sickwhispers · 25 days ago
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glisten x reader but reader is a menace towards society plslslsl I BEG (also love ur fanfics!! i love ur writing)
TYSM I LOVE YOU
FOR THE BIT
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Pairing: Glisten x (Chaotic) reader
Relationship: romantic
Warning:
Type: headcanons + drabble
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The first introduction you two had with each other was a ball being thrown in his face after you accidentally missed your shot
What were you trying to hit?
An array of cans you had stolen from one of the shelves in the kitchen
You wanted to practice aiming and glisten just so happen to walk through the living room at the wrong time
Luckily, though, you were horrible at throwing and the impact was weak
Even after you both started dating, not once has he ever let that singular memory between the two of you fade
Especially during arguments
Although, by now he's gotten used to the chaos you brought
Part of him likes to think it adds extra spice to your lives
The other part wishes you'd stop tackling him in a hug everytime you saw him
Or, at least, that's what he wants to think
It's always nice having your attention, even when you can be a bit... dangerous with it
No matter how hard he tried, the second your arms are wrapped around him in a hug, your body weighing him down on the floor and he struggled to process just how fast you had jumped onto him, he could never hold back a smile
He's seen the destruction you've caused for the other toons
Hell, you should be lucky he loves you so much
He's lied for you
To keep you out of trouble, of course
One prank gone too far and he's found himself trying to distract the poor victim with positive outlooks and please don't go interrogating y/n they didn't do it don't go talk to them they're innocent and-
Safe to say he isn't the best liar when he gets nervous
It's also hard to convince others you're not the culprit when it's well known just how much trouble you cause
"Glisten."
"Hm? Yes? What do you want?"
"Where are they."
Glisten's eyes trail down to the case folder held loosely in Rodgers hand, ichor dripping down from the bottom edge and creating a black puddle beneath it. Rodger really wasn't in the mood to guess, and his first instict was to ask the person who hung around you the most.
"Uhm-" immediately, glistens flashed over to the couch on the other side of the living room. "Ah... haha... well, that's not so important, is it? I'm sure this is all a huge misunderstanding. Y/n wouldn't do such a thing."
"I didn't say y/n's name, did i?" If glisten wasn't as perfect as he was, he would've caused a distraction and ran away. But, his top priority was making sure you didn't get your free roam privileges taken away again as punishment. How would you visit him if you were too busy locked away in your room?
You had a nasty habit of causing trouble, fleeing the scene, and hiding
Which, often times, left glisten alone to defend your honor
He knew known of your actions were malicious
That was obvious from the look of guilt that spread across your face the second you realized you mightve taken a joke too far
But most of the time, no one was safe from your acts of chaos
Glisten only hopes you'll be extra forgiving when it comes to him
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shiny-kaibernyte · 26 days ago
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May I request Mondo x Ultimate!Herbalist reader?
You are my first Danganronpa request... and you request my third favourite character. Congratulations! You are now my new favourite person random stranger! This ended up being a lot harder to write than i thought it would be. I went back and forth for ages on this. If there is anything you don't like let me know and i'll fix it.
Warnings: Mentions of blood / Takes place during the killing game / Swearing. You know just Mondo being Mondo
Mint Leaves | Mondo x Ultimate Herbalist (Reader)
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“Dammit…” An almost silent curse left Mondo’s throat. All he could see in his vision was the annoyingly bright red lights of the dormitory hallway, and a door. This singular cursed door he just couldn’t seem to do anything with. Just staring at it, almost afraid to even touch the door. “Come on… be a man and just knock. Not that hard!” 
And yet, he didn’t move, the staring only continuing. If the door had eyes, Mondo would be winning this staring contest.
“Ugh this is fucking stupid!” Mondo’s voice echoed loudly throughout the empty hallway, throwing his head back in defeat. The door had won this round. “It’s a damn door! So why can’t I just knock!?”
“As much as I enjoy hearing you howling like a wounded cub. Some of us are trying to sleep.” An almost snake-like voice yanked Mondo back to reality, snapping his neck to the side irritated. Togami… The definition of an annoying rich boy who thinks he’s better than everyone. 
Mondo’s eye twitched as his lip turned into a snarl, staring down at the Ultimate Affluent Progeny. Togami wasn’t close by, merely standing outside his door, arms crossed with a raised eyebrow. Which only angered the Biker even more. “The hell you say to me? You trying to start something rich boy!?”
“Hm… It’s certainly amusing to watch you bang your chest like a caged monkey.” A smirk crosses Togami’s face as he adjusts his glasses, moving a hand to his hip as the other gestures to the floor by Mondo’s feet. “However, you're getting blood on the floor. If you aren't going to knock on the door. At least clean up after yourself before you scare the poor thing.”
Blinking in confusion, Mondo stared down at his feet only to realise a small pool of blood no bigger than his foot had appeared courtesy of the giant gash on his palm. That was why he was here, standing outside your door and now being berated by Togami. A defeated sigh left Mondo’s lips as a satisfied hum left Togami’s, followed by the sound of footsteps. “The hell you doing!?”
“Relax will you!” Togami snapped now standing next to Mondo, an arm reaching out towards him. Before Mondo had a chance to either hit or step back from Togami. The sound of knocking filled the Bikers ears like a wave. “I’m doing what you seem to be to chicken to do. Now hurry this along and let the rest of us sleep in peace.”
Staring blankly at Togami, mouth agape as he watched the rich boy quickly flee, a trail of dust behind him as he ducked into his room seemingly not wanting to be seen. If he wasn’t so calm about it, perhaps it would have been funny.
“Mondo?” Now it was your turn to snap Mondo out of his trance. His face turned bright red as if caught doing something bad, he couldn't even muster up anything more than a nervous stammer before you noticed how he was holding his hand. “What happened! You’re bleeding!” “I shouldn’t be here! Ignore you saw me yeah!?” Making an escape attempt, Mondo spun on his heel and attempted to follow Togami’s escape plan only to find himself being Yanked into your room. Surprisingly he didn’t lose his balance and stayed up right.
“I said let me look. I can’t have you bleeding on the floor now can i?” You respond sternly, letting go of his coat which you used to yank him back. Pointing down at the puddle of blood outside your door. “You were outside my door for a reason so please, let me at least look at it.”
Looking at your face, he found it impossible to say no. The glow of hope in your eye, the almost pleading pout made him want to yell. As much as he hated getting help from others, he couldn’t say no. So with a hesitant grumble of defeat he let you take his hand in yours. The moment you grabbed his wounded hand, his head snapped to the side, unable to look at you anymore. Mondo was ashamed of himself for seeking your help, he shouldn’t be relying on you to help him. It should be the other way around, right?
“How did you even do this? It's so deep… clean though which is good.” You mumbled to yourself, examining the cut on Mondo’s hand, it didn’t look like a knife gash. You would need to wrap this quickly. Sure it was a clean wound but that didn’t mean it wouldn't get infected regardless. “Come, sit down, let me wrap this.”
“You don’t need to do that. I can do it.” Mondo hastily replied, pulling his hand away from you. 
“Stop being so stubborn! Sit down and be quiet, let me take care of you!” You snap, arms wrapping around his arm to pull him towards your bed. Despite saying he didn’t want your help, he was quick to move with you, even letting you sit him down on the edge of your bed. “Hold on i should have something around here somewhere”
Leaving Mondo sitting on your bed, you swiftly make your way to a bag on the floor, digging through it carefully. Mondo’s eyes carefully examining you, a soft smile warming his face, unable to stop the admiration from shining in his eyes. He really did have a soft spot for you, maybe that's why Fujisaki kept always trying to push him towards you. Or the fact Ishimaru would always try and weave you into whatever they were talking about, only to leave both of you alone.
“Found it!” With a yell of victory, you pulled out a small jar and a white box from your bag. “I was a little worried i didn't grab any of this stuff from the garden and hospital room! Can I see your hand again?”
“Hold it! Hell is that?” Mondo had already returned to his usual stoic look when you turned around to approach him again. He had risen to his feet once he saw what you were holding. The small jar had some kind of orange fauna in, whilst the box had a somewhat spiky looking plant and some fluffy looking leaves.
Dragging him by the arm, you force him back down on the edge of the bed. “These are going to help you. I'm no fool Mondo, I know you won’t go to the Nurse's office upstairs no matter what anyone says. So you get me instead. I may not be able to cure disease but I can stop infection and skin irritations. So shush and let me see your hand.”
“You ca-”
“Shush” 
Promptly shushing. Mondo finally lets you dot on him, holding out his hand for you. A smile of victory briefly flashes on your face before turning to one of focus. Mondo’s returning to his secret but not secret soft smile. Time flew by as you worked carefully to treat the gash on his hand, using the Aloe Vera gel to help with disinfecting the wound, cleaning up any extra little dirt that may have been left behind. It was cold surprisingly tingly, causing Mondo’s hand to tense a few. Not once did he pull his hand away, more flexing into your touch than away, giving you all the motivation to keep going. 
Once you’d made sure the wound was evenly covered and cleaned, you reached for the jar and took out a small amount of Calendula petals, spreading them gently and carefully around the edge of the cut. Carefully covering the orange petals with a tiny amount of aloe Vera, before you reached for the more fluffy looking herb. Lamb's ear, nature's bandage. 
You carefully wrap the hand using a combination of the herb and some actual bandages you’d raided from the nurses office. “That should do it. Is it to lose? Too tight?”
“It’s fine… thanks.” Mondo nods, adjusting his grip as he admires your handiwork. “That herbalist stuff of yours… really is something else huh. I don’t understand a thing you did but I ain't gonna lie. My hand does feel good, I can't even tell there's anything wrong.”
“Good! Make sure to have someone change the bandage every few days, or if you're confident I'm sure you can figure it out yourself.” You tease, poking his nose briefly before placing your remedies back into your bag. Mondo’s face painted a lovely shade of red once more causing you to burst out laughing when you noticed.
“Hell you laughing at!” Mondo snapped, the embarrassment only made things worse and your laughter progress.You had never seen him break composure so many times in one night before so for him to turn into a tomato from a single tap made you break your own composure. Seems your laughter was contagious, as soon enough Mondo found himself chuckling alongside you. How did this night go from him being too chicken to knock on your door. To now the pair of you leaning into each other, laughing over a single poke. This certainly will be a memory Mondo will never forget.
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spotsupstuff · 2 years ago
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I would like to see a freesquidinknoodles cuddle pile?
id too, man, id too 😔
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tothemeadow · 4 years ago
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I haven't seen much people requesting for snake bby so obanai x demon reader pls?Reader is like a succubus type of demon and when sent on a mission to kill her he falls into her clutches and it ends with smut 👀
‘in my dreams’ / Iguro O. x Reader
PLEASE STOP SLEEPING ON THIS MAN
warnings: NSFW, Obanai is a boob man, dream fucking?
words: 2,793
(a/n): I might’ve gotten carried away a bit
-
He’s always heard that sharks can smell blood on the water.
He isn’t a stranger to blood himself, used to the sightly images of gore and the rancid odor. It’s simply another part of his hellish life, bearing witness to mutilated remains of bodies and hunting down their killer.
It’s all in a day’s work.
It’s strange, though, when there aren’t any bodies to be found. Rumors of disappearances plague the night, travel from lips to ears, slowly spreading throughout the small town.
Takahashi’s daughter disappeared last night.
The doctor’s oldest son? Haven’t you heard? He’s gone.
For such a large number of people to be suddenly up and vanishing, it’s no wonder concerns have risen. It’s why Obanai’s here in the first place, determined to sniff out the culprit and promptly execute them. He’s dealt with similar cases before – finding the missing persons, only to find their remains or couple of bones – but this time… Well, it’s weird, to say the least. Not one person in this town knows where anybody could be, no strange sightings or feelings, nothing.
And, if Obanai is going to be completely honest, it’s infuriating as hell.
He’s not a patient person in the slightest. Perhaps that’s his curse and the sole reason why this case isn’t going anywhere; still, with the lingering danger hanging over these poor people’s heads, he needs to end this quickly. And so, cooped up in a small room at the town’s inn, he pours over his scribbling of notes, wondering just what kind of force he’s dealing with.
A demon’s nature can vary, depending on what kind you encounter. Obanai’s had his fair share of strange interactions – whether it be demons with multiple arms, pygmies, the facial features of a fly - he's nearly seen at all. But to take victims without leaving a single trace? That's where things get complicated.
"Dammit," Obanai grumbles, dragging a hand over his face. Kaburamaru flicks his tongue in concern, sensing his owner's unease.
This isn't going anywhere. The amount of time or effort spent trying to figure out where everyone has vanished isn't amounting to anything. How could this be? Obanai isn't some low level slayer, for gods' sakes - he's a Pillar. It shouldn't be this hard to put two and two together, yet here he is, staring blankly at his collected information. The idea of sending his crow to summon for help crosses his mind, but he hastily throws away the thought. No, that's not how this is done. He isn't willing to give up so easily.
As the hours drag further into the night, Obanai grows restless, twitchy. His striped haori sits to the side, folded neatly along with the shirt and overcoat of his uniform. Kaburamaru is already fast asleep, coiled into a tight circle at the edge of the futon. The wooden hatches of the window hang open, the night breeze drifting into the room with the sound of a singular solemn cricket.
A long, ornate kiseru dangles between his spindly fingers; it’s a rare occasion whenever Obanai smokes, so much to the point that the ones closest to him don’t even know he possesses such a fine pipe. He takes a slow drag as his he stares up at the moonlit clouds, the chilled breeze whipping the choppy strands of his hair against his bared cheeks. He wonders, truly, just how the hell he’s supposed to get to the bottom of this case if he can’t find anything to work with.
Perhaps the gods heard his woes - or he’s finally lost his mind - for an intoxicatingly sweet scent fills his senses.
Jasmine.
As far as Obanai knows, he hasn’t seen any jasmine plants when he came into town. This had to mean something - it had to. Opting his kiseru for his blade instead, he easily slips out the window, feet hitting the ground without a sound. Taking off into the night, he races through the town’s streets, eyes darting back and forth for anything out of the usual.
He comes to an abrupt stop when the scent of jasmine grows even stronger. He’s sure now that whatever he’s been looking for is here. A slight shuffling catches his attention; whipping his head to the side, a wooden hatch to a window bangs against the side of a house, but there’s no one to be seen on the other side. 
“Found you,” Obanai breathes.
Rushing over to the house, he drops into a crouch as he creeps closer to the window. Jasmine floods his senses, the irresistible aroma gripping onto his consciousness and practically demanding for him to come closer. Swallowing thickly, he ignores the sudden wave of heat flushing over his body as he peeks into the darkened room. A family of five lays on the floor, their bodies moving gently with the deepened breathing of a heavy slumber. Even now, Obanai has to resist the urge to shut his eyes and succumb to the flowery scent.
Although the room is dark, he can make out a strange pillar of smoke; ah, so that’s where the origin of the smell is coming from. Is it some type of mist demon? Flower? He isn’t entirely sure, but he doesn’t have the time to care. He needs to get rid of it now.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he unsheathes his blade, not wanting to attract attention to him yet. It’s a wish in vain, though; as soon as his blade is hanging in the air, the pillar of smoke rushes towards him, slamming into him and sending him flying. Obanai grunts as his back hits the ground, the sharp edge of rocks biting into the skin.
“Don’t you know that it’s rude to sneak up on others?” a low, creamy voice drawls. Goosebumps break out across the surface of Obanai’s skin and a shiver races down his back. The smoke dissipates, then, revealing a feminine figure.
Obanai’s breath catches in his throat. This demon - you - are unlike any other he’s encountered. Immediately, his eyes latch onto the pair of horns protruding from your skull, pearly at the tip and then fading into ebony. You’re strikingly beautiful, facial features soft yet demanding. Embarrassment warms Obanai’s face as his eyes drift across the curves of your body; your breasts swell over the tight, strappy top while the entirety of your legs and hips frame the long loincloth-like garment between your legs. Both your arms and legs have the same pearly sheen towards the end, just like your horns.
By the gods, you’re ethereal, even if the claws on your fingers could easily tear Obanai’s throat out.
“So is breaking into other’s homes,” Obanai manages to croak. Bringing himself to a stand, he takes a defensive stance, his blade held out before him. He feels strangely heavy, almost like his body craves to stay flat on his back.
Much to his surprise, you pout at him, arms crossing beneath your chest and pushing your breasts further up. “But it gets so lonely at night, you know?” you say, that seductive lilt in your voice deepening. At that, you make a show of sweeping your eyes over Obanai’s bare torso, and a slight smile grows on your pretty lips.
Obanai clears his throat. He can’t let himself fall for your tricks, no matter how incredible you smell or alluring you look. If these are the methods you rely on, chances are you’re a weaker demon.
“What did you do with the missing persons?” he asks, eyes narrowing.
“Missing persons? Is that what they’re calling them?” you say, a giggle following your words.
Obanai growls at your nonchalant confession. If there’s one thing he can’t stand about demons, it’s their inability of basic human emotion, the inability of compassion. Yeah, he decides that your head is going to look even better once it’s separated from your body.
“You see, pretty boy,” you purr, pressing a hand to your throat and dragging it downwards, brushing over a luscious breast and tracing over your exposed tummy, “in return for making their dreams come true, I get to have a snack.”
“Enough,” Obanai grunts, switching to an offensive stance. “Maybe I’ll be gracious enough to meet you in hell someday.”
Before you even have a chance to react, Obanai springs into action, launching himself off the group in a great leap, lungs tightening as he releases a breath form.
It doesn’t hit.
It doesn’t fucking hit.
In fact, you’re nowhere in sight. Instead of the dusty, moonlit road, Obanai finds himself in an onsen; a great bamboo pavilion stands tall above the pool of water, blocking the golden rays of sunshine from hitting him. Thin trees are scattered about the area, riddled with stone lanterns and garden rocks covered in moss. With a chorus of birds singing overhead, it’s like he’s in an entire new world.
Muttering to himself, Obanai scans his surroundings, wracking his brain and trying to figure just what the hell happened. One moment, he’s about to slice your head clean off and put an end to your terror -  the next, he’s in broad daylight in some overt paradise.
“Your dreams are beautiful,” that wonderful, wonderful voice of yours speaks.
Whirling around, Obanai sends splashes of water flying. “What did you do to me?” he spits.
You flash him a sly smile. “Why, I merely put you to sleep, pretty boy. Can’t be much of a threat if you’re not wide awake, no?”
Obanai curses under his breath. Of course you’re a dream demon - no wonder why there hasn’t been any bodies turning up. If only he had acted faster, got here sooner, more lives could’ve been saved. With a huff, he slithers further away from you, sinking below the water until only his face can be seen. “So what now? You’re going to try to kill me in my sleep? That’s a low blow and you know it.”
Sucking air through your teeth, you shake your head. Now that the two of you are no longer shrouded by darkness, Obanai really gets a good look of how utterly stunning you are. Again, he curses himself out, calling himself a fool for thinking such things when he should be killing you instead.
“Your blade isn’t here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him, a look of mischief crossing your features. “Silly boy - this a time meant for the two of us, not for you to end my forsaken life. Allow me to help you... relax.”
As you step to the edge of the onsen, Obanai finally notices the feeling of water caressing his thighs, his bare buttocks. You just had to make him naked in his dream, huh? What are you trying to accomplish, anyway? His eyes widen incredulously as your hands find their place on your torso, slinking over the swell of your breasts and around your neck; with a simple tug, your top comes loose. You merely let the garment fall to the rocks below, a small ‘oops’ slipping from our mouth.
Heat immediately floods to Obanai’s face and his groin; his insides squeeze in on themselves and he swallows thickly, thankful for the hidden protection the water provides. The look on your face is simply irresistible. Hell, even your breasts are as pretty as he imagined-
Shit, he inwardly curses, I shouldn’t be thinking like that.
But oh, you’re just so tempting, your hands squeezing your breasts, fingers rolling your hardening nipples as you stare directly at his flushed face. “Pretty boy,” you purr, “what’s your name?”
“Obanai.”
It’s out before he even knows it. 
“Obanai...” 
He really likes the way it rolls off your tongue, the dark glint in your eyes as you say it. Perhaps you can tell by his reaction alone - or maybe you like saying it - but you repeat his name, once, twice, thrice, and fuck does it drive Obanai insane. And then you’re reaching down, unfastening your lower garment and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground. Obanai’s cock twitches at the sight of your glorious body, the soft curves and glowing skin.
“Naughty boy, my eyes are up here,” you say. Again, you squeeze those beautiful fucking tits, a soft groan spilling from your lips. Obanai nearly goes feral from the sound; without further thought, he wades over to where you are. Jasmine clings in his nostrils, clouds his mind in a delicious haze, and he loves it.
You’re all too willing to meet his touch, body slipping into the heated water as he wraps his arms around you possessively. His body kicks into autopilot, mind going blank as he presses his lips to your throat. He should rip your throat out with his teeth, but there’s something magical about the way you arch into his touch, breasts pushing lewdly against his chest.
“Fucking-”
“Yes.”
A breathy moan spills from your lips as Obanai kneads your pretty tits, long fingers gripping possessively, wantingly. It’s almost ridiculous how hard he already is, his cock sandwiched between your bodies. He jolts as your hands land on his face, thumbs brushing against the ragged scars lining either sides of his mouth. 
“Don’t,” he grits, but it goes ignored. The air is sucked from his lungs as you brush your lips over his scars, murmuring something about how pretty he is before stopping at his mouth. You kiss him fervently, clawed fingers scratching his shoulders as you tongue the inside of his mouth. You swallow the husky groan that spills from his mouth, hand dropping down from his shoulder and wrapping around his hardening cock. 
“Ah, shit,” Obanai murmurs into your mouth. 
“Tell me what you want, pretty boy,” you whisper, hand slowly jerking on his cock. His breathing picks up as you quicken your pace, the water rippling with the movements of your wrists. “Your wish is my command.”
“Gods, you’re such a fucking tease,” he pants, eyes practically glowing against the pink hue of his face. Ducking his head, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, the wet warmth enveloping your breast and eliciting a delicious moan from you. Obanai wastes no more time, opting to prop you in his lap and pressing your back against a smooth stone. “I shouldn’t... but fuck...”
“It doesn’t seem like you’re angry with me anymore,” you husk in that damned sexy voice. A moan bubbles from your throat as Obanai starts rocking against you, cock slipping against your folds. It’ll only take a little push for him to fill that pretty cunt of yours, to stuff you full of his cock and fuck you raw. It’s what he wants.
“Shut up,” he grunts, mouth latching onto your nipple, his hand beginning to play with the other. A low, drawn out curse gets muffled by your chest as he finally slips his cock into you; it shouldn’t be physically possible, but your velvety walls seemingly clench around him and suck him in, your arousal making the slide impossibly easy. He hiccups on a breath, his entire body twitching as he pants. 
“The thing about succubi,” you drawl, sharp nails tracing down his spine, over the muscles in his back, “is that we’re the demons of sex and dreams. Oh, pretty baby, how much I’ve lucked out. Everyone else seemed like an appetizer - and you...” You pause, suck air between your teeth. “You’re like the damn main course.”
A helpless little grunt graces your ear as you fuck yourself on Obanai’s cock. His hips match your movements, your sopping cunt eagerly sucking him back in and squeezing around him. You’re so damn wet that it’s infuriating; Obanai wants more, more of your touch, your voice, that sweet scent clogging his senses. He can’t bring himself to stop touching your breasts, whether if it’s his hands or mouth. They bounce with the erratic rhythm of your hips, way too beautiful and hypnotizing. 
A breathless whine breaks through your cute little pants whenever Obanai smacks a hand against the ample flesh of your ass. “Is that you meant when you said you make others’ wishes come true? Have them fuck that tight pussy of yours? Huh?”
“Obanai, don’t be mean,” you pout. 
“Says a fucking demon that eats people.”
You hiss as his cockhead hits against your g-spot. “I can eat you too, so don’t get cocky, pretty boy.”
Obanai clicks his tongue, his brows furrowing. “You better keep that promise,” he grunts, thumb grazing your bottom lip. “I won’t take no for an answer.” He growls as your walls clench around him. 
“If that’s your wish, Master,” you purr, a slight chuckle following your words, “then it is my command.”
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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years ago
Text
L is for Lunacy (M)
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Author: kpopfanfictrash
Pairing: Jungkook / Reader
Rating: 18+
Genre: Established Relationship / Light Angst / Fluff
<< A FOLLOW-UP ONE SHOT TO THE ART OF WAR MORE >>
Synopsis: After two years of being sworn enemies (and 42,000 words of shenanigans), you and Jungkook had finally begun dating. As it turned out though, dating wasn’t any easier than coming up with the perfect witty retort to wipe the smirk from his face. When you came to the first Big Decision of the relationship, it was honestly anyone’s guess as to how things would go.  
Warnings: handcuffs (male + female), oral (male + female), very explicit dirty talk, degradation, semi-public making out, spanking, condom-less sex, cum play, things get soft (except Jungkook’s dick). Seokjin randomly procures invitations to formal events; no one really knows how.
Word Count: 15,790
Author’s Note: In order for this to make the most sense, I would recommend reading The Art of War More first! Thank you :)
“One thousand bottles of Smirnoff on the wall, one thousand bottles of Smirnoff!” sang Seokjin, wildly off-key. “Take one down, ice someone with it, nine hundred and ninety-nine bottles of Smirnoff on the wall!”
As the bus jolted over a pothole, you were launched sideways to land on Jungkook’s thigh. His response was a grunt, steadying you with one hand – lingering longer than necessary on the small of your back.
When you looked at him, Jungkook wriggled both brows.
“Fine,” he sighed when you withdrew from his grasp. “Just know that my lap is always available seating.”
“For anyone?” Taehyung popped over the seat in front of you. “Or just for Y/N?”
Jungkook’s brow crinkled. “Why would you want to sit on my lap?”
“You have solid thighs.”
“He has a point,” you agreed.
Jungkook looked at Taehyung a moment, then you. “Only you on my lap, thanks. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”
Feigning outrage, Taehyung opened his mouth only for Seokjin to hit a high note at the back of the bus. All of you winced.
“How’d Seokjin get an invite to the hockey midseason banquet, anyways?” you wondered out loud. “He’s not even on the team.”
“I’ve long given up on asking pointless questions like that,” Jungkook said. “Seokjin’s going to go where he wants to go.”
“I guess.” You paused and then shrugged. “At least he decided to bring Gina as his date. Now we can all hang out together!”
Jungkook made a non-committal sound. “Is Gina still hooking up with Hobi? Surprised he was cool with her being Seokjin’s date.”
“No. That kind of fizzled,” you said, disappointed. “I don’t think he was ready for the whole boyfriend thing. Gina’s been kind of bummed, so hopefully tonight’s a good distraction.”
“Good thing distraction is Seokjin’s middle name.” Jungkook grinned. “Plus, I hear this hotel’s amazing. The banquet is being held on the fiftieth floor with this amazing view of the lake.”
Horrified, you stared. “Fiftieth floor? Sounds dangerous.”
“It’s all enclosed, babe.”
“Still. I wouldn’t put it past Taehyung to fall out.”
Taehyung popped back up over the seat. “You rang?” When Seokjin hit another high note, Taehyung winced and threw a crumpled-up tissue in his direction. “I swear to god, Jin!” he yelled. “If you sing one more annoying verse, the next tissue I throw won’t be clean!”
Seokjin immediately shut up, much to Gina’s laughter beside him.
Taehyung returned to you and Jungkook. “Anyways. What’d you say?”
“My girlfriend thinks you’re going to fall out of a window tonight,” Jungkook said cheerily. “Bets for or against?”
“Hm.” Taehyung considered. “I mean, it’s in my best interest to bet against me falling out, but what’re the odds?”
“Taehyung,” you laughed, reaching up to smack his arm. “Stop.”
“You didn’t say which window!” He shot you a grin. “I could just tumble from the first floor and make a fortune.”
“Well, now we know your plan,” Jungkook pointed out. “So, that’s out.”
Before Taehyung could respond, Gina plopped down in the seat across the aisle from you. Stretching both legs, she lifted her arms overhead.
“Hey, guys,” she yawned. “How much longer until we reach the hotel? I’m beat.”
“Half an hour. And maybe you wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t stayed up until 4:00 AM…” You gave her a pointed look.
“I had to! I was studying.”
“Oh?” You arched a brow. “And what about after that? When you were just re-watching old episodes of The Vampire Diaries?”
“Y/N.” Gina looked at you, appalled. “You can’t just end things right when Klaus shows up in Alaric’s body. I’m not a monster.”
“Clearly.”
With another large yawn, Gina settled into her seat. “What’s the plan for tonight, anyways? Do I have time to take a quick nap?”
“Depends on how long your naps are,” said Jungkook, leaning over. “We’re supposed to reach the hotel at 4:00 PM, check in and then have until 6:00 PM to get ready, which is when the banquet starts. You could probably sneak a nap in there.”
Grinning, you turned. “Look at you,” you cooed, poking his cheek. “Memorizing the schedule and everything.”
Jungkook’s cheeks turned faintly pink, but he seemed pleased with the praise.
“Aw.” Gina made a face. “Gross. Anyways,” she said, turning to Taehyung. “Where’s your date?”
Reluctantly, Namjoon popped his head over the seat. “Hey.”
When he appeared, Gina cracked up. “Wait – you’re Tae’s date? Hope you put out. I hear that’s expected at these things.”
“Really?” Taehyung arched a brow. “So, are you and Seokjin planning on doing the nasty?”
Gina made another face. “Don’t be revolting, Tae.”
“Huh?” Namjoon looked around in alarm. “What’re you talking about?”
“Bad timing,” Jungkook laughed. “Gina had just finished asking who Tae’s date was.”
“He came with Maria.” Namjoon pointed at the back of the bus. “She’s back there somewhere with Nichole.”
Gina glanced in the direction he pointed. “And how are you invited to hockey formal?” she asked, turning back. “Aren’t you like, afraid of sports, or something?”
Namjoon looked somewhat offended. “I’m not afraid of sports. I’m a student athletic manager! I have a place at this banquet, which is more than I can say about you and Seokjin. How’d you two get here?”
As they started arguing, you felt Jungkook stiffen beside you. Namjoon wasn’t the only student athletic manager for the men’s hockey team. Last year it was a guy named Luis, but he recently transferred to women’s soccer, sticking hockey with a new face. 
A familiar face. Park Jimin.
You happened to see him when you first boarded, settling the question of whether or not he would go. He had decided to go; he was here.
It had been almost three months since you’d found out about Jimin’s lie. Back in freshman year, you and Jungkook had flirted and made plans to hang out at a party one weekend. Jungkook had to bail and asked Jimin to tell you – which he then didn’t. The resulting spiral of miscommunication resulted in you and Jungkook being enemies for almost two years.
Obviously, it wasn’t entirely Jimin’s fault. At any point, you and Jungkook could’ve gotten over your pride and just talked to each other and cleared up the whole thing. Neither one of you did though, which let the dumb feud continue – it was Jimin’s lie which started it though, and that was a hard thing to forget.
It was also something you had yet to talk to Jimin about. When word went around campus that you and Jungkook had started dating, it could’ve been your imagination, but you saw less of Jimin after that. It seemed pretty clear he had been avoiding you.
He had seated himself as far away from you and Jungkook as possible; all the way at the back, where Seokjin was taken a seat. Based on his uncomfortable posture beside his date, you got the feeling Jimin was having second thoughts about coming.
Squeezing Jungkook’s thigh, you waited until he turned his head. Even if Jimin was here, you weren’t going to let him ruin your weekend.
“We ended up together,” you murmured, only loud enough for him to hear. Resting your head on his shoulder, you sighed. “It really doesn’t matter.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I just… get so annoyed when I see him. If it weren’t for his lie, I could’ve been with you this whole time.”
“Maybe.”
Jungkook blinked. “Maybe?”
“Maybe,” you repeated, glancing up. “Or – maybe we would’ve both argued over something dumb and because we were young and immature, we would’ve broken up.”
Jungkook bit his lip. “But we’re still young and immature.”
“Touché. I’m just saying things happen the way they do a reason,” you added. “Or maybe they don’t, but you can’t change the past. What’s important is we’re together now.”
“I guess.”
Reaching for his hand, you entwined your fingers. “And more importantly – if you don’t stop sulking, you won’t get your present later.”
Jungkook perked up. “Present? You got me a gift?”
“Maybe. If you keep asking what it is though, you won’t get it.”
Mouth snapping shut, Jungkook stared out the window and you began to count down in your head. 5, 4, 3, 2 –
“So, is this present in addition to my Christmas gift?”
Bursting into laughter, you smacked his arm. “It’s just a fun gift, okay? You’ll see later tonight. Gosh, can’t a girl spoil her boyfriend?”
Jungkook’s gaze darkened, caught on a singular word. “A gift for tonight, tonight? Or for the banquet?”
“We’ll see,” you said smugly, sitting back.
“Y/N…”
His voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down your spine which you pointedly ignored. Turning away, you faced towards the aisle.
“You could always take a nap now, Gina,” you offered. “Before we reach the hotel.”
“And have Seokjin take pictures of me drooling with my mouth open? No thanks,” Gina sniffed.
She was right. Seokjin would do that.
Taehyung popped back up over his seat. “Are you and Seokjin sharing a room?” he asked, curious.
“What’s with your weird, pervy interest in Seokjin and I? Unfortunately, yes,” Gina sighed, slouched low in her seat. “I’m too poor to afford the single room rate.”
