you cum before I finish spellin’ my name,” he murmured.

“Full name?"

“Uh-huh,” he said, open-mouthed, his tongue pressed against you. The vibration made you shudder.

You were so hot for him already, it wasn’t going to take much, but his name wasn’t long. You could hold out. “You’re on."

When his tongue dragged lazily over your clit in an unmistakable letter B, your toes curled and you moaned. He punctuated the initial with a merciless suck. The next letter was not an O. You felt yourself clench, ached for him to be inside you. The next letter was also not an O. You were writhing in his grasp and confused in the fog of pleasure.

“Bo…what – god – what are you spelling?"

“My name, darlin’."

“Your name…is two letters."

He grinned up at you in the dim light. “It’s Beauregard, baby girl."

“It’s what?"

“Beauregard Sawyer Sinclair."

Your mouth hung open. “…fuck."

“Think you’re about to lose a bet. Now I can’t remember where I was, so I’m startin’ over." He started over.

His middle fingers were knuckle-deep in your pussy halfway through Beauregard. You did lose the bet, somewhere around the Y in Sawyer. Head thrown back, you saw your own stars spill across the canvas of the sky, your helpless whimpers so soft and so loud in the open air. You melted back into your body with a sigh, blinking bleary-eyed as he sucked his fingers clean.

“You cum so pretty, baby girl,” Bo crooned. “Gonna be thinkin’ about those sweet little sounds when it’s just me and my hand in bed tonight."

You frowned. “You don’t want me to take care of you right now?"

“Nah, we best get back. You can make it up to me later." He winked. “Now, I got the worst knees on this side of the Mississippi, so you’re gonna have to give me about ten minutes to stand up."

He winced as he rose from the ground, kissed you on his way up. You fixed your dress and his tie, pushed one wayward lock of his hair back in place.

“Handsome,” you said, smiling.

“Shucks." Bo wrapped his arms around you. “Kiss me goodnight before we go inside." You obliged. You missed him already.

He held your hand loosely as you crossed the courtyard, tugging uncomfortably at his slacks. “Gimme a second, I gotta get rid of this situation."

You snickered. “I offered my services."

“You hush."

“Could’ve made you try to spell your name again while I sucked you off."

“That’s enough."

“I know what would shut me up, Beauregard."

“Alright then, smartass, I’ll prance in there with a boner and let you explain where it came from."

“Couldn’t say. I’m a virgin."

He snorted as he pulled the door open. “Get inside."

You held his hand until the last possible second before you stepped back into the event hall. Immediately you were searching for your parents. Anxiety seized you in its clammy grip when you caught sight of them seated at your table.

“There you are,” your mom said, slurring a little. “Where’ve you been?"

“Sorry, we went for a walk." You smiled what you hoped was a normal smile.

“Oh that sounds nice." Man, your parents could drink.

“When do you want to get going?” you prompted.

“Well, about that, honey,” your dad said. “The company paid for a room for your mom and I, sort of a surprise weekend getaway." His gaze shifted to Bo. “I hate to ask you this, but could you take her home?"

You didn’t have to look at him to sense the smirk on his face. You could feel it like a kiss on the back of your neck. “I’d be happy to." He touched your back, your upper back, nothing but propriety. “You just lemme know when you’re ready to leave."

“Now is fine,” you said immediately. “I’m pretty tired. And you know, I’m meeting…someone tomorrow to do something, remember?" The details of this weekend’s cover story were fuzzy but so were your folks.

“Right, right,” your dad said. “Have so much fun!"

“Oh I will." You glanced at Bo. “Shall we?"

“Of course, darlin’." He shook your dad’s hand, thanked him again for the invite; you hugged your parents and bid them goodnight and a good weekend.

It was a long walk back out to the hallway. No sooner had you left the room when he clasped your hand, brought it to his lips, and deadpanned, "I'll drop you at yours, then?"

You pushed him playfully. "You'll do no such thing."

"Who is the boss here?"

"I think it's me."

He scoffed, guiding you through the hotel doors with his hand on your back, your lower back, possessive. "I have the keys," he said as he produced them from his pocket.

With uncharacteristic speed you snatched the keys from his hand and danced away down the sidewalk like a dog with a forbidden treasure, skirt gathered in one hand. "Wrong!"

Bo gave chase without a second thought. "Ooh, you better pray I don't catch you, baby girl."

"What're you gonna do, spank me?"

"Somethin' like that."

You spun, flashed him a grin, prancing just out of his reach. "Can't wait."

He lunged and you shrieked with laughter, feinting away at the last possible second. You moved in the direction of his truck parked just down the street.

"This ain't fair, y'got twenty years on me," he whined, out of breath, hands on his hips like an exasperated Little League coach.

"Aw, what a shame." You jingled the keys in your hand. "Guess you'll have to walk home, old man."

He shot you a glare and then without warning broke into a dead run. He was unexpectedly fast, had evidently been holding back, and you let out a genuine scream as you scrambled for the truck. The pounding of his footsteps got louder behind you and the next thing you knew, he had you in a vice grip, whirled you both around so your momentum carried him into the side of the truck and you into his chest.

"Respect your elders, darlin'." He crushed you to him, landing one good slap on your ass.

You collapsed with laughter. "You're scary as hell."

He smiled darkly. "Nah, I'm a big softie." You went to hand him the keys and he shook his head. "You're drivin'."

"What?"

"Take me home, baby girl."

You'd never driven his truck before. He was protective of the thing, to say the least; washed it once a week, detailed it himself, refused to park it within six feet of another vehicle. "Are you sure?"

"I trust you."

You grimaced. "No pressure."

"None at all."

"If I'm driving, I can't blow you."

"There'll be more'n enough time for that later. Quit stallin', I'm ready to be outta this suit."

You opened the driver's door and started to climb in. Bo cleared his throat and you paused, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Ain'tcha gonna open the door for me?" he pouted.

You rolled your eyes. "Of course, my bad."

Looking pleased, he followed you around the truck and stood back while you opened his door. "Why, thank you, darlin'. Y'sure know how to show a man a nice time."

You grasped his tie and tugged him in for a kiss. "Just you wait."

The anxiety set in with force once you got behind the wheel, but Bo put his hand on your thigh and gave it a squeeze. "Relax, you know how to drive."

"What if I crash?"

"Don't."

"But what if I do?"

"I know a real good mechanic."

With extreme caution, you pulled into traffic and drove five miles under the speed limit the entire way to Bo's house. He kept his hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing circles on your skin, and every time you glanced over at him he was gazing back at you.

"What's up?"

"Just admirin' you. Y'look fine as hell drivin' my truck. 'S like seein' you wear my shirt. Got me thinkin' thoughts."

"What kind of thoughts?"

Bo pinched his tongue between his teeth, dug his nails lightly into your flesh. "You just focus on the road, darlin', and let me worry about that."

When at last you parked in the garage he smiled proudly at you.

"That's my girl."

You laughed with relief and peeled your fingers off the steering wheel. "Can't believe you let me do that."

"Neither can I. Think you're the first, baby girl."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious?"

"'S a privilege I think you've earned. Y'did well."

You led him up to the house and unlocked the door with his keys. Just inside the entryway, Bo took your face and kissed you in earnest, his tongue playing at your lip.

Your fingers smoothed down his lapels. "Let's get you out of that suit, yeah?"

You kissed him sloppily as he shrugged out of his jacket. He pulled you down the hallway feeling for the lightswitch; you fumbled with his belt while he loosened his tie in the time-honored tradition of not being able to shed clothes fast enough.

You parted lips long enough to pant, "Unzip me?"

"Done."

He spun you around and eased the zipper down your back, peeling the dress open like he was unveiling a piece of art. His kiss on the nape of your neck sent sparks down your spine so hot they gave you goosebumps.

With a twist of your shoulders the dress dropped to the floor, leaving you bare from head to toe. Bo's hands were on your skin before the air was, cupping your stomach, fondling your breasts, his nose in your hair.

"Gorgeous," he murmured. "Get over here and sit on Daddy's lap, baby girl."

His fingertips brushed across your skin as he skirted around you to settle on the couch. You sat in his lap, leaned back against his chest as he hooked your legs over his knees, opening you up, exposed and vulnerable. You cast a glance to your right where you could see yourself in the reflection of the windows overlooking the backyard, curved against his body, Bo gazing smug and sultry back at you.

"'S a mighty fine view, darlin'." His gaze moved over your body like probing fingers, curious and hungry. "Hope someone out there's peekin' in to see it."

He cupped your breasts, rolling each nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You moaned, heat throbbing in your core in time with his ministrations. His lips grazed the slope of your neck, his chin parked on your shoulder.

"Pretty thing." He drew his fingertip in a line from your navel down to the top of your slit and back. Your skin hummed. "Can y'touch yourself for me?"

Without hesitation, you parted your lips and brushed your clit with two fingers. "Like this?" Your voice was breathy and higher than normal already.

"Just like that," he crooned. "Such a good girl." Your hips bucked against your own hand and you let out a choked, needy sound. You could feel him getting hard beneath your ass. "Who d'you belong to, angel?"

"You." His grip tightened on the flesh of your thigh. "You, Daddy."

"That's right." He caressed the crevice of your hip. Your brow furrowed as you felt his finger push into your slick hole with little resistance. "So tight, sweetness, how'm I gonna fit?"

"You'll fit," you breathed, rubbing tight circles around that most sensitive spot.

"You sure?" He squeezed in a second finger and you whined. "Think I might have to make you cum a few more times, getcha to relax a little bit."

"Whatever you want," you mumbled, bearing down on his fingers, gasping as he stroked your insides.

"Look at you bein' so good for me."

He swept the unoccupied fingers of his other hand across your mouth and you opened to admit his first two fingers, sucking on them with desperation, your head cradled in the hollow of his shoulder. You closed your eyes and moaned long, pulsing deliciously around him.

"Goddamn, baby. Someone better fuck you quick."

You made a pleading sound, mind fragmented between sensations, your own hand moving erratically across your clit in the face of his slow and steady rhythm. You could feel the ebb and flow of pleasure inside you tilting ever so gradually upward, felt yourself clenching just a little tighter, let out a pitiful, indignant whine when he pulled out of you.

"Aww, c'mon now, darlin'. I'd just rather y'cum on my cock, that's all." He withdrew his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. "Lay down and keep yourself warm for Daddy, how 'bout that?" he whispered in your ear.

You reclined on the couch, teasing your sensitive clit as you watched him undress. He wrapped one hand around his erection. "Y'see what you do to me, baby girl?"

He bent low and kissed your forehead, laid his hand over yours and applied just enough pressure that you squeaked with overstimulation. "You trust me?"

"Yes," you said without hesitation.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "Hold still."

He braced himself on the back of the couch, bent over you and reached down between the couch and the end table. You heard a jingling sound as he fished up a pair of leather cuffs, lined with suede and attached to a restraint system apparently running underneath the couch.

Your mouth fell open. "Bo!"

"Yes dear."

"Has that been there the whole time?!"

"Yeah, 's where it goes." You laughed, shocked. "Okay if I strap you in?"

"Absolutely." You were thrilled.

"Y'sure?"

"I'm sure."

Bo looked delighted. "Gimme your hand, angel." He kissed your knuckles before buckling the cuff around your wrist. "Too tight?"

"No, just snug."

"Perfect." He took your other hand, sucked your fingers clean of your arousal, kissed your palm, and secured your wrist. You gave them an experimental jerk. They were fastened firmly above your head so your hands rested on the arm of the couch.

"Now you want me to turn you loose, the word's crossbow, alright? I'll stop what I'm doin' and get you right out."

"Okay."

His gaze raked down your supine form and he licked his lips. "Goddamn, I'm a lucky man."

You tugged against the restraints, arched your back. The feeling of being at his mercy coalesced right between your legs. His fingers trailed down your throat, over one breast, across your stomach. His eyes were hungry and his hand stroked his cock almost absentmindedly.

"Gonna be so good to you, darlin'. My baby girl."

Bo sat at your feet, lifted your leg, kissing your ankle, up your calf, along the inside of your thigh, sucking at your skin til it left a mark. His tongue licked a wide stripe up your slit, made you quiver. You squirmed, gasping, pulling against the cuffs as his fingertips trailed ticklish over your skin.

He climbed on top of you, heavy and hot, kissing his way up your body. He lined himself up with your entrance and smiled a crooked smile down at you, eyes alight, before pushing into you slowly, so slowly, with a gentle kind of force, inch after blessed inch.

Your head rolled back and a vocal sigh slipped from your mouth as he filled you at last the way you'd craved all night. "Oh, Bo."

He groaned in your ear, his hands curled behind your shoulders for leverage. "Baby girl."

He rolled his hips and sent a wave of pleasure surging through you. With his full weight on top of you and your wrists immobile above your head, there was nothing you could do but accept each languorous thrust. You felt used in the best way, helpless, all his.

He fucked you slow, the swell of him inside you mesmerizing, every inch of his body pressed against yours, every tiny sound you made delivered straight to his ears.

You wanted to touch him so badly, wanted to stroke his hair and scrape your nails down his back. All you had at your disposal was your voice. He usually had the sweet-talking handled, but through the steady-thickening film of pleasure weaving around your brain, you decided to give it your best shot.

You nuzzled your lips to his ear and whispered, "You feel so good, Daddy…am I being good for you?"

His grip on your shoulders tightened. "Shit, baby, you're bein' so good."

"Do you like my pussy?"

He groaned. "I love your pussy, baby girl." His pace picked up, his thrusts gaining the slightest edge of desperation.

Your tongue grazed his jaw. "Are you going to cum for me, Daddy?"

Bo grunted, his nails digging into your skin, cock bottoming out again and again. "Y'want me to cum for you?"

"Please," you begged softly. "Please fill me up, please cum inside me, please Daddy I need you so bad - "

Bo choked out a whine, hips heaving, head snapping back, whole body taut and shuddering. You craned your neck to kiss and suck at his throat, the vibration of his waning moans satisfying against your lips.

When his baby blues opened they were glazed and staring. "...I'll be damned," he managed.

You grinned at him, pleased with yourself. "Was that okay?"

"I think you know the answer to that." He rested his forehead against yours.

"Better than your hand, maybe?"

He chuckled breathlessly. "A thousand times, darlin'." He kissed you, swept his thumb across your cheek. "I'm gonna let your hands loose but you ain't gettin' me outta that pussy anytime soon."

"Fine with me."

He unfastened the cuffs expertly with one hand and examined your skin. "Hurt at all?" You shook your head and he kissed the inside of each wrist. "Didn't faze you in the slightest. In fact, I think it riled you right up."

"Oh, it riled someone up." You took his face in your hands and kissed him. "Next time, the dungeon?"

"Next time, I'm gonna strap you to the bed and tease you for a good long while."

"You've got these under the bed too?"

"Of course I do." He gave you a sly look. "There's a lot under that bed, baby girl."

You brushed a few wayward strands of his hair back off his brow, combed your fingers through it to loosen the gel. "Show me."

"It'd be my pleasure."

"Show me right now?"

He laughed. "Alright, gimme a minute. I need a cigarette and a lil bourbon and then I'll show you what good girls get."

"Wait, don't go yet." You clung to him with all four limbs.

"Needy little thing, ain'tcha," he said affectionately. "'M not goin' anywhere without you." He bumped his nose against yours and worked his way onto his side. He slipped out of you in the process and you grimaced.

"Eh, cum comes out," he said dismissively. He tucked a blanket around you both, tangled his legs together with yours and cuddled you to his chest.

You frowned thoughtfully, drawing shapes on his skin with your fingertip. "Bo, what happens at the end of the summer?"

"Well then it's fall, baby girl, you ain't that little."

You rolled your eyes. "Not what I meant."

He smiled grimly. "You're gonna go back to college is what."

"And I won't see you anymore…."

Bo let out a long, quiet sigh through his nose. "I s'pose that's up to you, darlin'."

"Would you let me come visit on the weekends?"

"If that's what y'want, absolutely. I'd even come see you sometimes if y'let me."

You stroked the scar on his chin. "What do you want?"

His eyes clouded with some complex blend of emotions you didn't think you could coax out of him no matter how hard you tried. His face was so close to yours, you could see the flecks of darker gray that interrupted the pale blue iris.

"Don't matter what I want," he said. "You got a lotta options, baby girl. Bradley from Gulfport ain't one of 'em - " You snorted and he cracked a smile. "But besides his sorry ass, sky's the limit. Whatever you want." His smile faded around the edges. "Far be it from me to take anythin' from you."

You furrowed your brow. "You're not, Bo, you're not…taking anything from me. You're so good to me. You make me happy."

Something softened in his expression. "'S good to hear that, darlin', that's all I really want."

"Just because I'm leaving, it doesn't mean I'm leaving you. I mean, as long as you…still want me. If you don't, I mean, that would be…fine." What had started as a summer fling had somehow, so quickly, become something else, at least to you. You wondered suddenly if he felt the same.

It must have been evident in your face because he ran his thumb over your lip. "Hey. I want you more'n anything." He hesitated, suddenly uncomfortable. "You make me happier than I have any right to be, darlin' , don't you ever doubt that."

You murmured his name against his thumb, squeezed him tightly.

He tucked his finger beneath your chin and looked at you seriously. "But I need you to listen to what I'm sayin', because it's gotta be said. If you meet some fine young man or a nice young lady, and you wanna hold their hand at the movies or whatever, you don't have to feel guilty about it. You don't even have to give me a second thought, you just don't show up on my doorstep some weekend and I'll figure it out. You deserve - "

He faltered, like he was suddenly conscious of the words he was saying, of how many he'd already said. "You deserve the world, darlin', and it don't matter who gives it to you so long as somebody does. Maybe it's not me. But it better be somebody."

You gazed at him for a long time. "Are you done?"

He scowled. "You ain't listenin' to me."

"Bo."

"I need you to - "

"Bo, listen to me."

"Excuse me, I am talking."

"Beauregard."

"Don't you Beauregard me, missy, I'll leave marks on that ass."

"Bo, please!"

He gave you a look fraught with attitude, lips pursed. "Go'n then, it better be good."

You touched his face. "I just want you."

"Baby girl…." There was a desperation in his voice. "I don't know how to tell you that you don't."

You shook your head. "You're not gonna change my mind. I just want you."

He leaned his forehead against yours and sighed, frustrated.

"I get your point," you said. "I understand. I promise I won't deprive myself of this magical college experience you think exists. But I'm going to be comparing everyone to you, and they're going to fall short every time."

Bo said nothing. You could almost hear the war in his mind playing out, the clash of his desires against his better judgment, against whatever burden he held onto that made him think he was somehow not enough for you.

You rubbed the stubble of his five o'clock shadow with your thumb. "Let me come see you on the weekends," you said. "Or you can come to me. Or we can meet halfway in some shitty motel and pretend we don't know each other."

He acquiesced a small smile. "Sounds like my kinda date."

You grinned at him. "And if I meet someone else I can at least afford you the courtesy of a text, everything doesn't have to be so dramatic all the time."

He snorted. "Well I hope y'don't mind me sayin' I hope I never get that text."

"You won't." You kissed him. "Now go smoke or whatever, you owe me like five orgasms for that conversation."

Bo laughed. "What conversation? You ain't heard a word I said."

"Go!"

"Well you gotta let me up first, baby girl."

You rolled to the side and he rolled back on top of you. You stared up at him, memorizing the lines in his face, around his eyes, how his lips curved. It made you ache, the way he looked and the way he looked at you.

"Y'know what you mean to me, darlin'?" he said.

You put your hands on his chest. "What?"

Bo smiled, almost wistful.

"Everything."

Taglist at the bottom bc this is a monster post already: @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @slutforguts, @brandnewhuman, @fluffy-little-demon, @cypressnmarigolds, @slasherlouvre , @g0thl3zz, @frankiethedarkangel, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @likeacidrainn, @thatoneidiotlol. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

#bo sinclair x reader #dilf bo sinclair #bo sinclair #slasher x reader #my writing #god they just keep getting longer besties #no one can stop me so don't even try

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weixuldo · 3 years ago

Text

Enigma// ch 5

Anakin x Reader

(A/N: Hey guys!! I’m finally back from the dead! The flu was the worst, I literally couldn’t do anything. But I just wanted to thank you guys for being so patient and understanding!! also FYI the next chapter of unconditionally should be out soon too and ive been working on some other stuff too (Mostly the asks haha) AS always, thanks for reading)

Ahsoka’s out of town and you need to spend the night somewhere...

Warnings: alcohol, drinking problem, PTSD, mention of injury, the reader is kinda oblivious, cursing, bad grammar.

____________________________________

You hadn’t heard much from Anakin since that night. He occasionally texted you to make sure you and Ahsoka were being safe. Ahsoka was still mad about their argument and insisted on ignoring him.

A part of you wanted to be angry at him too, he basically called the two of you immature and irresponsible, but you just couldn’t. He was so gentle with you that night, not to mention he was drunk himself. The fact that he held it together to make sure you were ok was so attractive.

Maybe you were just reading into things, but you could have sworn he wouldn’t have done that for another girl. You found yourself wanting to go over there and spend time with him, but you kept chickening out before sending your texts.

Tonight was no different, Friday finally arrived after a long week and you wanted to find solace in something, preferably not the bottle. Some stupid part of you mainly didn’t want to drink because you wanted to show him you were responsible.

Sadly, Ahsoka was out for the weekend with her team for a local championship. Leaving you to your devices. Your roommate was getting ready for her three year anniversary with her highschool sweetheart, so the room was occupied for the night.

You sighed, you really didn’t have anywhere to go. You took out your phone and anxiously dialed his number.

Ring

Rin-

Hello?, a groggy Anakin answered.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to bother you but do you know if I could stay at your place tonight? Ahsoka is away and my roommate is using the room tonight, I can pay you for the time” you spoke, more nervous than you were two minutes ago.

He huffed and you heard him shift some things around on the other end.

I guess that’s fine. Give me an hour.

He sounded rather annoyed so you added, “If you're not ok with it that's completely fine, I don't want you to feel like you hav-”

Its fine

You thanked him and jolted at his sudden hang up. You set your phone down and grabbed one of your bags to put some overnight stuff in. Your heart was racing, you couldn’t believe he was actually allowing you over, and without Ahsoka no less!

You watched the clock as you waited for an hour to pass. That gave you plenty of time to overthink the situation.

What if he was just going to treat you coldly all night? What if he felt obligated? What if-

The alarm you set for an hour rang, alerting you it was time to go. Your roommate looked a little impatient as she waited by the door for you to leave. Your walk to the car was filled with anxiety and nerves, nevertheless you started the car and headed to his place.

___________________________________

Anakin hurriedly put on a sweatshirt and his gloves as he saw your “on the way” text. He got caught up getting himself and his apartment put together for your arrival. He wasn’t really expecting guests so he had been lounging around in a robe and some slacks when you called.

A part of him was peeved, because he knew he wouldn’t sleep well if he had to keep everything on, but it was you…so he was more lenient.

He took a beer bottle in one of his hands and pulled the cap off with his teeth, a skill he mastered early on in his drinking career. In one swoop he downed the bottle and placed it in the recycling. His nerves were going crazy and he needed some alcohol to help him out.

Before he knew it he heard you knock at the door.

Here we go.

He lifted himself from his seat at the counter and made his way to the door, hopefully you wouldn’t be able to see the light blush that dusted his cheeks when you looked at him.

_____________________________________

You knocked on the door and were prepared to wait a good while for Anakin, but surprisingly he opened it quite quickly. You were wide eyed as he pulled the door open. He looked a bit disheveled. You gave him a smile and thanked him for letting you stay with him.

He just brushed it off and closed the door as you walked further into his apartment. He followed close behind you and took the seat beside you on his couch.

“I really can’t thank you enough” You began before he held up a hand.

“Don’t mention it” he said as he took a sip from his bottle.

You gulped to yourself, you remembered what Ahsoka said… it seemed he may have had a drinking problem in the past. So should you tell him to stop? It wasn’t really your business though.. But what if-

“Hey?”

You blinked and looked at Anakin who was waving a gloved hand in front of your face.

“I’m sorry, I must have spaced out” you admitted.

“No kidding, princess,” he scoffed.

Much to your chagrin, you got butterflies at his little nickname.

“I’m kind of surprised you’re not out getting shit faced” he jabbed at you.

“Well, I really thought about what you said,” you admitted.

“Huh, well I guess that makes one of ya, I’m sure Ahsoka will be back in the club as soon as she gets back from her tournament.” he lamented, pressing the mouth of the bottle to his lips.

“You should have more faith in her,” you said, only half expecting him to hear you.

“Excuse me?” he raised a brow at you.

Shit.

“All I mean is that she really does care about you and your opinions, but if you keep expecting her to fail and return to habit, she will. I don’t think you realize the power you have over her, Anakin.”

He just looked at you for a moment before nodding to himself.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my place to say that”

“No, I appreciate your honesty,” he said, a small smile tugging at the end of his lips.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, he got up to fetch another beer every now and again, but he always returned to the seat beside you. You glanced over and noticed he was probably on about his sixth beer and you began to worry. You didn’t want to make him suspicious, so you tried a different angle with him.

“Hey, No fair! I’m not drinking so you shouldn’t drink either!” you playfully said as you reached over him to grab the bottle. Shockingly he let you take it from him without a fight.

“Fair enough” he smiled slyly.

He must mellow out when he drinks, cause he definitely wouldn’t have agreed to that sober. You felt a little awkward sitting here with him, without Ahsoka or alcohol in your system, but you wanted to talk to him so you tried your best.

“Hey, whats with all the army stuff? Do you serve?” you offered, trying to find something to talk about.

“Used to” he said shortly.

“You look pretty young to have retired” you inquired, “Or maybe you just aged really fucking well”.

He laughed at your comment. He actually laughed.

You smiled and waited for his response.

“Well thanks, but no, I was discharged about a decade ago”

“Do you mind me asking why?”

He shifted uncomfortably on his side of the couch. Maybe he had an alcohol problem, Ahsoka did allude to problems with drinking, or maybe it was anger issues..

“...Injury” he finally said.

“Injury?” You had noticed his limp and his constant winces, but nothing you thought would be debilitating. Curiosity sparked in your mind, nothing much in the house seemed drastically altered for a handicap, but if he were discharged, the injury must have been severe. Was it internal? Maybe he was burned…he did tend to wear lots of coverings. Your mind swirled but some part of you deep down felt ashamed of thinking of him as almost a spectacle.

“Yeah, don't tell me you seriously didn’t notice?” he half sighed half laughed.

“I really don’t understand what youre talking about?” you tilted your head.

“Wow, kids these days really are getting dumber,” he laughed, running a gloved hand down his face.

You chose to ignore his last comment and chalk it up to the alcohol, but now you were curious.

“I really can’t tell anything is wrong, I mean I guess I’ve noticed you limp a little, but thats all”

“So I’ve become that accustomed to this life huh?” he quietly spoke to himself before turning back to you.

“Well yeah, I used to be in the military, I was a pilot and a damn good one at that. Then some shit went down and now I’m stuck here in this shithole with all of these memories of my failed past” he lamented, motioning to the piles of military paraphernalia lying around the room.

“I don’t think you failed,” you offered.

“Hah, You don’t know anything about me little girl” he scoffed before crossing his arms.

“I guess not, but I’d like to” you added, feeling bold.

His blue eyes caught yours for a moment before he flickered them away, “I’m too sober for that”.

You were about to ask what he meant but he stood up and headed for his room. He brought a blanket back out and a small pillow.

“There, That should be good. I’m gonna turn in, feel free to watch the TV, just not too loud ok?”

You nodded and watched him slip into the cover of his room before shutting the door with a loud click.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but you were left feeling unsatisfied. At least he didn’t kick you out though

***

(a/n: THE injury bit is vague, but it will all be revealed in due time. I will say that realistically his injuries would be way more noticable but im gonna pretend since he was really healthy before the accident, he recovered in good time.)

taglist: @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana

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thenovelartist · 4 years ago

Text

Mistaken Drink; Drunk Mistake - Tears of Themis

Up next in the "Drunk Wedding" series, we have Artem. Enjoy ;D

When Artem woke up that morning, he was in a shocking amount of pain. He didn’t want to move despite the fact he knew he needed to get up for work.

Regrettably, he forced himself up into a sitting position, only to instantly feel nauseous. He was going to have to call in sick wasn’t he?

“Artem? Are you okay?”

The sweet voice rung in his ears. Before he could even place where he’d heard that voice before, he felt a cool hand on his back. It took him far too long to realize that said hand was touching his skin, making him realize he wasn’t in a shirt.

Why wasn’t he in a shirt? He always slept in a shirt.

However, before he could think too much about it, a new wave of nausea hit him. He braced himself against the headboard of his bed, leaning his forehead on his arms in hopes that the feeling would pass.

“Do you need water?” the voice asked. A lovely, sweet, feminine voice.

“No,” he muttered weakly.

There was a pause, in which time the intense symptoms faded to manageable levels

“Are you dizzy?” the feminine voice asked. “Do you want medicine?”

“No,” he replied.

However, now he was very curious as to who the owner of that voice was. He couldn’t stand it anymore; he had to know. So, pushing past the pain, he slowly lifted his head up to get a look at the person who was next to him.

Oh, it was his work partner.

That was the only thought he had before he felt sick again and buried his face back in his arms, blocking the light from seeping in.

And then the nausea hit him like a truck.

“Artem? Are you sure you’re okay?”

He couldn’t answer. But he most certainly was not.

…

Fifteen minutes later, after a bathroom break that turned into him emptying the contents of his stomach and feeling all the better for it, he was laying back on his bed, eyes closed and arms draped over his face to keep the light out. He was still shirtless at the moment, but that was less because of choice and more because he could barely move from his spot to the closet to grab one.

As for work, he was fortunate enough to have realized it was a weekend. He had time to recover.

He heard a set of footsteps enter his room, and despite knowing better, he opened his eyes to watch Rosa enter, glass of water in one hand and something else in the other.

With his headache, he draped his arms over his face again. While it was originally to keep the light out of his eyes, it also doubled to cover his blush. The question of “why she was in his house” had yet to be answered.

So did the question of “why she was in his shirt”. But he could only think on everything for so long before his headache warned him to calm down.