Seokjin finally appeared over the seat back behind you. It seemed he had managed to convince Parnce to switch seats – something he’d been texting about in the group chat since you boarded over an hour ago.
“Hey!” he blurted, offended. “I’m a delightful roommate, I’ll have you know. I leave chocolates on the pillow and everything.”
“Seokjin, it’s a hotel,” you pointed on. “They already leave chocolates on the pillows.
“Shhh,” Seokjin said. “I’m trying to impress a date here.”
Gina threw her scarf at Seokjin’s head. “I’m only your date because no one else agreed to go!”
“That’s not true!” 
“Is so!”
“I mean, it’s kind of true,” Seokjin fake whispered to you, as though Gina couldn’t hear. “Allison and Elaine found out about each other.”
“Well, why did you keep them a secret?” you huffed. “No wonder you’re alone if you pull douchebag shit like that.”
“I didn’t keep them a secret!” Seokjin protested. “I told them both we weren’t exclusive, but…” Trailing off, he sighed. “What can I say? The ladies always want more.”
Another wadded up tissue hit Seokjin square in the face.
“Thanks, Tae!” Gina flopped back in her seat.
“There’s more where that came from,” Taehyung said, sitting down.
Seokjin stared in horror at the tissue on the floor. 
“Hey! That... that one wasn’t used, was it?”
Sliding her sunglasses onto her nose, Gina pretending to sleep as the bus descended back into chaos. 
Reaching out, Jungkook poked you in the side. “Seriously,” he whispered. “What’s my present?”
“Oh, would you look at that?” you said, sitting up straight. “There’s the hotel!”
Although Jungkook pouted, he allowed the conversation to be redirected and even helped gather your things off the bus.
As soon as you entered the revolving doors, you were immediately met with a blast of warmth from the lobby. You sighed in relief – and then came to a stop. Based on the lobby alone, this banquet was going to be fancy as fuck.
Jungkook had explained what the purpose of this banquet was once or twice, but you weren’t really listening at the time. Apparently the hockey team had a midseason and an end of season banquet. The midseason one tended to fall during their time off around finals, since it was one of the few times during on season when the players could drink.
“Whoa,” Seokjin breathed, coming to a stop alongside you. “I definitely didn’t pack nice enough underwear for this place.”
“Underwear?” Gina looked up in alarm. “Nobody’s going to be seeing your underwear this weekend, Seokjin. Except maybe the mirror.”
“I’ll know though,” he said. “Deep down, I’ll know I’m wearing cotton boxer-briefs instead of silk, like I should.”
Jungkook turned to face you. “Is that the present? Did you get me silk underwear?”
“No.”
“Did you get you silk underwear?”
“Still nope.”
“Huh.” Slightly deflated, Jungkook began to walk towards check-in. “I’m becoming less interested in what this present is.”
“Hey!” you laughed, punching his arm.
Check-in in was luckily fast – the hotel had set people aside for your group and before you knew it, you were loaded onto an elevator and pressing the button for the twentieth floor. Even though it wasn’t as high as fifty, you still warily eyed the panel.
“What?” Jungkook set his bag on the floor.
“Nothing.” You paused. “The windows all lock, right?”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m just saying! If Taehyung really fell from the twentieth floor, he would die.”
“Well, I guess Taehyung will just have to stay out of our bedroom, huh?”
Jungkook arched a brow when he spoke, gaze dark with something which made your skin tingle. Suddenly, the long hours of banquet ahead seemed like too much. It was fairly tempting for you to skip the whole thing and spend it in your hotel room with Jungkook. In bed.
The elevator dinged to announce your floor.
“This is us,” Jungkook said, grabbing your suitcase.
Slinging his duffel bag over one shoulder, Jungkook wheeled your suitcase out of the elevator. Your room was all the way at the end of the hall, past the ice machine and neon red exit sign. Dubiously, you glanced at this as you passed.
“If there were an actual emergency,” you said, slipping both arms around his waist to rest your head on his back. “Those stairs would be a death trap.”
“Hopefully there’s no emergency, then.” Jungkook pushed open the door. “Here we are.”
As you glanced over his shoulder, you froze. 
“Holy shit.”
Wandering forward, Jungkook set his bag on the floor. “What?” he asked, turning around. “Is there something wrong?”
Staring at the room, you somehow managed to close the door behind you. 
The space was airy, light and gorgeous. The décor was simple in that way which made you absolutely certain each item cost more than the entirety of your suitcase. Fluffy, white pillows were piled on a bed with an actual metal latticed headboard. Gauzy curtains covered the windows, and –
“Champagne?” you blurted, rushing forward. As you passed the front hall, you caught a glimpse of the closet. “And oh my god – robes. Robes, Jungkook! Plural!”
He grinned, watching you run about the room in excitement. “So, you like it?”
“Like it?” You came to a sudden stop, crystal champagne glass in hand. Realizing something, you frowned. “Wait, Jungkook. How the fuck did you afford this?”
“I came into some money overnight.”
“Sounds ominous.”
Jungkook grinned. “Actually, Seokjin’s Uncle got us a room as a favor. There’s no way I could’ve afforded this.”
Setting the champagne glass on the table, you scanned the room as you crossed to his side. “Not yet,” you teased. “Not until you make it big in the NHL. Then you’ll be able to afford all the presents for me!”
A shadow crossed Jungkook’s expression, gone before you could determine its source. He laughed, turning around and bent to unzip your suitcase. Lunging forward, you grabbed for his hand. 
“No peeking!” you scolded.
Jungkook froze and looked at you innocently. “Whoops.”
“Don’t ‘whoops’ me,” you said, slapping his wrist. Huffing, you pushed your suitcase into a corner. “You’ll get your present later. We’ve got to get ready for the banquet now.”
“That’s not for hours,” Jungkook whined, flopping down on the bed.
As soon as his ass hit the sheets, his t-shirt rode up to reveal a flat strip of abs. Momentarily distracted, you stared before you shook yourself free.
“Nice try, Jeon!” Spinning around on your heel, you entered the bathroom. This obviously prompted a new round of exclamations. (“Oh my god, there’s a heat rack for the towels!”)
An hour later, you were putting the finishing touches on your make-up while Jungkook changed in the next room. Taehyung had texted fifteen minutes prior and invited everyone to drinks in the lobby. Reading his text had made you laugh, since it made you all sound so grown-up and formal.
The entire event made you feel this way – as though you and Jungkook were two kids playing dress up. College was such a weird time. On the one hand, you lived on your own and were forced to make decisions about your future and on the other, you had barely reached legal drinking age.
College was a strange limbo of job interviews and beer pong in the same twenty-four-hour period. This, though – fixing your make-up while Jungkook changed in the next room – felt scarily adult.
Although you had only been dating for months, you could already see this becoming reality. The realization was startling, making you stare at yourself in the mirror.
“Hey, babe?” Jungkook called from the next room.
“Uh, yeah?”
Somewhat dazed, you screwed the cap on your mascara.
“When are you going to be done? I need to go to the bathroom.”
Sliding your make-up bag off the sink, you gave a final pat to your hair in the lights. Inspecting your face one final time, you turned in your robe and walked from the room.
“Coming!” 
The moment you exited the bathroom, you stopped in your tracks.
Jungkook had already gotten dressed and stood beside the window to survey the city. His hair was parted on one side, slightly slicked back with several loose strands hanging about his face. He was dressed in a suit – grey with a black shirt, and by far the fanciest outfit you’d ever seen him in.
Swallowing, you stood there for a moment while you eye-fucked your boyfriend.
Still facing the window, the corner of his mouth lifted. “Are you going to stand there watching me all night?”
“No,” you said loftily, entering the room. “I’m going to get dressed so we can go to the banquet, come back to this room and I can rip that suit off you.”
Jungkook turned, slightly dazed. “Fuck. Yes. That.”
He walked towards you, pausing his stride to brush a chaste kiss to your temple. Grabbing his lapel, you turned him towards you to press a kiss on his lips. Jungkook smiled, melting forward but before you take it any further, he pulled back.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he laughed, squeezing your waist before walking away. “If you kiss me like that, I won’t stop. And then I’ll definitely mess up your hair and we’ll never make it to the restaurant on time.”
Stepping into the bathroom, he shut the door.
You grinned, wandering further into the bedroom. Your dress still hung in the closet; you’d placed it there upon arrival. Thankfully, it didn’t wrinkle too much on the drive here.
“What if that’s what I want?” you called to him through the door. “We can skip the formal, stay here and just have sex.”
Jungkook remained quiet. He hated talking while either one of you was on the toilet – it was a whole thing with him, which resulted in your merciless teasing.
Slipping your dress from its hanger, you moved towards the mirror. "I'll take that as a yes, Jeon!" you said, glancing around for your shoes. "Stay silent if you want to skip the formal, hang out here and have crazy bunny sex."
After a moment, the toilet flushed and the sound of the sink turned on. 
Jungkook yelled back, "What's crazy bunny sex?"
Plopping down on the bed, you set your dress on the duvet. "You know!" you huffed, feeling around when a phone vibrated. "Don't rabbits have like, a crazy high sex drive? Where'd the phrase 'doing it like rabbits' come from?"
"As interested as I am in whatever hybrid fanfic you've dreamt up, maybe–"
Although Jungkook continued to talk, the sound of it faded when you unearthed his cell phone. A name flashed on the screen – BOB SUTHERLAND, which would've meant nothing to you except for the text message.
Hey, Jungkook! Thanks for finally returning my calls. There are a few NHL teams looking for a second-string center and–
The rest of the message was cut off, but it was enough for you to understand. You recognized the name Bob Sutherland. He was a recruiter for the NHL and a damn good one, if Taehyung's word was anything to go by. The fact that he wanted to scout Jungkook didn't surprise you, but it was surprising to hear Jungkook had returned his calls.
Staring at your phone, your heart began to beat a bit faster. Jungkook didn't want to go into the NHL now – did he?
The NHL, or the National Hockey League, was the end game for any hockey player. It was a mixed bag if players went into the league straight out of high school, played in lower leagues for a bit, or played in college until they got recruited. Even then, there were only so many good years an athlete had to play. It made sense for Jungkook to want to leave University for his dream job, but you hadn't thought it would happen so soon.
The sound of the bathroom door opening jerked you from your trance. Frantically tossing his phone to the bed, you grabbed your dress and stood to look around for your shoes.
Stepping into the hall, Jungkook smiled when he saw you. "Is that your dress?" he asked, spotting the fabric. "Are you gonna put it on? Can I watch?"
"I thought you said you didn't want to have sex," you said, forcing yourself to smile as you brushed past him.
"It's not that I don't want to have sex," he grumbled, fastening a cuff link. "It's just that if we did, there's no way in hell we'd make it on time."
Although you continued to smile, the contents of that text replayed in your mind. Exhaling lowly, you tried to push this aside. Jungkook would talk to you about it when he was ready. You couldn't fault him for being curious about graduating early. A lot of NHL and MLB players did it – it’s just, you had thought Jungkook wanted to finish his degree.
Shutting the bathroom door, you leaned your head to the wood and willed your thoughts to remain calm. It would be stupid to blow this out of proportion. You and Jungkook had only been dating for three months; it was too soon to expect him to tell you every little thing. Especially something so ambiguous as potential recruitment.
You two hadn't even said I love you to each other yet.
Jaw clenched, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Maybe that was why you were getting so worked up about this. It wasn't for lack of emotion you hadn't told Jungkook you loved him, but lack of courage. 
You did love him. You had for weeks, maybe months and maybe longer than that.
It was self-preservation that forced you to swallow the words each time Jungkook did something sweet, sexy or just plain adorable. For the number of times you had bitten your tongue over the past weeks, you were surprised you had a tongue left to speak with.
Still, you’d only told one other boyfriend you loved them and that hadn't ended so well. You and Jungkook had only been dating for three months. It was too soon to place that kind of pressure on him.
Especially not if he'd be leaving University at the end of this year.
Fear gripped your heart, forcing its way to your lungs while you willed yourself to breathe. You waited, taking deep breaths until the paralysis subsided. Numbly getting dressed, you tried several times before realizing the futility of your zipper.
Dropping your arms, you opened the door a crack.
"Jungkook?" 
"Yeah?"
It was probably your imagination, but he sounded far away. In more ways than one.
"Can you zip me up?" 
"Sure thing, babe."
As you walked from the bathroom, you held your dress with both hands so it wouldn't fall down. Jungkook's eyes widened as soon as he saw you, seated on the edge of the mattress with his broad thighs spread. 
His phone dropped from his grasp.
"Fuck," he breathed, staring hard.
The longer he looked, the more your face heated. Jungkook had a way of looking at you which set fire to your veins, which made you feel seen and wanted and heard. He exhaled, tongue darting out to touch the corner of his lips and almost imperceptibly, his hands tightened on the duvet.
"The zipper?" you reminded him, fighting back a smile.
"Right. Uh," he said, standing up from the bed. Immediately, he winced. "Um. Give me a second."
After another deep breath, Jungkook walked closer, but his gait remained awkward; concealing his boner.
"Are you sure you can dance like that, Jeon?" you teased as you turned around.
"No," he huffed, hands replacing yours on the dress. "Maybe if you could be a little less hot, that would be great."
"I'll try. Maybe if I put spinach in my teeth, or something."
"Nah. Even then, I'd still do you."
"Wow, that's l–" Clamping your lips shut, you stopped the l-word from escaping. "Um, that's lunacy, Jeon."
When he didn't immediately respond, you began to panic but then Jungkook chuckled, moving the zipper upwards.
"Done," he announced, stepping back.
Slowly, you turned. 
Jungkook's gaze darkened. 
Nervous, you smoothed both sides of your dress down. It had taken you a while to pick this one out; several trips to the mall with Gina and eventually, she’d been the one to make the final call. The dress was more revealing than what you usually wore, with a deep-cut neckline and mostly open back. It did wonders for your curves though, highlighting what Jungkook claimed to be his favorite assets.
Then again, Jungkook claimed that about every part of your body.
Still, the way he stared made you feel Gina had made the right choice.
"Whoa," he said hoarsely.
Laughing, you took his hand in yours and dragged him towards the door. "Come on. We're going to be late."
Playfully, Jungkook dug in his heels. 
"We can be a little late," he said, contradicting himself.
"Nope." Cheerful, you stepped into your heels at the door. "You're the one who said you couldn't control yourself if you kissed me."
Although Jungkook sighed, he grabbed the key and opened the door to the hall. You followed him outside, where Jungkook shoved his wallet in a pocket and gallantly offered his arm.
"M'lady."
"Jungkook," you sighed, accepting the gesture. "That line didn't work on me before. It's not going to work on me now."
"Wrong!" he said as you walked down the hall. "It did work. Now we’re dating, right? You're mine. In like, a romantic way. Not in a creepy, possessive one."
You laughed as the elevator doors opened and you stepped inside. Jungkook followed, refusing to let go of you all the way to the lobby. He wasn't being subtle about it, keeping a hand on your waist, his thigh pressed to yours, his fingers drifting lazily over the curve of your back.
His fondness for touch usually made you feel wanted, but now you couldn't help but wonder if there was something else to it. Maybe the reason he wanted to be so close was because he knew he was leaving at the end of the year.
Stomach sinking, you told yourself to stop it. Jungkook hadn't made any decisions and you were sure he’d talk to you before he did. 
Or – you thought that he would.
Anxiety remained even once the doors opened and you entered the lobby. It refused to lessen throughout the entirety of pre-dinner drinks and even as you rode towards the banquet in the elevator, you found yourself in the back, quieter than normal.
Apparently this was noticeable enough for Gina to pull you aside as you entered, shooing Seokjin away with instructions to find them good seats.
"What's wrong?" she asked, tugging you behind a plant.
"Nothing!" you insisted.
Gina gave you a look.
She was dressed in a slinky red number tonight. You had picked it out right after she made the final decision on yours. Had Gina been allowed to choose, she would've worn the same t-shirt and jeans she always did. You had thought it would be funny to see her in something so sexy, but like everything else, Gina pulled it off effortlessly.
Based on the way people were staring, including her date, you knew you had made the right choice.
She narrowed her eyes. "Something's up," Gina said. "Normally, Seokjin's impression of Christopher Walken cracks you up – god knows why – but today, it didn't even make you crack a smile. What's going on?"
"It's nothing," you insisted, glancing around the room. Jungkook had paused at your table, scanning the crowd to see where you were. "Gina, we really should get–"
"Is it lover boy over there?"
Alarmed, you met her gaze. "Gina!” You dropped your voice. “I told you we hadn't said that yet."
"Oh, please." Gina rolled her eyes. "Boy is so whipped for you, it isn't even funny. He probably just doesn’t want to say it too fast and scare you off. Remember how long it took you to admit that you liked each other? This is the same. You're both playing emotional chicken."
Unable to stop yourself, you snorted. "Emotional chicken? Maybe, but…” Hesitant, you glanced around the floor. “Gina, what if he went into the NHL this year?"
Gina paused. "This year?"
"I mean... a lot of players do. There's only so long you can play hockey professionally."
"That’d make it harder to date for sure. Where’s this coming from, Y/N?"
"Nowhere," you said. "Just something I've been thinking. It would make it harder to date, right?"
"I guess. But so what?"
"I… huh?"
"So what?" she repeated. "Even if Jungkook does leave at the end of this year, how does that change the fact that you love him?"
Having no response to this, you stayed quiet.
Gina reached for your hand. "I'm just saying," she said, a bit gentler. "There’s always a million reasons it might not work out. All you can control is what you do now and how honest you are. Starting with... oh, I don't know... telling your boyfriend how much you love that flat ass of his."
"It's not as flat anymore!" you blurted, defensive. "He's been doing squats."
"Yeah, whatever." Grinning, Gina pulled you from behind the plant. "We should probably get back before Seokjin grabs the mic to sing Tiny Dancer. Just promise me you'll think about telling him?"
"Okay, I'll think about it," you sighed, following her towards the tables.
Spotting you from across the room, Jungkook grinned and waved a hand overhead. Seeing his face, a familiar rush of butterflies appeared. Except it wasn't just butterflies anymore; now there was a whole goddamn symphony and from the moment you saw him, you knew Gina was right.
You should tell him you loved him.
Maybe not now, though because as you approached your table, a familiar silhouette appeared by your side.
"Y/N?" Jimin said, sounding tentative.
Feet faltering, you came to a stop. 
Even from across the room, you could see Jungkook's gaze darken. Jimin stepped between you though, blocking your way to the table. Somewhat reluctantly, you waved Gina on.
"Go on," you said with a sigh. "Tell Jungkook I want the steak."
Gina nodded once, glared at Jimin, and continued walking towards Seokjin. She knew you could handle being alone with him.
Jimin waited until she was out of earshot before speaking. 
"Hi."
"Hey, Jimin."
Nervous, he swallowed. "Um, you look nice tonight. I mean you always look–"
"Jimin," you interrupted, folding your arms over your chest. "Get to the point."
"Right." He gave you an uncertain look. "I just wanted to... apologize."
"Apologize for what?"
Somehow, you managed to keep your expression neutral.
Glancing over his shoulder, Jimin saw Jungkook staring. He sighed and turned back. "For what I did freshman year."
"And what did you do freshman year?"
"Wow." Jimin gave you a half-smile. "You really aren't going to make this easy on me, huh?"
"No," you responded. "I don't think I will."
Something serious, almost sad entered Jimin’s gaze and he nodded. "Right. I guess I deserve that. I wanted to apologize for lying to you freshman year. I should've told you what really happened to Jungkook."
"You should have.”
"I know." Jimin bit down on his lip. "It's just that... I really liked you. And you seemed to like me back, so I thought it would be easier if Jungkook was out of the picture...." He trailed off, looking miserable. "It was stupid, I know."
Some of your anger lessened at his expression. He truly did seem as though he was sorry and while that didn’t change what had happened, it didn’t seem worthwhile to hold onto something so petty.
You hesitated. "It wasn't... stupid, exactly."
It wasn’t stupid in the way he implied and in a way, you realized you understood. You had liked Jimin freshman year, which was what made this complicated. You had also liked Jungkook and maybe you would’ve stood a chance back then if Jimin hadn’t lied. Then again, maybe not.
It was like what you told Jungkook earlier. It was pointless to ask what if because what ifs weren't what happened. All you had was the current situation and where you went from here.
A thought popped into your mind.
"Can I ask you something?" you said, lowering your arms.
Jimin blinked. "Sure."
"Why did you end things between us freshman year?" you asked. It was something you’d wondered for years. "If you liked me enough to go through all that with Jungkook... then what happened?"
Because he had been the one to end your fuck buddy relationship. You had been perfectly fine to continue seeing him sophomore year, but Jimin had been the one to pull back. It was something that’d always bothered you, but you’d never had the courage to ask.
Jimin gave a lopsided smile. "I wanted to date you, Y/N."
"What?” You looked at him, stunned. “When?"
"Freshman year," he said. "I mentioned going on a date a few times. Getting dinner together, being my date to my dorm's formal... you always turned me down and after a while, I stopped asking."
Dimly, you recall what he’s talking about. He mostly asked first semester, but you remember Jimin mentioning all those things. You always thought he wasn’t serious, but maybe that was just what you wanted to think. You were still hurt by Jungkook, not looking for anything real and maybe you were the one pushing Jimin away.
“I… I didn’t think you really liked me like that,” you said quietly.
Jimin offered a sad smile. “I could’ve been clearer, I guess. I didn’t want to scare you, so I was purposefully vague…” Considering, he shrugged. “I broke things off with you because I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way. Call it self-preservation, or whatever.”
“Oh,” you responded, voice small. 
Seeing your discomfort, Jimin sighed. “Hey, it all worked out – didn’t it? I’m having a good time with my date and you and Jungkook look happy together. I’m glad you are. I just wanted to apologize to you in person, Y/N.”
“Thanks,” you said slowly. “I appreciate that.”
“No problem.” Jimin hovered a moment, clearly unsure whether to go. “Well. I should be getting back to my table…”
“It’s just,” you said, interrupting. “I’m not the only one you should apologize to.”
Jimin looked at you in surprise.
“I appreciate you saying something to me,” you said. “And I’m not mad anymore, but Jungkook trusted you back then. You were a dick to him just because you liked me. I’m not the only one who deserves an apology.”
Jimin’s cheeks turned a bit pink. “Yeah. I know.”
You paused a moment, but he didn’t say any more and at last, you nodded. “Thanks again, Jimin.  I hope you have a good rest of your night.”
“You, too.”
Turning around, you left his side.
Oddly, your heart felt lighter with each step you took. You hadn’t realized how much the anticipation of that conversation had weighed upon you. Ever since seeing Jimin enter the bus, you had imagined something like this would happen.
Even if Jimin had been avoiding you, it wasn’t like you had been close friends before. Acquaintances, maybe, but even that dwindled once you realized Jimin’s lie to you freshman year. That kind of breach of trust really shook your foundations.
Maybe in the future you could be friends with Jimin again but honestly, you had no inclination to do so now.
Jungkook was already seated when you reached the table, his napkin unfolded and set on his lap. As you took your seat in the chair beside him, he looked over your shoulder.
“What did Jimin want?”
You glanced his way. “He wanted to apologize.”
Jungkook said nothing, his expression inscrutable.
“He said he was sorry about what happened freshman year.”
With a rough sort of laugh, Jungkook sat back in his seat. Playing with the corner of his napkin, he slowly exhaled. 
After a moment, he said, “Now?”
“Huh?”
“Now?” Jungkook turned to face you. “Jimin says he’s sorry now for what he did?”
“I mean, he –”
“He’s just sorry because he got caught,” he muttered, jaw tight.
“Maybe.” You considered, then sighed. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. He just wanted to apologize. He said he’s glad that we’re happy.”
Jungkook’s next laugh was sharp and he looked away. It wasn’t often he got mad, but when Jungkook did, it was hard to pull out of. He tended to brood, turning things over and over in his mind until the edges were dull.
Reaching out, you placed a hand on his leg. “Hey.”
Jungkook stayed where he was.
Shifting, you reached to place a kiss on his cheek. “Jungkook,” you said softly, squeezing his thigh. “There’s literally nowhere I’d rather be but right here with you.”
Finally, Jungkook caved and turned to look at you. 
His eyes were large and dark, full of something you couldn’t quite place but felt in your soul. Something fluttered in your stomach and you held your breath, anticipating what he was about to say.
His hand covered yours, thumb brushing gently against your palm. “Y/N, I –”
“NOOOO!”
“YES! VINDICATED, AT LAST!”
The sound of the commotion jerked you apart and, craning your head, you spotted the source of the turmoil several seats down at the table. 
Jungkook sat back with a thump, swallowing whatever it was he had to say.
Taehyung stood in front of his chair, one of those silver food platters on the table before him. It seemed dinner had begun to be served and Taehyung had gotten a dish with a lid. When he opened said lid, there had been no food on the plate – only a singular bottle of raspberry Smirnoff Ice.
Dramatically pushing back his chair, Seokjin stood to claim his victory. “Drink!” he declared, spreading his arms. “I’ve finally done it! I’ve bested my enemy, pulled the thorn from my side, tricked the eternal trickster – wait, why are you smiling? Why is he smiling?” he demanded, glancing at Gina.
Gina shrugged.
Taehyung knelt, per the official rules of Icing. He was halfway through what you could only assume to be a very warm bottle of Smirnoff Ice and yet, Taehyung didn’t seem angry. Instead, he had one brow cocked in a way which implied he’d still somehow won.
Seokjin stared at him in confusion.
Continuing to chug, Taehyung gestured beneath Seokjin’s chair.
The next moment seemed to happen in slow motion. Face gone suddenly slack, Seokjin bent and looked under his seat. He paused for a moment, staring at something and then sighed.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
A green apple Smirnoff Ice was under his chair.
“Oh, damn,” whispered Jungkook in sympathy. “Green apple is the worst flavor.”
Finishing his bottle, Taehyung slammed it on the table. “Fuck is right,” he said grandly as he stood. “Don’t forget to kneel, man.”
“But… but – how?” Seokjin cried, looking up. “I checked under my chair before I sat down!”
Mysterious, Taehyung shrugged and sat down. “It’s not your place to question, but to chug.”
As Seokjin sighed and got on with it, Gina leaned over . “Taehyung paid me a hundred bucks to plant it after he’d already sat down,” she whispered, then grinned. “Worth it.”
You snorted into your napkin, hiding it quickly when Seokjin glanced your way. As soon as he was done chugging, Seokjin set his empty bottle on the table and sank low in his seat.
“One of these days,” he muttered to no one. “I’ll get my revenge.”
Gina patted his arm. “Sure you will,” she said, twisting around in her seat. “Oo! They have those mini hot dogs. I love those.”
Seokjin instantly perked up, since he was also a mini hot dog fan. The table settled down after that, once the meals were distributed and people starting to eat. Jungkook cut into his steak beside you, exhaling in relief when he saw it was perfectly cooked. Jungkook had a thing about the temperature of his meat.
You wanted to talk more about Jimin, but the music was loud and the conversation so sensitive, you eventually gave up and figured you’d have time to talk later.
Jungkook’s hand found your thigh midway through the meal, so you knew he wasn’t holding onto a grudge. Or maybe he was and he was just really good at hiding it. Jungkook wasn’t normally the type to be jealous; you knew that wasn’t what this was really about.
It had more to do with what you told Jimin at the end. Jungkook had considered Jimin his friend at one time. It had hurt him as much as you when he’d realized what Jimin had done.
All through dessert you watched Jungkook, trying to read his expression until eventually, his lips quirked and he reached for your hand.
“I’m fine,” Jungkook murmured, arching a brow. “Promise.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”
Jungkook laughed, shoveling the last bite of cake in his mouth. Setting his napkin aside, he stood from his seat and reached for your hand. Pulling you out of your chair, he led you in the direction of the dance floor. Most of the tables had already been cleared, their residents disappeared to start the next part of their evening.
Actual awards were only for the end of year banquet, or so Jungkook had told you on the bus. For the midseason banquet there were superlative awards given out, but they were usually distributed at brunch the next morning.
Jungkook pulled you to face him in the middle of the dance floor. One hand on your hip, he drew you close to the music. 
“I’m positive I’m fine,” he said. “Sorry that I overreacted.”
“You didn’t,” you said, tilting your head up. “I know it’s a sensitive topic.”
“I know.” Jungkook still looked troubled. “It’s like you said, though. Who knows what would’ve happened freshman year? Maybe we would’ve worked out. Maybe not. Either way, there’s no point in worrying. We’re together now and that’s what matters.”
“Right.” Stepping closer, you leaned in and rested your head on his chest. “We are.”
Jungkook’s grip on you tightened. “And besides,” he said with a chuckle. “I don’t really want to spend any more time thinking about Jimin tonight. I’d rather think about you.”
“Me?”
“Mhm,” he said, low in your ear. “You, and how beautiful you look in that dress.”
“Just this dress?”
“All dresses. All clothes. Also – no clothes. Hell, you could wear a potato sack and I’d still think it was hot.”
Laughing, you looked up. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
Jungkook grinned, his smile bright in the newly dimmed lights. Within the past half hour, someone had turned down the overhead lights for ‘mood lighting.’ The tables had all been pushed back to clear space for the DJ and make a path to the windows. The sight of the city laid out before you was, indeed, spectacular.
A view rivaled only by the man standing before you.
“What?” Jungkook’s grin widened at your expression.
“Just thinking about how good you look,” you said with a sigh. “Can’t wait to use my present on you later.”
His eyes darkened. “So, it’s something to use on me?”
“Whoops,” you said, delicate. “Did I say that? Must’ve misspoke.”
His grip on your waist tightened as you danced. Lowering his head, Jungkook’s lips grazed your ear.
“Y/N.” He spoke softly, one hand sliding to the small of your back. “Don’t tease me. I’m not above public indecency.”
A thrill ran down your spine. “How indecent?” you asked, just as quiet.
To everyone around you, it merely looked as though you were dancing – turning around the room in time to the song. In reality, Jungkook’s breath quickened while your heartbeat raced, tilting your chin upwards to see him.
His gaze had turned positively carnal. “Y/N, just say the word and I’ll fuck you right here and right now.”
“Jungkook,” you whispered. “There are people around.”
His ensuing smile was cocky. “So? Bet they could learn a thing or two.”
“And you think you’d be the one to teach them?”
“I’d say so,” he said quietly. “Based on how loud you are when you come, I’d say I’m doing something right.”
“I see.” Blithely, you continued to dance. “Its statements like that which are exactly why I needed to bring your present.”
Jungkook’s expression melted to nothing. “Y/N,” he whined, all semblance of cockiness gone. “Please tell me what the gift is?”
“Nope. The build-up is half the fun!”
“When it comes to you,” Jungkook groaned. “It doesn’t take much to get me worked up.”
“Hm. You’ll have to control yourself better than that if you want to cum tonight, babe.”
Jungkook made a tortured sound in his throat. “Y/N...”
“Yes?”
Rather than answer, Jungkook grabbed your hand to pull you from the dance floor. Grinning at the broad panes of his back, you grabbed your dress in one hand so as to not trip on your heels.
“Jungkook,” you laughed, passing knowing expressions. “Slow down!”
Jungkook obliged but continued to walk until he found a suitably secluded alcove. Pulling you with, he turned you around to press your back to the wall, dripping his head for a kiss.
Melting into his touch, your arms found his neck to pull him even closer. Jungkook’s body molded to yours, one arm on the wall while his lips devoured you. You arched against him, fingers sliding up his back to entwine in his hair. Jungkook whined when you tugged, breaking away briefly to rest his forehead to yours.
Breathless, you laughed.
“Why are you laughing?” he murmured.
“Mm, nothing.” Your hands slid to his waist. “It’s just… this kiss reminds me of another one.”
“Which one?”
“You know… the one at that party…”
“Oh, yeah.” His lips quirked. “When I beat you in beer pong.”
“Okay, you didn’t beat me.”
Lowering his head, Jungkook’s lips brushed that sensitive junction between neck and collarbone. A sigh escaped when he slid to rest either hand on the wall beside you. Keeping his body carefully separate, only Jungkook’s hot lips chased over your skin. His tongue flicked a heated path up your throat, holding himself back just to prove that he could.
Pulling away, Jungkook met your gaze. Heat radiated from every line of his body, tempting you further to close the distance between you.
“You’ve gotten better at that,” you whispered. “Less tongue.”
Jungkook’s upper lip twitched.
Before you could respond, he bent to kiss you again and all thoughts of reprimand went out the window. Instead, you arched upwards, craving his touch. Jungkook seemed to be of the same mindset, hips caging yours as he ground his way forward.
Hands returned to his hair, you anchored yourself with each breath you stole. Whatever lipstick you’d had on was long gone by now; Jungkook’s hand found your back and – remembering the backless dress you wore – he groaned.
“What bra do you wear with this, anyways?” he said, pulling back.
“None.” Staring at him, your upper lip curled. “I am wearing underwear, but I’ll admit they don’t leave much to the imagination.”
Jungkook looked tortured. “What are you doing to me?” he pleaded, looking at you with puppy-dog eyes. 
Before you could respond, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to your jaw.
“When we get back to the room,” he murmured, marking his way towards your ear. “I want this dress off. Panties on. Keep the heels on. Splayed out like that on the bed, so I can bury myself between your legs and eat your pussy all fucking night.”
“Sounds ambitious,” you breathed, your head hitting the wall.
“It is.” Jungkook smirked. “I like to set goals for myself. And whether I win or lose, you still win.”
“Oh, do I?”
“Mhm. If I don’t edge you all night, you get to come. And if I do, you still get to come. Win-win.”
Laughing, your fingers curled in his hair. “Well, I –”
“Get a roooom,” Seokjin booed as he walked past. “The bathroom’s right here, guys. People have probably been nauseated walking past you for however long you’ve been back here making out.”
Flustered, you glanced over Jungkook’s shoulder and realized Seokjin was right. The back of his tuxedo disappeared into the men’s bathroom, with the women’s room directly across from it in the hall. Groaning softly, you lowered your face to Jungkook’s lapel.
While you hid, Jungkook started to chuckle. His laughter shook your frame, making you smile until eventually, you started to laugh as well.
“Whoops.” Jungkook pulled back, only to wince. Reaching down, he adjusted the too-tight fabric stretched over his crotch. “Um. Maybe we should head to our room.”
“Already? There’s still a few hours left of the banquet.”
“I know, but…” Jungkook glanced past you, looking into the main room. “We came, we drank, we danced… I just kind of want to be with you now.”
“Well, alright,” you said, allowing yourself to be led down the hall. “If that’s really what you want.”
“It is,” he assured, pressing the down button for the elevator.
You smiled, leaning your head to his shoulder while you waited for its arrival. The lights in the hall were dim, bass thumping loudly from the DJ in the next room. Laughter and shouting echoed down the hall, but the spot by the elevator was relatively quiet.
When Jungkook’s phone went off in his pocket, you jumped. “Oh,” you laughed, glancing up. “That scared me.”
“Sorry,” Jungkook said, fishing around in his pocket.
When he saw who was calling, his expression changed and he immediately pressed off. Stuffing this back in his pocket, he shot you a quick smile and faced forward.
The elevator dinged.
You stared at his back as you entered, uncertainty churning your stomach. Things had been going so well, you had almost forgotten about the events of earlier – the text message you saw on his phone and what it might mean for your future.
Now, it was all you could think about. It wasn’t fair to press Jungkook to talk before he was ready but in all honesty, you were kind of going crazy. As the doors shut behind you, you turned to face Jungkook.
“Who was that?” you asked, innocent.
For a moment, Jungkook looked panicked. He hid this quickly behind a mask of indifference, which looked even stranger than the panic had on his face. Jungkook was not an indifferent kind of person.
“Um, no one,” he said quickly – too quickly. “Just my mom.”
Jungkook was a terrible liar.
Setting aside the fact that he was a classic mama’s boy and would have never have ignored her – maybe he would’ve said he can’t talk right now, but he at least would’ve answered – he now fidgeted anxiously like his feet were on fire. Eyes narrowed, you stared as his profile while the numbers of the floors ticked slowly down.
“You can call her back if you want,” you offered.
Jungkook opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. “Uh – no, that’s okay. She’ll send me a text if it’s important.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Facing forward, you casually stepped from his arm in the guise of being too warm. The numbers had almost reached the twentieth floor, but it wasn’t the descent which had your stomach tied in knots. In your peripheral, you saw Jungkook glance your way while you stared stubbornly at the doors.
The elevator slowed.
“We’re here,” you announced, striding into the hall.
You kept a few steps ahead of him as you walked, gaze focused on your room at the end of the hall. Even though you knew it was unfair to be mad, you couldn’t help the hurt which hounded your thoughts.
When Jungkook had taken out his phone, you had seen the name of the person calling him – Bob Sutherland, the very same recruiter who’d texted him earlier. Each step you took made you angrier, wondering if he’d already gotten the offer, or maybe he’d even accepted. You weren’t sure what the NHL recruiting process was, let alone what your place in it would be as his girlfriend.
Coming to a stop at your hotel room, you halted and waited for Jungkook to catch up.
He did so easily, brow creased as he reached to take hold of your hand. “Hey,” he said gently, turning you to face him. “Is something wrong? Did you want to stay at the banquet longer?”
You looked at his hand for a moment before raising your gaze to his.
“No,” you responded. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Jungkook hesitated. “Want to talk about it, whatever it is?”
You scowled. “I said nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Y/N,” Jungkook said with a smile. “Come on. You can tell me – what is it?”
For a moment, you just stared at him. Your first instinct was to push this down, to pretend it didn’t bother you, but that was cowardly. The situation clearly upset you and trying to pretend otherwise wasn’t fair to you, or to him. 
Before you could change your mind, you blurted, “Why’d you lie about your mom calling you just now?”
The words slipped past in a rush and Jungkook froze. The look on his face would have been comical had the circumstances not been making you sick to your stomach.
“I – what?” 
“Right now,” you explained. “Before we entered the elevator, you said your mom called, but she didn’t. Admit it.”
Jungkook stared at you a second longer, then glanced at the door. “Maybe we should talk about this inside…”
“No. Let’s have the conversation right here.”
Gaze narrowing, Jungkook returned to you. “I really think this is more of an inside the room conversation, Y/N.”
“You can’t tell me you want to go into the NHL in the hall?”
Jungkook’s eyes widened. “I – what? Who told you that?”
“I saw your phone earlier,” you said, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “That NHL recruiter texted you – Bob Sutherland, right? I didn’t mean to see it, but it was right there on the bed, and I…”
Jungkook paused, then shook his head. “And you... waited this long to talk to me?”
“Um, hello?” you shot back. “Pot, this is kettle.”
He winced. “Okay, fine. I guess I deserve that. I just... didn’t want to say anything until I was sure this was even an option.”
Bleakly, you laughed. “What does that mean? You were only going to tell me once you’d decided? Maybe once you had your jersey and a new apartment in some other city?”
Jungkook’s expression darkened. “It’s not like that,” he said as you pulled away.
“It is like that,” you responded, stopping before the door. “Can you open this? I don’t have the room key.”
Jungkook didn’t move. “Y/N.”
“Open the door.”
“Y/N,” he said, softer this time.
You waited another moment, then slowly exhaled. 
“What?” you said, glancing sideways.
This was a mistake, since Jungkook was an awful liar and you could tell he wasn’t lying right now. All his emotion was etched clear on his face – regret, uncertainty, and something more, something stronger. The feeble spark of anger in your stomach extinguished with a hiss.
Stepping forward, Jungkook placed both hands on your arms. “I didn’t want you to stress over nothing,” he said quietly. “That’s the only reason I didn’t tell you right away.”
Jaw tight, you glanced over his shoulder.
“I swear,” Jungkook continued. “It’s just… we haven’t been dating long and things are going so well. I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”
“Don’t you think that’s kind of dumb,” you muttered, moving your gaze to his. “You didn’t want to mess things up, so you kept something big from me?”
“Come on, Y/N,” he pleaded, frustration notched between his brows.  “If I went into the NHL this year, I’d have to leave University before you. I’d have to move to whatever city picked me.”
“I know.”
“We only just started dating!” he said, looking tortured. “You only just started calling yourself my girlfriend. I didn’t want you to break up with me. Not when I don’t even know what I want. I don’t know if I want to go into the NHL this year. I just…” 
He stopped and inhaled, looking helpless.
There was such confusion on his face, such ardent sincerity that whatever anger you felt began to ebb away. It didn’t vanish entirely; you still wish he would’ve told you, but looking at him, you understood why he did it.
“It’s... okay,” you said finally.
Jungkook glanced at you, uncertain.
“It’s okay,” you insisted, sliding both hands up his arms. “I… yeah. It’ll be fine, Jungkook. Now, will you listen to what I have to say?”
Although he seemed skeptical, he nodded.
“Jungkook.” You looked at him seriously. “This is your career, okay? This is your future. I’m not going to break up with you just because you graduate early.”
“You don’t know that,” he countered. “That’s a lot to ask. Long distance is hard, Y/N.”
“I know.”
“It’s unfair of me to ask you to do that.”
“I think I’ll decide what’s unfair to me, Jeon.”
“I just...” Running a hand through his hair, he left the strands ruffled in the back. “I needed more time. More time to figure out what I wanted, more time to make you…”
“Make me what?”
“Make you fall in love with me, too,” he said quietly.
You went still.
The hall around you fell silent – so quiet, you heard the sound of your heart beating. Or maybe that was his; the sound was too loud, whoever it belonged to. It drowned out all coherent thought and left a ringing noise in your ears. 
Before you could respond, Jungkook shut his eyes.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I know it’s too soon. We haven’t been dating that long and fuck, I probably shouldn’t have said it like that. I should’ve done something romantic, right? With flowers and music and – I don’t know. I just love you, Y/N and it’s really hard to keep it in, when –”
Reaching up, you pressed your palms to his cheeks. “Jeon.”
He opened his eyes, face squished in your hands.
“I love you, too,” you said seriously.
Jungkook’s eyes widened and he tried to speak, but the sound was constrained by your hands.
“Oops, sorry,” you said, releasing his face. “What was that?”
“You... love me,” he repeated, dumbfounded.
“Yeah.”
“Wow.” Jungkook paused. “Huh.”
Futilely, you tried to hide your smile. “Is that seriously all you have to say?”
“Kind of.” Jungkook grinned but after a moment, his smile began to disappear. “I really am sorry I lied, Y/N. I promise I wouldn’t have kept it a secret much longer.”
“I know,” you said quietly, taking his hand. “I get why you did it. That’s a giant change to be thinking about.”
“It is, yeah.”
“But,” you added, grip tightening. “I love you, Jungkook. I want to be with you. You don’t have to hide these kinds of things from me.”
Wonderingly, his gaze roamed your face. “No?”
“No. We’ll work through it together. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said, expression softening.
“Good.” You smiled. “You won’t scare me off, Jeon. Promise. Just tell me where your new apartment is and I’ll rack up frequent flyer miles.”
When Jungkook smiled, the corners of his eyes creased. “What if I decide to move to the moon?” he challenged.
“I might question your sanity, Jeon, but I wouldn’t be scared.”
“What if I decided to move to mars?”
“I might be a little scared,” you admitted. “Only because then, you’d probably be neighbors with Elon Musk.”
Jungkook laughed, reaching past to press his key card to the door. The light on the handle turned green, letting you in. Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled you with, not bothering to turn on the lights.
As soon as the door fell shut behind you, Jungkook turned and pressed you to the wood. He immediately bent and began to kiss up your neck, placing one hand on the door and the other firmly around your waist. Pulling you close, he curved your body to his.
You found yourself no better, one hand sliding into his hair to open his mouth with your own. Jungkook groaned, his voice graveled, and the heat shot straight to your core.
“Jungkook,” you said, breaking away.
“Yeah?” he murmured, kissing back down your neck.
Heart stuttering, you forced yourself to focus. “I love you,” you whispered, your curving in the darkness.
It felt so good to finally say it out loud, to stop holding back what you had been feeling for some time. 
Slowly, Jungkook bent to press his forehead to yours. “You sure?” he said quietly. “Don’t feel like you need to say it because I did. Just because I’m stupid in love with you doesn’t mean you need to be.”
“Jungkook?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop being dumb and kiss me.”
Jungkook snorted when you grabbed his tie with one hand to pull him towards you. Elbow buckling, he pressed you against the door while his laughter fanned your face.
Tilting your head upwards, your lips lightly brushed. “Want to know what your present is?”
Jungkook answered immediately. “Yes.”
“It’s going to sound silly now that you told me you loved me.”
“Hey, you said it back!”
“I did.”
“… I still want to know what my present is.”
“Mmm,” you hummed, walking a hand up his chest. “Alright, so maybe I went into that one drawer of your nightstand.”
Jungkook stilled.
“And maybe I brought something for us to play with.”
In the darkness, you heard him audibly swallow. 
“What… what did you decide to bring?”
Placing a hand on his shoulder, you lifted your lips to his ear. “Maybe the handcuffs.”
The next moment happened faster than you could comprehend.
Seizing you around the waist, Jungkook picked you up to carry you towards the bedroom. You squealed, smacking his ass from your upside-down position. Ignoring you, Jungkook flipped on the light as he walked and, upon reaching the bed, deposited you on the mattress.
You bounced on the landing, grinning as you adjusted yourself on the duvet.
Jungkook had already begun to remove his tie. He paused with it half-undone, staring at you on the sheets. Wriggling your ass deeper, you arched a brow.
“Alright.” Jungkook placed his hands on both hips. “How do you want to do this?”
You grinned. “What do you mean?”
He glanced at your hands. “I mean – do you want to wear the cuffs, or should I? Should we do this on the bed? Do you want the cuffs on my wrists, or what?”
“Whoa,” you exhaled, sitting up. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”
Jungkook paused, then nodded and smiled. 
Leisurely, he began to walk towards your suitcase. He undid his cuffs as he walked, placing them on the nightstand before he bent to the zipper. Opening the flap, he scanned the inside and immediately spotted the handcuffs on top of your sweatpants.
Glancing over his shoulder, he arched a brow. “Really?”
“What?” you said, somewhat defensive. “I wanted to protect them from damage.”
Jungkook reached out and shut your suitcase. With the cuffs dangling from one hand, he stood and looked once more at you. A hunger had entered his gaze which made you squeeze your thighs together.
“Why don’t we start with you?” he said, moving closer. “I’ll make you feel good and then you can decide if you want to cuff me.”
“That sounds good,” you whispered.
Jungkook came to a stop at the foot of the bed. Gaze raking your frame, he traced every curve with an indecency bordering on obscene.
“I wasn’t kidding before,” he said, gaze lifting. “I want you naked except for those heels and your panties.”
A thrill traveled your spine, slowly extending your legs to stand from the bed. Without looking away, you reached behind your back to slowly unzip your zipper. You caught your dress before it fell, pressing it to your chest and keeping it there.
Jungkook exhaled. “The rest of it, sweetheart,” he said, sounding hoarse. “I want to see those pretty tits of yours on display.”
“Oh, do you?”
Teasing, you lowered the fabric until your nipples were practically visible. They caught at the fabric, pressed against silk while Jungkook swallowed hard.
“Yes, please,” he said.
Without looking away, you dropped your dress to the floor.
Jungkook sucked in a breath as he stared. His gaze trailed your breasts, rounded and peaked; the apex of your thighs, where you could already feel yourself slick with arousal. He glanced at your feet, still in the heels he said not to change out of.
A growl escaped him when he reached for his cock. Palming himself over his pants, Jungkook stared hard at your body.
“Jungkook,” you whimpered, needing him to touch you.
His gaze snapped to yours. “Look at you,” he murmured, stepping closer. Sliding a hand to the back of your neck, he tilted your face up. “Nipples already hard for me.” Reaching out, he palmed your breast. “Is this pussy wet for me, too?”
“You know it is,” you said breathily.
Nose ghosting your neck, Jungkook traced a path down your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Gonna take a look.” Jungkook pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Gonna see how wet I can get you – just me, though,” he said, stepping back. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself yet. Understand?”
Eager, you nodded.
It had been a few months since you started having sex and in that time, you had learned to read each other well. Jungkook knew that after a fight, you usually liked him to be in control. The mental exhaustion was tiring and you just wanted to come, and come hard.
“Good,” Jungkook said with a smirk. “Now, sit on the bed.”
Turning around, you sat and scooted until your back hit the headboard. Jungkook’s hands found his belt, slowly undoing each notch while you watched. Pulling this from the loops, he dropped it on the floor to shrug from his jacket.
Once free, he knelt one knee on the bed. “Spread your legs,” he said quietly. “Good girl.”
You obeyed, feeling liberated by the lack of control. You trusted Jungkook to take care of you, to listen to you and to know when to stop. It was part of what made sex which him better than anyone else. He understood you in a way you found hard to describe.
“Here?” you asked, spreading your legs on the sheets.
Jungkook moved towards you. “Here,” he agreed, slipping one metal cuff around your wrist.
You inhaled when he closed it, threading the links behind the bedpost and taking your other hand in his. He clicked the second cuff in place, leaving you with both arms overhead, splayed out on the mattress. Arching experimentally upwards, you found your arms restrained.
Withdrawing, Jungkook sat back on his heels. He stared at you a moment, then slid his hands up your torso. Almost recently, he bent his head to flick your nipple with his tongue.
“Oh,” you gasped, arching upwards.
Your wrists strained at the metal, but the sensation was more discomfort than actual pain. The fact that you couldn’t touch him had your skin on fire. Jungkook’s mouth was sloppy, teasing your nipples just the way you liked, urging them to peaks so he could suck with abandon. You arched on the mattress, the cold metal of handcuffs biting into your skin.
You hadn’t been lying – you’d never done this sort of thing with any previous boyfriend but with Jungkook, you found yourself wanting to explore. No one had ever made you feel this comfortable, this open and trusting he would make you feel good.
Switching to your other breast, Jungkook blew on it gently before taking it in his mouth. When he grazed you with his teeth, you let out a whimper and he sucked in earnest. The noises he made made your cheeks heat, your barely clothed core grinding against the duvet.
Your lace thong was sticky, drenched in evidence of easy arousal. Jungkook seemed to realize this as you did, his finger drifting to dip beneath the edge of the fabric. Reluctantly pulling away from your chest, Jungkook twisted the fabric to stare at your cunt.
Although you couldn’t see, you could feel how indecent it was. Drenched lace snagged in the folds of your pussy, revealing your glistening sex to his darkened gaze.
“Fuck,” Jungkook groaned, brushing his thumb up your folds.
The way you shuddered made him moan and he did it again. Jungkook’s thumb slid lower, lazily stroking the entrance of your pussy. He teased until you clenched around him with need, arousal dripping from your cunt to gather at your ass.
“Feet up.” Jungkook pulled back. “Thighs spread.”
You did as he said, placing your heels on the mattress to spread your legs. Jungkook’s jaw clenched at the sight, staring hazily at you like it was the first time. Immediately, he bent and lowered himself between your legs.
“Y/N,” he moaned, dragging his tongue up your sex.
You shuddered at this, tugging on your restraints, which held. Arching against him, you pushed your hips forward while Jungkook ate you out. He wasted no time, lips immediately wrapping around your swollen clit, coaxing you hard and fast towards your first orgasm of the night.
Sliding both arms under your thighs, Jungkook used them as leverage while he licked your pussy. Burying himself between your legs, he devoured you with such ecstasy, you could barely breathe.
The hard lines of his back strained against his shirt and you wished this was gone, wished you could see his pretty skin, but Jungkook seemed determined to make you come like this – his tongue buried in your cunt and his nose brushing your clit.
Your entire body seized, ready to come but then he pulled back and slid two fingers in at the hilt.
Gasping, your entire pussy quivered when his tongue returned to your clit. “Oh my god,” you blubbered, arching against him. “Oh my fucking god, Jungkook.”
His fingers were relentless, immediately fucking the warm wetness of your pussy. The squelch they made sliding in and out was obscene, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It felt too fucking good, with them pounding your cunt and making you see stars.
If you could have, you would’ve grabbed his hair and ridden his face, but you couldn’t. Instead, you arched as hard as you could and gripped your thighs together – Jungkook growled between them – unable to do anything but take it when he gave you your orgasm.
It crashed into you like a wave as you cried out in pleasure below him. You shuddered apart; Jungkook kept both arms wrapped around you until you were done. As the pleasure finally subsided, he gradually slowed his mouth to look up.
He grinned, lips red and wet from his exertions.
With a groan, you collapsed back on the bed. The metal bit into the skin of your wrists, your chest rising and falling while Jungkook shifted above you.
“You okay?” he asked gently, dropping a kiss to your lips.
You nodded, turning your head to capture him in a kiss. Jungkook kissed eagerly back, thighs settling on either side of your hips. He finally pulled away, reaching for the bedside to locate the key.
“Yeah,” you said, waiting for him to unlock the cuffs. “I feel really good, in fact.”
Jungkook grinned and released the cuff from your right wrist. You lowered your arm to your side while he undid the other, patiently waiting for your wrists to be freed. When you were, Jungkook bent his head to press his lips where the cuffs used to be.
He then moved to your feet – you had nearly forgotten you still wore your heels, but Jungkook slid them easily off to drop them to the floor.
You moved to sit up but Jungkook bent and kissed you again. His hands slid to your hair, thighs caging your waist while his tongue slipped past your lips. Desire lazily curled in your stomach; rather than sate you, your previous orgasm had left you hungry for more.
“Jungkook,” you mumbled against his lips.
“Yeah?”
“Why’s your shirt still on?”
Jungkook snorted and sat back, reaching for his front. Without looking away, he began to undo his buttons. He moved slowly, pushing each button through fabric at a maddening pace until you whined and pressed your hips up to his.
“Eager?” he teased, tugging an arm from the sleeve.
As soon as his shirt hit the floor, you sighed in satisfaction. No matter how many times you saw him, the sight of Jungkook shirtless never ceased to amaze.
“Wait – stay there,” you said, reaching to run a hand up his front.
One of Jungkook’s tattoos dipped to his pec, swirling above his dusky nipple in delicate lines. When your thumb casually brushed this, he shuddered.
Pleased, you looked up. “Sensitive, Jeon?”
“You know I am,” he grumbled, though he seemed far from perturbed. Gaze glinting in darkness, Jungkook lowered himself to his palms. “Do it again.”
You obeyed, casually dragging a finger over his pert, rosy nipple. Jungkook inhaled through his teeth, staring at you while you began to tease. When your fingers moved to his other nipple, he actually whined and lowered his head.
“Okay,” you said, making a decision. “I’m going to need you in those cuffs now.”
Jungkook lifted his head. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” you exhaled.
He immediately sat back on his heels, shirtless and slacks strained across his erection. It was obvious from the way he sat it was uncomfortable and yet, Jungkook made no move to relieve himself. The sight sent a thrill down your spine.
This scenario had crossed your mind more than a few times, you had to admit. Having Jungkook seated before you, ready to do whatever you wanted. He was just so big and strong – the sight of him kneeling was more than you could bear.
“Scoot back,” you said, jerking your chin at the headboard.
Jungkook obeyed, scooting until he leaned against the latticed metalwork of the bed. Arching a brow, he asked, “What now?”
“Now,” you said, grabbing the handcuffs to move towards him. “I’m thinking about how I want you.”
He smirked. “What’re you thinking?”
“I could cuff you to the bed,” you wondered. “Or… no, I know what I want. Get back on your knees.”
Jungkook licked his lips and nodded, moving into position.
“Wait,” you said, making him pause. “Take off your pants first.”
He stopped and slid his hand under the top of his slacks. Undoing first the button, then the zipper, Jungkook slowly dragged them down muscular thighs. Once his slacks fell to his ankles, Jungkook kicked them to the floor.
“Now your boxers,” you instructed, gaze hungrily roaming his frame.
The handcuffs remained in your hand, but Jungkook paid them no attention while he stripped down to nothing. Keeping his gaze on yours, he dragged his boxers lower. The second his cock was freed, it sprang up to smack his muscled abs.
You nearly groaned at the sight of how hard he was. The tip of his cock was reddened and leaking, a thick bead of cum working its way down his shaft.
“Hands behind your back,” you said, lifting your gaze.
Jungkook did as he was told, the muscles in his biceps bulging as he went. Although you audibly swallowed, you pushed past this and went to attach the first cuff.
“Is this okay?” you asked, glancing up at his face.
Jungkook smirked. “Yeah. Put the other one on.”
Cheeks hated, you nodded and fastened the other behind his back. Jungkook exhaled, dark hair flopping forward while he experimentally tugged with his arms. The cuffs didn’t give. You stared at him a moment, drinking in the sight of him naked, kneeling and utterly yours.
Unable to stop it, you smiled.
Jungkook glanced up. “What’s that look for, baby?”
“Nothing,” you said, scooting backwards. “You just, um…”
“What?”
“Look fucking hot.”
His cheeks flushed, a fact you found endearing – even with his dick standing hard and thick between his thighs. Bending, you placed a hand on either side of his legs.
Curious, you looked up. “Have you ever done this before?”
Jungkook shook his head. “No. I never really… wanted to do this with anyone else.”
Warmth filled you, knowing exactly what he meant. There’d been no one else you trusted this much either. It was a strange thing to relinquish control, to surrender yourself to someone else and trust they wouldn’t hurt you.
“Same,” you whispered. 
You bent and licked a strip up his cock.
Jungkook groaned, head rolling back as you teased his length. Sitting up, you spit in your palm to wrap most of the way around his cock. You began to slide up and down and Jungkook exhaled, thighs twitching beneath your palm. His eyes drifted shut, enjoying your touch as you stroked his dick.
Seeing the way his arms strained at the cuffs, you grinned. “Enjoying yourself?”
He cracked open an eye. “Wanna touch you,” he said.
“Too bad,” you sing-songed, bending to wrap your lips around his cock.
Jungkook groaned, straining once more against the cuffs. You refused to take him all in your mouth at one go, sucking on the tip before tracing his sensitive head with your tongue. Jungkook exhaled, hips pushing forward in an attempt to coax you further onto his dick.
Pulling back, you left him with a pop. “Uh-uh,” you said. “You’re not the one in control here, Jeon. I am.”
“Oh, yeah?” A devilish glint entered his eyes. “Prove it.”
Heart pounding, you pushed yourself up and moved closer. Sliding a hand into his hair, you angled his head to kiss him on the lips. Jungkook melted forward, lips chasing yours before you pulled back. 
Settling just beyond his reach, you smiled and let your hand return to his cock.
“Fuck,” Jungkook whimpered.
“In a bit,” you answered, thumb brushing his tip.
Jungkook’s tongue poked the side of his cheek, staring while you continued your motions. Head lowering, you took him again in your mouth and slid partway down. Lifting off, you trailed his frenulum with your tongue and then bent to take him all the way.
“Shit,” Jungkook gasped, staring while you deep-throated his cock. “Fuck – that feels so good, baby. Ah.”
His hips bucked when you took him deeper and in response, you pulled back.
“Nope,” you said with a smirk. “Every time you do that, I’ll stop. Keep still, baby,” you said, continuing to fist him with one hand. “You can do that for me, right? Be a good boy?”
Jungkook’s gaze turned heavy with desire. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I’ll be so fucking good for you, baby. Promise.”
Taking him back in your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks to move faster. Balancing both palms on his thighs, you forced your head down until you gagged on his cock. Pulling back, you let spit break over your lip and fisted him roughly, making him sloppy and wet.
Jungkook whimpered again, straining at the cuffs. His nipples were rock hard and upon seeing this, you lifted to lick over a nub.
“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook blurted, hips thrusting forward.
You let him fuck your hand for a few seconds, his hard length chasing the warmth of your hand. And then you pulled away, relinquishing your grip and Jungkook’s eyes widened, realizing what he’d done.
“No,” he groaned, chest sagging.
He looked utterly defeated by the realization you might stop – or at the very least, you’d make him work for it harder. The only thing wrong with this assumption was that you were now obscenely horny and just wanted him inside you.
“It’s okay, baby.” Using the same hand, you lifted his chin. “You did so well, lasting for me as long as you did.”
Jungkook looked at you, hopeful. “So, you’ll let me come?”
“Oh. No.” His face fell. “At least,” you allowed, positioning yourself over his cock, “not until I feel you inside me.”
It had been a few weeks since you had stopped using condoms. Soon after you started dating, you decided to get tested since you were already on the pill. It was worth it the first time he came inside you and swirled his fingers through the mess.
Jungkook watched you remove your sodden panties, dropping them on the floor and returning to his lap. Lowering yourself, you let the soaked folds of your center gently brush his cock. Jungkook hissed as though you had wounded him, straining against the cuffs like he could break them.
Immediately, you stopped. “Jungkook?” you asked, gaze roaming his face in concern. “Are you still okay?”
“Yeah,” he breathed, practically panting. “Fuck, yeah. I’m good, but I need to be inside you. Now.”
“So impatient,” you tsk-d, reaching to grasp his cock beneath you. One hand on his shoulder, you began to lower yourself on his length.
Just his tip entered at first, parting the velvet walls of your sex and making you moan. You’d already come once tonight, but with how tight you were, that seemed a distant memory. Sliding your hand lower on his cock, you dropped yourself lower to take him inside you.
Jungkook stared; transfixed by the sight of him entering your pussy. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured. “Feel stretched enough, baby? Need anything from me?”
“N-no,” you stuttered, already feeling the burn.
He looked up and arched a brow. “How about this?” he murmured, shifting his weight. “Since I can’t use my hands or my tongue on your pussy, how about I get you wet like this?”
“Like what?”
“Take your hand off my cock so you can touch yourself,” he suggested sweetly. “Put your finger in my mouth first, though. Wanna taste you.”
You obeyed, thighs trembling as you released him and brought your finger to his lips. Jungkook opened, wrapping his lips around your digit to easily suck. You inhaled at the sight, thoroughly aroused as you felt yourself slip another inch on his length.
Jungkook released your finger. “Now put that hand between your thighs,” he said, waiting for you to do so. “There you go, baby. I know how swollen your clit was when I sucked on you earlier. Is it still like that? Still puffy and needy for me?”
Slipping your hand between your legs, you circled your sex. “Yeah,” you breathed, sinking down on him another inch. “It’s still like that.”
“Good.” Jungkook smirked. “Give it a pinch, then slowly rub it.”
The second you did this, a wave of pleasure swept through you.
“Again,” Jungkook said.
You did it again.
“And again.”
This time when you did it, you felt your hips settle against his. Glancing down in surprise, you realized his cock had nestled all the way inside you – his thick girth split you so prettily, the wetness of your pussy soaked into his base.
“Oh,” you exhaled, looking up.
Jungkook’s eyes glinted. “Ride me.”
The way he spoke sparked fire in your veins, reaching for his shoulders as you slowly moved upwards. Once you were nearly empty, you dropped to take him all in one motion. You gasped at the sensation, head tipping back as you did it again.
Gripping his shoulders, you controlled the pace to slowly move up and down. You went purposefully slower, reveling in the feeling of him being inside you, the sight of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took.
Leaning onto your palms, you lifted your hips and sunk down on his cock. You swiveled your hips as you went, letting him feel how wet you were for him.
“Fuck,” Jungkook groaned, taking a deep breath.
His gaze roamed your chest, rising and falling with your hips; your cunt, swallowing him whole to drip onto his thighs. A moan left him at the sight of your clit, so swollen and pretty but unable to touch.
“Baby,” he moaned.
“Yeah?”
Sitting up straight, you let him fall from your body and repositioned yourself above him. Sinking down on his length, you slid both hands to his hair and eagerly kissed him. Your chests brushed as you rode him, rolling your hips over his massive cock.
Growing impatient, Jungkook finally snapped his hips upwards. “Please,” he panted, lips dropping down your throat. “Please undo the cuffs, Y/N. I need to fuck you.”
“Okay,” you agreed, reaching beside you to grab the key.
It took you a few seconds to unlock a cuff and the moment you did, Jungkook moved. He didn’t wait for the other one to be released – pushing you back on the bed, he hiked your leg up and buried himself in you to the hilt. Lips parted, you stared at him dazed as he suddenly filled you. The stretch felt so fucking good, your eyes watered.
Softening, Jungkook brushed a kiss to your lips. “That okay?” he murmured, reaching down for your clit.
It was swollen, like he said and your eyes nearly rolled back as he began to play with you.
“Oh my god, yes,” you mumbled, stretched out beneath him. “Jungkook?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck me hard.”
His gaze immediately darkened. “Alright, baby.”
Knowing exactly what you meant by this, Jungkook pulled out. He flipped you over, pulling your ass in the air so your pussy was on display. His fingers swiped at your entrance, feeling how soaked you were before he lined himself up and plunged inside you. It was a more intense stretch this way – his cock hit so deeply like this, filling you up with a despondency you craved.
“Oh my god,” you gasped, chest pressed to the bed.
Your thighs were eagerly spread, Jungkook’s hands on your hips while he fucked himself into you. Each time he filled you left you groaning, your pussy deliciously stretched by his massive cock.
“That’s it,” Jungkook grunted, fingers gripping your waist. “God, you take my cock so well, baby. Such a good little slut for me.”
He paused, waiting for your reaction and you moaned in response. You weren’t always in the mood, but sometimes all you wanted was to be called his filthy whore. Wanted Jungkook to use your pussy like his cum dump, fucking you over and over like he couldn’t control it.
“That’s right,” you groaned, spreading your legs wider. “All yours, baby.”
Jungkook grunted and spanked you, jolting you forward. Your ass quivered when he did this again, timing his efforts with each thrust of his cock.
“Fuck yeah, it’s for me,” he panted. “Got you on all fours like a bitch in heat. You just want to be stuffed full of cock – right, baby? Want your pussy fucked full of cum?”
“Yes,” you moaned, pushing back. “Full of your cum, Jungkook. Oh.”
“That’s right – only my cum,” he said, satisfied. “Only my dick knows how to fuck you this good.”
You moaned, unable to be more coherent than that.
“You think the rest of the floor can hear you?” Jungkook mused, his hips never wavering. “Think they can hear you moaning my name, making such a sweet mess of my cock? Think they’re all jealous they don’t have a perfect pussy like yours?”
“Fuck, Jungkook!” you gasped, arching your back.
He spanked you again. “Hope they can all hear what a perfect slut you are. How nicely you take a big cock, how much you like being fucked full of my cum.”
Reaching down, Jungkook slipped an arm under your chest. He lifted you against him, pressing his chest to yours from behind. His hips never ceased, his cock continuing to split you open while he fucked like that. You could feel yourself quivering, core clenching hard on his cock while you neared your next orgasm.