“I brought you some medicine,” Rosa said. The space beside him on the bed sank under her weight. And while he wanted to warn her that her being here in a bedroom with him, he wasn’t particularly in a position to speak at the moment, figuratively and literally. “Are you feeling better?”

He paused to think on it. “Possibly.”

“Possibly,” she whispered to herself. Despite being out of it, he could hear the resigned smile in her tone. “Do you need anything? Or just rest?”

Honestly, he needed a lot of things. Answers, specifically.

Slowly, he removed his arms from his head so he could open his eyes and see Rosa. The light still seemed over-bright, but it wasn’t as bad as before.

She gave him a smile, and suddenly, he felt warm all over again. “Good morning.”

His heart gave a funny leap in his chest. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Her expression fell to a concerned one. “For what?”

He wasn’t fully sure. Everything, maybe.

Yes, everything.

But before he could say it, she reached forward to brush his bangs back from his eyes, and words died in his throat. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, too.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

“For last night,” she said.

He pursed his lips together, trying to think of anything she had to be sorry about, but his memories seemed too hazy to recall anything. “To be frank,” he said, voice hoarse. “I can’t remember last night.”

When her eyes widened in surprise, it took him a long moment to realize it wasn’t the good kind. And when she smiled, it was tense, which caused his own stomach to tighten up again. “Well…” she began. “Um… you really can’t remember anything at all?”

He paused, trying long and hard to think back to last night. “We were at a party,” he answered. “For the firm.”

“Yes,” she confirmed with a nod. “There was that.”

The more he thought on it, the more he could recall the scene. Themis Law Firm had decided to hold a party for its associates to celebrate a major court win for a big client. It had taken months of research and many staff members, but in the end, it had come out in their favor. It had been Celestine’s idea to throw a party for the sake of the employees, congratulating them and allowing them to have a moment to enjoy themselves.

Artem had been there, of course, enjoying the atmosphere and the company of Rosa, who had sat next to him at the bar while the others grew roudy around them.

But that was all he could recall.

“What happened after?” he asked, giving up his futile mission of recalling anything further.

“I think… my best guess is the bartender mixed up someone’s double-shot mixed drinks with your mocktails,” she answered.

Ahh, that would explain it. He grimaced, letting his eyes shut again as he dragged a tired hand over his face. How did he not catch that?

“Are you here because you helped me home?” he asked, already knowing what her answer would be.

“Well… I mean… yes,” she answered, hesitantly.

He opened his eyes again to look back up at her. “Why didn’t you go home?”

She turned bright red.

Oh no, that wasn’t his intention. He felt bashful just looking at her.

“I… kinda… was drunk myself,” she said, her blush not dying down as she turned her gaze away from him. “So, I fell asleep beside you.”

His face began to burn. Wait, she was beside him all night?

“Oh,” she said, looking down at her shirt which was actually his shirt which caused a second wave of embarrassment to crash down on him. “Sorry, I stole one of your shirts because my dress was stained from when someone fell and dumped a Bloody Mary on us. That’s why you’re shirtless, too. So you wouldn’t ruin your sheets. Which reminds me, are you cold? Do you want me to get you something?”

His mind had already come to a screeching halt hearing her explain, so starting it back up again so he could answer was a challenge. “I-I…”

Why was talking so hard?

“Yes.”

She gave him a nod. “Okay. I’ll grab one for you.”

With that, she turned her back to him, and he covered his face with his hands, silently wishing he could die and save him from this mortification.

When she returned, she helped him sit up again, and he slid on the plain shirt she’d given him.

“Thank you, for caring for me,” he eventually said, trying his very best to pull himself together. “If you give me a moment, I can give you a jacket to cover your dress and call a cab for you.”

She froze. “Uh…” She seemed to struggle to find words before turning a strained smile on him. “Well… there’s… actually another reason I hadn’t left yet.”

Artem’s brow knit together in confusion., but his gut sank like a stone with worry.

“Because…” The smile she gave him was overly-exaggerated, which worried him deeply. “We should really talk about what to do about our wedding certificate.”

Artem froze, the words somehow eluding him for a moment before registering in his mind all at once.

“I’m sorry. Our what?”

…

It seemed drinking wasn’t the only thing he did last night.

It was mid-morning now, and he was sitting at the table holding his second cup of coffee while he stared at the document in front of him. And he still couldn’t believe it. Because not only had he and Rosa had decided to get married while they were drunk.

But Celestine witnessed.

This had to be the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done and likely the most embarrassing thing he would do in his entire life.

“I’m pretty sure it’s legal,” Rosa said, taking a seat beside him. She was still in his shirt, slowly killing him at the sight of her in it, sipping on her own mug of coffee.

“It is,” he lamented. “Unfortunately.”

“You say that like being married to me is a bad thing.”

His heartrate skyrocketed as he struggled for words. “No! That’s not what I—”

Before he could finish, he took in the sight of her sniggering over her coffee mug. “I was just teasing.”

Despite that, he wasn’t fully able to relax. Because if given the opportunity, he’d love to be married to the woman beside him. However, that wasn’t likely, considering he couldn’t even so much as confess his feelings to this woman.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll start on the annulment, then. It should be granted easily seeing as we were both intoxicated at the time.”

“Do we have to, though?”

He froze, shocked, then confused. “What?”

She sighed. “Celestine warned me you were this dense,” she whispered under her breath.

While Artem was still processing those words, Rosa turned in her seat to face him head on, looking him straight in the eyes. “I love you.”

Whatever Rosa proceeded to say was lost on Artem. He was frozen, completely caught off guard by such a confession. He… he’d thought she wasn’t interested. She never seemed to respond to his advances the way he’d anticipated she would. So why…

How…

He was so confused.

“And I know you try hard to get my attention,” she said, her words finally registering in his mind. “I thought we were getting closer, too. But…” She looked down, disappointment written all over her face. “I must have been wrong.”

“You love me?”

She turned her wide eyes back on him, and suddenly, she was smiling again. “You really are dense, aren’t you?”

…

Back at work, Artem was working on the annulment.

It was… disappointing, in a way. He and Rosa had had a long talk about a relationship between them and where they each saw it going, and what they landed on was marriage in the future. She’d suggested keeping the marriage certificate just in case. However, Artem was adamant that this would notbe how they married. So, annulment it was until they saw fit to come together, sober, as husband and wife.

Which, Artem hoped wouldn’t be too far off in the future.

“So, how’s married life?”

Artem looked up to see Celestine grinning down at him. He fixed her with a stern glare as he picked up the wedding certificate. “You actually witnessed this sham of a marriage?”

“I did!” she cried, grin never leaving her face. “It was a sight to behold. I’m so proud of you for making the first move and asking her to marry you, even if you were drunk when you did. Maybe you and alcohol do get along after all.”

Artem sighed, suddenly feeling quite tired. “And how sober were you for the thought of stopping us to not occur to you?”

“Oh, I was perfectly sober.”

Artem nearly dropped the document. “What?”

With a laugh, she winked at him. “By the way, Rosa istaking on your last name, right? So that I know to give her the proper change of name paperwork.”

Leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh, Artem wondered if a hangover could reappear days after drinking. Because his head was sure spinning right about now.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fanfic #artem wing

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potter-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Getting Drunk With Fred Weasley

Prompt: getting drunk w/ your boyfriend Fred would include + mini blurbs

Warning: drinking, swearing, and some suggestive wording

Word Count: 2.2k

Notes: n/a

Parties are not an uncommon event in the Gryffindor common room

Alcohol and drink mixtures of all sorts are being poured left and right every weekend

Most weekend you have a drink or two while catching up with your friends after a busy week of school

Other weekends you choose the path of getting plastered alongside your boyfriend off smuggled liquor and bottle of beer

On these night in particular,

Fred does not let you out of his sight

At all

Unless of course Lee challenges him to a beer pong match then he’ll carefully usher you over the couch where he can keep an eye on you while he’s playing

Has to pause the match like 20 times to chase after you and lead you over to his side “Y/n! You know you can’t out drink Seamus- he’s Irish! C’mon, come watch me kick George and Lee’s ass. They’re so bad it takes two of them to even manage a winning shot yet somehow they still suck!”

Loves it when you cheer him on

Is constantly glancing over to reassure himself you haven’t run off again

Your distraction is heightened in this state

So he feels the need to be your second set of eyes

Which had come in handy many a times

Like when Ron dared you to touch the burning fire while he was wasted on dragon barrel brandy

“Don’t be a pussy, Y/n. Swipe your hand real fast and you won’t even feel a thing-” “Y/n, pull your hand away from that fire, love. Ron, what the fuck? Are you trying to set my girlfriend up in flames? Angel, Ron is an idiot, you know that, don’t do anything he says again.” “Hey!”

And the time when you all were playing strip poker and Fred quite literally threw himself on top of your body to cover your chest when George teased you to take your bra off and your hands reached back for the clasps

(( he bitched at George for five minutes straight for that suggestion ))

Fred knew you were not one to back down from a challenge, especially when drunk and not considering the consequences or regret that would follow

So he always made sure you never embarrassed yourself too much or did anything you’d be wanting to take back come morning

During any Gryffindor party, Fred is the life of it

When he’s not preoccupied fawning over you, he’s hopping around with George seeking out trouble

The man throws back liquor like its water

Claims he knows his limits, but he really doesn’t

He is a touchy drunk

Hands brushing through your hair as you chat on the couch

Arms wrapped around your shoulder as you laugh along with your friends

Fingers laced in yours whenever you’re near

He craves your touch even more so when the liquor taints his veins

Let’s be real, Fred is not exactly the type of boyfriend to try to get you to stop drinking

He still makes sure you’re safe and not over drinking but,

Most of the times,

He’s the one pouring the shots for you

And mixing the drinks

But he always knows when to stop, and when you’ve had enough to drink

He tries to mentally keep note of how many drinks you've had but loses track once he reaches about five on his own end

Sometimes he’ll silently swap out your glass of whiskey for a glass of pumpkin juice

It’s obvious to Fred that he made the right choice when he watched as you sipped gleefully on the juice, not making a single comment on the dramatic change in taste

In these moments he begins to prepare himself for a night of babysitting you

And he’s so sweet in helping you on the nights when you go an inch- or ten- overboard

Carries you up to your bed and helps you change out of your clothes and into new ones for bed

He gets you wipes to take of your makeup, if you’re wearing any, and he’ll sit you between his legs on your bed while he brushes through your hair

After you’re properly ready for bed, Fred makes sure to set a glass of water on your nightstand incase you get thirsty and a bag of crackers if you get hungry

Stays the night without question when you ask

Other times he stays regardless of if you do or don’t

Your roommates don’t mind seeing as he takes care of you meaning they don’t have to

He’ll lay on his back and usher you over to place you head on his chest

His fingertips will soothingly trail up and down you back, lulling you into a deep sleep with the rhythmic motion

Tries his best to make sure you fall asleep first

Drunk Fred really has no control over his sleep habits and has a tendency to pass out from sudden exhaustion at any moment

One second him and George are fucking around with partygoers, supply them with different products of theirs, and causing pure chaos

The next second Fred was snoozing away while he laid on the couch with his head in your lap

Then he was back up an going again

Like a toddler on a sugar high

He’s such a giggly drunk

Kisses to the tip of your nose

Always smiling over at you and complimenting you

“Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?” “Only ten times, but I’m okay with elven.” “Let’s make it twelve, you looks absolutely stunning- so pretty, and all mine.”

The boy can’t help it, you make him feel weightless with happiness sober and the feeling only intensifies when he’s been drinking

There are nights when Fred can’t seem to taste the scorching burn of the liquor anymore after about six shots and it these nights where George and yourself are left dragging him up the stairs

George will beg you to stay the night because he can’t handle Fred’s drunken rambling about how much he misses you

And you agree because, how could you say no to Fred’s adorable puppy dog eyes and grabby hands longing for you to cuddle with him

If you two are both drunk, you’ll stay up talking- or rather whispering- under his comforter

He’ll stumble over his words and jumps from topic to topic in the blink of an eye

Uncontrollable giggles as he whispers- or rather stutters- out the most confusing jokes you’ve ever heard

“Angel, angel…” “Yes, Freddie?” “What happens when a toad’s car breaks down?” “I dunno…” “It gets froged!” “I’m sorry, come again? Isn’t it meant to be the frog’s car that breaks down and it gets ‘toad’...not ‘froged’?”

But he’s out like a light before you can get an explanation

He breathes like darth vader when he’s in his drunken slumber

Yet its somehow comforting in an odd way

Like it reminds you that he’s there holding you

And also that he’s still alive, which is surprising at times with the amount of drinks he consumes in one night

If you think Fred acts reckless sober, he thinks he’s invincible when he’s drunk which is even worse

He’ll agree to almost anything

If Ron were to tell him he bet Fred wouldn’t jump from the Astrology Tower all the way down to the courtyard? Fred would do it just in spite of him

The only time this attitude of his had gotten him into trouble was when Fred, George and Lee came up with the grand idea to go down the boy’s dormitory staircase on mattresses

Fred, being the brilliant man he is, decided to go first

You had been gossiping away in the common room to Hermione about a new Muggle actor the two of you had seen in a film when you heard the loud crashing, followed by the voice you loved so much groaning in agony

By the time you reached the opening to the stairwell, George and Lee were aiding Fred down the stone steps, carefully avoiding his ankle which had been twisted in an inhuman position

Madam Pomfrey surprisingly kept hum about Fred’s intoxication and instead scolded him for hours on end about his reckless, mindless choice to try to slide down, winding, steep, stone steps

Once news reached the professors the nest morning, McGoagall dismissed 40 points from Gryffindor for the incident

Using your mattress to surf down the twirling stairwell has since been prohibited

On a separate occasion Fred had accident lit the edge of the curtain on fire

You can always tell when he’s reached that level by the volume in his tone

It tends to get deeper the more intoxicated he becomes

And his words slowly slur together into a string of blabber

Mostly compliments, sweet words, and sometimes suggestive ones as well

Fred gets a bit more… forward when he’s got that liquid courage soaring through him

His hands will start to roam slowly from around your waist to your lower back, then resting on your bum

He gets turned on watching you play beer pong for some reason

Especially when you win

Maybe it’s the view he’s graced with when you bend to bounce the pin pong ball

Or the feistiness that arises when the match gets hot

It’s more than enticing for him

Fred can feel his frame get stiffer everytime you bend across the table to retrieve the cup and chug the beer from it

When the round has ceased and you’re declared champion yet again, Fred steps forward to pull you in for a hug

As he gives you a kiss on the cheek, he whispers,

“Good girl! Now if you beat George again I’ll give you a special surprise later tonight, angel.”

Which makes your knees weak like jell-o as your frame pushes into his for support

It doesn’t help that you can feel just how excited he is through the denim of his jeans

Fred dips his head to plant a trail of wet, teasing kisses along the skin of your warm neck until George was groaning and pleading for you to start the match

You practically shook for the entirety of the game, still managing to sink almost every shot into a cup forcing George to drink for the majority of it

He ended up tapping out once you nailed the seventh cup in a row and kept your winning streak alive due to his need to find a trash can immediately

You stopped there to join Fred by his side as he smiled to you, clearly pleased that you won

“Looks like someone is getting rewarded tonight.”