Which is why it felt so sudden when Jungkook decided to pull out.
“Jungkook!” you gasped, sagging in his hold.
Your head spun, wanting – needing­ – to come and if it weren’t for his arms around you, you would have collapsed to the sheets. Jungkook kissed your neck once before he turned you around and laid you down on the bed. It was necessary for him to take the lead since your thighs were still shaking.
Balancing his weight on his palms, Jungkook gave you a shy smile. “I just…” He shook his head. “I wanted to see you.”
Melting at his words, you stared back at him. His gaze was so open, so hopeful that you lifted your arms and pulled his chest down to yours.
“Wanna see you too,” you whispered, kissing him softly.
Jungkook reached down to position himself between your thighs and this time when he filled you, it felt different. He began to move slowly, rolling his hips while he kissed down your throat.
Each thrust he gave was deep, purposeful, and designed to complete you. It did – no, he did, you realized as your arms slid around him. When he fucked you like that, each roll of his hips brushed your clit and soon enough you found yourself right back on the edge.
“Jungkook,” you groaned, pressing your face to his shoulder.
Your fingers dug into his skin, hips chasing his while he buried himself inside you. Over and over, his cock hit that place deep inside which made you cry out beneath him.
“Oh,” you gasped, clutching him tighter. “Jungkook.”
Dropping to one elbow, he began to fuck you faster. Grabbing one of your knees, he hiked this over your waist and began to thrust harder, driving you towards your orgasm.
“Love you,” he murmured, hips chasing yours. “Fuck.” Jungkook sighed. “So glad I can say that now.”
“Love you too,” you whispered, fingers curling into his hair.
With each thrust he gave, you felt yourself closer to falling apart. His heat was everywhere – on your lips, on your neck, with his thick cock inside you. It was nearly unbearable, how full of him you felt.
“Jungkook,” you whimpered, burying your face in his chest. “P-please. Come inside me. Wanna feel you.”
“Yeah?” His breath hitched. “You want me to fill you up? Get this pussy all messy with my cum?”
“Please, Jungkook,” you gasped.
“You first,” he demanded, thrusting into you with an intensity which stole the breath from your lungs.
Gasping him by the shoulders, you felt yourself clench as he fucked you harder. When you came, it was with his name on your lips and his cock inside you. Feeling you clench tightly around him, Jungkook swore and gave several deep thrusts.
It was only a few seconds later you felt him release, hot spurts of cum filling up your cunt. There was so much of it, your pussy eagerly taking until it couldn’t take anymore. You felt some of it dribble out the sides, sliding to your ass from your fucked-out hole. Jungkook stayed there as long as he could, pushing his cum deeper inside you with each lazy thrust.
Your sensitivity was overwhelming but you pushed through it, wanting him to stay inside you as long as possible. Arms wrapped around him, you pulled his chest down to yours and smiled happily upwards, feeling his cock soften inside you.
Jungkook brushed a kiss to your forehead. “Y/N…”
“Yeah?”
“Can we get this other cuff off me?”
Snorting, you looked and realized he still had the cuffs attached to his left wrist. Twisting beneath him – Jungkook whined when he slipped out – you reached for the key. He immediately brightened once the cuff was released.
You grinned. “Better?”
“Better,” Jungkook said, flopping back down.
“Jungkook!” you grunted when he landed on your hips.
“Hm?”
“I need to get up.”
“No, you don’t.” He pancaked on top of you and grinned. “See? Now you’re trapped.”
Laughing, you grabbed for his bare ass. “I really have to get up,” you said. “All your cum is still inside me, Jeon.”
“Damn, okay,” he said, shaking his head. “If that’s a hint, fine. I’ll eat it out of you, just give me a minute.”
Your eyes widened, intrigued by this idea but you pushed it aside. “No – now, Jeon,” you said.
Jungkook grinned. “Alright,” he exhaled, rolling off. “But come back here soon!”
“Or else what?” you said, swinging your legs over the bed.
“Or else I’ll be lonely.”
When he exaggeratedly pouted, you laughed.
Stretching both arms overhead, you made your way towards the bathroom. Your entire body felt sated; full of that heavy-limbed sensation which only came from a mind-blowing orgasm. At the bathroom you paused and looked over your shoulder.
Jungkook remained on the bed, hair rumpled and clothing still on the floor. He looked gorgeous, but that wasn’t what first crossed your mind. The first thing you thought was you wanted more nights like this in the future.
Not just the sex part (although that would be nice), but this. Him in your bed, ready to go to sleep next to you. Ready to wake up in the morning. Laughing and talking and just being together.
It was easy to picture yourself doing this with him five years from now, twenty, even fifty. Realizing this, you paused and waited for the panic to come.
Nothing happened and after a moment, you exhaled.
Jungkook glanced up from the bed, caught you looking and smiled – which sent a wave of rightness through you. This might be it, you realized. He might be it.
Oddly enough, the thought didn’t scare you at all.
© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.
Author’s Note: Thank you very much for reading!
THE ART OF MORE CHARACTER ASK GAME
3K notes · View notes
rreyie · 4 years ago
Text
aot nsfw headcanons- part 1
warnings- details about dicks, kinks, just your standard nsfw
characters: eren, jean, armin, bertholdt, reiner, connie
a/n: somebody please throw a bible at my head, i need it
⚔️ EREN YEAGER ⚔️
- dominant for most of the time, however he will want to be a sub sometimes
- length: 6.5 when hard. skinnier than girthier
- hair: this man is UNRULY when it comes to pubes. seriously. he hasn’t trimmed or shaved down there in like a year.
-ROUGH. VERY VERY ROUGH. however if you ask him to, he will go slower and more sensual
- def has a light bondage kink. he’s cool with him being in some minor stuff like a gag and a few ropes but totally prefers you being all tied up.
- likes to be on a receiving end with oral. however he will give if you’re begging him to.
- bondage also helps with his dominance kink. he likes the way you feel helpless during the act when he’s got you tied up.
- is cool with semi public sex. you both have done it n the supply closet at least twice in your lifetime. he loves the thrill of being caught.
- his load is average on all levels. decent size, decent thickness.
⚔️ JEAN KIRSTEIN ⚔️
- honestly? he’s a switch. he’ll probably prefer to be dominant more of the time but you CANNOT tell me this man would not love being dominated once in a while.
- however when he makes up his mind about if he wants to be a dom or sub, he is very stubborn and persistent about carrying out that role. he will not want to change.
-length: solid 7 when hard. he claims it’s 8 but he’s wrong. however he does have a nice vein going through it. it’s very visually appealing overall.
- hair: decently trimmed, he’s pretty good with hygiene down there.
- shower sex kind of person. he likes the feeling of the water dripping down his back as he’s railing you into the wall.
- loud. very very loud. you can’t make this man shut up in bed. his moans range from high pitched squeals to throaty groans.
-loves it when you moan. that’ll make him cum ten times harder. likes to know that you’re enjoying yourself.
-likes it for someone to run his fingers through his hair. even if you do that on a casual day when you’re just trying to hang out, he will probably get turned on and pitch a tent.
- this boy is GREEDY with oral.
- his load is pretty big but on the thinner side.
- will pepper you with small kisses after, but sometimes he is the one who needs to be babied after. his favorite thing to do after is spoon, him preferably being the little spoon.
⚔️ ARMIN ARLERT ⚔️
- sub. though if he’s had a rough day, he can be a bit rough. he will always ask you how you are doing during the act if he is like this.
- 6 when hard. poor thing isn’t really endowed but he’s read books and articles on how to use it properly. no veins or anything in sight.
- hair: very nicely trimmed, sometimes shaved. he doesn’t really like the feeling of hair down there and he feels like it gets in the way.
- most of the time he’s very slow and likes to take stuff in slowly. but like i said he will go rough and quick when in the mood.
- vanilla for the most part on his behalf. but he’s down to experiment.
- however one secret kink of his are toys... he won’t admit it out of embarrassment though
- his tip is SUPER sensitive. even if you accidentally brush on it in a time you’re not tryna get freaky, he will let out a small, breathy moan.
- his moans are either super loud or super quiet, no in between. his breaths are very quick during. he will moan in your ear too.
- praising is a big thing in the bedroom. he will compliment everything.
- examples: “gah!- y/n, h-how are you doing this so well?” “you have such a perky chest!” “i love the way your pretty eyes roll into the back of your head when i’m about to make you come”
- in terms of aftercare, he is the KING of aftercare. he will do anything you ask of him- fetch you a snack, get you some water, wrap you into a big blanket burrito, snuggle, another round, anything
⚔️ CONNIE SPRINGER ⚔️
- switch, really doesn’t care a whole lot about that. actually prefers if you’re both on the same level of control.
- 6.5, will joke that it’s minuscule to his friends. he’s got a vein or two going through it. very skinny.
- hair: depends. if he has time to shave he will but if he can’t find time in his schedule to shave then he won’t.
- this man thrusts at lightning speed. like jesus please slow down. not really into rough sex but thrusts fast without trying to
- i feel like he would want a threesome at some point in his life, maybe even an orgy. if he was, he would invite sasha and jean over, with their consent obviously.
- the most vocal out of everyone on this list. doesn’t exactly grunt but has very vocal, somewhat high pitched moans. drives him insane (in a good way) when his partner moans.
- nipples are a big thing for him. he likes getting his played with, and LOVES yours. literally he will go full on “🤱”
- doesn’t last long, but has incredible stamina. his record high was 5 rounds. he averages about 5-7 minutes per round.
- he will go red at any move you try to make on him- a flirtatious comment, a touch, the way you speak, he gets hard with ease
- soft spots include the nape of his neck, around his nipples
- he thinks aftercare is stupid... until he actually tries it. then he’ll understand the point of aftercare a lot better. similar to jean, he likes to be babied sometimes.
⚔️ REINER BRAUN ⚔️
- dominant. very dominant. will not sub ever.
- lord if you decide to get down and dirty with this man, be prepared to not walk for a few days. he’s 11 when hard with a few nice veins going down the sides. his tip is slightly darker than his shaft. and jesus does this man have GIRTH
- hair: like eren, he is considerably hairy down there and could care less.
- my guy loves getting his balls played with. doing that while jacking him off drives him to the fucking edge.
- grunts. only moans when he’s about to cum. these grunts are undeniably sexy though, they’re throaty and low pitched.
- likes when you rub your hands on his stubble, or if your hands make contact with his face while doing the do.
- degrading, but will only degrade you. he gets insecure if you degrade him.
- “you filthy slut, you’re hungry for my cock tonight aren’t you?” is one of his favorite lines
- will purposely ask you questions while you’re giving him head so he can hear you choke on his cock.
- biting and hickeys are a giant turn on for him. biting at his neck, chest and abs are the best. he will give you hickeys and show them off to the boys.
- prefers to do it on the bed, or just a soft surface in general. loves fluffy blankets and pillows.
- HIS ORAL GAME IS TOP TIER. he will make you come like 3 times within 10 minutes.
- lasts a long time, maybe 15 minutes. after that he is overly sensitive and will whine a lot if you try to make any moves after.
- another aftercare king. loves to make you lay on top of him, both of you fully nude, and put a fluffy blanket over the top of you two and drift off to sleep.
⚔️ BERTHOLDT HOOVER ⚔️
- my guy is called “bottomholdt” for a reason. seriously, he adores a dom partner.
- around 8 inches. a singular vein going through the side.
-hair: literally bald down there. shaves once per week.
- whines and whimpers a lot, they’re all pretty quiet since he is self conscious about his moans.
- is willing to be pegged. and at one point he will beg you to peg him, and when you do, it’s eternal bliss for him.
- he tries his best at oral, he really does, but he just can’t make it happen. he comes quick when you give him a blowjob.
- like connie, he gets flustered at the smallest thing. he also gets hard easily.
- one time you two were in his bunk, and you were teasing him, and a tent quickly pitched as reiner walked in
- needless to say he was tormented by reiner for the rest of the week.
- lasts 10 minutes at best.
- likes to draw you two a bath afterwards with plenty of bubbles and let’s you relax on his side.
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sovonight · 2 years ago
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i’m SO disappointed in the rollo printer i bought, i was willing to spend more on it bc i thought it’d be worth it over getting a phomemo/etc bc the rollo is flexible with the label sizes/types it accepts and the phomemo printers aren’t, but the rollo print quality is just. terrible. i wanted to use it to print both shipping labels and packaging art stickers, and it can only just handle the former. like i know it’s 203 dpi, and things will come out pixelly, but the printer does it in the most unnecessarily cRUNCHY way possible
and get this. they provide a sample shipping label pdf for you to test print, right? i do that, and it comes out CRISP and CLEAR, and i’m like great i made a good $180+ purchase! this will be so fast and efficient now! but then--when i print ACTUAL REAL LABELS--it comes out fuzzy and difficult to read. the barcodes are fine, at least, so it’s functional for machines, but a human reading an international label better know the standard text on there by heart
and it gets worse. they explain this poor quality away (they make this acknowledgement in the setup guide even, suggesting that everyone’s complained about it a billion times before) by saying that other sites don’t export their shipping labels at the same high quality as their sample shipping label, so of course other shipping labels will look worse. but i’m not printing rollo’s singular sample label when i mail packages, am i??? AM I, ROLLO??
so. i open photoshop. i’m like “i will figure out how to make these stupid “high res” pdfs that my measly 203 dpi thermal printer requires to perform well”. i export photoshop pdfs at the correct size and the highest quality possible--
--and it makes no fucking difference.
SO. I EMAIL SUPPORT. I’m like uhhh your website says the rollo works best with “high quality” pdfs, can you please divulge what you mean by “high quality,” how to obtain this “high quality,” and tell me how you created your “high quality” sample label, which is the only thing the rollo will print properly? and they gave me a few things to try, NONE of which addressed the actual file creation/export process (though tbf I detailed my pdf export process in my initial email and maybe they didn’t address it bc i’m supposed to assume that my process was correct! idk!), and none of which improved the print quality at all
(and by the way, they have a secret, higher res driver? it’s not advertised or mentioned openly, you have to go under a very specific question in the support docs to find it yourself, or ask the right question for customer service to link it for you. anyway, it does additional image processing on a pdf before the rollo prints it, and not only does it also suck, but it only offers a 4x6in print size. you may recall that i originally bought the rollo bc it can accept custom label sizes at or below 4″ in width. WHY WOULD ROLLO MAKE A “HIGH RES” DRIVER THAT ONLY TAKES A 4x6 PRINT--)
so now. for the past several days. i’ve been staring at the phomemo website wondering if i should throw another $60-70 out there to get a printer and prove to myself that i’m not crazy, that a normal 203 dpi printer should be able to print things better than this, that i’m RIGHT to think the rollo fucking SUCKS. but tbh my room is so low on device space at this point that even adding in a tiny 5x5in thermal printer could drive me to madness
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Sweet Pandemonium - Gally (The Maze Runner) Part 16 of 16
Welp, this is it I guess. I’ve never finished a story of this size before, so ngl, I’m proud of myself. This story was originally gonna be a short possibly two parter imagine, I never intended for this to be 16 chapters long lmao. AND, I didn’t do much pre planning either. I kinda just made things up as I wrote, which is why this story is such a shit show. But a big thank you to the supporters of this shit show, it means a whole fucking lot. Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming...
TW: Page 250
I keep forgetting to tag, fucking hell: @multifandom-fangirl4​  @dxllysoutsider​ @gladerscake​
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( not my gif )
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Shakily changing into a stolen guard’s uniform, you found yourself more nervous than you probably should’ve been. 
You just dreaded going back, now with the threat of everyone you care about dying. 
Before, when it was just you risking your life, it was easier. You didn’t really care if you died if you could save someone else, and you knew that mentality was not the healthiest. But compared to Gally, Thomas, or even Brenda, you didn’t feel like you mattered as much. 
What could you possibly have to offer that would be greater than anyone else’s contribution?
“You ready?” Gally smiled at you.
Ah, but being able to be with Gally overpowered those feelings.
“Yup. How do I look?” You teased, jokingly twirling around to show off the heavy uniform.
“Pretty damn good, I gotta say.”
You brushed off the butterflies in your stomach with a scoff. “Well, a good uniform can make anyone look good, I think.”
“I mean, sure. But damn, you really pull it off.”
Your lighthearted conversation was cut short by a sharp cough, looking over to see Newt with an annoyed look on his face. “You guys are bloody disgusting, excuse me while I go vomit.”
“Oh, come on, man. Look at her and tell me she doesn’t look nice.” Gally pointed to you.
“Jesus, keep it in your pants, mate.”
You stifled a laugh as Gally turned a light shade of red, ignoring the suggestive comment with an eye roll. “I’m just sayin’.”
Newt walked away from the amusing exchange, still stifling a few coughs. You couldn’t help but worry. “Does he seem a bit off to you?” You asked. Gally looked to Newt then back to you, the sad look on his face giving you a guarantee that something was wrong.
You would’ve prodded further if it weren’t for Thomas giving the signal that it was time to start infiltrating the W.C.K.D. building.
The way it was planned, Thomas and Teresa would walk in the front together, meeting up with Newt, soon you and Gally would find them, making sure to keep a natural distance away. Brenda’s job seemed the easiest, to you at least, all she had to do was steal a bus. You prayed that Frypan didn’t fall to his death, and that Jorge would get back in time with the Berg.
“You’re worrying.”
You rolled your eyes at Gally’s tone. “Yeah, of course I’m worrying. When do I not worry?”
“Not as much as you’d think.”
Your felt your heavy breaths waft back into your face from the helmet you were wearing not allowing much to circulate. Seriously, how could people do this all day for a job? You ignored the queasy feeling in your gut as you found Teresa with the other two “guards.”
Entering into a stairwell, Gally suddenly stopped the group. “Hold on, hold on.” He said, looking over some sort of electric box. “I can get in here.”
“Kay, throw me the walkie.” Thomas ordered, motioning for you to follow with him to clear the area.
You heard Newt cough heavily as you descended down the stairs with your gun, right behind Thomas. “How long has Newt been like this?” You whispered.
“Now’s not the time, Y/N.” Thomas said, scanning next floor to see that it was clear.
“Thomas.” You pleaded.
Thomas huffed, an annoyed yet mournful face overtaking his features. You knew his answer wouldn’t be good, and you found yourself dreading what he would say. “He’s got the Flare...he’s been like this for awhile now. I just found out myself.” He frowned.
You cast your gaze downwards, tears already welling up in your eyes as you realized what this meant. Thomas didn’t give you a chance to respond as he quickly ascended the stairs back to the others, holding up the radio. “Frypan, we’re in. How you doing?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting there.” Fry voiced. “Tell Minho hi for me.”
“Hang in there, buddy.”
Gally soon got into the box, quickly looking through the various labels until finding the right one. “This’ll work.” He assured.
“Okay, Brenda, what’s your status?” Thomas spoke through the radio.
“Working on it.” She answered.
“Copy. Just make sure you’re ready on your end.”
“Don’t worry, you know I’m gonna be there.”
Gally quickly set up the hacking signal up to the correct wires, shutting the box door with a grin. “Alright, let’s go.” Everyone quickly bounded down the stairs, stopping at the door at the bottom. “Lawrence, we’re in position.” Gally radioed, only to be greeted with silence. “Lawrence?” 
“If he doesn’t turn those bloody cameras off, then we’re gonna be in big trouble.” Newt expressed everyone’s thoughts.
Gally looked nervous, but peeking though the little window in the door, he huffed. “He’ll do his part.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing heavily before readjusting the mask part of the helmet over your face. “Let’s get this over with.”
Teresa reluctantly placed her thumb over the ID scanner, and Gally quickly encouraged everyone through the door to cautiously speed through the halls to get to where Minho was being held. 
It didn’t take long to find the holding bay with Teresa leading the group, but you didn’t know if getting in would be easy with a bunch of guards inside.
“Teresa, stay back.” You ordered, gently pushing her behind you. The last thing you guys needed was for her getting in the crossfire.
“Ready?” Gally looked to everyone, they all nodded, clutching their weapons tightly.
As soon as the door opened, shots rang out from your side, making work of all the guards in no time. The element of surprise probably helped. “Huh, that was surprisingly easy.” You chuckled breathlessly, almost proud of yourself for getting some decent shots in, the recoil packed a punch though.
“Yeah? Don’t let it go to your head.” Newt sassed.  
Seeing all the kids exit their holding cells with looks of hopefulness, almost made you tear up. What could’ve these poor innocent souls had to endure by the hands of W.C.K.D. You risked a glace at your cousin, and you couldn’t tell how she felt. Did she feel joy that these kids were finally getting rescued? Or all that she saw in those kids was possible cure, dehumanizing them for the sake of her morality? 
You didn’t want to think about it anymore.
“The vault. How do I get in?” Gally’s voice caught your attention. The person he was holding a gun to simply said that he couldn’t. “Guys, this might take some time.” He voiced after looking over the heavy vault door.
You looked around and furrowed your brows when you saw one key person missing. “Where’s Minho? He’s supposed to be here.”
Thomas scowled, storming up to Teresa. “Where is he?”
Teresa quickly went to the computers, looking up his file. “Someone’s moved him up to the medical wing. Thomas, that’s on the other side of the building.”
Thomas sighed. “Okay, take me to him, right now.”
“Alright, I’m coming with you.” You and Newt both stepped up.
“No. No, you guys have to wait with Gally for the serum.”
“You can’t do this on your own.” Newt argued. “And Minho comes first, remember?”
“Just go, we’re wasting time!” Gally called out. “I’ll get the serum, we’ll meet you out back.”
Thomas nodded to Newt, but turned to you with a remorseful look on his face. “No, no, you’re not making me stay.” You expressed. “I’m part of this as much as he is.”
“Y/N, you’ve done so much for us already. I can’t ask you to do this.”
“I’m offering.”
“No, please. Stay here. We’ll be okay.”
You scowled, exhaling sharply. “Fine. Keep an eye on Newt.” You whispered, Thomas nodding then running out with Newt and Teresa. “Please, be careful.”
“They’ll be fine, just watch my six and the kids.” Gally said, starting to saw into the door.
You stood guard at the door, impatiently tapping your foot as you worried about your friends, especially Newt. You wished he had stayed with you and Gally so you could give him the serum as soon as the vault opened. You knew it wouldn’t cure him, but it would give him time, and that’s what he needed right now.
You heard Gally’s saw stop, smiling ear to ear when the vault door finally opened. You went inside to help Gally load up all the vials, the whole room glowing blue from the color of the serum. “Come on, we need to hurry.”
The room was almost empty of its contents, but staring at one of the only vials left, you debated. Emotion overtook logic as you grabbed a singular vial of the serum, gathering courage and turning around, only to be stopped by Gally. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I have to find Newt.”
Gally looked at the serum clutched tight in your hand, putting the pieces together quickly. “No, no way.”
“Who know how much time he had left? This can help him.”
“It’s too dangerous.” He said slowly.
“I can’t do nothing while I know I can help him.”
“You’re not doing nothing. You’re gonna help these kids get to Brenda. I’m not letting you.”
“I wasn’t asking.” You said bluntly, a determined look in your eyes that made Gally speechless. He had seen that look before, and he finally realized he wouldn’t be able to convince you to stay with him.
Gally quickly pulled you into a hug with his free arm, placing a rough kiss to the top of your head. “You better come back to me.”
You smiled softly. “I will.” 
And with that, you took off without a glance behind you, determined to save your friend from a terrible fate. Of course, if you had glanced behind you to see Gally’s face, you probably wouldn’t been complied to stay. But you had to help Newt, he couldn’t become one of those things. You couldn’t save Gally all those months ago, couldn’t save Jeff...or Chuck. You didn’t want history to repeat itself.
You followed the signs that led you toward where the medical bay would be, making sure to avoid being sighted at all costs. You felt silly hiding in small confined places that made your legs cramp up and wish you had more flexibility or stamina at least. It definitely didn’t help that alarms were blaring all around you, making you believe you actually did get caught. But hearing a few guards talk loudly about how intruders were heading to the medical bay, you realized it was just Thomas who must’ve fucked up, or worse Teresa.
This was going to get a lot harder...
All the guards seemed to rally to the medical bay to capture Thomas and Newt, it wasn’t too difficult to blend in with everyone else distracted from the chaos of it all.
You heard gunshots and glass smashing down the halls of the medical wing. Those boys sure were making it obvious, weren’t they?
You clutched you gun to your chest, not feeling very confident about taking on the guards by yourself, but when you saw your friends with a newly escaped Minho struggling to avoid the guards, you knew you had to do something.
You saying a silent prayer, even though you didn’t know if there was any being out there that heard it, gave you some sort of comfort enough to charge the guards that were gaining on your friends. Shooting at will, not even sure you were hitting any guards, you heard a few men fall to the floor with pained groans.
You didn’t have time to be proud of yourself before you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head, immediately falling to the floor yourself with a yelp.
You looked up to see the annoyed face of Jensen, him leaning down and roughly grabbing onto you and hoisting you up to stand. “You’re a real pain the arse, aren’t you, youngblood?”
Teresa jumped when she heard the doors slam opened, gasping when she saw you on the floor with a bloodied face in front of Jensen. “What the hell, Jensen?”
“Look who I found at the med wing, taking out guards left and right.” Jensen sneered.
“I said alive, Jensen!” Teresa fumed, looking at your almost unconscious form.
“I know what you said, Teresa. She’s breathing, isn’t she?”
Teresa scowled at the man before leaning down to delicately lift you to your feet, ungracefully dragging you to a gurney from the lack of help with your dead weight. “Get out. Thomas is still out there.”
“Your wish is my command, my lady.” Jensen bowed sarcastically, turning on his heel to walk out of the room.
Teresa turned her attention back to you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” She whispered, quickly fixing up a wet cloth to wipe away at the blood leaking from your nose and mouth.
You groaned at the pained pressure of the cloth, weakly pushing Teresa’s hand away from your face. “Hurts...” You mumbled.
“I thought you were supposed to stay with Gally.” Teresa fussed, ignoring your discomfort to clean your face. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“I needed to help Newt...” You frowned, holding up the serum that was once safely in your pocket.
Teresa sighed sadly. “It wouldn’t have saved him.”
“But it would’ve given him time.”
Teresa stayed silent for a moment, deciding what to do with you. You furrowed your brows when you felt her strap you to the gurney tightly. “What’re you...?”
“I can’t have you wondering off, plus, you might have a concussion.” Teresa said, inserting a needle into your arm, pulling blood from your veins.
“You need my blood to keep me from wondering off?” You glared. Teresa avoiding your eyes as she readied another needle. “You’re still looking for a cure...even though there is none.”
“I’m just going to run some tests.” She answered simply.
You bit your lip when you felt tears well up in your eyes, gently banging your head down onto the gurney in frustration. How the hell were you gonna escape now?
Gally could’ve sworn his heart almost stopped when he saw his friends jump out of that window. Did these guys have a death wish? But what scared him even more if that there were only three, not four. Please, tell me she made it... “Where’s Y/N?” Gally tried not to shout.
Thomas eyes widened. “What do you mean? We left her with you!”
“She went to find you guys, to give that shank the serum.” Gally pointed to Newt.
Thomas clenched his fists, feeling anger well up in his gut. “Teresa wouldn’t let her get hurt. If anything, she needs her. We’ll get her back, Gally.”
“I know, cause I’m not leaving without her.”
It felt like hours before you talked to Teresa again, her being so fixated on her tests tubes and microscopes. “Any luck in finding your make believe cure?” You teased mockingly. Teresa stayed silent, watching through her scientific equipment for any sign that her cousin blood did anything to get rid of the Flare virus. Teresa slammed her hands on the table when the blood wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. “Guess I’m not the one, huh?”
Teresa glared at you, not appreciating your irritating commentary. She chose to move on to Thomas’ blood that she took back in the church, and her eyes widened when she saw his blood destroying the Flare virus.
Just when she finished making the first serum that she knew would work, the whole building shook as a boom echoed around the whole city.
You strained your neck to look behind you, seeing an almost mushroom cloud of fire at the wall that protected the city. “What the hell...?” Your eyes widened even more when you could faintly see a swarm of people charging through the gap in the wall, quickly realizing that the people were fighting and destroying everything. “Teresa, we have to get out of here.” You said, noticing everyone outside the lab room where thinking the same thing and trying to making a quick escape.
Teresa frowned, storming over to you and removing your restraints, and quickly going back to her experiments. “I can’t.”
You quickly removed yourself from the gurney. “What do you mean? The city’s getting raided. They’ll burn this place down, with us in it.”
“Thomas is the cure, Y/N!” She yelled, making you speechless. “His blood is destroying the virus! He can save us all. I need him.”
“Teresa...if all went as planned, he’s long gone by now.”
“No, he can’t be. Newt is dying and Thomas won’t abandon him, you know that. He’ll be slowing them down. I have to get through to him.” Teresa exhaled shakily. “You can go if you want, I’m staying. I have to.”
You looked to the exit then back to Teresa, your cousin, your only family. In the past, most choices you made were clearly the right ones. But now...you had no idea what to do.
You wanted to choose Teresa...you really did. But you still had the temporary serum, you still had the chance to help Newt. “I’m sorry, Teresa.” You voiced, gaining her attention. “I want to stay with you. But I need to find our friends.”
Teresa’s face fell, frowning. “I understand.”
“I’ll come back for you.” Your voice wavered, feeling intense emotion wash over you, suddenly getting the feeling to tell her you loved her. But you cut the goodbye short, running out of the room and rushed to leave the building.
Thankfully, everyone was so focused on packing up to leave, you had no trouble escaping. But you almost didn’t want to leave the building when you saw the hell on earth that was just outside. But you pushed on, making sure you kept the hold on the vial safely in your hand.
You almost jumped when you heard your cousin’s voice echo around the city’s speakers.
“Thomas? Can you hear me? I need you to listen to me. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I need you to come back. Thomas, you can save Newt. There’s still time for him. There’s a reason Brenda isn’t sick anymore. It’s your blood, do you understand? She isn’t sick because...you cured her. She doesn’t have to be the only one. You just need to come back, and this will all finally be over. Please, just come back to me. I know you’ll-”
The speakers suddenly cut out, as almost all power in the city was down.
You suddenly felt dread wash over you, you had to find Thomas.
Running through the city as fast as you could, you wished you were a Runner, then maybe your legs wouldn’t cramp up every time you exerted yourself. You felt the heat of fires and explosions as you sprinted, dodging multiple guards and people fighting each other. This wasn’t supposed to happen...
Finally getting to a clearing, you stopped to cease the wheezing in your heavy breaths, until you heard screaming. You quickly rounded the corner to see Thomas and Newt...fighting each other.
No...you were too late...
You ran to them, quickly trying to pull Newt off of Thomas, only for his attention to turn to you and tackle you to the ground. “Newt!” You yelled, tearing up quickly at the sight of his dead eyes and Flared up face. “Newt...”
Thomas pushed Newt off of you, giving you the chance to take the vial out of your pocket, but the new Crank got free of Thomas’ hold and attacked you again, the vial violently being thrown from your hand. You internally cringed when you heard a shatter. Fuck...
You felt your vision get blurry when Newt smashed your head against the pavement, the pain resonating throughout your skull and making you feel lightheaded.
You didn’t know what happened after that, you just woke up and Newt wasn’t attacking you anymore. You didn’t hear the sound of struggle anymore. You looked to your left to see Brenda, a look of pained shock on her face. Then you realized, Thomas was sitting next to Newt. 
“No...” You whispered.
You crawled over to Thomas, looking down at Newt’s body. You could barely see anything due to the tears that welled up in your eyes, making the world around you blurry. You couldn’t do anything but stare numbly at your fallen friend, unaware that Thomas had left.
“Y/N.”
You knew that voice belonged to Gally, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Or do anything when Frypan wrapped his arms around you to give you some sort of comfort, him feeling the same grief as you, if not worse.
Gally felt the pain of the loss too, but seeing everything being burned down too quickly, he had to speak up. “This place is gonna take us down with it if we don’t get outta here...”
Fry gently pulled you away from Newt’s body, reluctantly motioning for Minho to follow. “Come on.” Fry rubbed your shoulder.
You were basically on autopilot on the way to the Berg, where Jorge, Vince, and the kids were waiting to take off. “We have to find Thomas. He went back to the holding facility.” Brenda voiced worryingly.
“That damn kid.” Vince huffed.
The numbness went away enough to remember that you told Teresa that you’d be back for her. You had to find her again, but the Berg was already being lifted up into the air. In your heart, you knew wherever Thomas was, Teresa was most likely with him. That’s something you could rely on, at least.
“Hey...” Gally sat next to you, gently holding your hand. You could faintly see tear marks down his face, his eyes a shade of red and watery. “We’ll find them.”
You wished you believed that, but after everything that’s happened, you felt having hope was childish. You couldn’t bear to hope just for things to end terribly.
“I think I got him!” You heard Jorge shout, everyone, including you, rallying to the front to look out the Berg’s window.
“Yeah, that’s him. I got the hatch.” Brenda said, quickly springing into action.
“Alright, I got him. I got him.” Jorge said, proceeding to carefully turn the Berg around so the now open hatch was facing the burning building roof. “I can’t get any closer!”
Everyone crowded the hatch, calling out for Thomas and Teresa on the roof, reaching out their hands to grab them. Quickly noticing that he was injured badly, you started to reach out as well. “Thomas! Teresa! Come on!”
“Get closer!” Teresa called out.
“Jump!” Vince yelled, his body almost half out of the aircraft trying to reach.
“We gotta get closer!” Gally yelled to Jorge.
“Come on, reach!”
The Berg finally got close enough to where Teresa could help Thomas onto the hatch, everyone quickly pulling him inside. You looked back to Teresa, holding out your hand as far as you could. “Your turn, jump!” You called out. You furrowed your brows in confusion when Teresa made no effort to move, not even to reach out for you. You could see the debate in her eyes, wondering if she actually deserved to live or not. “Don’t leave me!”
Teresa’s eyes softened, almost bringing her to tears upon hearing that short but impactful sentence. In a matter of a few seconds, the next building over was destroyed, large chunks of debris falling, making the roof collapse into itself, taking your cousin with it.
“No!” You sobbed loudly, ripping apart your vocal cords and feeling your heart break in two.
The Berg quickly left the destroyed area, bringing you all back to their base to pack up and finally go to a place called the “Safe Haven.”
You fell back, feeling grief and guilt weigh you down. I shouldn’t have left her...she would be here if I had just stayed...
You looked to see that Thomas passed out, but he was alive. Brenda and Gally quickly patched him up, but he would have to be better treated when the Berg arrived.
Gally just sat next to you the whole ride, not saying anything, not even attempting to give you comforting touches in fear that it would just make things worse, he just sat there to let you know he was there for you.
Everything felt like it was moving too fast, like time sped up without warning or giving you time to adjust. It made you feel nauseous, but you had nothing in your stomach to throw up, besides bile, you which you did upchuck. You huffed at the burning feeling in your throat. “Damn it...”
Gally was right by your side, rubbing your back and telling you everything would be okay. But it wouldn’t be okay. You lost your close friend, and then you lost your only family that you had left. You couldn’t help the new flow of tears, Gally quickly pulling you close to lean on his chest. “It’s okay. Let it out...” He said softly.
“I could’ve...I could’ve...” You hiccupped.
“There’s nothing you could’ve done, sweetheart.” Gally hugged you tighter, feeling your body rack with heavy cries.
Hours later, you finally calmed down, the tears ran out a long time ago. But you noticed the machine hum of the Berg stopped. “We’re here!” Jorge called out, making you flinch at the sudden shout. 
“Come on, help me get Thomas situated.” Vince called out, gathering the group to carry him, including Gally.
You stepped out of the Berg to immediately smell a slight salty scent, you never smelled anything like it. And you heard an unfamiliar sound, almost like white noise. It was just after sunset, but it was still a little light out. But you instantly recognized the light tan sandy ground, the water the stretched out for miles and miles to the horizon.
You’d never seen a beach before, not even before your memory wipe before the Maze. It was beautiful, but you would appreciate it better without the rotting feeling of grief weighing on your shoulders.
You walked to where you saw Vince take Thomas, stopping right outside the entrance of the wooden hut. “Is he okay?” You asked softly.
“He’ll be okay.” Vince answered. “He should wake up soon, but I have to go and make sure things have been taken care of while I’ve been gone.” And with that, Vince walked away with a fast pace.
Minho then exited the hut, meeting you with wide eyes. “Hey...” He said awkwardly, making you give a tight lipped smile. “I’m...sorry, about Teresa. I know how important she was to you.”
You didn’t want to cry anymore, you were sick of crying and the thought alone made you exhausted. “I’m sorry about Newt. He...he was a good guy.”
Minho’s lip quivered slightly, but quickly covered it up with a sigh. “We all lost him.”
You brought him into a hug, not knowing what else to do. It was weird at first, you two weren’t the type to show physical affection to each other, but you felt the situation called for it. Minho hugged you back tightly, trying not to cry at the thought of never being able to hug his best friend again.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.” You sighed.
“Yeah, I think everyone is. It would be weird if they weren’t.” Minho looked past you and smiled to himself weakly. “I think I should get some sleep. I’ll see you later.” You turned to watch Minho walk off, giving Gally a slight nod as he passed him.
Gally walked up to you with a small smile. “I would ask if you’re okay, but I feel like that question is pretty obvious.”
“Yeah...” You whispered. “I’m just fucking exhausted.”
Gally frowned, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Vince already has some beds set up for us. Shall we go?”
You nodded. “That sounds nice.”
You and Gally set up your beds next to each other, at your insistent request. To be fair, in a new environment, you didn’t feel safe at all. Ironic in the “Safe Haven.”
You didn’t get a lot of sleep, constantly worrying about how Thomas was doing. Gally seemed to sense your worry. “He’ll be fine. He’s a stubborn kid.” He said, bringing you closer to him. It did seem to relax you as you fell asleep soon after, but that didn’t stop the influx of nightmares to plague your subconscious. 
The next morning, everyone was up and atom, but you and your friends seemed to have been allowed to sleep in. “Who knew waking up beside you would be so nice?” You opened your eyes to see Gally smiling softly at you. You tried not to blush, temporarily forgetting the events that happened last night.
“You guys are disgusting.” Fry suddenly voiced loudly.
“You jealous, Fry?”
“Are you kidding? Of course I am.”
You chuckled weakly at the interaction, but you sat up and stretched, looking around to see the beach lit up in its full glory. “Wow...” You whispered.
Waking up to such a beautiful sight, it did bring a small smile to your face. You wished so badly that Newt and Teresa were there to share it with everyone too, but you tried to shake those thoughts away.
Later that day, you sat beside Minho and Jorge, watching Gally help build something from afar. “He’s lucky to have you.” Minho smirked, picking at the fruit in his hand.
You smiled slightly, not truly believing it. “It’s the other way around really.”
“Well, whatever. You two are good for each other.” Minho rolled his eyes, making you chuckle. “Thomas...” You heard Minho suddenly whisper, and you looked in the same direction he was, seeing that Thomas was indeed walking through the new area.
You and Minho quickly stood up, slowly walking towards Thomas, along with everyone else behind you guys. Thomas’ eyes were tired, just like the rest of yours probably were. He didn’t smile, you couldn’t blame him. There was nothing to say, so Minho brought Thomas into a hug. You were in so much pain from the loss of your cousin, but Thomas was in love with her, you couldn’t imagine how he felt. He lost two of the most important people to him.
You hugged Thomas too, silently communicating each other’s condolences through the gesture.
That night, you and Gally sat next to each other as everyone else gathered to hear Vince speak at the bonfire that was set up, a celebration of sorts of surviving.
“We have come a long way together.” Vince started. “So many have sacrificed so much to make this place possible. Your friends, and your family. So here's to the ones who couldn't be here, here's to the friends we lost. This place is for you. It's for all of us, but this,” He held up a knife, pointing it to the large stone pillar in front of the crowd, “this is for them. So in your own time, in your own way, come make your peace. And welcome to the Safe Haven!” He cheered, the crowd following suit.
You forced yourself to smile as you held up the drink in your hand, following along with the rest of the crowd that were actually happy to be there. You were too, but it was hard to convey those feelings. Celebrating didn’t feel right, not this soon anyway.
You watched as multiple people lined up to carve their fallen friend’s or family’s names onto the pillar. You knew who’s name Minho would carve, it was obvious. But you didn’t expect Gally to get up and carve a name. Of course you were curious, but it seemed like it would be personal.
You had a name in mind, but you looked over to Thomas who was frowning while reading something. You knew Teresa meant something to him too, they were close, almost as close you and her had been when you were kids. But you two were kids, you two grew apart. You didn’t know her in the end, not truly. You knew you didn’t deserve to be the one to carve her name. You would let Thomas be the one.
You thought back to your past, having more names pop up in your head, only one truly sticking out.
You stood up after the crowd cleared, walking to the stone pillar with the knife in hand. You found the place for the name, thankful that the light from the fire still reached. You held up the knife and started carving the name.
You smiled fondly when it was done.
“Who’s that?” Gally walked up behind you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.
You took a deep breath. “My baby sister...”
“You had a sister?”
“Yeah, my parents wanted me to choose the name, but she got the Flare along with them before I could give her one. It was only a week later that I finally gave her a name...even if she was dead.”
“How old was she?”
You frowned. “...three days old.”
“Y/N...I’m so sorry.”
You turned around to see Gally’s solemn face, but you smiled weakly. “I just have to believe she would’ve been better off, or in a better place.”
Gally only nodded, taking his hands in yours and leading you away to walk along the shore. “Things will be better here.”
“You really think so?” You asked, not sounding very hopeful.
“It have to be. We fought so hard for this.”
“I hope your right, Gally. What’ll life be like here though?” You wondered aloud.
Gally suddenly smiled giddily. “We’ll build our own city.” He nodded confidently, making you scoff.
“Oh really?” You raised your eyebrows skeptically, but a smile playing at the corner of your lips.
“Yeah! And we’ll have parties and bonfires every night.”
You couldn’t help but laugh loudly. “Easy there, tiger. We’ve only been here one day. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Come on, dare to dream, Y/N.” He grinned.
“I’ll leave the dreaming up to you, Captain.”
You and Gally stopped and sat on a little incline of the shore to take a break from walking, just watching the sun come up. 
Gally was sitting behind you, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and you leaning into him comfortably. You basked in his body heat, shielding you from the slightly chilly air from the ocean tides. It felt nice, the nicest feeling you’ve felt in the past few days.
You looked up to see Gally’s eyes entranced in watching the waves, his lips naturally upturned in a slight smile.
You leaned up and placed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, seeing his eyes briefly close at the feeling and his smile growing into a shy grin. He turned his head and leaned down to place a kiss to your lips. “I love you, you know.”
You grinned. “Yeah, I know. I love you too...so much.”
Looking back to the ocean, you knew you guys were going to be okay now.
~~~~~~~~~~
Welp, yeah...I’m having trouble liking the ending, but I hope y’all do at least. BUT SIKE, this ain’t the end(technically). I’m planning on releasing a bonus chapter reallll soon, for all those heathens that wanted smut ;)
But for those not into that sorta thing, don’t worry! It’s not gonna forward the plot in any way, this chapter is the end of the main story, so you won’t miss anything. Just fluff and smut
108 notes · View notes
lesbian-peanut-writer · 4 years ago
Text
Please Boss?
Day 5? I almost lost track of what day it was today... Anyways, here is the fic for day 5. Now, I will give you all some fair warning; this Eijiro is out of character because lets face it, Mafia Ei isn’t going to be sweet. Please make sure you read the warnings that i slap on this story, I don’t want to cop and shit from people who didn’t read the warnings...
@ikinabi​ here’s your man, come grab him while he’s not being sweet.
@rinarecommends​, you seemed pretty excited when I said I was writing for Eijiro in the Mafia au, so here you go.
~Lesbain Peanut
Word Count: 4663
Content Warning: Contains DubCon and darker themes
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“Please Sir, I’m sorry…” Your voice cracked as your body shook involuntarily, tears stinging your eyes as you stepped backwards. “I didn’t want to do this, please forgive me Sir.”
“Forgive you? Give me one damn good reason as to why I should even entertain the thought of forgiving you.” The voice that sounded from the deep darkness of the room was cold and malicious, the man behind it even more so.
Fear, no terror gripped your chest, suffocating your lungs as you stared over into the darkness and red eyes shone back at you. They appeared as though they were two beacons set within the night but you knew better than to expect those beacons to deliver you safely or offer leniency. This man had never been known for his mercy, he ruled the Mafia with an iron fist and crossing him was basically like signing your own death warrant. You were currently on the verge of a death warrant, but that is the sort of thing that happens when you slight ‘The King’.
You found this entire situation to be nothing but unfair, it shouldn’t have been you in this room; it shouldn’t have been you facing this terrifying man. Dedicating labour to the family you had served for years now and this was how they repaid your loyalty, by throwing you to the wolves or more accurately; the dragon! They had forced you to take the place of their only daughter, the woman who was supposed to give herself to the Mafia Boss; the one who had been promised as his future wife. Her not you!
“I’ll do anything, please?” You begged, your legs caving in beneath you and your arse met with the cold hard floor. “Anything you ask, I’ll do it for you.” You guess it was true what they say, people really will do anything to avoid death when presented with the opportunity.
“Pathetic.” His tone was harsh as he sneered out his painfully obvious disgust at your pitiful pleas for your life to be spared. “Had I wanted a rat within my family, I’d have bought one as a pet. At least then when I was done with it and its uses were no longer there, I could give it one final use in life before feeding it to the snake.” Words that almost sounded like a growl abused your ears, the analogy not lost on you as his threat was aired; you were the rat and he was the snake.
“Please, I’m so sorry…”
“Enough!” That singular word boomed across the room, it felt as though it had shaken your brain loose in the process and caused your teeth to rattle. “I don’t want to hear any more of your putrid apologies, I don’t even want to hear the sounds of your pitiful whimpering.” The sound of material shifting and feet sliding over the floorboards reached your ears, your heart rate quickening in response. “Do they take me for a fool? Did they think that I wouldn’t find out what they had been planning all along? WHO THE FUCK DO THEY THINK I AM?!” His voice grew louder and angrier with each question he shot towards you, the sound of his fist hitting something caused you to flinch; a whimper slipping from your lips.
You shook violently as you cowered on the floor, unable to bring yourself to move anymore or even reply to any of his questions. The silence in the room grew, the sense of death looming overhead as his eyes never left yours. You had never seen the man sitting across from you in the darkness, but you had heard more than your fair share of stories and none of them had a happy ending for those involved. Breathe, you needed to breathe but you couldn’t; the air in your lungs had caught in place as you watched those red gems rise into the air. Holy mother of fuck, how god damn tall was this freaking monster?!
“Mouse… rat isn’t a fitting term for you. A rat would at least have the sense to fight or flee, you on the other hand are just like a mouse; frozen in place once cornered by its hunter.” His voice grew louder as he walked towards you, his footsteps silent against the floor and that only served to pile on the terror; unsure if your nerves could handle much more. “A poor, pathetic little mouse thrown into the Dragon’s Den and this is where you will meet your end.”
“Please… I don’t want to die…” You whimpered as your voice trembled, finally managing to remember how to breathe. The man snorted the closer he got to you and you instinctively dropped your head, too afraid to look up at this monster of a man.
“Who the fuck said you could lower your head?” He growled as he came to a stop before you, the ink on his skin the first thing you noticed as he stood there barefoot. “Lift your head and look into my eyes or are you that much of a damn coward?”
Your shoulders stiffened as you took in his words, there was an underlying message hidden in them. He wasn’t just ordering you to lift your head or to look up at him, he was challenging your courage in that moment; seeing if you had what it took to do as he demanded. You swallowed back the saliva that had built up in your mouth, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath and tilted your head back cautiously. Your fingers shook anxiously as you twisted the hem of your dress violently, your heart loud in your ears as you tried desperately not to throw up. Ink and a lot of ink was the first thing you noticed as you cracked your eyes open, your breath catching in your throat at the sight that greeted you.
“Not as much a coward as I thought, I see.”
You flicked your eyes up to his face, heat flooding your cheeks as your hands stilled on your dress. Eijiro Kirishima, the man who was a King and the man who held your life in the palms of his hands; literally. How the fuck was it fair for a man who could instil so much terror in someone’s heart, to be that god damn hot? He was tall, easily more than six foot and it had your stomach doing somersaults. His long black hair was loose, framing his face and his chiselled jawline was jutted out as he dipped his head towards you. Those ruby eyes that had been watching you from across the room, now too close, were narrowed in concentration as he took in your every fibre. He was covered in ink, a little too much if you were being honest; just how much of his skin was covered in it? You trailed your eyes down over his body, saliva pooling in your mouth as you caught sight of that dark hair starting at his navel and trailing down his; HOLY FUCK!
Naked, very fucking naked!
You were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to be feeling the way you were feeling, it wasn’t normal to feel horny while being so damn terrified. You mean, never had you thought that you of all people would get the chance to see Eijiro’s dick; not in a million years. Yet, there it was right before your eyes and it was something for him to be proud of that was for sure. Heat had flooded your cheeks, unable to tear your eyes away from his dick. Despite the heat flooding your face, your skin felt cold and goosebumps formed over your arms. This was dangerous, being this close to him and seeing him like this; you were certain you were going to die now.
Eijiro scrutinised you as he stood there, a smirk pulling at his lips as he reached out a hand. His fingers laced into your hair, twisting it before pulling on it harshly as he threw your head back hard. “Something you can see that you desire?” He ventured, pulling on your hair harder and drawing a whimper from you.
You shook your head violently, wincing as your scalp protested at having your hair pulled about like that. There was no way you were about to tell this man he had you wanting to jump his bones, especially not when he was pissed with you. “N-no… n-nothing. Why would there be something I desire, I’d never even think about doing anything with you.” You babbled, squirming as you reached a hand up for his tangled in your hair.
The snort that sounded from over your head was accompanied by a hard tug of your hair, your head jolting forwards and bringing you closer to his dick. Eijiro smirked as a deep chuckle started in his chest. “What was it you said little mouse?” His voice was calm and steady as he teased, prompting you to think over your conversation.
Your brain stalled as your body locked up, you could wager a guess as to what he was talking about but there was a part of you that didn’t want to repeat it. Your lungs burned as you held your breath, the ability to voice your thoughts no longer something you had. He couldn’t be serious could he, this man wouldn’t actually ask that sort of thing from you, would he? A squeal peeled from your throat as you were pulled forwards, your entire body shifting with the force and you were left with no choice but to grasp at his thighs for stability. You had your answer, yes; he would!
“Anything I ask, you will do for me…” A violent shudder ran down your spine at his words, your eyes flicking up as you peeked up at him. “One should learn to be careful with the words they say to others, some people hold words as a binding force. I’m one of those people, your words are your life and you said anything.” Your stomach twisted at Eijiro’s words as a sickening grin spread over his face and he pulled your head forwards.
Warmth spread over your lips as Eijiro pressed the head of his dick against them, beads of pre-cum seeping from the slit and over your bottom lip. You swallowed down the fear that was clawing its way up your throat in the form of a scream, the last thing you wanted to do was get yourself in further trouble. Your eyes shifted down to take in his dick, veins were already throbbing along the surface of it and he was thick.
“You are going to be a good little mouse for me now, you’re going to do as you’re told.” Eijiro commanded as he gave a harsh tug to your hair, a whimper pushing past your lips. “Open those beautiful lips of yours and stick out your tongue for me.”
Your bottom lip trembled as you parted your lips and pushed your tongue out cautiously. You were scared but there was a sense of curiosity in you as you inched your tongue forwards, closing your eyes in an attempt to settle your panicked heart. Heat met with the tip of your tongue as it pressed against the smooth skin of Eijiro’s dick, rolling your tongue over the head and collecting his pre-cum. It was salty against your tongue, a flavour you hadn’t tasted in a while and honestly you were glad to be tasting it again.
“That’s a good little mouse.” Eijiro praised as he pulled on your hair, less strength behind the motion than there had been before. “Open wider!” He ordered, his other hand coming down and tangling into the hair at the back of your head.
You blinked as you looked up at him, your tongue pressed against the slit of his dick as you stopped his semen from leaking out. “Wider?” you inquired as you tilted your head to the side in a questioning manner.
Eijiro smirked wickedly as he tightened his grip in your hair, his eyes shining with a glint of wickedness as he stepped in closer to you. “Wider.” There was no arguing with this man, you parted your lips and opened your mouth wide for him.
His hands tightened further into your hair, to the point tears were stinging at your eyes and the pain was intense. Your eyes popped wide as he pulled your head forwards, his hands in your hair giving him that extra leverage over you as he thrust his hips forwards. Your throat constricted momentarily before relaxing as his dick slid down the back of your throat, grateful for the fact you didn’t have a gag reflex. Skin broke beneath your nails as you dug them into his thighs, making sure to keep yourself steady as he thrust his hips roughly. Your nostrils flared as you drew in breath, knowing full well it would be your only way of breathing for a while.
Eijiro groaned as his dick was enveloped by the heat of your mouth, your throat tight around him as he thrust his hips roughly. It had been a while since he had last fucked someone and here you were with that pretty little mouth of yours, completely at his disposal until he decided what to do with you. He smirked dangerously as he tightened his hand at the back of your hair and pushed your head forward fully, satisfied when he felt your nose press against his skin. Eijiro looked down at you, laughing darkly as he sheathed his dick completely in the heat of your mouth.
You whimpered around his dick as you tried to pull your head back, your nose was pressed against his happy trail and you couldn’t breathe. Your brow creased as he laughed above you, holding your head against his body and not allowing you to move. A loud crack filled the room as your hand came down against his thigh, a solid slap making contact with his skin as you glared up at him.; unimpressed with his actions. Eijiro blinked as he took in what you had done and his eyebrow shot up before he pulled his hips back tantalisingly slow. You breathed in quickly, your nostrils flaring as you tried to take in as much air as you could.
“Feisty now, aren’t you little Mouse?” He chortled as he pulled roughly on your hair and yanked your head back off his dick. “Get some good lungs full of air while you can, once I put my dick back in it's not coming back out until I’m done!” He growled in warning; a promise you knew he would keep no matter what.
“Fine…” You choked as you wiped at your mouth, breathing in deep full breaths as he had suggested you do before he changed his whimsical mind.
He watched you closely as he stood there, waiting for you to get enough air to be satisfied. There was a stinging in his thigh and he moved his hand to rub at the spot where you had taken it upon yourself to slap him. Eijiro wasn’t sure whether you were just stupid or if in that moment you had actually been brave enough to lay your hands on him. His eye twitched as he pressed his hand against his thigh, annoyed with the fact you were becoming a mystery to him the more time he spent with you.
“That should be enough, open your mouth mouse!” Eijiro commanded as he tangled his hands back into your hair roughly.
“(Name)…”
“What?”
“It’s my name, why don’t you try using it you stupid Dragon.” You spat up at him as your eyes narrowed, annoyed by the pain that was coursing through your head from his rough treatment of your hair.
“Open!”
You dared not push it any further than you already had and once again, you dropped your jaw open for him. You closed your eyes as he pulled your head forward, his dick sliding right down the back of your throat and he picked up where he’d left off. Your nails dug back into his thighs as you shifted your legs under yourself, preventing pins and needles from setting into your extremities. The last thing you wanted to have to deal with right now was pain in your legs because this asshole couldn’t find somewhere better to satisfy himself.
You felt your hair go slack after a while, his grip loosening as his hips moved at a brutal pace and he fucked your throat. Shock came over you as a moan sounded around his dick and your eyes popped wide. The laughter from above let you know that Eijiro had heard your moan and it seemed to spur him on as his pace quickened. Moans continued to slip past your lips as your throat was fucked, his dick constantly sliding into your mouth fully. Your pussy clenched tight and your hips rolled forwards involuntarily, you hated your body for betraying you like it was.
“Look who’s enjoying the rough treatment.” Eijiro laughed maliciously as he thrust his hips harder, the hand from the back of your head shifting around to press against your throat firmly. “Maybe you’d enjoy it if I choked you out, left you gasping for air and crying in a pool of your own fluids.” Your pussy clenched tighter at his words, the vision of him looming over you as he choked you out forming in your brain and setting your body on fire. Holy fuck, that was an imagine you had never thought you’d need let alone be blessed with.
You moaned low around his dick as you moved one of your hands, dipping it below his dick and smiling as you traced your fingers over his balls. Eijiro groaned above you as his hips stuttered, his rhythm broken at the unexpected contact from you. You heard him curse above you before he moved his hips, thrusting his dick further down your throat. You felt it the moment his thumb pressed tighter against your throat, in addition with his dick down your throat there was nothing you could do. Your throat constricted around his dick as you tried desperately to breathe, your nose no longer helpful with your airway black off from both sides. Your head started to spin and your eyes rolled back into your head.
The pressure was gone and you took your chance to breathe in through your nose, your eyes focusing back on the man above you. The wicked smirk plastered over his face was sickening, yet there was a twisted sense of pleasure you found in that sinister look. You flexed your fingers before groping his balls, rubbing them roughly and squeezing them until you heard his groan of pleasure. Satisfied with his reaction, you continued to play with his balls; teasing the spot between them and his dick.
Eijiro groaned as his hips jerked forth, thrusting his hips roughly as he tightened his hand in your hair. Maybe fucking you like this was a bad idea, seems like he might have awakened something freaky in you. He couldn’t stop the smirk that was growing on his lips as he moved his hips relentlessly, fucking your throat and pulling moans from you. Saliva was running down your chin, all the way down until it soaked into that stupid dress you still had on. Groans left his lips as you rubbed his balls, squeezing them firmly in your tiny hand. He was nearing his climax; he had been in an agitated and horny mood for most of the day; fucking you just happened to be his outlet.
“Fuck.” He growled as he pulled your head forward fully, burying his dick right down your throat as he pressed your nose into his happy trail.
His hips stuttered as his seed spilled forth, right down your throat as he held your head tight against his hips. Your fingers left his balls and he felt them brush over his thigh momentarily before disappearing completely. Eijiro groaned in pleasure as he shot his semen down your throat, feeling as it constricted around his dick with each swallow you gave. He smirked as he pulled his hips back slowly, keeping the head of his dick in your mouth as he let his cum fill your cavity and watching as your cheeks swelled.
You felt relieved when his dick finally left your mouth, you were certain you’d be able to spit his cum out of your mouth and be free of swallowing it. Your eyes widened when he pulled on your hair, yanking your head backwards before clamping his hand down over your mouth. Black filled your vision as his head came to loom over your own, his hair curtaining his face and brushing over your forehead.
“Swallow!” Eijiro’s word was absolute as he ordered you to do the one thing you’d been hoping to avoid. “Don’t you dare spill a drop; I want you to swallow every last bit.”
You stared back and forth between each other, hoping that he’d cave if you refused to swallow his load. The hint of a sinister grin pulled at his lips moments before your nose was caught between his thumb and forefinger. Realisation set in as you kneeled helplessly beneath the man, you had to swallow or you would suffocate. Tears pricked at your eyes as you swallowed back his semen, feeling it as it slid down the back of your throat and your cunt clenched needily in response.
Eijiro laughed callously as he released you completely and stepped back away from you. He watched as you slumped forwards, gasping for air as you pressed your upper body against the floor. “This is just a taste of what awaits you, mouse.” He uttered as he turned away from your crumpled form. “You are mine now, mine to do as I please with until I get bored with you. Your life is in my hands, never forget that.” His words rang in your ears as you breathed in deep, tears dripping from your eyes as you tried desperately to compose yourself. You had already known there was no getting out of this, you were trapped here with this man and you knew your life belonged to him now. That didn’t stop you from doing something crazy, you figured if you were stuck here; you might as well make the most of it.
“Wait, please…” You whimpered as you reached a hand out towards him, shifting your position for something better.
Eijiro groaned as he turned his head, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at you over his shoulder. He watched as you shifted your body about, dropping back onto the floor and lifting your dress up over your body. All heat dropped from his gaze as he watched your legs spread wide, he could see the wet patch against your panties but he hadn’t been expecting what came next. His eyes stayed trained on your fingers as they dipped between your thighs, pushing your panties aside as you used two fingers to spread your soaked little cunt open for him. Eijiro’s dick twitched back to life, the sight of you sprawled out on the floor like that for him was working in your favour but he wasn’t about to give in that easy.
“Please, what?” He growled as he turned on the spot, making sure his body was facing you completely and that you’d be able to see his erection.
“Please, help me.” You pleaded as you rolled your hips up, giving the man standing across from you a better view of your pussy.
“That’s no way to ask a favour of your Master.” He iterated as he stepped closer to you, his eyes dipped down to your soaked folds before flicking back up to your eyes. “If you can’t ask properly, I’m afraid I’m going to have to punish you.”
You blinked as you watched Eijiro drop to his knees between your legs, one of his larger hands hooking under your thigh and lifting it up over his shoulder. His eyes stayed locked with yours as he dipped his head in, biting along your thigh and heading up towards your hips. You moaned as he bit and sucked on the sensitive flesh, leaving little marks in his wake. A whimper of disappointment left your lips as he pulled his head back, not going past your mid-thigh before biting his way back towards your knee. He was doing it on purpose, biting everywhere his mouth could easily reach and yet not touching you nearly enough for your liking.
“Please… I just want to cum.” You whined as you rolled your hips, pressing your foot up against his dick and watching him closely. Eijiro groaned low as he grabbed your foot, shooting you a warning glare as he bit down into your thigh. You cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure as you curled your toes. “Please… please…” You breathed as your bottom lip trembled, tears forming in the corners of your eyes before rolling back into your hair.
Eijiro smirked as he pulled his head back, his hand massaging your thigh as he sat back on his heels. “Please what?”
“Please, I just want to cum.” You reiterated as you tried to blink the tears away.
“I don’t see how that concerns me, little mouse.” He muttered nonchalantly as he turned his head, reaching down to lift your other leg over his shoulder.
“What do you want me to do?” You asked finally, unsure of just what it was this man desired from you.
Eijiro’s dick twitched as a wicked smirk pulled at his lips, shuffling himself up between your legs further before leaning down over your body. He could feel how soaked your cunt was, the heat practically radiating from it as the head of his dick pressed against your entrance. “Beg!”
You blinked a couple times as you tried to take in what he had said, finally it clicked and your eyes blew wide in understanding. This man wanted you to beg him for his help, to literally lower yourself in standards and beg him for something he should have naturally returned to you. Your cheeks were on fire as you puffed them up, the tears in your eyes more of a bother now as they stung.
“Beg me to help you. Address me as your Master, beg me to make you cum and then swear your loyalty to me.” Eijiro demanded as he rubbed at your thighs, flashing you a full-blown grin as he waited for your response. He knew you’d never do it; you just didn’t seem like the type of person who would put themselves at someone else’s…
“Please! Master please?” Eijiro’s thoughts were cut short as your voice sliced right through them. “Master please, make me cum. Please? I want you Master; I want you to fuck me until I cum.” You pleaded desperately, your voice cracking as you looked him straight in the eye. “Please, fuck me until I can’t take it anymore. Fill me with your semen and make me scream your name. Please, I’m begging you.” You could feel his dick twitching against your pussy, your words were having an effect on him and honestly; they were having an effect on you. “I promise, I’ll never serve anyone else. I’ll only ever be loyal to you and you can use me as you see fit, Master. Just please, please fuck me and make me cum!”
Eijiro’s head was spinning as a smirk spread over his features, never had he expected you to deliver that so perfectly. “You have yourself a deal then, (Name)” He growled in agreement before throwing his hips forwards and burying his dick into your needy little cunt.
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hansolmates · 5 years ago
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jeongguk; a royal exchange (02)
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feat. the rom-com college!jeongguk x princess!reader au no one asked for
she’s the man!au where the princess impersonates her brother yoongi in order to finish his degree on time while yoongi is thrusted into princely duties. jeongguk is in the mess purely through room arrangement.
notes: p.2 is a straight up roll of pure crack and fluff. lil sexy for like .2 seconds. super self indulgent and inspired by the princess diaries. princess is stressed the whole time and we live to see her suffer
w.c: 7.1k 
01, 02
“I’m sure this is probably the hundredth time you’ve heard since you’ve landed, but welcome to Illyria! The palace welcomes you to your new home away from home.” 
“Ho-ly,” Jeongguk slaps a hand in front of Taehyung’s offending tongue, in case swearing is forbidden on royal territory. Wouldn’t want their scholarships taken away over Taehyung’s potty mouth. 
“Excuse me, Mr. Hoseok, sir?” an exchange student from a university in New Zealand (yet Korean-born, ironically) pipes up, “why does the infrastructure of the building look like that?” 
The student is referring to the ravines of gold metal that stream the walls of the palace. While the architecture is classic, the sheen of the metal definitely gives it an air of regality. 
“Good question, Namjoon. The castle is wired and designed after our main export, Illyrium. The element was discovered in the early 1850s in what is now the ruins of Oros,” Hoseok quips brightly, patting the stone affectionately. “It has a conductivity percentage of 106% percent, more than silver. It is also quite durable.” 
Namjoon’s deep laugh echoes throughout the pavilion, “I was just asking because it makes the castle so beautiful. Thank you.” 
Jeongguk takes the time to snap more pictures of the castle, switching between his Sony and his phone. He zooms in on a low balcony overlooking the terrace they landed from. A figure rolls into his shot, stumbling barefoot with a ruby silk robe swishing between steps. You’re tired, sleep-laden as you clutch a snow white mug between your two hands, leaning your elbows against the metal bearing. You’re staring at nothing and everything, glazed over your backyard that seems to stretch on for eons. 
“You’re right,” Jeongguk marvels at your visage between his lens, “absolutely beautiful.” 
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“Can I please get a better assignment, Jimin?” 
“Your highness,” Jimin frowns, following after you, “you love teaching the exchange students, what has changed?” 
“Exactly, Jimin,” you sigh, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Jimin’s nose nearly bumps into yours, “nothing has changed. I teach students every quarter, the same subjects every time. It’s not to say that I don’t love teaching,” you exhale, blowing into Jimin’s honeycomb bangs, “but can’t I have a more challenging assignment? Conversing with dignitaries, renovating the town square, I’ll even do culinary!” 
Your poor secretary squeaks, pushing up his rose gold iPad to carve some distance between you two. “You-you know those jobs aren’t suitable for a Princess,” Jimin cuts himself off once he sees your eyes soften in defeat, “b-but! I’ll see if Hoseok would be willing to take on another class? And maybe we could arrange a presentation to the King in regards to your proposals?” 