His arm draped around your shoulder as you leaned into his side, your cheeks flaring from the mass of bodies but mostly from Fred’s suggestive promise

He only forced you to suffer through the party for another ten minutes or so before pouring one last shot for the both of you, then nearly pushing you up the winding stairs to his dorm

Lets just say he certainly fulfilled on his promise- more than once that night

Loves it when you sit in his lap when you’re on the couch together

Whispers dirty secrets into your ear

Drunk Fred leaves hickies under the clothes

He’s not the type to care who’s around, he’ll try to slide his hand up your skirt in front of nearly anyone when he’s inebriated

“Fred- you’re brother is sitting right there, stop it!” “Shhhh, angel. He’s not even watching, right George?” “Right, Fred.” “See?”

To which you glare dangerous at him as you place his hand back in his lap, but Fred continues to smirk in amusement

It’s like you’re a preschool teacher constantly having to tell a child to keep their hands to themselves, Fred just refuses to listen

Fred doesn’t necessarily get jealous of other guys

He trusts you and he’s confident enough in your relationship not to feel threatened by other guys

However he is possessive af over you when he’s been drinking

In a sweet way tho

Literally wants all your time and attention when he’s drunk

If you don’t feel like dancing, he’ll ask you to come watch him dance

When you say you need to use the bathroom, he’ll ask a million times if you want him to come with

If George places a bet against Fred in a game of cards, Fred will drag you over to sit next to him as Seamus shuffles the deck and prepares the table

He’ll show you his cards and tell you to pick one

Even though he knows you’re completely unaware of the rules to the game, he loves the smile of excitement that appears on your face when he lets you

And in the rare times that you do say no, he works his magic with those big doe eyes and pouty lip until you say yes

It brings him comfort when you’re by his side

Your nights end the same each day, wrapped in his arms listening to the relaxing thump of his heart as the two of you doze off, both silently dreading the awaiting hangover than would surely greet you first thing in the morning, but you wouldn’t want it any other way

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missgeniality · 4 years ago

Text

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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sour--disposition · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Girlfriend

harry lewis x fem!reader

@ketamineharry suggested a harry imagine based off of Anne-Marie’s Bad Girlfriend and voila

please check my pinned post for request/prompt info and my masterlist

You cancel plans for me - I cancel ours on you - Say I'd be back early - I don't get in 'til 2 - You ask me where I've been - I tell you something vague - Think I messed up again - What can I say

You were sick and tired of Harry and his behaviour. When you first got together, you chalked his actions up to being young and dumb. And then to getting used to having more money. Then you blamed it on having to deal with so much at such a young age.

The excuses piled up, one on top of the other. You knew one day it would all come toppling down around you, drowning you and Harry in a sea of problems that you doubted you’d be able to survive. You’d excused cheating, been by his side during hangovers from hell and comedowns that took too long to make Harry realise that the high really wasn’t worth the pain. You’d rubbed his back and handed him bottles of water and paracetamol and nursed him back to health, only for him to go and get in the same state the next weekend and expect you to help him gather the pieces back together again.

You’d tried to patch things up. Every time that you went to Harry to air all your concerns, tell him that if he doesn’t get his act together that you’d leave, and he always promised that things would be better this time. But something would always happen. There’d be plans he’d forget or cancel. He’d get too drunk and end up with hands over another girl’s body.

“Ooh, you look nice”, Harry commented as soon as you answered his FaceTime call. “What are you doing?”, he asked you.

“I’m off out with some girls from uni tonight”, you told him as you stood up from the sofa and started gathering your things together.

“I thought you were coming over?”, he said, a small pout forming on his lips.

“Sorry”, you said nonchalantly. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah”, you told him half-heartedly.

“Yeah, whatever”, Harry huffed. “Come back here after?”, he suggested.

“Sure”, you said, a small smile on your lips. “I’ve gotta go, their taxi just pulled up. Love you”, you rushed out, hanging up and shoving your phone into your clutch, along with your keys, card and some cash.

Harry 💕: where are you it’s 11?

Harry💕: y/n c’mon i miss you

Harry💕: am i waiting up for you or not?

Harry💕: its 2am

You didn’t read the texts until you were swaying on the spot in the lift of Harry’s apartment building. Your vision was fuzzy as you tried to find the right key for their front door. “Y/N?”, Harry asked, opening the door.

“Hey”, you slurred, stumbling towards him. “I couldn’t see your key”, you told him.

“Where’ve you even been?”, Harry asked, voice dripping with distaste and disappointment.

“Here, there, everywhere”, you giggled.

“Come on, go to bed”, Harry said sternly. “I have a shoot tomorrow and Josh will kill me if I’m late or lacking”, he told you.

“Oh, I am so very sorry”, you drawled, exaggerating all of your words, much to your own amusement.

“I’m not being funny, Y/N. Go to bed or go home”, Harry said sharply.

Your face dropped, the small square inch of your brain that was yet to be drenched in vodka and whatever else you’d been drinking lit up with anger. “Fine”, you snapped. You stormed down the hallway, sure of your footing this time and not stumbling once.

“Where are you going?”, Harry called after you.

“Home!”, you shouted, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind you as hard as you could.

You shivered in the cold, late night wind of London as you waited on the curbside for your taxi. As soon as the car pulled up, you slid into the backseat and rattled off your address. The street lights and neon signs of London passed by in a blur of alcohol and anger and regret. “Thanks. Keep the change”, you muttered, handing a note over to the driver and getting out of the taxi.

Once you’d got back into your apartment, you changed into some pyjamas and took your make-up off as quickly as possible. You crawled under the covers, pulling them around your body and getting comfy in the middle of your bed.

Part of you felt a little guilty for how you’d treated Harry, but a bigger part of you couldn’t find the effort to care. You’d put up with Harry acting like this for 6 years, he could tolerate you doing it once or twice.

You wanna meet my friends - I say another day

“Another day, Harry”, you sighed, heavily, turning back to the work you were trying to get done for your classes.

“You always say that. You’ve been on this course for, like, a year”, Harry whined.

“I know but I really need to focus on work at the moment, Harry”, you told him. “I started my degree later than I wanted to anyway and then I didn’t commit to it like I should have last year because of…”, you trailed off. “Another day”.

“Because of what?”, Harry asked, voice taking a combative edge as he sat up straighter.

“Harry, I don’t want to get into this again”, you sighed heavily, slumping into your chair.

“Well, you started it!”, he argued. “So finish your sentence. Go on!”, he goaded.

“I couldn’t commit to my degree because I was too busy looking after you!”, you shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Me to lash out? Fucking well done”, you spat. You gathered up your things as quick as you could, closing your book and shoving things into your bag.

“Where are you going now?”, Harry asked frustratedly.

“Home. I have an essay to do for next week”, you muttered as you shoved past Harry.

Things between you and Harry were only getting worse. You knew about the other girls, but the both of you just pretended that you didn’t. All of his friends saw Harry as some sheepish kid with a loud mouth girlfriend, but they never got to see the Harry that you were seeing more and more. The Harry that held things from years ago against you, the Harry that was becoming more controlling by the day, the Harry that would raise his voice when things went even slightly not his way… The Harry that wasn’t the same Harry that you fell in love with.

'Cause I'm one in a million - More like in a billion - I don't think it's cheating if I'm kissing other women - I do some shit you can't forgive - And you better get used to it

The more you and Harry argued, the more his friends didn’t like you. They hid it well, especially Simon and Josh since you were such good friends with Talia and Freya. But you noticed the side glances you’d get anytime you laughed a little louder than usual, any time you’d say something that would make Talia or Freya cackle. You’d notice the looks that they would send Harry when you had the audacity to go and dance and your own, or when you’d be on your phone whilst everyone else was fighting to keep you out of the conversation.

You had no doubt in your mind that Harry was telling them bare-faced lies about you and hiding the truth about himself. You knew that they had no clue about Harry’s cheating, about how bad his drinking and substance abuse had truly been, how much he actually relied on you for day to day functioning. All they knew was that you were loud, argumentative and didn't give Harry the time of day when it came to uni work.

“Do you think she knows she’s punching?”, you heard Ethan ask JJ.

“I mean, it’s so obvious. Harry’s miles out of her league. C’mon man!”, JJ laughed in reply.

You looked to Harry to see his reaction. You knew he’d heard what was said, but based on the look on his face, he couldn’t care less. You didn’t need the validation from your boyfriend’s best friends, but it would be nice if your boyfriend would at least defend you or reassure you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave the table, heading towards the toilets. You were facing the mirror, touching up your hair and make-up, when Freya and Talia walked in. “What happened?”, Talia asked.

You told them what you’d heard and watched as their faces contorted into looks of horror. “Oh my god!”, Freya exclaimed. “What did Harry say!?”, she asked, coming closer to hold you hand supportively.

Your silence answered their question perfectly. “I can’t believe him”, Talia huffed, wrapping her arms around you.

“Things haven’t been great, but I never thought he’d just sit and let his best friends slag me off practically to my face”, you told them. Your eyes were watery.

“Hey, babe. Don’t let your mascara run”, a dark haired girl told you, handing you a tissue. “Whoever is letting someone slag you off is stupid”, she assured you.

“My boyfriend”, you said sadly.

“I hate boys”, she laughed darkly, rolling her eyes, before rejoining her group of friends.

You, Talia and Freya emerged from the toilets around 5 minutes later, once you were sure that your tears had dried and weren’t going to restart. The three of you walked towards the table, Freya and Talia immediately sliding next to Josh and Simon.

“Where’s Harry?”, you asked, not seeing him anywhere. Ethan gave you a look and pointed towards the dancefloor before turning back to his conversation with JJ and Vik.

You glanced over towards the dancefloor, hoping you’d see Harry. Thankfully, he was towards the edge, back turned towards you. You watched as he turned around, ready to try and grab his attention. His eyes met yours, briefly filling with panic, before darting back down to the girl in his arms.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, as Harry’s friends and Freya and Talia all watched as he tried to assess the situation and what to do.

He watched as you walked closer, looking ready to send the stranger away. Harry’s eyes followed you as you sailed past him and towards the middle of the dance floor. You could feel eyes on you as you began dancing to the music, letting the beat mix with the alcohol and take over your body.

“Did you sort things with your boyfriend?”, a female voice asked. It was the girl from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully at her.

“No”, you snorted. “I came to speak to him and he was all over another girl”, you told her. Your eyes darted over to where you’d last seen Harry. “That’s him there, sucking face with the blonde”.

“I hope he’s your ex-boyfriend now”, she told you, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated”, you admitted, looking down in shame. It wasn’t news to you that you were letting Harry treat you like a doormat, but you had yet to muster up the courage to leave him. Just as you looked up, ready to offer to explain it over a drink, someone behind you shoved you, sending you catapulting into the girl’s arms.

“Careful there, can’t have you falling for me already. I’ve not even started flirting yet”, she told you with a smirk. “Martha”, she said politely, holding out a hand.

“Y/N”, you told her with a shy smile as you accepted her outstretched hand.

“Care for a dance?”, Martha asked you, pulling you closer with the hand that was still in hers.

You didn’t care if Harry and his friends watched as your bodies rolled together. Harry had never danced with you on a night out like this, never held you shamelessly in a club for everyone to see. Harry had never held your face so securely as he pulled you in for a kiss in front of everyone around you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”, you heard beside you.

“Is this the boyfriend?”, Martha asked once she’d pulled back and let her eyes flutter open, eyeing Ethan up and down as soon as she had.

“The boyfriend’s best friend”, you told her, preparing to step out of her hold.

“Last time I checked, the boyfriend was preoccupied with someone else. Get him to come and find me when he wants his girlfriend. We’ll be right here”, she said, voice powerful and allowing no argument as her arms held you closer.

Harry never came to find you. The two of you left the club in separate taxis and you left with a new number saved in your phone.

You should be with someone else - Someone who is not myself

“Harry, you deserve so much better”, you heard a voice say as you walked into Harry’s apartment. You walked down the hallway quietly, lingering just behind the door frame to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“We’ve been together for so long, though”, Harry sighed.

“Did you not see what she did the other night? She was all over some other chick!”, a voice, Simon’s, exclaimed.

“Maybe it was just a mistake, y’know”, Harry tried to reason.

“She’s not good for you, Harry”, JJ, this time, said.

You’d heard enough. You turned the corner, coming face to face with all 7 of the boys. “Y/N…”, Harry trailed off.

“No, no. Carry on talking about me, it’s fine”, you said, voice lathered in artificial sweetness.

“Damnit, Y/N, it wasn’t like that”, Harry snapped, surprising everyone but you. “What are you doing?”, he asked as you started gathering a blanket off of the back of the sofa and plucking a hoodie off of the back of a dining room chair..

“Getting my shit and going”, you hissed.

“You’re being dramatic”, Harry scolded.

“No, Harry. I’ve put up with your bullshit since we were 18. I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve put my life on hold for long enough. You need someone, but I’m not that someone anymore. I’m sick of looking after you and letting your friends hate me just because you’re too much of a coward to tell them the truth”, you spat.

“We know everything, Y/N”, Ethan said smugly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“So you know that I started my degree late because I had to get Harry sober? You know that he’s cheated on me more times than I can count? You know that I’ve tried for 6 fucking years to get him to love me as much as I love him and it’s never fucking worked!?”, you all but yelled, shocking everyone in front of you.

“You think I don’t love you?”, Harry asked, voice frustrated and angry.

“I know that you don’t love me as much as I love you”, you told him simply. “You cancelled 3 anniversary dates to go on nights out with the guys. You made me cancel a weekend away because you wanted to go to Dubai. You get annoyed when I try to do my uni work. You let Ethan and JJ slag me off, practically to my face, and didn’t say a fucking word”, you told him.

You looked at Harry, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear my boyfriend’s best friends, people I’ve known for 6 years, say that I’m punching and that you deserve better? Did you think about how much it hurt me when you didn’t even flinch at what they said?”.

Harry’s face lit up in anger. “It’s not like you’ve been a good girlfriend!”, he spat.

“Because being a good girlfriend to you is like a full time job. It’s a full time job and I haven’t had a day off in over 5 years. So yeah, I’ve been a bad girlfriend… Boo fucking hoo”, you grumbled.

Harry remained silent, a sheepish look crossing his face. “We can try again”, he suggested quietly.

“We have! Over and over again!”, you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m tired of looking after you when I’m just as hungover as you. I’m tired of not making plans because I literally can not afford for you to cancel on me anymore. You don’t value me or anything that I do. Your friends hate me and you don’t care. I’ve been your last priority for years and I’m sick of it. We’re done. I’ll put your stuff in a box and bring it round”, you told him, voice losing more and more strength as you spoke.

“Y/N…”, Harry tried, reaching for your arm.

“Don’t”.

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sidespart · 4 years ago

Note

For the fake fic title, “who tf is Larry?”

Human AU /fake dating AU Intruality or pre relationship Patton/Janus/Remus

okay so Patton Sanders is away at collage and he is a Good Boy (tm). He volunteers Saturday, goes to church on Sunday, arrives 30 min early for his 8 am Monday lecture and brightly asks how everyone’s weekend was. He brings home made cookies to his seminars and lets everyone copy his notes and is always polite and kind to everyone he meets.