“Right,” you smile sadly, folding your arms and stretching the tight blazer your mother forced you in, “as if another Google Slideshow will impress him.” 
Jimin squeezes your shoulder, as if he could tell you all the things he could never say through body language. “Showtime’s in two minutes, your highness.” 
You nod, making haste to the large double doors that lead to the main living room. Normally, the scholarship program’s presentation is done in the throne room, a big show of bravado and an ego booster to your family. However, this particular class is entirely post-grad and under ten students, so you figure they were placed in a more intimate area for the sake of comfort. 
Jimin pulls a lint roller out of nowhere, careful to catch every bit of dust that dares meet your presence. You tug uncomfortably at your collar, and give the signal to the door bearer. You fight the urge to flinch at the usual bombastic announcement. 
“Introducing, the Princess of Illyria!” 
The students and staff are bowing when you enter, and you send a look to Yoongi, who only offers you a lazy smirk. It’s a look you’ve feared since childhood, an explicit tell that he knows something you don’t. Nevertheless, you tack on a smile, standing in front of the ten students who are still dutifully lowered. You have to hand it to them, the undergrads would already be turning heads to get a peek at the princess. 
“You may rise,” you voice floats. As mother always said, your voice must replicate a dandelion seed, bouncing in the wind. 
The student directly in front of you elevates, a pair of doe eyes taking his sweet time to appreciate the view. 
Jeon Jeongguk gives you a lazy smirk, mirroring your brother’s. The smile evaporates from your face, taking in the handsome man that you lived with for two months over two years ago. His eyes have certainly not lost their spark, but his hair is trimmed and showing off his forehead. A Sony camera wraps around his neck, held tightly by a strong pair of hands. He’s even dressed brightly, wearing a navy blazer over a plain white tee and a pair of dark jeans. Something twinges in your heart when you see that a familiar pair of black combat boots remain. 
Jeongguk is the first to break eye contact, deciding to at least pretend to care about Hoseok’s presentation on the flatscreen. An overplayed video about Illyria’s history drones on, while Hoseok and Jimin are exchanging schedules in between. You’re sure that Jimin is passing on your word about choosing not to teach this quarter, and now it’s personal. 
This urges the students to take seats on the couches, while staff floats around with various pastries and refreshments. 
Your family takes their respective seats, and you fight the urge to pinch Yoongi as you hiss, “You knew about this?” 
“Surprise,” Yoongi sing-songs, munching on a linzer cookie. “I handpicked all the students.”
“Couldn’t give your sister a heads up?” you snap hotly, making sure no one was looking as you pop a whole cream puff in your mouth. 
“Sorry,” Yoongi leans over the shell of your ear, “Your hot ex-roommate is here, just wanted to let you know before you eat the dessert table.” 
You mouth a fuck you, taking a stab at him under the table with your heeled foot. 
After Yoongi’s not-so-subtle reveal of each other’s identities in a crowded Chinese restaurant two years ago, you’ve since cut off all contact with Jeon Jeongguk as you resumed your life as Princess of Illyria. Simultaneously shocked, but not surprised due to the obvious hints of suspicion, Jeongguk had forgiven your lie and allowed you to leave in good spirits. You remember leaving him at the front door of your dorm, hugging you warmly and bidding you safe travels. 
It confused you, because it would've been easier to leave if Jeongguk had gotten angry at the complete breach of trust and kicked you out. 
Hoseok is now presenting a slideshow of the intended schedule and itinerary for all students. You’re now glaring at the back of Jeongguk’s head, trying your damn hardest not to shove three brownies in your mouth in the presence of guests. Your tiny dessert spoon picks pathetically at the measly crumbs, and Jimin is urging you to smile from his position opposite you. 
“And as always, our lovely princess will be conducting our class on Modern Illyrian Anthropology and will be organizing your field studies!” Hoseok practically shouts across the room, where you’re sitting wide-eyed with your family. You feel Yoongi reach over to dab the crumbs off your lips, enjoying your suffering. 
You shoot a look at Jimin who was supposed to take care of things, and he gives you a pained expression that reads don’t fire me.  
With a tight-lipped smile and feigning ignorance to Jeongguk’s interest in you teaching, you reply to the expectant students, “It’s always a pleasure to teach, I promise to not bore you with Illyrian history, that’s Hoseok’s job.” 
“Hey!” he scrunches his nose, then turns to the students who are hiding their giggles, “Better get on her good side if you want a nice field assignment.” he warns good-naturedly, giving you a mock glare. 
You suppose giving Jeongguk a field assignment far, far away from the castle. 
After the long-winded presentation and a handful of brochures, the royal family is escorted out to retire for the day. As the youngest in the family you're the last one to leave.
Out the doorway you hear Taehyung utter, "That's her? What a babe!" 
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As to not arouse suspicion, it takes longer than anticipated to get a private moment with Jeongguk. No one but Taehyung and Jimin know of your circumstances, and it is to remain that way due to the fact that you and Yoongi committed fraud, royal or not. 
Jeongguk is a quiet student, surprisingly. Choosing a seat by the window, he spends most of your classes doodling and looking out the pavilion. As stimulating as Namjoon and Irene’s questions are, you’re a little disheartened at the fact that Jeongguk has made little effort to talk to you, even if it’s as impersonal as classwork or office hours. 
Today Hoseok’s teaching, and that gives you ample time to work out where you want to assign the students for field study. You’ve shaken off Jimin for now, and you’re currently roaming the halls with your phone, checking off your schedule. 
Called the Museum of Modern Illyrian Art for Namjoon … check. 
Sent staff to the villa in prep for the kiddies’ weekend getaway … check. 
Sent e-vites and physicals to the Genovian royals … next.
Find a quiet corner to stress cry before 2:30—
A hand flies out of nowhere, grabbing your waist roughly and throwing you in a small room. The hand clasped over your mouth swallows your scream as the door shuts tight. 
The captor turns on the singular lightbulb, grinning at you like a madman. “Hey Princess—what the fuck!” 
You grimace, putting down your switchblade that was dangerously close to Jungkook’s jugular. “What the hell, Jeongguk! I could’ve killed you!” 
“Dang, princesses are something else nowadays. Where on your body are you hiding knives?” Jeongguk marvels as if he wasn’t ten seconds away from being dead!Guk, patting down your lavender pantsuit in a way that’s highly inappropriate. “What are you, Ty Lee?” 
“Self-defense secret,” and under your breath you add, “and Mai’s the one who hides knives. Ty Lee’s the acrobat.” 
The grin easily returns to the tall boy’s face, burnt eyes shining against the naked bulb. This is the most emotion you’ve got out of him since classes started, and it’s doing nothing to ease the butterflies in your stomach. “So, come here often?” 
“To the storage closet?” you snort, “not particularly.” 
“And where’s a place I can go that you do come often?” 
“My office hours,” you deadpan, “in which you haven’t visited, by the way. As a friend and as a teacher, I’m insulted.” 
A low whine erupts from his throat, and he leans against the shelves, long arms spread across the three-ply toilet paper. “But your little secretary’s always there. It’s awkward when we’re not alone. I don't know if I should act like a friend or a student. Speaking of, where is he?” 
“Ah, Jimin’s getting Starbucks.” 
“Lit, can you tell him to pick me up a pink drink?” 
“No,” but you send a text to Jimin anyway. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” 
“I’m supposed to be coming back from the bathroom,” he air-quotes, “AKA, running around the palace until I can corner you.” 
You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your blazer. 
“Are you annoyed at me?” and for a second, Jungkook’s eyes betray a hint of vulnerability. “Am I being too forward? Or do you not want to catch up? I don’t know, I figured you’d be excited to see me but you’ve just been so busy.” 
“Jeongguk,” you put a hand on his shoulder, ceasing the rambling. He opens his mouth to add more, but you squeeze his bicep. “I’m not annoyed at you. I’m annoyed at the situation. I’ve missed you,” you offer him a shy smile, and he returns a small, hopeful one in return, “but you’re right, it’s been really busy with the usual duties and I’ve been a little on edge with keeping things together without letting any secrets out.” 
You’re also confused as to why you’re still harboring feelings for him, but that’s another secret you keep to yourself. 
“Well, your duty is doo-dy.”  Jungkook huffs, but is placated by your confession. “Don’t worry Princess, I’ll think of something.” 
A knock startles the both of you, and Jeongguk squeaks, brandishing a plunger in defense. With a dainty finger, you push the plumbing tool back to the ground, as the knockings did not stop. 
“Ohmygod—am I going to be beheaded for kidnapping the Princess?” Jeongguk panics and checks his phone, realizing his bathroom break turned into a straight up game of hooky. “Do you guys still behead? I mean if you’re pulling out knives from who knows where—” 
“Guk, relax,” recognizing it immediately as a code between you and your brother, you swing the supply closet open. 
Yoongi looks between the two of you, gauging the situation. When he notices that no, you two did not just romp between the 3-ply and were in fact only talking, he huffs. “Losers,” he mutters under his breath, hiding a grin as he leaves you two to splutter. 
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It’s already well over twenty minutes past your class time, but Taehyung just wouldn’t shut up. 
You can’t blame him, he’s thrilled that you managed to snag him a field study with your personal couture designer. He’s lit up like a good boy on Christmas eve, getting his present early. He’s gushing about how excited he is to use authentic Swarovski crystals and rub noses with the fancy fabrics. 
“I’ll make you the perfect dress for the upcoming gala, Your Highness.” Taehyung’s vibrating in a manner you never imagined on a human before.
“Thank you,” you reply awkwardly, “I’m sorry, but what gala are you referring to?” 
He shrugs, “I’m sure there’s a gala you have to go to sometime. I’ve just always wanted to say that, makes me feel special.” 
“Tae,” Jeongguk is sitting on your desk, heels bumping into the mahogany. With a stiff jerk of his head, Tae’s lips morph into an ‘O’ and he finally gets the hint, bowing to you and scurrying off. 
“Y’know, his fashion’s kind of eccentric.” he nods over to the excessive fur lining on Taehyung’s slippers, “I’d make sure your designer keeps a close eye on him.” 
“And what do I owe the pleasure of your presence,” you click, “twenty minutes after class?” 
Jeongguk has the audacity to roll his eyes, rolling his head back to crack out the stiffness. “The chamber choir, really?” he exhales, dropping the itinerary you spent the better half of your nights preparing. 
You raise your eyebrows, “What? It pertains to your major.” 
“For the past six years all I've done is eat, sleep, and breathe music,” he says, and you’re suddenly reminded that you had a glimpse of that version of Jeongguk two years ago. A slave to the music, as much as he loved the subject, it sometimes felt like a tether that weaved far too deeply under his skin. “Can’t my field assignment be something different? More eclectic?” 
“Do you have anything in mind?” 
“In fact, I do.” Jeongguk lolls his head to the side, chestnut bangs falling softly. “For my field study, I want to shadow the Princess’ duties.” 
You slam your hands down, standing up so you’re nearly nose-to-nose with the young man. “Are you crazy? Do you want Yoongi and I to get caught?” 
“Listen, I’ve thought about it all throughout class—”
“—what? You didn’t listen to my lecture?—”
“—and today in class you mentioned that you graduated with a Master’s in Public Affairs, because in fact I always listen to you,” Jeongguk presses a finger to your lips when you try to cut him off, “and lo and behold, one of my minors was in public affairs! What better way to get more experience in the business when I have the master right in front of me?” 
“I don’t know, Guk,” you try, mulling through all the possible situations and horrors that could occur because of it. 
“Princess, we’re killing two birds with one stone!” Jeongguk pleads, giving you the puppy eyes, “not only do I get a far better field study assignment, but it’s far better because I get to spend more time with you!” 
You hate how absolutely weak you’ve become under his gaze. In the span of less than three weeks, Jeon Jeongguk has re-entered your life like he never left. He wanted to spend time with you. The selfish part of your brain says you wish the same. Who are you to deny such a simple desire? 
“Fine,” you spit out, putting up a front and pretending to be annoyed, “but you better not get all huffy around Jimin.” 
He shrugs, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Worth it.” 
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“You’re different,” Jeongguk states bluntly, actively ignoring the way Jimin tries to push between you two. Jeongguk continues to press into your shoulder as you weave through the gardens. You’re picking flowers for a specific theme arrangement and pattern. A diplomat from Spain is coming and he is bringing her young daughter. You've heard that she’s recently taken in interest in constructing flower crowns. 
“Well, two years can do that to a person,” you reply airily, dropping a tiger lily in the wicker basket Jeongguk insisted on carrying. 
Having Jeongguk follow you around like a duckling is fun, to be frank. Jimin is no longer hyper-focused on you, forcing him to spread his attention between you and your overly-attentive  student. Jeongguk can’t attend every single one of your events because some of the information’s sensitive, but when he does it makes your job feel less of a job and more like a fun group project. 
Like when you and Jeongguk would stumble in the farmer’s market every Sunday morning, hungover but aching to fill your bellies. You two were walking zombies, forcing yourselves out of bed to feed yourselves. But it was always fun because you were together, whenever it was Jeongguk’s turn to pay, you’d sneak in more KitKats for yourself. Whenever it was your turn, Jeongguk would smuggle more cartons of banana milk. 
“No, no. It’s not that,” your friend admonishes instantly, “your personality’s still the same, even though it was Yoongi-fied. Your heart hasn’t changed,” you turn your head sharply towards a field of carnations, concealing your flush. “I mean, you’re more confident.” 
“In other words,” Jimin pipes, looking up from his iPad, “an air of regality.” 
You scoff, putting a hand on your hip and looking expectantly at the two boys. “You’ve changed too, Guk,” you reason, shaking your head. “Old Jeongguk wouldn’t be wearing white dress shirts and shoving princesses in closets.” 
“You shoved the princess in a closet—!” Jimin starts, having half a mind to cancel the field study all together.
“Well, Old Jeongguk didn’t have a chance to really get to know you,” Jeongguk twirls a baby’s breath between his fingers, tucking it in-between your ear. “That’s New Jeongguk’s job.” 
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“So, you’re the Princess’ head of security,” Jeongguk tilts his head to look up at the slightly taller man, his visage covered by a pair of shades. The bodyguard is never really present, only when citizens enter the castle or you’re out of town. “You know you’re inside, right?” 
The man only slightly inclines his head to acknowledge Jeongguk’s prodding. Hmph, he looks like a talker. 
“If you’re her head of security,” Jeongguk leans closer, trying to avoid any further attention to his conversation, “do you know where she hides her knives? Because sometimes she wears those tight pencil skirts and I can’t help but wonder—”
“That’s classified.” 
“Alright, where do you hide your knives—”
“Also classified.” 
“Jeongguk,” you relent, sliding your footrest next to your throne, “leave Seokjin alone and come here, please.” 
You can’t blame him. It’s always been a pastime of yours to ruffle Seokjin’s feathers, but you must admit that meeting with citizens is a long and frankly, boring process. The routine is fairly simple, the citizen bows and offers something for the table, and in return you lend your ear and offer assistance if possible. 
“For your table, Your Highness,” the next citizen bows, carrying a foil-lined tray filled with fresh baked bread. 
“Smells delicious, Bertrand.” you beam, ripping open the tin to snatch a hot slice off the top. Rosemary and thyme are egg washed atop the brown bread, and you proffer a piece to Jeongguk, as you could imagine the poor guy is as antsy as ever. “And may I introduce you to my student, Jeon Jeongguk? He’s studying my diplomacy for his field study.” 
Bertrand tips his head, “Lucky you, she’s a true leader.” 
Jeongguk nods shyly, nibbling on the crust. “Truly an honor.” 
Jeongguk offers to bring the gift to the table with the other offerings across the room, and you nod, conversing lightly with Bertrand. His worries are simple enough, he feels pressured by a catering request from an Illyrian Duke, and wishes to serve a party fit for a royal. In resolution, you offer to send a palace chocolatier and chef to help with the preparations. Jeongguk returns to his seat next to yours just as Bertrand leaves. He pulls up his iPad, feigning notes that he should be writing while observing you. 
The next citizen hobbles over, holding a large ivory wicker basket covered by a beige tarp. “For your table, Your Highness,” they bow, “I hope you like omelets.” 
If you weren’t on the throne with an audience of one-hundred, you’d be delivering a very confused expression, coupled with panic. “May I?” you inquire, forcing a smile as you lift open the tarp.
In the basket there are two small jars of marmalade, and one huge chicken sitting fat and proud that its skin overflows between the gaps of the wicker. Its head twitches in your direction, barely turning because its neck is hugely bulbous with excess weight. Its beady little eyes mock you. It smells fear. 
“Her name’s Dixie,” the citizen supplied helpfully. 
“Holy shit,” Jeongguk whispers next to you, but not soft enough for it to not echo in the throne room, “Dixie, you are a thick chick.” 
“Jeongguk!” you exclaim, which causes the whole room to reverb at your shrill cry. 
Of course the chicken has to freak out, flapping its wings and freeing itself from the confines of its package. The animal dives for you, and you press yourself as much as you can against the throne. Jeongguk knows no bounds, throwing himself in front of you to catch the large bird. Feathers weave unto his umber tresses as the bird meets gravity, Jeongguk unable to calm down Dixie. 
 It’s more or less a wild goose chase (chicken chase?) after that, Jeongguk follows Dixie down the platform and around the throne room. The citizens and staff are clutching their stomachs in laughter, endeared by the young man following the chicken. Jimin is laughing and slapping Seokjin’s shoulder, his face breaking in an unabashed smile. 
And you can’t help but laugh along with them, trying to smother your giggles by covering your face with a silk fan. You peek over the thin fabric to see Jeongguk looking especially concentrated on his mission. It wasn’t like the chicken was going to escape the throne room because the doors are closed, but surely it will be a workout as Dixie’s a trooper and isn’t going down without a fight. 
“Don’t worry Princess, I got this!” Jeongguk’s voice reassures you from the far edge of the throne room. He’s taken a break, but the glint in his eyes show he’s committed to catching Dixie as she scuttles in circles.
He flashes you a breathtaking smile, all gums and pearly whites as he runs a hand through his wavy locks. Your smile falls slightly, and you clutch your fan tighter at the realization. Oh, you are besotted. 
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“Hoseok’s had me on my back about teaching a full class before your weekend getaway but I’ve long decided,” you lift your chin haughtily in a way only princesses do, jutting out your lip in confirmation, “that you should enjoy the time you have here. Summer’s almost over. You all should get a headstart on your packing so you can get to the beach early.” 
Your class erupts into hoots and hollers, the Powerpoint presentation about the minerals of Illyria long abandoned. Two months have already passed, and in a couple weeks they’ll be saying their goodbyes. A twinge of sadness hits you as you relish in your students’ happy smiles. As each semester passes, each group leaves something behind you’ll never forget. This summer, as much as you taught them, you’ve learned a lot from them as well.
Students are already starting to pack up, but Namjoon’s butt is firmly planted in his seat, raising his hand. “Sorry, I have a question.” 
You smile goodnaturedly, already used to his usual spiel. “I can email you the Powerpoint and we can go over whatever you want on Monday.” 
“Ah, no. I was wondering if you were coming with us,” Namjoon mutters sheepishly. 
You’re surprised, even moreso when Irene and Yerin insist that you should go. “Yes, you have to go!” Yerin bounces in her seat.
“Oh,” you blush, “I can’t. I don’t normally go on these things, wouldn’t it be weird to have your teacher at your party?” 
“Hell no!” Yerin gasps shamelessly. It’s one thing you liked about this class, after class is over, they always managed to make you feel normal. Maybe it’s the closeness in age and education, but they remind you so often that you’re still young. After all, they weren’t Illyrian, and while outside of class they put on the whole shebang for you, it didn’t take long for them to get comfortable around you. “We can show you what real college life is like! We can roast barbeque on the beach and tell scary stories!” 
Taehyung snorts, already halfway out the door, “I’m sure the Princess doesn’t wanna see you shitfaced in the ocean.” 
You placate Yerin with a small smile, “I have to work after this, but I’ll see what I can do.” 
Namjoon walks up to your desk as the rest of the students file out. He runs the spine of his journal along your desk, “Prince Yoongi and Hoseok will be there too, if it makes you feel any better. Hope you can come.” 
The room is soon vacated, leaving you and your Star Student alone. 
“‘I’ll see what I can do’, really?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, plopping himself atop your desk. Your eyes snap to the way the dark denim cords around his thighs, and you make a deal of slamming your laptop shut. “C’mon, of course you wanna come. I’m not taking no for an answer.” 
“Not really,” you admit. “I used to really like spending the weekend at the villa. I loved getting to know each class and know what it feels like to be like you guys,” you downplay yourself, stuffing books and electronics in your briefcase. “But ever since we roomed together two years ago, I can’t bring myself to go anymore. It’s not the same when you’ve actually had a taste of it.”
Jeongguk’s eyes soften at your confession. You could feel that he wasn’t prepared for your honesty, and you don’t blame him. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I leave in two weeks, you know.” 
“I know.” 
“Can you at least try to come, for me?” 
You lift your head up to reach his eyes, looking equal parts nervous and vulnerable. You’re suddenly thrusted back to two years ago, cornered in your dorm room where Jeongguk was upset at the thought of hurting him, lying to him. You didn’t want to hurt him, or yourself. 
But as Jeongguk’s large hand reaches across the desk to your smaller one, you don’t think to pull away. 
“Your Highness!” Jimin interrupts the two of you, and Jeongguk snatches his hand back with a glare. Jimin ignores him, looking breathless as he leans against the door of your classroom. “Your 3 o’clock is ready. We have to hurry if we want to get through the crowd.” 
With one last look, Jeongguk excuses himself, brushing past Jimin with a gruff “Bye, Princess.” 
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“Today’s not your day to meet with citizens,” Yoongi mumbles next to you, looking disapprovingly at the way you wait for the next citizen to approach you. 
Seokjin holds the crowd off as you converse with your brother, who looks ready to leave to the villa. He’s dressed in a plain white t-shirt, foam slides and baggy slacks. If it wasn’t for the family crest proudly presented on his right breast pocket, he could easily be mistaken as the average citizen. “Mother insisted,” you reply shortly, growing more irritated by the second. 
“Really?” his brows disappear under his bangs, “because from the way she said it, you were looking for work.” 
Caught, you turn away from his watchful gaze. “I have a problem, okay?” you say stiffly, “I needed a distraction.” 
“Alright,” Yoongi shrugs, leaning close to your ear to murmur, “where’s the dead body?” 
You slap his arm, “Yoongi! I didn’t kill anybody!” 
“At this rate, it looks like you’re wasting yourself away.” Yoongi replies bluntly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “C’mon, Loverboy was all pouty in my room not too long ago. Don’t disappoint him.” 
With that, Yoongi turns on his heel and walks off. Citizens bow at him like dominos as he exits, your break definitively over. 
Whatever is blooming between you and Jeongguk, is and never will be fair to the both of you. In your eyes Jeongguk isn’t the type to settle, not relationship-wise, but life-wise. He wanted to grow and cultivate his art, and taste freedom every step of the journey.
You weren’t freedom or growth, and you could only hope he realizes that before you become too selfish. 
“Your Highness?” you break out of your reverie when a young woman your age looks at you shyly, “My name is Wendy. I didn’t get anything for the table but, I got you a caramel macchiato.” 
She brandishes a venti iced caramel macchiato, condensation dripping from her fingers. Your face lights up, accepting the caffeinated drink. “I really needed this!” you perk up immediately, taking a sip and letting the cool flavor soothe your tastebuds. “Thank you, Wendy. What is it that you request?” 
“Advice,” she admits, a blush creeping from her neck. She looks down at her work boots, caked in grime. “I’m an engineer who works in manufacturing Illryian technology.”
“We are eternally grateful for your service to this country,” you reply evenly. Engineers are highly revered in your country, as your economy is dependent on their brilliant minds. 
“But I have fallen in love with a man who is under my station, and wishes to find work elsewhere,” she bites her lip, her eyes growing glassy. “I haven’t told him my feelings yet, however I’m also worried for my family who finds men like him to be unworthy of an engineer like myself.” 
“Ah, bound by duty and expectation.” you reply grimly, “a rock and a hard place, huh?” 
“Yes, forgive me for my crassness. I felt as if you would understand my predicament.” 
Putting your drink down, you reach for her hand. Oil and dirt cake her fingers, and she attempts to pull away as to not soil you, but you hold on tighter. “Tell him how you feel, Wendy.” you whisper, a conversation so intimate it’s only proper it be for her ears and her ears only. “Whether he leaves or not after you tell him is his decision. However, I assure you it will hurt far more if you don’t give yourself a chance.” 
Her voice cracks, “But what if it doesn’t work out?” 
You start to feel a little teary at her candor, and you run a thumb over her palm. “Then you’re one heartbreak closer to happiness. Nevertheless, you are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.” 
Wendy finds the strength to squeeze your hand, and you belatedly realize that if this piece of advice was personified, it’d be slapping the shit out of you. 
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“You came!” 
Hopped up on bitter caffeine and potential regrets, you stand in the living room well past midnight, party in full swing. Jimin trails behind you sans iPad, feeling lighter in a pair of trunks and a black tank. A playlist of Namjoon’s organizing is blasting from the surround sound, coupled with the flatscreen television projecting an intense lap of MarioKart. Irene and Taehyung are shoulder to shoulder, concentrating on getting that Mushroom Cup. The sliding doors that lead from your villa to the beach are cracked open, wide enough to hear the conversations the other students are exchanging. 
It was always nice to have your villa occupied like this. Less empty, more familial. 
Yerin is the first to greet you, throwing her arms around you and smelling like seasalt and vodka. She’s drenching your clothes, clad in a yellow polka-dot one-piece. “This weekend’s gonna be killer,” she whispers in your ear, causing the hairs on your neck to rise. For a petite thing, she really wastes no time cutting to the chase. 
You detach yourself, holding up a bag of pastries. “Snagged some munchies for your inevitable drunk crash,” you smirk, placing the container on the kitchen island. 
Yerin gapes, red tinted lips mouthing an ‘o’ at your language. “You’ve been hidin’ out on us, haven’t you Princess?” Yerin then brushes past you, ready to get her fingers on the confections. You’re over her shoulder, pointing out both Illrian delicacies and pastries she’s familiar with. 
After Irene snags the Mushroom Cup they’re joining you at the island, lips coated in powdered sugar and jam. The girls laugh when some powdered sugar gets into Taehyung’s hair, Irene patting him a little too hard on his bangs. 
“You’re here!” 
You whip around to see Jeongguk sliding the glass doors hurriedly, bare feet slapping across the tiled floor to reach you. He’s dripping wet, ocean water rivering around his body. Your eyes can’t help but follow the flow of the cool liquid, finding purchase between the planes of his chest and honeyed abs, glowing from the heat. 
Three years of your life were spent studying preparation and execution for war or nuclear threat. Unfortunately, at this very moment you feel way more prepared for war than Jeon Jeongguk standing in your villa, looking like that. 
Instead of the usual pleasantries, you hold up a leather wallet. “You left this in the classroom,” you chide. 
It’s a baldfaced lie. Somehow, Jeongguk’s wallet had conveniently ended up in your office between reams of paper. The bastard himself has the audacity to feign surprise, coral lips gaping in relief. “Wow, Princess. Totally not a ploy to get you to come here.” 
“Right.” 
“Give it here, I’ll drop it off in my room.” 
“Wait, wait!” you hold up both your hands, centimeters away from Jeongguk’s pecs. You’re nearly eye level with them, and you force yourself to look up at his smug face. “You’re dripping wet on the tile! Your feet still have sand you heathen! Do not get our carpets dirty!” you hold the wallet to your chest protectively, “where’s your room?” 
He tilts his head adorably, droplets flecking from his slicked back mane. “Third door on the right.” he doesn’t dare to argue with your sudden passion to keep your villa clean. 
You nod, “go enjoy the water. I’ll be right out.” You don’t give him a chance to reply, kicking off your sandals as you reach the cosier part of the villa. Soft carpet meets your toes as you pad off to the guest bedrooms. 
Jeongguk managed to snag the corner room, albeit smaller, it’s a single with a full mattress. You see his Superdry backpack open on the floor, its bottom worn with the white lining peeking through. Despite only arriving in the afternoon, his fresh scent is palpable. You drop the wallet on his desk, and you notice that his laptop’s still on. 
The Macbook Pro glows confidently, his screensaver revealing a photograph of you on your balcony. 
“Snooping around, Princess?” 
You whip around, seeing Jeongguk appear fully clothed, running a towel over his hair. He is no longer dripping water or sand, but he still smelled like salt and fire. He nonchalantly closes the door behind him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. 
“You know it’s illegal to take unsolicited pictures of royalty, right?” 
“And who should I answer to, hm? The Princess?” he teases, face blooming from the fluffy white towel. 
You’re not upset about the picture, he knows that. But there you sit, slumped over his desk, looking forlornly at his picture of you. 
“I’ve locked the door,” Jeongguk pipes up, looking at you worriedly. “Yoongi mentioned that the room’s are soundproof. He said you looked upset today. Tell me what’s on your mind.” 
The room feels smaller, swallowing you whole. You’re tired from today’s events, both emotionally and physically. Jeongguk is having nothing of it, reaching between the two of you to pull the arms of the desk chair, wheeling you between his thighs. 
“Jeongguk,” you start, “why weren’t you mad at me when you were right? Right about me hiding something from you.” 
His brows furrow, “You made a sacrifice and protected your brother. Why would I be mad at that?” he says honestly, “sure, I was upset at first. Who wouldn’t be? But you did it out of love.” 
You smile wanly, knowing that there wasn’t going to be a chance that he’d be upset at you. It was out of your devices. “I wanted you to be mad,” you admit, wringing your fingers between your skirt, “it would’ve made it easier to leave.” 
“It would’ve, wouldn’t it?” he replies, his voice cotton soft. “After you left, Yoongi wouldn’t let me talk to you on the phone. Said you needed time. But I got him to tell me stories about you, stories that made me realize that I missed getting to know you.” 
It’s then you feel the weight of today express itself onto your cheeks, the wetness dampening your skin. You feel his thumb brush away the tears. 
“Tell me,” Jeongguk requests softly, “tell me what you really feel.” 
You let your head collapse in his hands, relishing the warmth and comfort it brings. “I feel hurt. And confined.” 
“More,” Jeongguk bids, his other hand squeezing your thigh, “let it out, Princess.” 
You are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.
“I miss acting like fools at the grocery store, falling on top of each other half-asleep.” Everything tumbles out shamelessly, like a waterfall. “I hate how frustrated I am when you call me Princess, because while it is my title, it turns me on in the most devastating way when you say it.” you drop your head in the crook of his neck, embarrassed to see his reaction. “I want to laugh with you, hold you, I want you, so badly. But I want you to be happy, to make music and art, and travel the world to find your muse,” you shake your head, pushing yourself away from him. “I feel so stuck here, I can’t hold you back when you’re free and—”
“That’s enough bullshit,” and he’s kissing you, a clashing of teeth that has you sensitive and reeling. His hands grasp your cheeks, and you’re stumbling in your chair as the wheels make moves on their own. You squeak against his lips before you’re wheeled back to the bed. Hot hands pull you forward to teeter your body onto the bed, keeping you in place. 
The man in question breaks apart, but close enough that his lips brush against yours when he speaks, “I’ve never kissed a princess before,” Jeongguk says wryly, cupping your cheek, “but if you make one more gripe about freedom and your stupid self-righteousness and I’ll stop.” 
A pure, unprepared whine escapes your lips, shame be damned. 
“You’re my muse,” he plants a kiss on your forehead, “I bothered Yoongi for weeks, working tooth and nail for that scholarship,” a kiss on both your nose, “you’re what it means to feel free.” 
And that’s all it takes for you to surge forward, toppling over him until he’s pushed against the headboard. Capturing your lips with his, you catch droplets of saltwater and a flavor that’s so distinctly Jeongguk, feeling high off the taste. 
Your skirt rides to your waist, your underwear damp from the ocean and arousal. You straddle him, feeling so unbounded and free as Jeongguk lets you do what you’ve both wanted to do. With a roll of your hips Jeongguk grunts, forehead pressed to yours. “Princess,” he rasps, meeting your thrusts, “we have until Christmas to do this, no need to rush.” 
Wait, Christmas? 
Jeongguk grins, kissing away your surprise. For now, you’ll ignore the burn between your thighs. “Before we left today, Yoongi and I asked the King, your father, if he would consider extending my scholarship for a full semester. I mentioned that Yoongi and I had some unfinished projects from undergrad,” he pecks your lips, “and he’s going to help me produce a full album for my final thesis.” 
“That’s amazing!” you cheer, pulling him into a hug. “I’m so proud of the two of you!”  
“Mhm,” he nuzzles your neck, pressing featherlight kisses to your skin, “can’t produce anything without my muse around, so I’d say Illyria is the perfect location.” 
Your fingers thread into his damp locks, and you feel your heart swell with happiness. Here, under the gaze of the beautiful boy who wanted to offer you his heart and his world, you felt free. 
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extra.
It takes the strength of both your hands to pull Jeongguk in the storage closet, but it isn’t like he’s putting up a fight anyhow. 
“Come here often?” you drawl, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 
“Impressive,” he chuckles, “usually it takes you an hour to shake Jimin off ya. It’s only been thirty-five minutes.” 
“I just wanted to show you something funny,” you pull up your Instagram, and play the featured video. While it was posted weeks ago, it started to pick up traction after Yoongi liked the post this morning. Jeongguk is dashing around the palace, sweating bullets and cooing “c’mon Dixie!” to the sprinting chicken in the throne room. 
“You’re viral!” you giggle, “you put Illyria on the social media map!” 
Under the lowlights, it’s still easy to see Jeongguk’s skin has gone placid. “If I ever hit it big, that shit better not haunt me,” he groans into your neck.  
“Please,” you roll your eyes, “every famous person has a backstory. Aubrey Graham had Degrassi and the Yodeling Wal-Mart boy–”
“Are you really gonna compare your boyfriend to the Yodeling Wal-Mart kid? Tell me what you really came here for,” And like a teenager, Jeongguk reels it back in, winding his hands around your waist. He gives you bedroom eyes like it's a session of Seven Minutes in Heaven, “so, we’re gonna make out or what?” 
465 notes · View notes
likeholymary · 4 years ago
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— untitled ii.
playlist | masterlist
summary: once dear friends in college, obi-wan and (y/n) have bumped into each other in the capitol city of coruscant while both working there. will they rekindle their old romance from their college years, or will they remain as passing faces in each other’s lives? takes place in college years and 10+ years after.
a/n: fluff AND MORE ANGST awaits you in this chapter! also some good music references await you as well😌 also, just to note, i am a slut for obi-wan and his beard, so yes, he does have a bit of a beard in his college years, i do not accept any slander for this creative decision bc you can’t deny how hot the man is with a beard. also, not as much college content, but there will be more in part three! i hope you all enjoy! please reblog if you like this enough to do so, i appreciate it more than words can say! i love you all☺️ warnings! a few swear words!
word count: 3.7k words
present.
“AUNTIE (Y/N)!”
You could hear the chorus of the screaming twins from your car, a smile beginning to inch its way across your lips, despite the heavy weight of a decade of old baggage weighing down on you more and more throughout the day. At least now you would be able to bask in some temporary, if not chaotic, joy brought by Luke and Leia.
The blonde and brunette came skidding up to your knees, running so quickly they almost knocked you over. You laughed openly, bending down to let the two envelope themselves around you. Luke crawled up on you back, asking politely for a piggy back ride into the house, while Leia simply just crawled up on you, wrapping her legs around you waist and holding onto your shoulders, despite the fact that you were carrying your very large purse. You just hoped you didn’t drop it - after all, it did have your datapad in it, and you did not want to break that thing.
“Auntie (Y/N), have you been crying?” 
Leia was never one to shy away from the facts. That five year old would be the end of you.
While Leia looked at you quizzically, Luke stroked your hair with his little hands. “Are you sad, auntie? We can eat your favorite chocolate if that will make you not sad anymore. I don’t want you to be sad.” And that five year old would probably make you cry again, his sweet natured personality always shining through.
“Whose crying? No crying, we’re all fine!” 
Anakin came rushing through the dining area from the kitchen to the front door where you stood with the twins still clinging to your body, and he nearly slipped and fell on his face as he ran too quickly with socks on the wood floor. 
Luke and Leia giggled as he stumbled and caught himself before the both crawled off of you, now attempting to tackle their father. 
“No, no, no wrestling right now, guys!” 
Now it was you who could not hold back a small snicker, watching the poor father be smothered by his two children. It took him a moment to pry them off his legs.
Anakin leaned against the archway leading into the kitchen attempting to catch his breath as he laughed. “I’m not even going to apologize for the twins because I’m pretty sure you and I were the same way.”
You set your bag down on the bench by the door, shrugging your blazer off. “I don’t know, I think the twins are at least open with one another.”
Music from the 70s played in the background from C-3PO’s portable extension speaker. Anakin looked confused, coming up to rest a hand on your shoulder. “What are you talking about? We tell each other everything, we— oh. Oh no.”
Now, granted, Anakin had thought that keeping Obi-Wan’s return a secret was a good idea. Initially. He now realizes he was so wrong as he looks at the deadly expression on your face, the way your eyebrows are arched, the way you clench and unclench your fists and then shake them as if attempting to shake off your emotions, but he sees you slipping. 
You’re going to kick his ass and he knows it.
Damn, I knew I should have told Padmé and asked for her advice. Anakin thought as ‘Does Your Mother Know’ by ABBA began to blast through the speaker in the kitchen.
“You better start running, Skywalker.”
“You better start running, Skywalker.”
Anakin whipped around the corner, knowing all too well that he was in some deep kriffing trouble. You were hot on his tail, still in your heels, and you would not let him get away. He, after all, was in socks, and therefore would be more prone to slipping. You, on the other hand, had been challenged by Anakin a few years ago to run in your heels as he believed that it was impossible. He had been wrong then, and he was still wrong now.
You both remembered in that moment chasing each other through your homes back in Tatooine, cracking jokes and waiting to tackle each other or wrestle each other for victory. You were proud to say you often beat Anakin because he was.... well, honestly, he was a weakling when you were young.
Anakin was practically your brother, you were everything to each other, and you felt as if this was a deep betrayal. Anakin knew how broken you had been after your unspeakable breakup with Obi-Wan, but he, being the idiot he was, obviously had kept this tidbit of information to himself.
And for what gain? Did he really think you would allow yourself to fall back into Obi-Wan’s arms? Did he really think everything would go back to the way it was in college, that the four of you would go back to having double-dates, that what? you and Obi-Wan would get married and have children of your own?
What a foolhardy dream that was, and you knew it more than anyone. 
Chasing him through the living room, he ran through into the dining room, running around the long table. You caught up just as quickly, grabbing the table and giving it a light shove to knock into him. He stumbled a bit but grabbed the table to ground himself.
“(Y/N), I’m sorry, I should have told you—“
“Sorry?” You said incredulously. You laughed, astounded by your idiot of a best friends stupid response. “Oh, we are past sorry. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You knew what he put me through. You were there, helping pick up the pieces that he left behind. And only now you think it’s a good idea to not tell me he would be waltzing back into our lives?”
Anakin winced at every word, knowing he had royally forked (his vernacular changed after having children) up. Where was Padmé when he needed her to calm you and your fiery temper down?
You grabbed one of your heels and chucked it at his head, knowing he would dodge it, but you still almost wished it would have at least given him a bruise. And of course, he dodged it.
Anakin began running again, this time cutting through the kitchen. “Anakin Skywalker, you get back here!”
Now, you were wondering where the twins had run off to. Surely they would want to see you kick their father’s butt. 
Well, the twins had run off to go grab their foam swords once you had begun chasing their father, but had a minor argument about whether or not the swords were in Luke’s room or the playroom (they were actually hidden in the hall closet, I wonder who put them there).
“Aunt (Y/N), here, get him!” Leia yelled at you, throwing you one of the foam swords, while Luke politely handed Anakin the other. “Sorry dad, I’m rooting for Aunt (Y/N).” Luke whispered.
Anakin smiled sadly. “Me too, bud.”
The living room was sunken in, and quite an open space, with divider couches in the center of the area, plenty of space to run around and play in. Perfect for having a set of chaotic twins. And now perfect for a foam sword duel between you and Anakin. ABBA still blasted from the speakers, and it only helped in amping your frustrations.
You stood behind one of the couches, panting heavily as you began to pace in place.
You understood why Anakin had stayed friends with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was the only real male figure in his life, both like a brother and a father, but after they served together in the Republic army it became more apparent that their brotherly bond was something that could transcend lifetimes.
However, had Anakin so quickly forgotten the state you had been left in after discovering Obi-Wan’s relationship with Satine?
You couldn’t think about those memories right now, having already spent all day dwelling on the past, barely getting any work done.
You charged at Anakin, beginning to beat him with your foam sword, and he took it, as he felt he should, feeling the betrayal you felt with each strike. “Would you at least fight back?” You yelled. “This isn’t much of a fight, and your children are watching. Talk about embarrassing, Skywalker.” You breathed heavily, ceasing to beat Anakin as he grabbed the foam blade you had raised, ready to hit him some more.
“I’m not going to fight you, (Y/N/N).”
You paused, looking up into his soft, crystal blue eyes and you began to feel it.
Your tough, anger-filled facade began to crack, Obi-Wan’s memory once again taking a hammer and destroying any mask you would try and force upon yourself to keep anyone from seeing even a sliver of sadness out of you. A singular tear began to slip down your cheek as Anakin cupped your cheek, frowning knowingly, before enveloping you in one of those infamous Skywalker hugs that you knew was a true gift every time you received one. The twins even came up, both of them hugging each of your legs.
“I wish you would have at least let me punch you,” you mumbled into his chest. You could feel his laughter rumbling through his chest, just as you heard the garage door opening.
“Pads must be home,” you sighed, pushing Anakin away as you went to pick up Leia, Luke running to the door. What a momma’s boy.
Padmé looked forever beautiful, even after a day at work. She kicked off her heels and set down her large purse on the bench by the garage door, grinning as she saw Luke running toward him. She was quick to pick the five-year old up, greeting him excitedly. 
“And where is your sister?” “With Auntie (Y/N)!” 
Padmé turned the corner to find you holding her daughter, doting on her twin buns and poking her nose, thanking her for ‘the sword’ she had given you.
“What’s this about a sword fight?” Padmé questioned with a raised brow and a smile.
“Mommy! Auntie (Y/N) kicked Daddy’s butt!”  “Yeah! He made her cry!”
Padmé’s eyes flashed with both concern and anger, glaring quickly at Anakin and then casting a soft gaze of concern upon you, reaching out with her free hand to graze your arm affectionately. 
“But I’m not really sure why he made her cry... We were too busy grabbing the foam swords.” Anakin mumbled, “Yeah, I thought I had hidden those after last time...” “What!” Both of the twins shouted, quickly slipping themselves out of you and Padmé’s arms to go chase their father and tackle him for the 8th time that day.
“Why did Ani make you cry?”
You bit your lip, chewing on it like you used to when you were nervous, an old habit you couldn’t shake in your most anxious days.
“Obi-Wan is back and Anakin knew. He... he didn’t tell me.”
There was nothing more you needed to say, and Padmé grabbed your hand, dragging you back to her room so you could relay all of the details and she could change after a long day in the office. As you relayed the details of literally walking into Obi-Wan and Anakin’s knowledge that he withheld about Kenobi’s return (“Oh, he is going to regret having kept that from me”), Padmé would gasp from the inside of her walk-in closet every once and awhile at what comments you had made as well as Obi-Wan’s attitude that he could make such a return and act as if there were no consequences. 
She came back out in more comfortable clothes, a teal oversized-cropped sweatshirt and some grey sweatpants with fuzzy socks seemed to be the comfy-mom fit, paired with a low messy bun. How she managed to still look stunning was beyond you, but Padmé could walk around in a potato sack, and the press would call it a fashion statement that would quickly become the latest trend. She was astounding.
Padmé came and sat down next to you on her and Anakin’s bed, pulling you into a warm hug. You took a shaky breath as the tears finally began to fall. He was breaking you again. And you couldn’t stand the feeling of helplessness that washed over you as your shoulders began to shake. You tried muffling your sobs, but it was so hard to hold back the waters after the dam had already cracked and had begun to flood, rushing through you with memories of a now wished forgotten yesterday.
college years. 
You had survived the first few weeks of college thus far and you were more than happy for it. 
Of course, you had a few whacky professors (like the one who didn’t understand his students sarcasm, or the one who talked about anything other than the course work), but you had survived your first few sets of midterms, save the last one you had later this afternoon. 
You made your way to your favorite place on campus, the small Twin Suns Coffee Bar that was nestled inside the student activity center. It wasn’t a place to sit and chat with friends, more just the basic aspect and aesthetic of a regular Twin Suns, simply a coffee bar there to fuel the students making their way to different classes, jobs or internships. 
You strangely loved the busy atmosphere, well, when you yourself weren’t busy, and you had a few hours to fuel up on some coffee and break into a study session before your exam. As you got in line, you enjoyed watching the people rush by, listening to the sound of coffee beans grinding, the soft indie music playing through the speakers. 
As you stood, lightly swaying and breathing in the smell of the rich espresso being poured over some milk, you spotted a familiar head of golden hair headed this way. 
Obi-Wan had his nose stuck in a book, but he easily maneuvered among the bustling of the people as he would through the student center. You tried waving to get his attention, however it seemed he was to enraptured in whatever he was reading to fully pay attention to his surroundings. 
You rolled your eyes and chuckled, he seemed to be like this quite often, or at least, that’s how he seemed whenever you visited his and Anakin’s apartment. Always studying. Anakin tried to convince you that he was the actually amusing individual he described, that he was just busy with his studies as he had some more advanced classes he was taking. Thus far, you were not convinced. 
You finally decided to call his name. “Obi-Wan!” 
His head shot up in an alert sort-of surprise, and after a moment his eyes finally caught with yours and a small smile crossed his features as he made his way towards you at the back of the line.
“I haven’t seen you in awhile, (Y/N).”
“You saw me last night at your apartment.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right.” He chuckled to himself, ducking his head in embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose I’ve been rather busy with my courses this semester.”
“Yes, that’s what Anakin has told me. He talked you up so much as some reckless guy like him, but so far I haven’t seen any proof of such an Obi-Wan. Perhaps you’ve gotten too old.” You said slyly, smirking in just the slightest way, your comment causing him to laugh. 
His eyes twinkled down at you, and they seemed to shine in the light from the coffee bar, it seemed almost unfair to be in his presence. He was just too beautiful, those cerulean eyes so captivating and difficult to look away from... 
“Too old? Well, after such an insult I suppose I won’t invite you to the little party Anakin and I were going to tonight.” He looked up, feigning to be studying the menu as his lips curved into a cheeky grin, knowing he had caught your attention now.
“A party?” Your eyes snapped to look up at him, your eyes begging him to look down at you. You composed yourself, mimicking his position as you stared at the menu, even though you already knew what you wanted. “Anakin would take me anyways,” you stated nonchalantly, “but would this party mean getting to see you with your nose out of a book for once?”
Obi-Wan turned to face you now, looking down at you with that impish grin still stuck on his face, his dimples peaking out from his beard. “I suppose you’ll have to determine that, my dear.”
A blush began to creep up your neck, and you could feel your face getting hot as you stared into his eyes, refusing to break eye contact.
“Hi, can I take your order?” The impatient barista asked, watching awkwardly as the two of you stared at each other. 
Obi-Wan calmly turned to the barista, and ordered a nitro cold brew before turning to you, motioning for you to order as he pulled out his wallet. “Order whatever you’d like, it’s on me today.” 
You shook your head, rolling your eyes. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re trying to win me over now by buying me coffee?” “Well, I at least want to seem interesting, and what’s more interesting than a bit of chivalry in this modern world?”
You couldn’t help but giggle at his comment, trying desperately to look anywhere than his piercing gaze.  “You should take the offer.” The barista said, and you stared at her incredulously, biting your lip and huffing before you begrudgingly ordered your favorite drink. 
Obi-Wan walked with you over to the waiting area, grabbing a napkin as soon as you reached it. He pulled a sharpie out from one of the side pockets on his backpack, and then began to scrawl something out on the napkin before handing it to you. His fingers brushed across yours just briefly, but you swore you felt an electrifying tingle shoot up your arm and a warm feeling following.
It had his phone number on it.  “So you can text me later about tonight to let me know if you’re finally ready to get to know me.”
You pointed a finger at him as your eyebrows began to furrow. “Hey, you’re the one whose always too busy whenever I am around.” Now you had him pinned. He was being such a flirt, you almost couldn’t believe his smug attitude, no matter how endearing it felt or how much it made you a little weak in the knees.  “Who said I wouldn’t make time for you?” 
You thought you would collapse then and there. Obi-Wan leaned down, whispering in your ear.  “You only had to ask.” 
Just then the barista called his name, and his lips were gone, having brushed just lightly against your ear. This was not the Kenobi you had imagined when Anakin had told you all about their grand collegiate adventures. 
No, this was so much better.
Obi-Wan handed you your drink, flashing you a smile as he began to walk away, backwards.  “I hope to see you later tonight, darling.”
And then he began to blend back into the crowd, but you could still see remnants of his perfect golden hair moving as he continued to drift from view until you could no longer see him. 
“You love him and you never let him go.” The barista behind you said, looking just as charmed by Obi-Wan as you felt.
“Yeah, I will.” You responded, still left in the daze that now seemed to consume you. How were you going to even be able to study for your test now?
present.
After dinner, the twins had pleaded for yet another infamous movie night with Auntie (Y/N). Of course, you caved, even though you could have probably used a night in with a bottle of wine and some tissues for the inevitable onslaught of tears that were to come once you were alone again.  You were just about three-fourths of the way through Finding Nemo when the twins fell asleep, Luke laying on the pillow in your lap and Leia cuddled up against Padmé. You smiled down at Luke, affectionately running your fingers through his hair as he lightly snored. Just like his dad, you thought. 
Someone’s phone buzzed, but you didn’t really care, just trying to focus on the movie and not think about the day you had just had. Anakin got up as the phone continued to buzz with text after text. “Uh... It’s for me, I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, don’t be too long, I’ll need your help putting the twins to bed soon.”
Padmé turned to look at you, while you continued to watch the Disney movie on the screen, Dory yelling after Marvin after they lost their chance at finding Nemo. You tried focusing on the movie, but after the long, emotional day you had, your thoughts began to slip back to him.  “I look at you and I’m home.”
You tried wiping away the tears, but it was hard to do so with Luke practically sprawled on top of you. Maybe it was time for that bottle of wine. 
You pulled Luke off of you, moving his sleepy body right beside Leia’s on top of Padmé. “Are you leaving?” She asked. You nodded your head, watching as Luke nuzzled himself into a comfortable position, cuddling closely to his mother.  “Well, drive safe, and make sure to text Anakin or I when you get home safely. Speaking of, where is he?”
“I’m sure he’s just taking a breath outside or something. I’ll see you later, Pads.”
You wiped away any remaining tears as you stood by the front door, grabbing your purse and blazer. However, as you stood by the door, you heard quiet muffled voices somewhere in the front yard that sounded like they were arguing. Anakin better not be arguing with the neighbors over mowing the lawn again...
You gently opened the front door, trying not to make too much noise not only for the sake of the twins but also so you wouldn’t spook whoever it was who was outside. When you turned around after shutting the door however, the voices stopped. 
And standing on the sidewalk next to you car was Obi-Wan. 
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vesuviannights · 5 years ago
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Lucio x Reader 🍋🍋
Gender neutral reader, no pronouns or body parts.
As an Omega, you’ve spent your life yearning for adventure and covering your symptoms with any range of spells and herbs you could find. And the world has been kind to you, keeping you hidden from any Alpha who would wish to have you - until a white wolf appears in your forest sanctuary, golden eyes and blood-stained maw, and your carefully crafted control begins to unravel.
5411 words.
Featuring: omegaverse lore, knotting, breeding kink, cum stuffing, biting/claiming, Alpha Lucio, Omega Reader, some Asra x Muriel, mentions of blood, mentions of starvation
*
If you’re familiar with Omegaverse lore, know that I’ve fiddled with some of it to merge it with what we know of the Arcana universe. If not - welcome, and I hope you enjoy your stay! Here’s an informative page if you want to learn about it before you read, but if not there’s just enough exposition woven throughout the fic to give you the basics. 
Also, the whole ‘consent what consent’ vibe in Omegaverse fics always throws me a bit, so there’s some vaguely political stuff in here to address that. 
This is the second fic (and third prompt) for my Terrifying Ten scorecard!
*
You had never wanted to be an Omega. Or a Beta. Or even an Alpha. You had only ever wanted to be you, and free to do whatever you pleased, and not weighed down by what each label meant, or how others looked at you because of it.
And so you had spent every year since your first heat, that horrifying moment you could no longer deny exactly what you were, trying to figure out new ways to stop or mask it.
Casting spells. Starving yourself. Hiding out in certain magical places to mask your scent. Carrying specific herbs or magical items with you to ward off the all-too-obvious symptoms until you could find sanctuary.
You knew it was dangerous. Illegal, in some parts. The right kind of Omega might be considered property by the wrong kind of Alpha, and the longer an Omega went through their heats without sating them by submitting to an Alpha, the more they risked one day being crippled by them.
But you…you risked it all. All for freedom. All for the world. For wanting to see and explore and live how you wanted and not for someone else.
And all because of what your Aunt had told you one day, when you had been walking past the Count’s palace. Her eyes had glazed over, her voice had become fickle and husky, like it always did whenever she was possessed by the spirits.
And then she had turned to you and whispered the six words you knew you could never escape:
One day he will have you.
*
The air is crisp around you as you push your fingers through the damp soil, seeking the mushrooms and roots you need for your evening meal.
Beside you, a basket is already near-filled with them, all sorts and varieties and colours, ready to be washed and made into stew. You would usually never pick so many for yourself, especially not during your heat when you were too nauseous to eat, but you always enjoyed leaving some for Muriel as a thanks for letting you kick him out of his hut for a week.
You didn’t think you could ever thank him enough, really, but you tried to every moment you could. The sanctuary it allowed for you to have was priceless, and no gift would ever suffice in return.
You drop a few more roots into your basket before dusting the dirt from your hands. A little is still there when you move your hair from your face, and flecks of it catch in the strands and on your cheeks.
You huff quietly under your breath.
—and just barely hear a second, more distance huff join it.
You freeze at the sound, an almost low growl that reverberates through the clearing and straight into your chest.
And that’s when you feel it.
Eyes.
Watching, waiting, curious.
Ready to devour.
You stand on shaking legs, your eyes darting around the edges of the clearing. Three rapid beats of your heart pass before you see it, hidden in the shadows of the trees just beyond reach.
It’s a wolf. White as snow, with two golden eyes and a bloodstained maw that curls back over its glistening teeth.
Your knees nearly buckle at the sight of it, the world stilling around you as its eyes pin you in place. There is a burn at the base of your throat, a thickness you can’t quite dislodge. A soft wind pulls at your clothes, rustles the trees around you, and when the wolf takes a single step forward, you’re hit with the faintest scent of honey.
It’s this that snaps you from your daze, that awakens you enough to release a short gasp as you take a single step back. The wolf’s ears perk, its pupils blow out, but it doesn’t take another step, and you manage to clamber your way back into the hut and slam the back door shut.
You pull every lock but it still doesn’t feel like enough.
You wait out the night in the bedroom upstairs in darkness, all curtains pulled, alone with your thoughts and fears until the sun peaks over the frosted forest trees and you are safe once more.
*
There are no more signs of the wolf, a mere figment of your imagination when you set foot back in the city a week later. Asra sends word that same day of his own return—without Muriel, but with fresh fish from the northern rivers.
And so you venture into the markets that evening with your satchel and coins, determined to have at least something in the house other than dried fruits and stale bread. Perhaps some root vegetables and spices for the fish. Some wine to pair with it.
The city is bustling at the evening hour, and you pick your way through it via a series of back streets and alleys you know well. Already in your bag is a fresh pick of swedes, and your mind is set on the mulled wine from the vendor by Salasi.
As you side step a cart and duck into an alley, you let out a quiet sigh—and are immediately hit with a swoop of heat that nearly crushes you.
It moves from head to toe with brutal force, one clean swoop before it settles in your gut. Your knees give from beneath you, and you barely notice the sting of you palms as you catch yourself on the ground.
Your vision is pinpricks of black, a foggy midnight. Racing heart. Short, shallow gasps.
And when you look up, you see it.
The wolf.
The sounds of the city are so distant, cut off by a fog you barely have the clarity to try and push your way through.
There, in the airless alley, there is nothing in the universe except for you and the white wolf as he paws forward, sharp claws clicking on the cobble.
His eyes are searing into your soul, and with each step he takes closer you find yourself keening, little whines and huffs from somewhere deep in your chest as your fingernails curl into the ground, near snapping from the force.
The wolf comes to a stop before you. As you wait on shaking hands and knees, it presses its nose to your face, your jaw, your neck. It inhales, and with it comes an oh-so-soft growl before it begins to circle.
And there you kneel, barely a day after your heat had already passed, brought down by the Alpha who circles and inhales you like its last meal.
When it steps behind you, you feel quiet noises of protest bubble in your chest, little whispers of no no no no no as he presses his maw between your legs—and with that singular action comes the wolf’s deepest growl yet, one that makes your arms give out from under you.
You fall and curl in on yourself, shaking and shivering even though it feels like a baby sun has found its home in your body, flaring and stretching itself out to every nerve and muscle it can find.
You’re barely aware of the wolf shifting, of its human scent hitting you.
A dying campfire. Honeysuckle.
You gasp out and try to shift out of his arms when he scoops you up.
“No, no,” you moan. “Please—please, I don’t—”
“Ssshhh.”
His voice is so soothing, right against your ear. Gentle. Safe.
You relax, the world slipping for a few moments as you press your face into his chest. His hands—one soft, one hard—curl into your body to keep you close. You sway as he walks, a soft oceanic movement that lulls you, lashes fluttering against your cheekbones.
And then the world goes black.
*
You blink and push yourself up on a shaking hand, the room slowly clearing as you brush the sleep from your eyes.
Every part of you is a little sore, as though you had run for too long without water. It’s daylight. The smell of fresh bread lingers in the room, and a moment later—
Asra appears in the door, soft smile and dazzling eyes as he leans against the frame.
The shop. You’re back in the shop.
“I was wondering when you would wake.”
He has that look about him. That freshly-fucked glow, the kind he always has when he comes back from being railed by a rutting Muriel’s fourteen inch cock for six days straight.
You stand, stretch, rub your face. “Is there food?”
“Plenty. You know I always need to replenish when I’m back.”
Downstairs, there is a ridiculous spread. Dried figs, small chunks of cheese, breads and olive oils, cold cured meats from your favourite market vendor. There is even a small selection of sweets in the corner, placed closest to Asra for ease of access.
The sight of so much food should be overwhelming, but you’re used to it. Asra never puts his money where his mouth is, or rather the food—always says he wants to eat and eat and eat after returning home, when really all he wants is to pick at things like a spoiled concubine.
He lounges on his side by the low table, supported by plush silk cushions while you lower yourself to sit cross-legged opposite him.
The two of you immediately begin working through the food while he talks about his plans for the week, how the weather will turn just enough for the two of you to spend a night out in the fields stargazing.
You murmur and agree to each thing, though you don’t really remember them once he moves on to the next one. Your concentration isn’t normally so poor, and if he notices you thinking on it, he doesn’t say a thing.
The spread of food slowly clears, until about half remains, and Asra has stopped picking.
You have a piece of toast halfway to your mouth when it hits you. Hazy and not entirely there and curious.
The alley. The wolf. The…the scent.
“Are you alright, love?” Asra asks, his voice coming to you as though through a thick fog.
You’re frowning, eyes unfocused. You don’t know if you’re alright. You can’t quite recall how you got home, or what happened after the scent.
Asra’s face shifts. He reaches out for your knee, squeezes. Your hazy memories become a little more so, and then you blink, and they are gone.
You exhale softly, and accept a small circle of cheese Asra pushes toward you. Your cheeks bloom in your happiness: it’s your favourite, a kind only available in a far-off city on the continent.
Grabbing it up with unapologetic greed, you take your first bite and release a soft moan. Asra beams at your pleasure, and the final sliver of uncertainty eases itself from the room.
“How did your week go?” He asks.
You nod, and you tell him it went well. You got a lot of reading done. You tried to paint. Muriel has a new row of herbs in his garden, though you couldn’t say what—identifying seeds has never been your specialty.
Asra’s eyes light up, and he laughs. “Muri will adore them, I’m sure.”
And you smile back, and bite into your toast.
“Last time I changed something in his hut,” you remind him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “He pouted for a week. Remember? He hated those carvings. Said he wanted to move out, they were so hideous.”
Asra’s lips twitch up, but something seems to fall, too. You tilt your head and watch as his gaze lingers for a second longer, then loses the fight and drops away.
“He’s…not leaving the hut, is he?” You ask slowly, a little more alert. And then, with a slightly tighter chest, “You’re not leaving, are you?”
He shakes his head, no, and then shrugs.
“Maybe. Muri is getting restless anyway,” he says. His gaze drops to his hands, where he’s picking at his nail beds. “He wants pups.”
“Do you?”
And then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, a resigned, “Yeah.”
But. There’s a ‘but’ there, one you know not to push.
With the remains of your meal scattered and a new weight settled over the shop, you stand and begin to collect whatever you can save for the next day. Asra remains in his spot, staring at his nail beds, until you crouch by him and kiss his head, nodding toward your shared room.
*
The day melts into the afternoon, until the sun begins to disappear beneath the skyline and you’re stirred from your dozing by the sounds of rapping at the shop door.
Asra murmurs and stretches out beside you, then slowly unfurls each of his limbs from each of yours and moves for the door. Faust slithers out from the sheets at the foot of the bed and curls into the curve of your neck, and the two of you are very nearly back to sleep when Asra returns with a small piece of paper bearing the palace seal on the back.
He holds it up to you between two fingers, nose crinkled in mild distaste.
“It’s—” You pause to yawn, murmuring quietly as you sit up and rub at your eyes. “It’s from the Countess?”
Asra nods.
“The Count’s ruts have been getting longer and longer,” he sighs. The paper vanishes in a puff of magic, and he begins to gather his scarf and coat as he speaks. “And she can only be alone with the insufferable twat for so long herself.”
Your lips twitch a little at the comment, and he slings his bag over his shoulder before offering out a hand for Faust to slither up.
“Muriel isn’t back in the city yet,” he says, looking a little worried. “Will you be okay?”
“Perfectly fine,” you assure. You lean forward to kiss Faust on her nose, and then flop back down into the sheets, ready to settle in for another nap. “Wake me when you get back.”
Asra murmurs his goodbye, and you’re already slipping when he closes the shop door behind him.
Until another rapping comes, this time much firmer and a little more impatient.
Near blind, you push yourself up and stumble toward the door, still rubbing sleep from your eyes with the heel of your palm as you open the door.
And before you stands your white wolf.
Count Lucio.
You know it without thought, without consideration, as though every nerve in your body knew the exact feel of the flames that licked at them whenever he came close, in whichever form he chose.
You wait for it to hit you, that crippling heat, that burning need, but as you stare up at him through your lashes and his canines glint in the torchlight, you find nothing inside of yourself except your own racing heart.
You pause before you speak, body still as your eyes flicker over his face. “How—how did you know Asra would leave?”
He peers into the shop and steps inside, not waiting for an invitation as he looks around.
“I was a particularly insufferable twat today,” he tells you. “So that Noddy would request your master’s company.”
You exhale hard to cover the shake in your chest as you close the door, and against your better judgement you lock it.
“He’s…not my master,” you murmur to him.
He turns to you, canines glinting in the torchlight. “No. He’s not.”
With long, sure strides he stalks toward you, and of your own accord your eyes drop down and you walk yourself back until you hit the wall. He gives a low growl of approval, and—
There it is again, that scent, honeysuckle and a dying fire. Your eyes flutter shut; you can already feel the promise of what comes next.
“You’ll find I’m not a patient Alpha, my sweet,” he murmurs to you.
His alchemical arm reaches down, you feel it brush against the fabric of your clothes before he pulls something out. Your eyes catch on it, but you still can’t look up, still can’t raise your voice above a whisper.
“What is that?” You ask.
But of course, you know what it is.
“You know what it is,” he answers, an impatient lilt there. “Though perhaps you haven’t been knowledgeable in the ways you’ve been using it.”
He holds it out, and you take it in trembling fingers.
Myrrh. You knew it well, despite your attempt at ignorance. Muriel used it so people forgot him, and you used it to ignore what you were.
Asra had introduced it to you as something he himself had used in his battle to fight off his own heat and find true love instead—something that had clearly worked, and knowing that Muriel and Asra were as much in love as they were mated kept you religious about carrying it with you wherever you went.
With a clever combination of other herbs and spells, it kept the worst of it at bay. The pain was still there, but not the crippling heat, not the burning desire to be fucked and pupped without conscious choice.
You had never submitted to an Alpha, and you had never attracted any.
Until now.
Lucio tuts, pushes the hair from your face, laughs with an almost condescending edge.
“You’ve never submitted to an Alpha before now because you were waiting for me. This—“ He snatches it back to brandish it, then crushes it in his alchemical hand with a scoff. “This means nothing. That day in the forest I could have had you, could have pinned you and pupped you while you screamed.”
You shiver at his words. “Then why didn’t you?”
“Because you said ‘no’. Then, and last night when you collapsed in the alley. I’m an Alpha, but I’m not a monster.”
He traces your bottom lip, and it trembles then parts as your tongue darts out, hesitantly lapping at the tip of his thumb. You dare a glance up and see the approval in his eyes, the darkening of his irises, and your stomach leaps at the look. You turn your head and close your lips over his thumb, whimpering and whining as you suckle.
“You won’t last forever, pet,” he says. “You will have to submit. Your body demands it. Even now I can see the sweat of your brow, the tremble in your thighs…the myrrh and spells hide the symptoms but they don’t erase them forever.”
And at his words, your entire body shudders and you drop against him. It’s the alley all over again, a heat licking up your spine and every nerve, clawing at your veins, you’re whimpering and whining and the only thing you know is honeysuckle and dying woodfire.
He is growling, muscles rolling, pressing you against the wall as he nuzzles into your neck, as he paws at your clothes.