Unfortunately, a lot of this gets him labelled as weird, childish, naïve etc etc

Which he can cope with when it’s strangers, but he can’t help but get annoyed when it comes from his family.

He’s got three big brothers. Roman and Logan are both massive overachievers, Roman is super social and has had an endless parade of boyfriends, Logan claims he isn’t social but runs like 5 different clubs at his college and has an endless parade of minions. Both of them have a bad habit of talking over Patton and not truly listening to his contributions. Virgil’s a bit more chill but he’s completely overprotective and treats Patton like he’s a kid who can’t survive on his own. (Early episode vibes).

So there's some family obligation (mom wants them to...take grandma to the... old folks .. .church picnic? IDK something) and everyone just straight up assumes Patton will go because 'its not like he's doing anything else' and its just one step too far and Patton just blurts out "UM actually I'm busy that day. With Larry."

Which...who tf is Larry?

After that Patton maybe gets a bit addicted to the Larry excuse. Can't bring cookies because his boyfriend Larry licked all of them. Can't help you move this weekend, going to SeaWorld with Larry. Oh wait SeaWorld's unethical? Yeah he knows, it's a protest. Larry's going to dress as an ochrea and scream at people. Cant lend you the money - Larry needs it for bail.

(This might not have escalated so much if Patton wasn't TERRIBLE at lying, juts blurting out the first nonsensical thing he thinks of, but also has such a reputation of goody-two-shoes-ness that no one suspects him of lying. But everyone is very concerned about his association with Larry.)

The only person who knows Larry is fake is Patton's roommate Janus, who was there when Patton was on the video call and originally came up with Larry. He thinks the entire thing is hilarious and does absolutely NOTHINHG to reign Patton in, frequently helping him maintain the ruse/ escalating it further ("Patton would DIE if he knew i was telling you this, but the real reason he can't come to your birthday is Larry's old prison injury is acting up again..."). This whole thing has brought them closer than any of Patton's prior attempts at bonding with his roommate so he's a bit pleased.

Things go wrong when his brothers insist he bring Larry home for thanksgiving break. He's already told them that Larry got disowned by his family (seemed easier than making up a whole supporting cast) and is unemployed so he can't think of a great excuse (and his brothers are VERY insistent) so he ends up agreeing.

Patton and Janus get drunk in their room to toast the end of the Larry ruse. Janus insists Patton should just get a friend to pretend to be Larry to keep the game going but Patton says his only real friend is Jan and his family already know what he looks like (he has a pretty distinctive face tattoo) so that cant happen. Jan say's in that case lets just hire someone on Craig'sList to be your badass brother bothering boyfriend and Patton laughs and then has no memory of the rest of that evening.

So Patton drive's home. Hungover and resigned to having to come clean about lying for months and months. And when he walks in the door his mom hugs him and says “oh! Larry got here just before you! You never told me he had a moustache!”

So then a guy Patton has never seen before in his life is planting a big ol sloppy kiss on his cheek and yelling 'Heya honey bunch!!" and his brothers are in the background looking like they're about to have a collective breakdown and um.

He really just needs to get 5 minuets away from his family and 'Larry' so he can call Janus and ask what the fuck have you done, but with Larry clinging to him like an octopus and his brothers refusing to let them out of their sight that's almost impossible

bonus points!

Remus considers himself a method actor and refuses to respond to anything but Larry/ stop pretending to be Pat's boyfriend even when they're alone

Pattons mom is, inexplicably, completely charmed by Remus/Larry and wont stop telling him how much more confident and happy Patton has been since the two of them got together

his brothers are all horrified by Remus/Larry

Patton does eventually get in contact with Jan who is like...okay yes maybe i wrote the criaglist add after you passed out but in my defence i was extremely drunk at the time

Patton tells his mom that Janus wasn't invited home for thanksgiving (which tbf, is true, because his family's in freakin' europe) so of course she insists that he drive over an join them

this does not calm anything down, as he pisses off Virgil within the first 20 seconds of arriving, but he does distract everyone to give Patton more chances to sneak away with Remus

eventually Patton has a bit of a break down/ rant to Remus about the whole situation and Remus finally drops character to comfort him and is like "I don't get why you need to lie about yourself anyway?? Like I've spent this whole weekend learning about you and you're awesome the way you are??"

Patton: HEART EYES EMOJI

Anyway so eventually OBVIOUSLY they fall for each other and fake boyfriend becomes real boyfriend

Remus and/or Jan deliver some sort of smack down speech to the bros about how they need to have more faith in Pat/not treat him like a child etc etc

Patton learns to stand up for himself and also realises he's so lucky to have so many people who love /care about him even if they are all completely ridiculous

at some point, Remus initiates a food fight

#sanders sides fic #patton sanders #remus sanders #intruality #janus sanders #fake fic meme #sidespart writes

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

Better Man.

~~~~We might still be in love, if you were a better man. ~~~~

Taehyung x OC

Rating 18 +

Angst.

Implied Infidelity in the past.

Chapter 1 ~ Walk out the first time.

"Are you okay?" My mother's soft voice came from behind me and i panicked, hurriedly swiping at the tears that were streaking down my face. Heart pounding, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the dresser, patting my face down hurriedly , making sure to keep my back to her.

"I'm fine, Mom." I said , voice surprisingly steady as I turned around to smile weakly at her. She stood near the doorway, a petite woman of fifty with greying hair and too many wrinkles.

I thought she looked older than she was and i knew I had a part to play in that. Sighing, I tried not to cry more, moving to gently take my son out of her arms.

He was four years old, fast asleep and smiling sweetly in his slumber. He had downy black hair, feather soft and warm brown eyes. He looked incredibly like his father, the resemblance stunning even though he was so young. I stared at him some more, laying him down on the bed and brushing the hair off his face.

"Are you sure there is no mistake? Taehyung ssi wouldn't hurt us like this..." My mother said, sounding broken and I felt a pang of sympathy. But also annoyance.

Us.

Us....like she had an equal share in the hurt I was feeling.

I was the one getting a divorce but my mother made it sound like it was personal to her as well. Like somehow, the fact that she now had to meet her friends and tell them that her daughter was divorced could compare to the pain I was feeling. To the sheer anguish that was filling me.

To be fair though, my mother had loved Taehyung very much. Her favorite son-in-law . My sister's husband had been a mean drunkard who had brought a lot of misery to our family. Taehyung by contrast had been a loving, filial son in law. He had cared deeply for my parents, paid for my father's funeral ( even though the man itself was nothing more than a drunk , cheating fool who had abandoned us ) and he had been the most kind man .

I swallowed.

Maybe , you should have forgiven him. Maybe , you shouldn't have divorced him . So, he slept with another woman. Fine. It was one night... just one night. you should have gotten over it! Was it worth it to spend all these countless nights alone? To break your mother's heart a thousand times over?

The funny thing was, i had forgiven him. Maybe right after I had found out. He had stood there, looking shell-shocked and horrified and his eyes had begged me for forgiveness and my heart had cracked , the way it always did whenever I saw him in distress. And when he had looked me in the eye and said, " I’m sorry, Jang mi..." I had forgiven him right then and there.

But it was the forgetting that was hard. The fear that it would happen again. The fear that somehow, I was the reason he strayed. And that kind of fear can be debilitating. For the first three weeks, I'd tried to pretend it hadn't happened. I had tried hard to see him the way I had always seen him but it had been impossible. everytime I saw him, my heart had broken anew. It had been hard but I had to accept that things would never be the same. That I would forever look at him and remember what he’d done. That I would forever wonder if he would do it again.

So we had done the wise thing.

At first a break.

A few days apart to get our head on straight. Then I’d found a job and I had to move closer to the office to make the commute easy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing him even during the weekends , to spend time as family for our son’s sake. And just like that , a whole year had passed and we were separated. Only meeting to hand Hoshi over to each other.

"I'm sorry mother." I said softly. I knew that she blamed me, a whole lot for the separation.

People with children didn't leave each other over infidelity in my country. You hit your husband, denied him from your bed maybe but you didn't break up a family over one night of bad decisions. You just didn't .

But for me, it was beyond the act. It was the broken trust, the shock of knowing that some other woman had given him something I couldn't, the fact that he had even wanted it from another woman had been enough for me to crumble on the inside.

But, none of it mattered now.

He wanted a divorce. Officially. Wanted to end it for real.

It was jarring, how badly it shook me. I felt unaccountably lost and confused and disoriented. I couldn't imagine not being Taehyung’s wife , i realized with a stunning sense of self realization.

Call me irrational, but apparently, I couldn't stop thinking of him as my husband , even after two years. Soon he wouldn't be my husband.

He would be my ex -husband.

i hated that word.

It had such a plethora of negative connotations to it. When you hear it , you just brace yourself for unpleasantness.

Because it is unpleasant. A marriage ending, a family breaking, feelings hurt , hearts shattered, angry words tossed...its all a very unpleasant experience for everyone involved.

An ex husband was seldom a harbinger of happiness, more often a reminder of choices gone wrong, regrets and wasted time. and I didn’t want to associate Taehyung with a word like that.

Taehyung who was still the kindest, warmest human being I knew. The best father in the world.

I felt like someone had sucked all the strength out of me.

I didn’t really want to think about the call I’d gotten from Taehyung last night. An appointment with a divorce lawyer. It had been followed by an apology because apparently, someone in the law firm had let the info leak. And now it was all over the sleazy tabloids that fed on people’s misery.

It was impossible to escape it too, Taehyung was famous. An idol. And actor. The country's sweetheart. And he was the epitome of perfection. The beautiful, talented actor with an impeccable record of well behavior.

I knew that literally everyone on the planet thought he was a literal angel.

I remembered how much , by contrast, I had been hated when I'd married him.

I could just imagine how much more it would all be this time around. And i wondered if it bothered Taehyung too. Did he perhaps wish he’d never met me

It had been sheer luck that we had met....

In fact, if Jimin's car hadn't broken down right outside our home on that cold December night, I wouldn't have even met Taehyung. A great cosmic shift, somewhere some butterfly flapped its wing a certain way and suddenly, Jimin’s car ran over a thumbtack and his phone was dead so while he tried to fix the damage , Taehyung just had to knock on our home and I had been the one to open it.

Boom. That was it. Love at first sight.

I had been a high school kid and he had been barely nineteen. Fresh faced and cheerful , the struggling idol from a small company. He hadn't been surrounded by fans or chased by saesangs. He hadn't had security tailing him. No daesangs, BBMAs, or acting awards. No blockbuster movies to his credit , no chart-bursting songs either .

And I had fallen in love with that version of him.

The hardworking, talented young man who worked twice as hard as anyone around him.

That's right. You've loved him for fifteen years. So it's understandable that you're upset. Now, maybe you can move on too. Go on a few of those blind dates that Jiyoung is always setting you up on. Go live your life instead of being a zombie. Get a hair cut. Dye your hair red. Do something to get your life in order.

"I still find it hard to believe that he would want a divorce. Jangmi yah... did you tell him you forgave him? Tell him you wanted to try again..." My mother said again and the distress in her voice was equal parts heartbreaking and exasperating.

"Mother, I don't want to try again . We aren't married anymore. It's over, whatever it was between us. "

Whatever it was.

How cruel, to have all that love, all that affection reduced to a phrase like that.

What a pity.

"But what about Hoshi? He needs his father..." My mother cried out and I willed myself not to snap. She means well, I thought miserably.

"He has a father. Taehyung is an excellent father and you know that. Don’t start that again.”

My mother sighed.

"I still feel that this wouldn’t happen if you tried a little bit. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy and you could never do anyone better. Why are you so full of pride, Jangmi... so prideful...you should be a little humble. Think of the kind of man he is...where would you find a man like that ? And moreover .... Taehyung loves you. i know he does." My mother said stubbornly.

I sighed, feeling my fingers shake from the effort not to scream. I wasn’t strong enough to have this conversation with her. Not now. Possibly never. Taehyung did love me. Had never made any effort to hide it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t.

And I wanted to yell at my mother she was at least partially to blame for me walking out on Taehyung.

My father had left us for another woman , when I was twelve. I had seen the toll it had taken on my mother and I just knew that I would never let a man do that to me. My mother had later confided in me that it wasn’t the first time. He had done it before. A lot of times. And my mother had always forgiven him. Let him back into our lives.

And one night, drunk on soju she had confided between hiccups, ‘ I wish I’d walked out the first time.”

And that had stuck with me.

Walk out the first time.

If he cheats on you , walk out the first time. Don’t stick around waiting for him to do it to you again. Walk out the first time.

And so I had.

“ Should I talk to him? Tell him you’ve changed your mind? “ My mother began and I felt my patience snap.

“No!! Could you just, for the love of God, stay out of this, ma? It’s over. Our marriage is over and it has been over for a long time. A piece of paper doesn’t really change that, does it? Its not my fault you can’t get over it but that’s a you problem. And you need to fix it yourself. “ I shouted.

My mother immediately recoiled, eyes shuttering down.

“Of course. You know the best. Who cares how anyone else feels, right, Jang Mi? You always know best.” She said softly, and I exhaled, shaken. There it was. The guilt trip. It was never ending.

Please... I just need to go now.” I moved to grab my bag, :” I need to go get ready for the meeting with the lawyers tomorrow. You can keep Hoshi with you tonight. I’ll come pick him up after I’m done and then I’ll drop him off at his father’s place.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Taehyung and I, our break up hadn’t been terrible.

It hadn’t been terrible because our own penchant for being terrible had always been very minimal. We didn’t do swearing or fights or threats and it always annoyed our friends that we got along so well. That it was so easy for us to forgive and move on with each other . That we were the one couple who didn’t hold grudges or bring up past mistakes.

Which is why, when we did break up, none of our friends had tried to change our minds over it. They had accepted it rather calmly, shocked at first because it was so out of the blue but not opposed to the idea itself . They just trusted us to know the right thing to do because we were easily the most mature , the most level headed couple in the entire group. We were usually the sounding boards , the voice of reason in whatever petty conflict our friends were involved in .

So when it was us, needling a little advice, a little guidance, our friends had been woefully ill equipped to help. They had merely hummed and nodded and empathized. Maybe that was another reason I’d left. I hadn’t considered the alternative. No one had asked me to consider the alternative.

Our friends had watched us drift apart watched us break up, but they hadn’t really asked us why.

Because if something had caused Kim Taehyung and Jang Mi to break up, man, that must’ve been a really huge issue.

So the break up had been amicable. Gradual and slow but mostly amicable, eased by our mutual love for our son. We wanted him happy and he was happy when we were happy. So we put on a front, laughed and joked in front of him and let him have some semblance of normalcy in his life.

It wasn’t easy.

From him, it had been nothing but a mess of heated glances, touches laced with intent and eyes begging forgiveness . every gaze of his was a silent scream for a second chance that I was not at all ready to give.

Because for me, the raw hurt and anger and frustration that bubbled up every time I saw him , it had nowhere to go. It stayed churning in my gut, made everything bitter and unpalatable and I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. How could I think of a second chance when the hurt from the first, was still so fresh, an open wound festering.

Self esteem in tatters, I had hated him fiercely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was at his company, and I arrived at nine in the morning, with a few more minutes to spare. I knew the place like the back of my hand, was here at least once a week either to pick or drop Hoshi off and I knew that the conference room in the third floor was sound proof and cut off from the rest of the building for extra privacy.

Which was a little too late because I’d found two tabloid newspapers waiting outside my apartment this morning.

I opened the door carefully, surprised to see Taehyung sitting in one of the chairs, bent over a sheaf of paper on the table and next to him a leggy girl in a small skirt hovered, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder, bent at the optimum angle to show him her curves.

I sighed, looking away.

It was way too early for this.

“Mia!” Taehyung’s voice made me look up, and I watched as he stood up, pushing the chair away and moving to me . He was easily the most good looking man in the country. And he looked so good at thirty five that it was impossible to look away from him.

He was dressed in a pale blue shirt and black slacks and it never amazed me, how good clothes fit him.

I took in the broad shoulders, thick arms and the lean waist, the carefully styled hair and the breathtakingly beautiful face and sighed when he kept coming closer, hands held out. .

Of course, the customary hug.

i let him wrap his arms around me, my face buried in the comforting warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne filling my brain . He always smelled so good it made my heart hurt. I tried not to let myself get carried away. Tried to remind myself that this wasn’t anything more than a.....

A facade ? Or was it? Was his affection genuine?

Was I just too cynical?

I shook my head, pulling away and smiling a little at the genuine venom in the leggy girl’s face.

“Are you okay? Where’s Hoshi?” Taehyung brushed the hair off my face, eyes warm and I wondered if he’d forgotten we were here to get a divorce.

Whenever we met, Taehyung acted like we were still together.

No, that wasn’t it.

He just didn’t act like we had broken up. He was affectionate and open and cooperative. It always left me in a sort of limbo, unable to navigate our relationship with clear boundaries. There were no line to stop myself from crossing, because he just didn’t draw them.

“ Ms. Lee says we just have to go over the details like the alimony and the custody and the division of assets and then we can just proceed. Get it all finalized. “ He said casually, when I moved away and sat on the chair opposite him.

“Okay .” I said casually.

He smiled and turned back to the girl next to him.

“I’ll join you after the meeting Lisa.” he gave her a nice wide smile and the girl practically bloomed under the attention before bowing curtly in my direction. I watched her walk away, slightly amused.

“Bit younger than your usual type.” I commented , glancing at him. He gave me a look.

“I’m not dating her.” He shrugged.

“Does she know that?” I retorted.

It was dumb. Uncalled for. I was being a bitch, really but the urge to evoke some kind of reaction from Taehyung was something I’d never really out grown. I liked getting under his skin.

Taehyung sighed and gave me a little smirk.

“Are you jealous, Mia mine?” He teased.

It felt a little like someone had dug a nine inch dagger straight into my heart.

That stupid nickname.

God I couldn’t bear it.

Swallowing i looked away.

“Sorry. “ he said quietly, a few seconds later.

I nodded curtly.

“Don’t do it again.” I said hoarsely.

“Why not?” He whispered gently.

I groaned.

“Taehyung... “

“it’s just a name...why does it bother you so much?” He whispered.

“The same reason you’re asking me for a divorce.” I said softly.

He blinked.

“Mia...”

“Because we both know its time to stop.” I said quietly. “ Stop dancing around each other , stop doing...whatever it is we’ve been doing these past two years and give our relationship a name. “

“I’m not very fond of labels.” He shrugged. I glared at him.

“Well tough luck. Labels are good. Labels are great. They let you draw boundaries. “ I retorted.

“You sound like you’ve had enough of me.”

“Well, haven’t you had enough of me?” I snapped.

“Not even close.” He leaned forward gently, eyes pinning me to the table with a gaze so strong he may as well have used his body. And it didn’t help that two years wasn’t enough time to forget how it would feel if he had used his body. How it would feel to be stretched out on that table, him on top of me, hands working my clothes open, lips kissing their way down my jaw.

I could almost taste him, taste the minty freshness of his breath, feel his tongue in my mouth, the hardness of him inside me. My thighs clenched because I hadn’t gotten laid in two fucking years and even if i did, no one would ever compare to the man in front of me.

“Mr. Kim? Mrs. Kim? “

The lawyer’s voice broke the spell and i straightened, swallowing. Ms. Lee had walked in , and I watched her close the conference door behind her before locking it gently.

She was young, dressed in a business suit , a no nonsense bun and had small round framed glasses. She gave me a nice smile, shook hands with us both and placed her briefcase on the table before glancing between us.

“Shall we begin?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : its gonna be a bumpy ride.

#taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fics #bts fics #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic

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bangtangalicious · 4 years ago

Text

cancelled (1) | myg, jjk

summary: you cheated on your boyfriend, one of the most sought after boys on campus, with the nerd from the back of the lecture hall. that’s not the whole story, but only you know that. now a video has leaked across and everyone is turning against you for hurting such a perfect s/o.

pairing: yoongi x reader, jungkook x reader

wordcount: 3k

genre: yandere!yoongi and nerd!jungkook exyandere!jungkook

established-relationship!au college!au cheating!au

warnings: reader discretion is advised. cheating, mentions of past dubcon activity, yandere behavior, guilt, slight oral (f and m receiving), reverse cowgirl, soft smut in a not so soft situation, manipulation, jungkook calls you his pretty baby, sexual harassment, yoongi is lowkey a creep in this, prostitution i guess but like...its not how you'd think, mentions of rape fantasy but it doesnt happen

twoshot: part 1 | part 2 | masterlist

They say that you let a good thing be. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Well in your almost perfect life, that hand was Min Yoongi. Your boyfriend of 2 years now. You met through family, he was an heir, and you were the daughter of a wealthy associate. He used to spend his spring breaks with your family back in high school. You recall fondly how he sneak out, begging you to cover for him, end up passed out drunk in some alley and calling you, scared for his life.

You saw the way he grew—no, blossomed into the amazing man he is. You both got accepted to the same prestigious university program, and it is here your love story truly began. Straight out of a movie, Yoongi did not realize how much he adored you until he saw you grinding your ass up on some random guy at a frat party. A few months of drama gave way to pure happiness.

Yoongi made quite a name for himself on campus. He was incredibly charming, was impressive in his studies, and was always around for a good time. He treated everyone with respect and had no enemies. You felt proud to be his girlfriend, by his side as he made his mark.

And he was so so good to you. While your start may have been driven by jealousy and rage, he made up for it entirely by taking you on weekend getaways, loving you sweetly, holding you while you cry and buying you food. You two were freakishly domestic, and you loved it. You were ready for the ring whenever he was. So blessed that you could wake up every morning in a pair of arms that held you like you were their whole world.

Unfortunately, paradise tends to be a destination never quite reached. You sat, curled up into your knees, trembling as you watched cruel comments pop up on a video.

ungrateful whore.

Yoongi deserves so much better

#y/nisoverparty

why would you even want to cheat on a catch like yoongi? jfc

You didn’t know what bothered you the most. Was it the comments? Was it your fucked out face in the video? You moans that clearly indicated pleasure? Was it the fact that you hurt a man you loved? Or was it the fact that he was still there, sitting right next to you and kissing your damp cheeks every time he saw a tear, mumbling into your neck that it was okay, that he wasn’t mad. Did you deserve someone so perfect?

“Aw baby” He coos at you, stroking your hair as your sobs got louder. You fell into his embrace, unsure of what to think or do. “Ssh…I’m not mad baby. It’s my fault I wasn’t there”

You didn’t know how true his words were. You didn’t know just how at fault he was.

Yoongi had been doing his work in your shared apartment in his private study which even you weren’t allowed to enter. The security footage of your lecture played on his monitor, but he was barely paying attention. He kept an eye on you, but it was getting unnecessary. You had been together for so long, he could trust you now. He sighed and zoomed into where you sat, whispering something to the person seated next to you. They giggled and slid their hand onto your thigh. Yoongi simply watched, a smirk playing on his lips. The whole campus knew you were his. No one would dare make a move on you. He made sure of it. It was the whole reason he made your relationship so visible. He had people’s respect, and so they would respect that you belonged to him.

The hand trailed up your thin yoga pants, cupping your core. You slapped the hand away and Yoongi grinned wider. He liked to test you every now and then.

Yoongi wired money to that man’s bank account through his phone. Now all you had to do was tell him what happened. There was no room for secrets between you two.

“I’m home babe” He heard you walk in. He popped a Xanax and gulped down a glass of water. He smiled at you sweetly, taking your bag and setting it down before attacking your neck with soft, breathless kisses.

“How was your day?” He asked quietly, “Anything interesting happen?”

“Nah. Pretty uneventful” He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh. Nothing at all?”

“Well” Yoongi’s eyes perked. Tell me someone harassed you baby. Just tell me. “I did try this amazing latte at the cafe in the Literature building.”

Why were you lying to him? Yoongi tilted his head. It wasn’t that big of a deal, it just made him wonder what else you hid from him. The little things. The little things that pile up.

Yoongi realized it had gone too far when he heard you gossiping with a few of your girl friends in the hallway of the Science Institute. “I just can’t believe he won’t fuck you. Doesn’t he know how many people would if they had a chance?”

“He seems so perfect but it’s almost like he’s just lacking the one key thing. Dick” They giggled. You rolled your eyes. You had confessed that you really did want to have sex. Yoongi wanted to save himself for marriage, but it was getting hard for you. When you brought this up with Yoongi he shut you down immediately.

“Baby” He fingered the purity ring on his pinky finger, “You know I can’t”

You had been frequently meeting with someone from one of your lab classes, a certain Jeon Jungkook. Yoongi didn’t love this, but he was acquainted with Jungkook, and knew that he likely was not a threat. The boy was not your type at all—his clunky glasses and sweater vests and his hair long and swept back, unlike Yoongi’s fresh blonde cut. Sometimes you wouldn’t tell him that you were with Jungkook, but he still knew. Nothing happened. But he still got irritated.

Unfortunately it was impossible to truly watch you all the time. After all, Yoongi was a social guy and had to make appearances frequently. He often wondered if you knew he watched you, so you waited to run off fuck yourself on Jungkook when he wasn't looking. He bit his lip until blood came out, raging at the prospect.

He wasn’t entirely wrong about you though. You did always feel pressure of behaving in a way that reflected well on him. So when everyone was looking at Yoongi, you were able to slouch your shoulders and relax. You would go to Jungkook’s house for a drink, with no ulterior motive on either of your end. You loved Yoongi. Jungkook respected him, and you. There was no issue.

So when Yoongi showed up at Jungkook’s doorstep a week later with a bag full of cash asking him to fuck his girlfriend, he was disgusted at first.

“E…excuse me?” He stammered, blushing. Yoongi squinted at him.

“Have sex with y/n the next time she is over.” He put on a show, “I just feel bad I cannot give her what she desires. I don’t want to deprive her of anything. I know she is fond of you so if you wouldn’t mind…she is very beautiful I can tell you that”

“I…that’s not…do you realize how insane this is?”

Yoongi shrugged, “It’s twenty-thousand dollars to fuck a pretty girl. What’s so bad?”

“Does she want this? D…do you have her consent to be asking me this?”

“Of course.” He chuckled giving a charming smile, “In fact, she has a bit of a fantasy that I was hoping you could indulge. I am not sure if she will go through with it but, she might try to resist at first, but really she wants to be used like a whore. She will love it, really.”

Jungkook gave him a skeptical look. “What the fuck? You want me to indulge your girlfriend’s rape fantasy? I’m not a fucking sadist”

“It’s not a rape fantasy. She just likes to struggle a bit but then she will get into it. She will want it”

“I can’t believe I am even entertaining this conversation, you need to leave”

“Forty-thousand.”

“Fuck off Yoongi. First of all, I am not even into y/n…” He paused.

“Oh please, she’s the finest thing in miles of here, you just haven’t considered her as available. That’s how I know I can trust you to do this for me.”

Jungkook gulped. That’s not quite it. He thought to himself. But the thought passed when Yoongi took off his watch and handed it to him.

“This is worth half a million dollars. Are we good?”

Jungkook just gaped at him.

“You have had sex before right?”

Oh yes he had. Once. He nodded slowly.

“Okay good. Please show her a good time and keep this between us”

“She knows right? She knows you’re asking me to do this?”

Yoongi grinned and pat Jungkook’s shoulder, “Oh baby boy, she’s the one who suggested it”

Jungkook found that a bit hard to believe.

What Yoongi didn’t know was that Jungkook already has had sex. With you. You didn’t know it was him, and it was long before you began dating Yoongi.

Jungkook had been obsessed with you as a high schooler, your pictures collaging the back of his bathroom door, a variety of your things—forgotten hoodies, dropped pens— messily shoved into the drawer of his desk.

It was an innocent phase at first. You were just so pretty. He couldn’t help the way his blood would rush between his legs every time you would glance in his general direction. He couldn’t help watching the way you outgrew your uniform skirt, almost breaking down in tears when you replaced it with a larger size. He would sneak out of class when you had PE to watch you run, and the way your breasts bounced in the tight top you wore.

You didn’t know him. Why would you? He was no way near your league. He worked extremely hard, dreaming to get into the same university as you on a full ride because his family could never afford it.

Jungkook would normally follow you home, obviously he just wanted to make sure you reached safe. You had been crying the entire walk home. Jungkook had to gather every ounce of self restraint not to go hug you and kiss you until you smiled again. He hated seeing you cry, and it made him want to die.

He was worried about you. You entered your beautiful home, but no one was there. What if you tried to harm yourself? Who would protect you?

He had snuck in through the back.

If anyone had been around, they may have heard a scream. But more likely the would have heard the cries of pleasure that followed.

That evening you told Yoongi you were going to work on stuff with Jungkook. You dressed modestly, not bothering to freshen up much. He watched through his cameras as you arrived into Jungkook’s tiny apartment. So much smaller than his, probably in more ways than one, he clicked his tongue in amusement.

“Hey Jungkook!” You hugged him lightly. He looked extremely uncomfortable which made Yoongi all the more amused.

Two people fucking who both don’t want to. What do you call that? Yoongi chuckled darkly.

“Listen y/n…I know that…I know I agreed but I just wanna make sure…” Jungkook could barely look you in the eye. As destiny would have it, you chose that moment to pull your hoodie off, giving Jungkook a flash of the underside of your breasts. He gulped. “You really don’t remember me do you…”

“What do you mean?” You were so confused. Jungkook licked his lips and crawled over where you were sitting on his couch, causing you to lay on your back. “What…hey what the fuck are you doing?”

He didn’t like your tone. It awoke a protective instinct in him. He stroked your hair and gazed deeply into your eyes. “How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”

You blushed furiously, face heating up dangerously fast at the sudden question. You shifted your neck away from him uncomfortably. “Um…I guess…3, maybe 4 years?”

“Tsk, poor girl.” He cooed, his finger grazed your cheek, “Alright, I’ll play along. You can let me know if you want me to stop okay?” He lowered himself enough to let his lips trace travel down the veins on your neck. He inhaled you, memories of innocent years coming back to him in floods.

You were frozen. His body radiated heat, his scent was giving you a high you couldn’t quite explain. You shouldn’t feel this way. You had sweet sweet Yoongi waiting for you at home. Sweet Yoongi who loved you, and was saving himself for you like the pure angel he is.

You looked up at the soft dark eyes of the man above you now. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu.

“Jungkook” You exhaled as his lips began kissing over your shirt, down the valley of your breasts, lifting your shirt so he could kiss your stomach. “I…I have a boyfriend”

“You’re really committed to this huh?” He chuckled, taking some of his fingers and slowly circling under the waistline of your shorts. You blinked a few times to try to react to what was happening but your body was overwhelmed. It had been so long since you were touched like this.

“Please” You said loudly, so loudly that Jungkook barely hears the “don’t do this” that followed in a whisper.

Jungkook thought back to the night you took his virginity. It hadn’t been on his agenda, he was content following you around and jacking off to your social media accounts every night. That night had changed him. He had realized then that he was messed up. He realized he needed help and he sought it out. A few years of therapy had done him good. He felt guilty about it for a while, but eventually had to grow and move on. He would never act like that again.

But here he was.

And there you were. Below him again. Begging for him through your actions and pushing him away with your words.

Emotions overwhelmed you. Your heart wrenched at the bitter guilt that you were doing the unthinkable. They very thing that you would condemn about other couples. How could you? How could you cheat? But your body was whimpering.

“I have a boyfriend. He’s so good to me. He’s so amazing, and I…I love” You let out a sob as he allowed his hips to roll into you, giving you friction you had craved for so long, “Jungkook…please” You knew he was reading between the lines. You knew he heard your consent, and that disgusted you.

“Mmm I know baby. I know you love him” Jungkook sighed as he pulled down your shorts, “Tell me about him baby. Tell me how much you love him” He began kissing your thighs, burying his face into your cunt.

“He’s so—ahhh” Jungkook took his tongue and pushed aside your underwear to lick a long stripe between your legs. “So good. So fucking…mmmmhhh” You squealed as Jungkook shoved his tongue inside you. The sensation was heavy in your core, but the sensation drove you wild. He flicked his tongue around, almost too easily being able to find all the right places to make you twitch and moan his name.

“Do you want my cock pretty baby? Hmm?” He whispered teasingly, his voice muffling against you as he continued to eat you out. You yelped as he sucked on your clit and nodded your head dumbly. “My little girl so desperate for cock she’d cheat on her boyfriend hm?” He came up for air, your juices messily spread across his lips, his eyes shot with lust.

“Don’t…don’t say that” You whined. Jungkook nodded before pulling off his sweater. You traced his muscles with your fingers, so defined and beautifully tan as he shrugged off his jeans. He took his glasses off and folded them carefully but you grabbed his hand.

“Keep them on…your glasses…” Jungkook’s eyes widened in amusement.

“Why” He teased.

“I like them. I like them a lot. You remind me of someone I used to like” Jungkook’s blood ran cold.

Did you remember?

Did you remember the way he had pinned you up against your kitchen wall back then? The way he left hickies all over your body, marking you as his. The way he had entered you for the first time, with you sprawled out across your dining table, then again on the counter tops, then again from behind pressed up against the window.

Did you remember how many times you both came? It was like a sex fest of hours and hours. In your mouth, on your face, on your tits and buried deep in your cunt, the condom barely surviving the pressure of his seed.

Did you remember the way you cried after in his arms, unable to walk? The way he held you and kissed you softly, apologizing.

Did you remember how he had given you pills so you would forget, hoping that you wouldn’t be sad any longer?

Jungkook had been too lost in thought to notice that you had pulled your own shirt off, leaving you in a sports bra, pulling his neck down so you could kiss him.

“Jungkook” You gasped as he finally regained consciousness and dragged his fingers across your pussy.

“Will you ride me baby?” His eyes twinkled in his request and you were more than happy to indulge him. Jungkook switched positions with you. You reverse cowgirled him, unknowingly, the perfect position for Yoongi to see all of you as you fucked yourself silly onto Jungkook’s cock.

You lowered yourself down on him slowly, savoring the stretch that you had almost forgotten you could ever feel. Your fingers could never give you a sensation quite like this. Jungkook shut his eyes and tried to savor the feeling.

“Pretty…pretty baby” He cooed, sitting up so he could nibble your shoulder and hold your hips as he bounced you slowly on his cock.

“Tell me something” He exhaled, feeling himself slowly approaching his orgasm, the feeling of your soft, warm walls around him too much to bear, “Did you want this because of me…or did you just need cock?”

You continued thrusting yourself back into him, the firm hold of his hands on you giving you an arousing sense of comfort. You wiggled your ass, liking the way he would grunt when you did.

“Did you want me baby? Did you do this for me?”

You cried out suddenly, feeling a long awaited orgasm overwhelming your senses. Jungkook’s grip on you tightened as he tried to keep fucking you through it, your body going limp, twitching erraticly.

“So pretty…my sweet sweet girl” He turned your head to kiss your lips, slipping his tongue in and relishing in the love you poured in through your actions. He caressed your breasts and continued to thrust up into you.

“Come inside me” You exhaled softly.

“No y/n…that wouldn’t be right” Jungkook was reminded of the eerily intimidating presence of the man who was paying him to do this. He slowly brought his thrusts to a halt before helping you up off of him, his cock still painfully erect. “I can finish myself”

You pouted, watching him drill his graze into your naked presence, violently stroking his cock. He licked his lips shamelessly.

“I don’t love you anymore y/n” He whispered too softly for you to hear, “I’m over you. I’m over this. This doesn’t mean anything—AAAAhhh” Your mouth was on his cock and that was all it took for him to come harder than he ever had.

He took you into his arms, wrapping them around you and kissing your face over and over again, caressing your hips and trying to relax your muscles so you wouldn’t be sore.

You reached for your phone as Jungkook began to fill the silence.

“Yoongi seems really great. He clearly cares about you a lot. I’m really happy for you, genuinely” He says softly, “I’m honestly really impressed he let this happen”

But you didn’t hear him, all you could hear was your heart drumming loudly in your ears as you saw the stream of notifications on your phone. Your heart dropping like a bomb when you saw the single message you dreaded more than anything.

yoongi: what’s this? <link>

And linked was a live stream of the events that had just transpired.

masterlist next----->

A/N: im just cackling at #y/nisoverparty HAHA um stream film out! woohoo

#bangtansmutnet #bts smut net #btssmutcentral #bangtansmutcentral #bangtansmut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic recs #jungkook smut recs #jungkook yandere #yoongi yandere #yandere!bts #yandere!yoongi #jungkook fanfic #btssmut #bts smut #bts fanfic

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calif0rnia-lovers · 4 years ago

Text

#1: the proposal | plan b.

pairing: angel reyes x black!reader | chapter rating: 💙

total # of parts in series: 10

join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

I keep falling for boys and mistaking them for men

series sum: After several failed relationships, you decide that you’re over waiting for Mr. Right to come around and help start a family. In a drunken ramble, you ask your best friend if he’ll be your donor. You didn’t expect him to say yes. As you and Angel enter uncharted waters, you both realize neither of you fully thought the initial proposal through.

words: 1.8 K

What is it they say…hope breeds eternal misery.

Or, as Angel Reyes likes to say, “I don’t know why you’re wasting time on that asshole.”

Asshole is the nicest term you can dub your boyfriend--correction, your ex-boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend.

It’s strange how quickly two letters--a simple prefix--can change your life.

One minute, you’re joining your boyfriend and his family on a getaway to the beach. The next, you’re being kindly escorted out of a restaurant for tossing a drink in his face.

When you’d left Santo Padre Friday afternoon, you had a single thought in your mind. He’s finally going to propose. The nervous behavior, the talks about moving to a bigger apartment, him inviting you to a weekend getaway with his family.

How else would a rational person explain this behavior?

Well, according to Michael, all of those things do not add up to a proposal. They add up to “softening the blow."

As you sit on the curb waiting for your uber, with Michael's big splurge of the evening in hand--a bottle of Cabernet, you realize his explanation was complete bullshit. How is dragging you to Santa Monica for the weekend "softening the blow?" If he was going to break up with you, he could have done it in Santo Padre.

As you double-check the ETA on your uber, you remember.

Michael didn't drag you to Santa Monica to break up with you. He dragged you to Santa Monica to ask you to "take a break."

Apparently, there's a difference.

As Michael put it, with his birthday fast approaching, he'd had an epiphany. He needed time to "get out there" and "explore" his options.

"We're in our thirties," he'd explained. "We only have a few years left before we're expected to settle down, have kids. I think we should take this time to get everything out of our system, so by the time we come back together, we're ready to start that family you're always talking about."

The nervousness you'd seen the past two weeks? Had nothing to do with hiding a ring, or trying to find the perfect opportunity to pop the question. The nervousness was Michael trying to find the right time to ask you not to renew the lease of the apartment, you share, at the end of the month.

The talk about upgrading to a bigger apartment? Had nothing to do with having an extra room for the kid you've both talked about having. It was so that he could move in with his two best friends.

Michael’s epiphany left you in shock. You were caught between realizing the entire revelation wasn’t a complete joke and realizing you were expected to ride home with his family in the morning. The drink tossing didn’t come until Michael rubbed his hands together, a knowing smile sliding onto his face.

Taking your shocked silence as a lack of protest to his idea, Michael nodded over his shoulder. “You wanna head back up to the room...have some fun our last night together?”

The weight of Samantha--wait. No. Savanna...Sabrina? No, Salena.

The weight of Salena’s body presses Angel into the mattress. Her body is nearly directly on top of his, her face nuzzled into the warmth of his neck.

He’s not used to women sleeping over. Angel has one rule. He wants to sleep alone. Translation, be gone when he wakes in the morning.

That’s why, when he wakes to the sound of a slamming door, Angel is pissed.

His initial thought is that Salena let the door slam on her way out. The only problem is, Salena is still in bed with him--sleeping soundly. If she wasn’t, he would have been up able to react quicker. Because if it’s not Salena leaving, it means that someone is coming in.

“You need to go,” Angel mumbles as he manages to escape her grip.

Salena responds by rolling over and ignoring his request.

When he leaves his bedroom, Angel finds his entire house in darkness. His hand runs down his face as your voice fills the air.

"Ow--shit!" Your keys and purse fall to the floor as you bump into the coffee table.

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

“What are you doing?” You counter the slurring of your speech causing Angel’s head to shake. “...standing in the dark like a fucking creep.”

“Are you drunk?”

Your head shakes. Even if half-asleep, Angel knows you’re not drunk. You’re hammered, at least by your standards. He’s known you long enough to realize you’re a lightweight. A two and a half-hour ride with a bottle of Cabernet meant you were well past your limit.

“And why are you back early--did you drive here?”

“No,” you scoff. “I took an uber obviously--”

A second trip into the coffee table silences the rest of your response.

“Alright, come on--” Angel takes your hand in his, preventing you from falling forward.

“I don’t need your help.” Yanking your hand free of his grip--with more force than necessary--you stumble backward. Between the late hour and his body still attempting to shake off its grogginess, the action is too fast for Angel to predict. “Or any man’s help for that matter...fucking men--always thinking they need to save me--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you--and fucking...fucking Michael--that piece of shit...” Despite your previous attempt to escape him, you turn on your heels causing Angel to bump into you. Instinctively, his hands find your waist. An innocent attempt to help maintain your balance. “--I said I don’t need help walking, Angel--”

“Clearly.” The smirk on his lips narrows your eyes.

The pathetic attempt of a shove you apply to his chest is enough to tip your already unsteady balance.

In his defense, Angel isn’t used to “rescuing” you from a drunk faceplant. Usually, the roles are reversed.

It may not be the smartest move, but it’s the quickest way to prevent another one of your escape attempts. Angel tightens his grip on your waist, pulling a small yelp from your lips as he lifts you off the ground throwing you over his shoulder.

The sudden shift in your posture blurs your vision--sending the room spinning. The rush of blood to your head causes your palm to come down hard in frustration against Angel’s back.

“Put me down…” Angel’s head shakes as your slurred speech trails off for a moment. Seizing the break in your resistance, he carries you across the darkened room towards the security of the sofa. “...what the hell are you doing in my house anyway?”

“This is my house.” Angel huffs as he lowers you onto the sofa. “If you get up, I’m not stopping you. I'm serious, I'll let you bust your ass this time.”

But moving from the sofa has already left your mind. Instead, your focus has drifted. Scanning the living room as Angel disappears. Despite his words, you're still not sure why you've ended up at his house and not yours.

“Here drink this,” Angel sighs as he returns. He hopes the glass of water will miraculously sober you up. Between failing to kick Salena out, and you showing up drunk at 3 in the morning, Angel is considering giving up women. At least for a few hours.

Angel’s steps come to a slow halt as he rounds the sofa to find you gone. Somehow, in the time it took him to fill a glass with water, you have slid down to the floor. Your back against the sofa, you’ve given up the impossible task of unfastening your heels. Instead, you’re tugging at them. Groans of frustration fill the air once the heels remain in place.

The shaky breaths and trembling of your fingers widen Angel’s eyes.

“Shit--are you crying?”

“I’m not crying.” The shaking of your head only seems to push the tears out faster. The blurring of your vision makes the task at hand impossible. “I’m not crying.”

“My bad, you’re not crying,” Angel repeats, hopeful it’ll make the crying stop. Handling a crying woman is not his strongest suit. In fact, he tries to avoid crying women at all costs. He focuses on the easier task of removing your heels. He offers you an encouraging smile once he’s done. “See, you’re all good.”

“No, I’m not.” Reaching forward, you grab the nearest heel, launching it as hard as you can. “Michael got me these.”

You manage to grab the second heel before Angel can. You launch it in the same direction as the first.

“I’ve always hated those ugly fucking shoes.”

The second heel doesn’t land in the middle of the floor like its predecessor. Instead, it flies straight into Salena’s arm as she rounds the corner.

“Ow--what the fuck? Angel!”

The overhead light cuts on, temporarily blinding both you and Angel. When you open your eyes, you find a half-dressed Salena standing over you. Your discarded heel in her left hand, her narrowed eyes focused on you.

"So, this is why you wanted me to leave? Your girlfriend is home?"

"Neither of us is his girlfriend, sweetheart." you correct.

“I’m not sleeping in your bed ever again,” you clarify, your voice muffled against your palms. “Not until you wash your sheets.”

In the time it took to get Salena out of the house you’ve found that your body has begun to crash. The idea of laying down the only thought of your mind. That’s why the moment he’s settled alongside you on the floor, Angel’s shoulder becomes your pillow.

“Please don’t say I told you so.”

Passing up the opportunity to be right, is not in Angel’s nature. But one look at you, he’s biting his tongue.

“I never liked him.”

“You've never liked anyone I’ve dated,” you laugh quietly.

“That’s because you only date assholes.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Exactly.”

Angel's arm drapes around you, the gentle squeeze he gives bringing a weak smile to your lips.

“That’s it,” you sigh. “I’m done dating. Forever.”

“Dating is overrated,” Angel notes.

It’s a phrase Angel has told you nearly a million times over the years. Typically, after you’ve watched him ensnare yet another naive woman with his smile. You typically roll your eyes at Angel's mantra, but right now, you don’t even bother.

“I’m serious, if you see me even blinking at the same guy twice grab me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Angel chuckles.

He knows there's no point in taking the promise any further. If Angel is a cynic when it comes to dating, you’re the poster child for hopeless romantics.

When you fall in love, you fall hard. When you get heartbroken, the fallout hits the hardest.

“I can’t wait until my forties to have a kid.”

“What?”

“I’ll be in my sixties when they graduate high school--my sixties!”

“That’s what this is about?”

“...he doesn’t want kids...at least not right now...he wants time to explore other options before being shackled to me forever.”

“I’m going to kick his fucking ass.”

“When you do, can I watch?”

“Fuck that, you’re getting in a few hits.”

“I can’t believe I wasted three years on him, thinking he was going to help me start a family,” you groan. “When I could’ve just asked you.”

Angel laughs, his smile growing as you giggle.

“I’m serious. Definitely would’ve happened faster.”

“If you want to have sex with me, there are much easier ways--”

“Shut up, it is not about sex,” you assure him as your eyes drift shut. “I actually pride myself in being one of the few women in this town you haven’t slept with. Being immune to your charm is a superpower.”

“You still ended up here tonight,” Angel grins.

You softly smile.

“That’s because you’re my best friend, and you always give the best hugs when I feel like shit.”

series taglist: @youlovetkay @mochachocolatteyaya @chaneajoyyy @sesamepancakes

angel + all mayans tags: @turn-thy-paige @finalgirlhales @jadesid @poetically-0riginal @diaryofkali @babaohhhriley @katastrophic04 @partypoison00 @rose-bliss @mayansxlover @joannasteez @headrushxreeta @brwnlikefoxy @nemesis729 @destiny-tsukino @inyourbackpocketisbutterflies @straightestgay-voice

all stories: @rosieposie0624 @amberritonicole @agoldin @est1887@toni9 @chaneajoyyy @relaxing-najee @awkwardtayler @siempremamita @seize-the-droid @glimmerglittergirl @cutiebubbleboo @pearlkitten33 @tian-monique @megapeacelovemusic-blog @sincerelykas @brattyfics @ladyofsoa@browneyes912 @beiroviski @sadeyesgf @mrsmarvelous1995 @everyhowlmarksthedead @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @demonquartz @appropriate-writers-name @ughdontbeboring @cocotheclown @thesandbeneathmytoes @queenbeered @starrynite7114 @wiccanmetallicrose @tomhardydallasstarsgirl

#may the queue be with you #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #mayans imagines

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waithyuck · 5 years ago

Text

flame

pairing: dragon!mark lee x reader (f) *halloweenie special*

genre: smut, supernatural au

word count: 3k

warnings: BIG DICK MARK LEE, but also shy mark lee, sexual content, thigh riding, unprotected sex, kinda sub mark for like a couple seconds but then those dragon instincts kick in, biting, slight alcohol consumption, light cockwarming, overall sweetness **unedited**

a/n: I simp for mark lee on the daily ofc I had to write some smut ab him OFC

< previous | next >

~10/21/2020~

~~~~

“mark lee, if you don’t get your fire breathing ass back in that kitchen in two seconds, I’m cutting your tail off.” you heard your boss call out, her voice stern as she pierced her gaze through your blushing coworker. he mumbled a hushed apology before rushing past you and into the back, knocking all kinds of things over on his way.

mark was a clumsy dragon; being a dragon wasn’t an uncommon thing, considering the world was littered with creatures now, but you had never met one as shy or as clumsy as mark lee.

he was shy and always spoke quietly, and rarely ever looked anyone in the eyes. in fact, you were certain you’d never actually seen his eyes, even after working with him for two years.

you had become friends with him in that time, and currently was the reason why he just got hollered at by your manager. you probably shouldn’t have called him up from his station just to bullshit around.

you considered mark one of your closest friends now, even if he was still a shy mess around you. he opened up a little bit, to your surprise, but never fully. you couldn’t lie to yourself and say you didn’t have a small crush on him, despite him having the personality of a small, naked dog.

he seemed to trust you though, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when he came to you after work asking for a favor.

you were on your way to your car when you felt a warm hand softly grip your wrist, stopping you from walking any further. you turned around startled at first, not knowing it was him until you saw his face in front of you. you smiled at him.

“hey markie.” you greeted sweetly, moving your arm back down to your side once he let go of you. his lips quirked you slightly at the nickname, but as quickly as you saw it, it disappeared.

“hi y/n,” he let out quietly, wringing his hands together. “I have a, uh, favor to ask of you, if that’s okay.”

you quirked your eyebrow at him, your curiousity piqued. you gestured for him to continue and he let out a large warm breath as his thin tail flicked behind him.

“would you mind, um,” he scratched the back of his neck. “housesitting my grandma’s place with me this weekend? I don’t wanna be alone in there…”

you blinked in silence at him for a moment, processing his request before replying.

“mark,” you started, looking him in the eyes, “you’re telling me that you’re a fucking dragon,” you stated in disbelief, your hip cocked to one side as you stood across from him. “but you can’t stay the night at your grandma’s house alone? aren’t you supposed to be like, the most powerful creature in the world?”

he blushed and looked down at his feet, one little fang poking out over his bottom lip as he played with his fingers bashfully. when he didn’t reply a small frown made its way to your lips, and you quickly clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“sure mark, I’ll house-sit with you.” you smiled, trying to find his eyes. when he smiled back and glanced at you, your heart seemed to flutter on its own accord, and you stepped back out of his space.

you cleared your throat. “just text me the details. I’ll see you later!”

with that, you quickly ran off to your car, starting the engine and driving away. you didn’t even notice how the boy you had just left stared after you, his eyes glowing gold in the setting sunlight.

mark didn’t take long to send you the details, and before you knew it the weekend had rolled in. you met up with him at his place and he drove the both of your across town to where his grandmother’s house resided, and you can’t say you weren’t awestruck at the size of it.

it looked like a true mansion; but more like one from some bad horror movie that was haunted by 100 year old dead girls or something. you had to admit, it gave you the creeps and now you were beginning to understand why mark didn’t want to stay here alone.

“so uh, the electricity seems to be out.” he stated once the two of you made yourselves comfortable inside the home. you two looked at each other briefly, both of your eyes wide. “she didn’t mention that on the phone.”

you sucked in air through your teeth, but knew you would have to deal with being in the dark in an old and creepy mansion that was owned by a woman most likely close to death herself.

“it’ll be fine,” you reassured him, placing your backpack down on the floor in front of the sofa. upon opening it, you pulled out two wine bottles, much to mark’s surprise.

you smirked at him. “are you down to drink with me?”

he nodded almost instantly, and you grinned back.

fast forward an hour later, and you were definitely a little wine drunk. you weren’t too far gone; you still had some wits about you, but everything seemed to just feel a tad bit too good for you to be completely sober.

you and mark were giggling back and forth over stupid nonsense, and you felt your heart flutter everytime the harmonious sound of his laughter left his body.

god, you really were such a goddamn simp for this boy. “so, markie,” you blurted, smiling dumbly at him as you set your glass down on the coffee table in front of you. you curled your legs up under you as you turned to face him on the couch, your face resting on you palm. “do you have a girlfriend?”

“a g-girlfriend?” he squeaked out cutely, his eyes wide as he stared at you from across the couch. “uh, n-no. uhm, not many girls really like me like that.” he laughed it off, his hand coming up to rest behind his head shyly. you almost melted at the sight of him acting so bashful, even though you’ve seen it countless times in the time you’ve known him.

you snorted in response, “oh god mark, I beg to differ.” it may have been the small amount of wine in your system, but whatever spurred you to move closer to him was growing with every passing second, weakening your willpower. your knees rested against his leg as you now leaned against him, your chin incredibly close to resting on his shoulder.

his wide brown eyes looked down at you, and you watched his throat bob as you swallowed heavily, most likely a little nervous at your proximity. you smiled at him sensually, your eyes trying to convey as much of your emotions as possible to him.

“I think you’re very attractive,” you mumbled sweetly, not making any moves to get closer or touch him just yet, in case he wasn’t into this like you obviously were. considering you just outed that you thought he was cute, now was as good a time as any to just let it all loose.

“I think I like you, mark.”

he kissed you, which caused you to squeak in surprise. you quickly recovered however, and immediately threw yourself over him to straddle his lap, kissing him back with just as much fire.

it really shocked you; you weren't prepared for mark to have the balls to kiss you first, but you welcomed it, causing your core to grow hot at the thoughts of him doing more to you.

“I like you t-too.” he muttered out between kisses, his tongue finding your own as the two of you felt each other on the couch in the darkness of his grandmother's old house.

his hands held steady on your waist; every so often you would feel his fingers squeeze at your sides, but nothing much more than that.

you were growing insatiable at the point, your core aching to feel something against it, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“can I ride your thigh?” you asked breathlessly, pulling back from his lips to look into his eyes. they were tinged gold; little flecks of the color breaking up the deep natural brown of his irises. you felt his fingers squeeze your hips ever so slightly, and he nodded simply in response, his lips moving up timidly to connect with yours once again.

you situated yourself so that you were straddling one of his legs, the muscle of his thigh pressed right up against your already aching core deliciously. you sighed in content as you pressed against him, pulling your head away to throw it back in pleasure. mark didn’t hesitate to kiss your neck delicately, pressing small kisses along the column of your throat and around the sweet spots down near your collarbones.

your panties were soaked in seconds, and you were sure he could feel it even through the material of his black jeans, the two sets of fabric the only things separating you from feeling skin on skin.

you couldn’t help but begin to grind your hips back and forth, the delicious feeling of his hard muscle pressing against your clit making you almost delirious. his hands on you hips helped drag you back and forth against him, and before long you had built up a steady rhythm that had you weak and whining.

“mark,” you moaned out, catching his attention instantly. “mark I need you to fuck me,” you were panting, both hands on his shoulders as you borderline aggressively humped his leg, your eyes pleading and your lips parted in pleasure.

“fuck, okay yeah, yeah I’ll fuck you,” he stuttered out, hoisting you off of him with ease and maneuvering you onto your back below him, your core clenching at the display of his inhuman strength.

it was a battle to get as many articles of clothing off of your two bodies as possible, and in the end your clothes were thrown every which way around the room, leaving you both naked and needy in front of each other.

you almost cried when you saw his cock in the dim light, twitching in front of your very eyes.

“holy fuck, mark,” you gasped, eyes widening as you sat up on your elbows to get a good look at his raging cock. “you’re fucking huge, are you trying to kill me?”

he blushed sweetly in response but you caught the sight of his dick twitching, indicating that he liked the praise you gave him.

you sighed and laid back down flat, motioning for him to crawl forwards on top of you and he complied within seconds. you glanced down between your bodies to look at his dick once again, your brain still not comprehending his size.

you decided you didn’t want any prep. you wanted to feel every second of the burning stretch.

“you’re seriously gonna destroy me, mark.” you stated flatly, but you weren’t so opposed to the idea. in truth, you wanted him to annihilate you like the dragon stud you knew he was; no mercy, making you cry for his cock like a good little slut. you shivered at the thought.

“we can s-stop, we don’t have to—“ he began to say, but you slapped a hand across his mouth, much to his surprise. he looked confused, but didn’t try to remove your hand from where it laid on his lips.

you smiled, “that’s not a bad thing, baby,” you murmured, leaning up to trail your lips along his ear. “I want you to absolutely obliterate this pussy, you understand?”

it wasn’t like you to dirty talk in bed, but there was something about the way he reacted to your every word that had you more vocal than usual. before you could think, mark had your back pinned to the cushions once again, his eyes glowing a bright gold as they bore down into your own with an intensity you couldn’t hope to match.

bingo.

he grabbed his dick and quickly aligned it with your entrance, sliding in slowly and stretching you out at a snail's pace.

the stretch was gradual; you could feel every inch of him sinking inside you and the feeling sent a shock down your spine, causing your walls to involuntarily clench around his still moving cock.

you were grateful that he was patient and slow, not moving too quickly or harshly so that he wouldn’t cause you any pain. you let out a low moan when you felt his thumb press directly onto your clit, and the action surprised you. you didn’t expect mark to take the confident initiative like that, but you weren’t complaining as he started rubbing soft circles around the nub.

without warning, mark took your hips in both his hands and flipped you onto your side, his cock slipping out in the process as he laid behind you, effectively spooning your body. he drew in close, and you whined at the feeling of his thin tail coming up to wrap around one of your legs, helping his arm lift it up and keep in place so he had perfect access to your dripping cunt.

mark’s nose nudged against your temple as he leaned in, his lips softly placing a kiss on your cheek as you gasped for breath.

“can I have you like this?” he asked softly, still pressing gentle kisses against your skin. with a firm nod you gave him permission, and he immediately lined himself up with your more than ready entrance once again.

he slipped inside easier this time, bottoming out within seconds and making you squeak at the feeling. he waited for you to adjust, your twitching walls around him not letting up for the first minute he was inside you. once you relaxed enough, he began smoothing rocking his hips in and out of you, slowly dragging his cock against your walls as he fucked you.

you bit the throw pillow before you as you felt his tail tighten around your leg, tingles starting to become prevalent as he effectively cut off some of the blood flow.

you weren’t complaining.

“faster, please,” you whined out, your nails ripping into the pillow as he complied almost instantaneously. his hips postponed in and out of your dripping hole as best they could, his hips roughly slapping against the skin of your ass as he plowed you with all his might.

you bit back your screams as his land left your leg, his strong tail holding it in place as he reached around to play with your nipple, flicking and teasing the bud as he fucked you.

his tip ever so slightly bumped your cervix with every earth shattering thrust, and you threw your head back into his chest as he kept up his speed and rhythm.

“does it feel good, y/n?” he asked deeply, almost like a growl. the vibrations that you felt rumble his chest had your toes curling, and you could feel your stomach tightening as you grew closer and closer to your release.

when you didn’t immediately answer, you felt his teeth bite into your shoulder as punishment. you whimpered at the feeling, you pussy clenching around his still pounding cock.

“answer me.”

you could only nod your head frantically, your brain not working enough to process any words to spew back at him. he seemed content enough with your reply, and you were almost grateful that he didn’t force you to speak. you were sure you would have sounded like a pathetic mess.

if it was even possible at this point, he managed to pick up the speed of his thrusts, fucking you into oblivion until all you could do was moan out strangled versions of his name. before long, you were coming undone, your fluttering walls clamping strongly down onto his cock, causing him to seize up behind you with a roar.

you could physically feel the powerful spurts of his cum shooting inside you right up against your cervix, pairing it white with his seed. you moaned at the feeling, your body still twitching in his hold.

he gently laid your leg back down, his tail unraveling to reveal indentation marks in your skin from where it had been gripped. your thigh was especially bad, but you were definitely not complying, the sight causing your core to flutter once more around him.

you laid in silence for a while, finding comfort in each other’s breathing. he kept himself sheathed inside you, the warmth of him comforting as you laid with your back pressed up against his sweaty chest.

“...I don’t think this is what my grandmother had in mind when she asked me to house-sit.” mark suddenly mumbled into your hair, reaching around to delicately play with your fingers with his own.

you snorted weakly in response, chuckling a bit. “are you complaining?”

“no,” he hummed, clarifying. “i think this was the best night of my life.” he kissed your cheek then, causing you to smile. he nuzzled his face into the back of your neck, and you could feel the small grin on his face.

“thank you, y/n.”

you could only hum back in return, the swelling of your heart overwhelming your senses as the sweet voice of the boy you’ve been crushing on lured you into a deep relaxed state.

you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

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