Say it say it say it say it—
You don’t know what he’s asking for, your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, your chest heaving, you need it now, you need to be rewarded, filled, fucked, pupped—
The thought slams into you without elegance and without warning, and you gasp out and shove him away, but he comes right back. He smashes his lips to yours, teeth clashing as he ruts his hips into your thigh.
“Say it!” He growls; it’s deeper, it echoes in your mind, demands. An Alpha’s voice.
You whimper, and the word tumbles from your lips in a pathetic cry.
“YES!”
And then he’s on you. He’s shredding your clothes, his teeth are at your neck, grazing and threatening to mark. You can feel the heat of his cock as he throws you down onto the table, you part your legs whining and clawing at the wood.
He snorts at the sight of you, a cold sneer as he looks you over. “What am I supposed to do with you like this? Present yourself.”
You scramble to roll over onto your stomach and push your hips into the air. You can feel your sudden heat lashing at your body, causing arousal to drip down your thighs, lubricating you for everything to come. You push your hips back, panting and whimpering, trying so desperately to find the heat of his cock.
His cock, his seed, to be filled, to be swelled, to be knotted and held there and bred and pupped and fucked over and over and over again—
“Please!” You whine and look over your shoulder, but he growls and pushes your head back down.
“Behave yourself.”
You feel his cock press into your inner thigh, and you know he must have shifted into his mating form, because no human cock could be so large, so thick. You shudder, your eyes sting from desperation.
He just laughs. An Alpha in control, desperate to fuck you and pup you, but he won’t make it easy for you to get what you want.
“Please!” You gasp out again. “I’ll—I’ll be good, I promise—”
“Oh, my dear little Omega,” he purrs into your shoulder blade. He pauses to graze his teeth there, and you go near-feral from the sting. “You will be good no matter what, my cock will see to that. Have you ever taken a cock this big before?”
You shake your head.
“Have you ever taken cock at all?”
You swallow, and when you don’t answer, his grip on your hips tightens.
“AH!” You yelp and jerk away from the bruising, but he drags you right back with a warning growl. 
The action causes the head of his cock to slip into you, and you sob at the stretch of it, as the ache in your body burns even deeper at the knowledge that he’s inside of you, but not enough to sate you.
“Do you want my cock, little Omega?” He purrs. “Do you want me to fill you?” You give a pathetic whine. “Oh, you do? Well, then perhaps you should ask for it.”
Your words begin bubbling out before you can stop them.
“Please, please please—”
He scoffs. “Better than that, my dearest.” 
His alchemical fingertips trace the curve of your spine. You clench and shudder around the head of his cock, but he remains perfectly still. 
“Tell me exactly how you want me to take you.”
Your eyes roll as you gather your next words.
“I—I want—” You attempt to turn your face into the table to hide yourself, the drooling mess of your mouth, the crossing of your eyes, but he twists you back with an impatient growl. “PLEASE! Please, f-fuck me, please fuck me, fill me with your cock, breed me and pup me and fuck me please—”
Your words snap his final ounce of control, and he slams into you in one go with a howl, one that seems to shake the walls of the shop and every object on the shelves.
An Alpha’s howl.
A claiming howl.
The Count of Vesuvia, finally having found his Omega.
He begins fucking you without warning, long and thick strokes you know couldn’t possibly fit inside you. But they do, your body has shifted along with his own and every inch of him can fit inside of your dripping hole.
The room echoes with wet squelching noises as he moves at a brutal pace, his growing knot and balls slamming against you as he buries himself as deep as possible each time.
“Ohhh, does that feel better, pet?” He croons to you. “Does it feel good having my cock inside of you, fucking you like the submissive little bitch you are after you spent so long denying it?”
You nod and gasp, nails dragging along the oak of the table as you try to gain purchase to push back. You want his knot. You need it so bad, you need to be filled—
You sob. “P-please!”
“’Please’?” He laughs, and the barely-hidden edge makes that final hold on you snap.
“I WANT YOUR KNOT!” You scream. “I need your cum—I need it please—”
He reaches forward and closes a hand around your neck, yanking you up and back against his chest. His movements don’t still as both arms close around your waist, caging you in.
“I’ll knot you,” he murmurs into the back of your neck. “I’ll fill you with my cum and then my pups and watch you swell with them over and over again—” You whine as he speaks, and the deep growl from his chest is his approval. “But first, you must give me something in return.”
And then you feel it—the scrape of his too-sharp canines against your neck.
He wants to mark you.
Claim you.
Make you his, and only his, for everyone to see.
“Yes!” You gasp it out without even thinking, without needing to. “Mark me, I’m yours, I’m your mate—”
He lets out a feral growl at the word. “Say it again.”
“M-mate, I’m—” You feel your grip on reality slip, just for a moment, only to be brought back by his hand at your throat, shaking you as he rattles your body with his brutal pace.
“Louder, again—scream it for the city to hear!”
“MATE!��
His hand tightens just that little bit more.
“Again!”
“MATE, I’M YOUR MATE—AH!”
His teeth sink in, right as his knot does, and it’s the most exquisite pain you have ever felt in your life.
While his teeth cut into your neck and mark you with his scent, claiming you forever as his, his knot stretches you to its impossible size, locking you to him as his cum spills inside of you, copious and hot and thick.
You groan and whine and whimper at the feel, the world blacking out for a few moments as your body strains to take it all in. No world, no words, no time; just the warmth of his cum as it swells your stomach, the sweat that trickles down your collar bone along with the blood that stains your skin and his teeth.
When you return to consciousness a moment later, your own orgasm is rocking through you. It’s burning you from the inside out, leaving you dazed and aching, squeezing around his swollen cock and knot, greedily draining him and everything he is offering you.
As you start to come down, panting and gasping, you can feel something at your thighs. You realise, with heavy eyes and barely-there mewls, that there is so much of his cum inside of you, flooding you, that it has leaked out past his knot. It’s dribbling down your heated skin, following the curve of your thigh, the back of your knee, to the floor with soft little pats.
You let out a soft cry as he pulls his canines from your neck, then laves at the marks with his tongue to seal them. Your hand goes to your stomach, still so impossibly swollen with his cum—and one day, if he had his way, with more than his cum.
His hand joins yours at your stomach, pressing gently. You groan in protest at the ache, and he shushes you with a kiss behind your ear as more of his cum leaks out and runs down each of your legs.
“Oh little Omega, look at the mess you’ve made,” he murmurs.
His voice is quiet now, the Alpha sated, though it’s only temporary. Within half an hour, his knot will have receded, and he will be ready to fuck you again, and knot you again, and fill you with his cum again, over and over throughout the night and well into the next few days, until his rut is over and he has had his fill.
You let out a soft cry as he shifts the two of you to stretch out along the table, his body curved along your spine.
“You’ve been coupling thistle with the myrrh, have you not?” He asks.
You nod. Even though you were so careful to never be exposed to an Alpha until now, you still took the precautions to prevent pregnancy.
“That will have to stop immediately,” he murmurs into the back of your neck. He nuzzles with his nose, and then presses a single, slow, open-mouthed kiss there. “I want you swollen with my pups.”
You swallow thickly, and when you don’t nod or make a noise to agree, he reaches forward and roughly takes hold of your chin. Your eyes go to his lips, feeling the Alpha roll through him again, you can’t meet his gaze.
“Do you not want my pups?” You shake your head. “’No’, you don’t want them, or ‘no’, I’m wrong?”
You swallow. His grip tightens. You whimper, and in response you feel his cock twitch inside of you, setting off a new round of heat that begins to curl around your abdomen and the base of your spine.
You’re already panting a little when you answer. “I want your pups. I want to be your—your breeding bitch.”
“Good mate,” he murmurs. His hand goes back to your stomach, pressing against the swell of it once more.
As if pulled by strings, you whine and twitch against him, and his body rolls with a growl as he nuzzles into your neck.
“B-but—” You gasp it out, and feel him freeze behind you. But he waits. “I…I want to wait. Please. I don’t think I can handle…pups, right now.” You swallow, and when he still hasn’t said a word, you add in a whisper, “I want to see the world.”
It seems like an eternity before he speaks, or moves, or gives you any indication of what he feels. His lips remain at the back of your neck, and his hand against your stomach, the pressure there just enough to be a constant reminder of how full you are of him.
“I would never dream of taking your autonomy from you,” he murmurs, breaking the silence. “If you wish to be swathed in silks, then I will find the best out there. If you wish to spend your days lounging in my palace without lifting a finger, then I shall assign you a thousand hands to help. And if you wish to see the world…”
Your breath catches in your throat. You can hear the shake on his voice, the barely-contained Alpha—and beneath it all, the terrified Count Lucio, afraid that affection will not remain forever. That you will not remain forever.
“…then you will see the world.”
You nod, but you can’t bring yourself to thank him. Instead, you lift a hand to his wrist, holding it against your throat for the comfort and security it offers.
It doesn’t take more than a few moments before you feel him tensing behind you, the Alpha’s growl building in his chest.
“I will fuck you on every surface in this shop until sunrise,” he says, voice deathly still. “Until you can no longer walk, until you can no longer swallow my cum or fit any more of it inside your aching hole, and even then. And if your master returns, I’ll make him watch—maybe I will even make him join, no matter who his Alpha is. How does that sound, pet?”
You’re shivering from the heat again; without the myrrh and with your Alpha so close by, with your new mark burning at your neck, there is little to do.
Everything he says sounds so wonderful. So delicious. You want to be fucked and bred and swollen and held down while he does whatever he needs to you, while he coos to you about how much of his cum is inside of you, how swollen and aching you are, how pretty it looks dribbling down your thighs and leaving drops on the wooden floor of the shop.
All too soon, before you have even managed to answer, you feel him beginning to pull out of you. Along with it, some of his seed spills out onto the table, and you feel tears sting your eyes at the loss.
Until he rights you, hips in the air, and rakes his claws down your spine as he leans in to whisper.
“Spread yourself apart for me like a good little breeding slut.”
And then he slams himself into you once more.
*
🍑 Requesting | Masterlist | My Ao3
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milstrim · 4 years ago
Text
You’re My Kid Too
Day 2: "Pick Who Dies"| Collars| Kidnapped
Mr. Stark was going to be so pissed. She was sure of it. Getting kidnapped was one thing, but allowing for Morgan to be taken too was a whole other level. She'd been babysitting for the day, taking Morgan out for a day at the Central Park Zoo as she tried to adjust to the newly repopulated world and Mr. Stark's new family. But something had happened when they'd been looking at the penguins, and she couldn't exactly remember what it was other than the hissing of gas and the whoosh! of doors clanging closed.
But then she'd woken up, cold except for a small and warm body clinging onto her desperately as it cried. She'd realized quickly that it was Morgan, and that they definitely weren't in the zoon anymore.
"Morgan?" she'd whispered in the dark, and the girl had frozen before gripping onto harder.
"Penny, Penny!" she'd cried, and Penny had sat up, wincing at the soreness in her side, and scooping Morgan into her lap, "I thought--I thought you were gone again and I didn't wanna be alone!"
She shushed the girl placatingly, "It's okay, it's okay. We're gonna be alright, okay? You just gotta be the strong girl you always are, right?" Morgan had nodded, "Good, okay, do you know how long we've been here?" She'd shrugged, "Okay, that's alright. Have you seen anyone?"
"No."
"Okay, if someone comes in you get behind me, alright? Just sit behind me and stay quiet, can you do that?"
"Yeah," Morgan had affirmed. The girl had struck true to her word when a woman had entered the room a few hours later, hiding behind her legs as the girl stood up to face their kidnapper.
The woman smiled at the two of them, and honestly, this wasn't who Penny had been expecting. She was small, barely taller than Penny herself, middle-aged, and slightly overweight. She dressed like a high school English teacher, with a short pixie cut that had turned gray, the only remnants of her original hair color being the few strands of black.
She'd gone on about revenge and the Avengers causing the loss of her own child, and really, Penny felt for her, but kidnapping a five year-old wasn't the way to go. Then the woman had left, leaving behind a small brown bag that ended up being two water bottles and ham and cheese sandwiches that she nibbled on before handing one to Morgan.
That had been two days ago, and while protecting Morgan was on the top of her to-do list, she hadn't been quite prepared for how hard it would be to entertain her, especially when she would randomly go into fits crying for her parents and Penny could do nothing but hold her. She must've played patty cake a thousand times, struggling to remember the rhyme and having to force herself to be gentle with the preschooler in front of her.
Three meals were delivered a day, and there was a toilet in the corner of the room that she thought must be an old prison room, so overall it could be worse conditions. They weren't being tortured, they were being fed, and were at least together, though they probably both smelled since they hadn't had a shower since they'd arrived.
Penny kept telling herself to wait, to lay low like Mr. Stark had always told her to do if she got kidnapped, to let him come and rescue them, and at first she had been prepared to do that, to hunker down and wait while she was with Morgan, but two days turned to six, and then nine, each night growing colder and all she could do was hug Morgan tighter.
But then she couldn't hug Morgan.
On the ninth day the woman returned, this time with two other people with solemn expressions, and Penny had immediately pressed Morgan behind her at the tingle running up and down her spine.
"Step away," the woman ordered, the bars of the cage opening with a clang!
"No," Penny said, putting steel into her voice.
"You don't have to be more involved than you already are dear," the woman said gently, as though a doting mother to her, and Penny scowled, "I don't know who you are. A nanny or a babysitter, some poor intern who got dragged into this, but I don't want to hurt you."
"And why not? You seem fine with hurting a five year-old. She hasn't even gone to kindergarten yet! If you think she has any part of the Avengers then you're either insane or stupid. I'm leaning towards the latter."
"Step aside," she said again, a little more sternness in her voice.
"No."
"Step aside."
"She's a kid!"
"She's the daughter of a murderer, and he will feel the same pain I did."
Penny's eyes shifted to the ground, hesitant but sure, she sighed, "Fine."
"What?" The woman sounded beyond surprised.
"Fine! He can feel that pain, but not through Morgan."
"How do you--"
"You think he trusts just anybody with his daughter? Some random nanny after how many people have tried to kill him? And why do you think a teenager would be nannying her? You don't think he'd hire some really professional lady?" Penny ranted, and she could feel Morgan's arms wrap around her leg, squeezing her as she cried. She wished she could comfort her, but if she wanted Morgan to be safe, she had to put all her attention into this.
"What do you mean?" the woman asked, readjusting her glasses and giving her a once over.
"I mean Tony Stark likes me. We've known each other for years and he takes care of me and him and my aunt basically share custody of me. If you--" she swallowed, "If you hurt me, then he'll feel the same pain, but you won't have to hurt Morgan."
"And how do we know this is true?" the man behind the still nameless woman asked. For the first time since they'd arrived, she turned to Morgan.
"Morgan, what are we?" she asked gently, and Morgan sniffed.
"Sisters."
Penny turned back around, point-fucking-proven (even if it was technically a lie), to look at the shocked and calculating faces. After a tense minute, the woman finally reached a conclusion, smiling a little as she looked at her.
"Okay, works for me. We'll send it to Stark, and if what you're saying is true--and you don't fight back--then the kid will be safe. Deal?"
"Deal," Penny agreed without hesitation. They beckoned for her to leave the cell, and she began to move forward, but Morgan continued to clutch onto her harder.
"No! NO! PENNY!! DON'T GO!!" the girl cried, sobbing hysterically, but Penny had to go, she had to keep Morgan safe. Glancing between the impatient faces and Morgan's snot-covered and crying one, she kneeled down, prying the little hands away from her leg as gently as she possibly could.
"It's okay. It's okay, Morggie. Remember what I said about being brave?" A nod, "Good. Just, try and be calm, and it'll be okay. I'll make it okay."
"Promise?"
Penny hesitated, but Morgan's eyes were too wide and too smart and too much exactly like Mr. Stark's, "I promise. Pinky promise."
She held out her pinky, and Morgan accepted, tears still leaking out of her eyes as Penny stood up and stepped out of the small cell, allowing for her hands to be cuffed behind her back. She kept eye contact with Morgan the entire time, trying for a smile and not looking away until she was moving and down the hallway.
She was right about it being an old prison, the walls crumbling stone and covered in frost. She knew it was winter, but wherever they were it was cold. And every step away from Morgan became colder and colder until she was finally led into a room with a singular metal chair and a camera pointed at it.
The next few hours were some of the worst of her life.
  Penny was dumped back into her and Morgan's cell the next day, barely aware of the world around her. After their little homemade video in which Penny had done her very best assuring Mr. Stark that Morgan was okay and that she was keeping her safe, she'd been left chained to the chair in the room while they sent it or whatever. She guessed they were just being extra careful about not being found, but it had sucked.
Nothing in this place was particularly comfortable, but that chair and that freezing empty room with the knowledge of Morgan alone barely a hallway over was the worst part of all of it. Yet she didn't want Morgan to see her the way she was right now.
Her arms and hands were coated in red that was dried and sticky, her lips blue and the hair atop her head--so thick and desperately in need of a cut--was still damp and clung to her skin. There were cuts and burns littering her body, and she knew she must look a mess, a true horror to the girl once again crying and pulling at her hair to try and get her to move.
"Penny? Penny, please. Wake up! If-If I have to be brave, you do too!" Morgan practically begged, and she began to stir, forcing herself onto her arms and knees, collapsing onto the barred wall instead. Morgan stared at her, scared and timid.
"It's okay, Morggie. I'm okay, see, I'm right here," Penny tried to assure, "You're doing so good. So good. Just--just be brave for a little longer, okay?"
"How much longer?"
"Not long."
And it wouldn't be. They couldn't stay here. Penny had held them off with the promise of torturing her instead, but these people were crazy, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they moved onto Morgan. The couldn't wait any longer.
  The teen didn't even wait a day. She waited until the next morning when they were afforded their stupid sandwiches and water that she would throw out the stupid window if it weren't for the hunger that clawed at her chest.
The woman, different than the short and stout ringleader, approached with their bags of food. Penny was still sitting on the bars, waiting, limp and unsuspecting, until they were close enough. She struck out, grabbing their foot and easily unbalancing them. Quick as a shot, she stood up and punched them through the bars, letting her drop to the floor unconscious.
Morgan yelped in surprise, staring at the woman crumpled on the ground. But then she clapped, "Are we leaving?"
"Yep. We're going home, Mongoose," she affirmed.
"Back to Mommy and Daddy?"
"Back to Mommy and Daddy."
Morgan smiled, and then they were walking down the hallways. Morgan carried the little brown bags of food as they stalked through the hallway, Penny on edge as she escorted them to the door. They managed to not come across anyone, which was good, because Penny doubted she could fight at this point. She was limping and tired to the bone, her right arm swollen and her eye still black. If it came down to it, she'd take someone down, but they needed to get out as quick as possible.
But when they finally found the door, she hesitated. It was freezing, beyond cold. Now don't get her wrong, she knew what cold was like, New York was plenty freezing during the winter, but now she wore nothing but a shirt and jeans, as well as a hoodie wrapped around her waist. And it wasn't just cold, Penny didn't do well in the cold, it was a storm. Penny did doubley worse in a storm.
It wasn't snow that rained down, but freezing sleet and pouring rain that thundered against the slick pavement outside. She gulped. This was bad, but they couldn't stay here. Maybe...maybe she could find a way to contact Tony, but then she'd be caught, and then Morgan would be tortured. And if this was an old prison, then, well, there had to be some kind of society around.
She weighed her chances, and then she weighed Morgan's chances. Outside was better for Morgan but worse for her, so outside it was.
"Are we going out there? It looks scary," Morgan mumbled. Penny knelt down at eye level with her sister.
"I know it does, but we have to go out, okay? We'll find Daddy and Mommy out there."
"Uncle Rhodey too?"
"Especially Uncle Rhodey," Penny affirmed, taking her hoodie and putting it on Morgan, "I'm gonna carry you, can you keep the food safe for me?"
"Yeah!" Morgan said, brightening at the thought of helping.
"Great," she said, picking the girl up with a pained grunt, "Let's go."
  The cold, to put it simply, stinked.
It tore at her cuts, burning and freezing. It soaked her to the bone, wrapped her in nothing but frost and ice, making her feel as though she were trapped at the bottom of a lake during winter. And Penny's inability to keep herself warm certainly didn't help. She couldn't shiver and she couldn't warm up, the most she could do was hold Morgan close to her and hope to God that she was as dry and warm as she could possibly be.
Morgan was a trooper though. Barely complaining, only ever asking how long until they were home twice, which was considerable constraint for a five year-old. Apparently the answer to when they'd get home--or at least at a town--was four hours. Four hours of trudging over wet, slushy ground. Four hours of wandering until she found railroad tracks to follow. Four hours until a house finally appeared through the gray storm.
"Morgan, look. A house!" she choked out in relief at the sight of it. She heard Morgan let out a pitiful cry in response, and Penny could do nothing but continue to stumble forward. There were a few more houses surrounding it, but she stuck with the nearest one, ducking between the cars and stumbling onto the porch.
Her vision was hazy as she rang the doorbell, hugging Morgan tighter to her. Due to the late hour it took a few minutes for someone to answer, the door finally being flung open by an old woman, who gaped at them in shock.
"Please..." Penny begged, "2-1-2. 6-5-5. 9-0-0-8. 2-1-2. 6-5-5. 9-0-0-8. 2-1-2. 6-5-5. 9-0-0-8. 2-1-2..."
When Penny passed out, making sure to land on her back and not Morgan, she was still repeating those numbers, mumbling as the woman screamed in surprise. She really hoped she remembered the number.
  Tony stared intently at the girl in front of him. She was still pale, even after being in the Medbay for two days, though her cuts and burns had thankfully healed. Hypothermia was the kicker, but he knew she'd push through. She had too.
Morgan had managed to full recover, which made sense. She hadn't been blue when he'd found her, well, when he'd gotten a call in the middle of the night from some lady in Canada saying that two girls had shown up on her doorstep repeating his number. His heart had leapt in joy, in relief. He'd gotten the video of Penny being tortured barely a few hours earlier, and it had been the worst experience of his life.
He'd thrown up, unable to take Penny's cries telling him that Morgan was safe all the while she hadn't been.
His kids being taken had been a truly crippling experience, especially with no contact. He'd begun to break by day five of no contact, and when he'd gotten that video of Penny, he'd almost been relieved, and it made him sick. Whoever had taken Penny, well, he'd been playing right into their hands.
But Penny had escaped, had taken Morgan and run at the first sign of real danger, and he couldn't be more grateful to have one kid in his lap and the other laying in front of him. Though he'd prefer Penny be awake.
Like his thoughts had summoned her, she blinked awake within the next few minutes. Her heart rate picked up as she looked around the room, then calmed down as she caught sight of him. She smiled sleepily.
"Hey, Mr. Stark," she greeted, "Is she okay?"
"She's great. What about you? How are you feeling?"
"Fine. Morgan's safe. She's safe, Mr. Stark."
"I know, Penny. I know," he assured, moving to grip her hand, "And now you're safe too, okay? Even though you walked through -20 degree weather knowing you can't keep warm."
"I thought the cold would get me," she admitted, "But they were going to go for Morgan next. They were going to hurt her."
His hand shook, "They hurt you. And you're my kid too, Penny." She looked at him with wide eyes, so he carried on, "You're my kid, just like Morgan. So please know you gave me a heart attack."
"Oh, I already knew that, Mr. Stark. Not the--not the kid part. But the uh, heart part."
He smiled, shaking his head. Sniffing in disdain, he pressed a kiss to her head, cupping Morgan closer to himself so as to keep her from waking up, "Whatever, kid. Just know that I love you and go back to sleep."
She smiled, and blinking tiredly, she drifted once more.
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astral-flame · 4 years ago
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Pamina made her way toward the tent. It was large, too large to not house someone of some importance, and draped in various bright silks. Outside were two tables, both lined in melted candles and various offerings. The tribe saw her as a wisewoman, a seer even. Pamina knew better.
With no hesitation, Pamina threw aside several silks and stepped inside out of the hot desert sun. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, but once they had, she found that nothing had changed since her childhood. Various items, mostly of magical properties, lined the walls, some of absolutely no use to the seeker. Really, all of it was useless to her, at least at first glance. It didn’t stop her from moving to immediately rummage through the various boxes, crates, and baskets, throwing artifacts and relics haphazardly to the floor as she went. Where had she gotten half of this junk? Why was she keeping it?
“You won’t find it,” A voice spoke from the back of the tent. Pamina’s head snapped in the direction of the sound. An older, grey miqo’te woman stepped out from behind the curtain, shielded behind a large, yet simple, wooden table. Her skin was dark and tan, leathered with age. Even in the dim lighting and distance, she could see the bright, glowing orchid of one eye hiding beneath the wisps of silver that fell from the hair she’d piled atop her head. She knew that the other was a milky white, its sight lost some time ago and that her hair had never been cut in her seventy-something years on this shard. She also knew that no matter her appearance, the old woman in front of her way anything but frail. “You’ll never find it. That was the point.”
“Grandmother,” Pamina addressed her, tossing a crystal apparatus she’d in her hands to the side. “Long time. Where is it?”
The old woman frowned at the discarded item. “Absolutely no respect for someone else’s things. Little changes.”
“Where is it?” Pamina demanded.
“I knew you were coming. I saw it. I prepared all of them.” She said, moving to sit at the table at the back of the tent. “They told me that I was crazy, that you would never be stupid enough to return, so I prepared them. And here you stand, alive and in the flesh. Just as I told them. Won’t they thank me now?”
Before Pamina could speak, the old woman continued. “Tell me, child, why our people should let you live. Why should I not put you down like the rabid dog you are? Why should the great Azeyma not strike you down where you stand? What penance have you paid for the blood on your hands?”
Her grandmother pushed herself up from the table and began to collect the items that Pamina had tossed around. The miqo’te shook her head. “I can never make up for the lives lost. I came to terms with that a long time ago, and you should, too. But I need it back. Without it, others will get hurt. People I care about-”
“Ah, yes,” The old woman interrupted her, still reorganizing her mess. “The wayward seeker and his unborn son. The harlot from the woods. Yes, I have seen them. These are the people that you worry about.”
Pamina frowned. “Don’t call her that. I-”
“Would they be in danger if you had stayed away from the Shroudling and her companions? Would your seeker and his son still be safe if you’d not ripped them away from the other woman?”
“That’s not what happened, or what I’m doing. How can I take his son away from her? He’s not even born yet. I-”
“Always meddling where you do not belong, U’mina, picking up others’ scraps. That is your lot in life. That is what you have chosen, to lie in the dirt and the mud with the other garbage. Don’t look at me like that, I have seen it. I know how you have chosen to live your life since leaving here. Selling yourself for coin, lying under whoever or whatever will have you for the night. Anything to feel like you have a purpose, yes? But you do not have a purpose, do you? Poor little Mina. No tribe, no purpose, nothing. It is you who should have died that night, I would think, and not the others. Yet you, a useless husk, think you can save the innocent lives you have so carelessly put into danger just to feel a tiny bit alive? Tragic.”
“Because it would have been any different here. At least now, I get paid.” Pamina muttered.
Her grandmother spun around. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” She mumbled, wiping at her eyes. Why was she crying? Since when had she become such a crier? “This is pointless. Give me the stone.”
“And let you put more lives at risk? You’re out of your mind.”
“The only way I am putting anyone at risk is by not being in possession of that stone, and you know it.”
“What I know and what you recall are two very different things, girl. Besides, I got rid of that long ago. I could not help you even if I wanted to. The only thing you will receive from me is scorn. Leave. You are not wanted here. You haven’t been for years. Leave, or you will force my hand.”
Pamina stared at her grandmother for some time, especially as the surprisingly mobile old woman approached her. Her, in her decadent robes and messy hair, and her one blind eye and her shining necklace--
Her necklace.
The dark, purple gem hung from the old woman’s neck, dangling from a silver chain. It seemed cloudy almost, shimmering and swirling with aether and something deeper. It felt like if she stared at it long enough, it would swallow her whole.
“You’re wearing it,” Pamina said finally, staring at the old woman’s collar. “My stone. You’re wearing my stone. Have you been using it? Is that why you’re still standing, you old bat?”
“No, don’t!” The old woman cried out, but it was too late. Pamina snatched the stone up in her hand and yanked, snapping the chain from around her grandmother’s neck. There was a sudden sharp pain that shot through her skull and caused her vision to swim in black lines. All she could hear were screams. She could feel the heat from the flames on her skin. People scattered from the burning buildings, and from her.
“Please!” Pleaded the woman who she held by the neck, eyes wide and hands clutching at her wrist.
“You dare take her from me?!” Pamina bellowed.
“No! I didn’t! I wouldn’t take anything from you! I don’t even know what you’re talking about! Please, you’re-” But Pamina would hear none of it. Her claws sank into the woman’s throat and tore it out. Blood sprayed outward and covered Pamina before she simply discarded the corpse in the sand like garbage.
“What are you doing?!” Cried a voice from behind her. Nijah stood there, outlined by the glow of the flame. “Look around you! Look at what you’ve caused! Haven’t you done enough?!”
Pamina gave no warning as she launched herself at her twin, who caught her with ease. What he could not do was fend off her claws from tearing and ripping into his face. She felt his blood, warm on her hands as she tried to claw his eyes out. No… Just one hand. Just one?
“You will not have her!” Pamina shrieked into his mauled face, but as quickly as it had come, the vision faded. The tent returned, and she was staring down into the singular, lifeless, golden eye of her grandmother beneath her. How had they ended up on the floor? She blinked several times before looking over her hands. In one, she held the stone strung on a chain. It shimmered faintly with aether and...something else. What was that? In the other, she held a still-beating heart. A heart? How did it get there?
Fear gripped her so suddenly. Pamina scrambled backwards off of her grandmother’s corpse. It was when she saw the gaping cavity in her chest that she fell to the ground, screaming. Pain wracked her entire body and her head, and after a bright, blinding light overtook the entire inside of the tent, the seeker’s world went dark.
---
Three days would pass before Nijah would see any sign of life from the wisewoman’s home. Truth be told, after the light that illuminated the evening sky several days prior, no one dared inspect the tent. Honestly, he thought his sister was dead.
But as he approached the end of the path leading to the old seer’s home, there she stood clear as day, donning a dark cloak, a scythe strapped to her back he hadn’t seen in years, and some sort of animal skull atop her head.
What the fuck?
“Pamina?” He called as he began to approach her. When she did not reply, his steps became a little slower, more cautious. “...Mina?”
“U’lrinha Melai is dead,” She spoke, her back still turned to him as she stared at the tent from beneath the skull. “Tell your people that she will not be consulting the bones for them ever again.”
Before he could reply, she turned. She shoved a shriveled heart into his hands before she set off down the path opposite of the settlement. As she began to walk, the tent behind Nijah erupted into flames, startling him even further and causing him to drop the heart to the ground.
“And while you’re at it, tell them that I am very much alive and that I haven’t forgotten. I will never forget.”
[ @symbiotic-seeker @the-bloody-prince @straycatte @handofcards for general mentions, @seda-xiv @kimiko-ffxiv @storytellerarin @j-yaya for ‘wood harlot’s companions’ mentions ]
x ./. x ./. x
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pandawritespoorly · 5 years ago
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Concussion
Author’s Note: No, this isn’t me notifying you of a head injury I’ve gotten that will keep me from writing. My health is just the same. Someone over on Ao3 said they had an exam on Monday so Tuesday would work well for bonus updates. Unfortunately, I didn’t write as much as I wanted to for there to be a bonus chapter of With Time today, so have an unrelated one-shot. Best of luck to anyone with exams out there.
I've never had a concussion before, at least not one that I can remember (two year old me makes poor decisions), so this is all from basically symptom lists for concussions. The slurred speech is probably a little hard to read, and I probably should have just added 'slurred' to the dialogue tags instead of trying to write it out, but it's too late to fix. My extended weekend is over and I have classes today so I don't have the time. This is a bit of a mess, but I wanted to post something today, so here we are.
Summary: Slight AU here, basically the cure doesn't work on the caster, which is to say the Ladybug holder. Marinette knows this, but has kept it from Chat. After one battle she's too tired to hide the injury from him and he gets suspicious.
The magical ladybugs fly over the city, cleaning up the damage of the fight. It’d mostly been confined to a singular warehouse - the victim being a disgruntled employee of said warehouse - and Chat can’t take his eyes off of the sight.
It really is miraculous.
The previously destroyed lights come back, and turn on, flooding the interior with light.
A distressed squeak brings his attention back to his partner, who is slightly bent over, hands covering her face.
He walks over to her, “You good, Bug?”
She waves him off, eyes still shut, “Yeah, yeah, juss… lights. Wasn’ ready…”
That… makes sense. He hates to be clingy, but he can’t shake the sense that something is wrong. It could be due to her slurred speech, but he’s just got this feeling.
After all, he’s well aware she doesn’t always have the best sleep schedule. Sometimes, especially for later-in-the-day akumas like this one, her speech isn’t as professional as she likes.
“Alright.”
She had gotten hit pretty bad during the battle. Not that she’d said anything, but her delayed reactions had been enough to clue him in.
Maybe she had a bit of a headache left over? He’d had that before, or just plain soreness.
The outside is darker, and she eventually looks up at him.
Er- she looks near him, rather. Her eyes are looking at the right height, but she seems to be looking slightly to his side, though she can’t seem to decide where he is exactly. She seems to settle on what must be the middle, which is still slightly off.
The concerned feeling only grows.
“You good, LB?” he asks again, cocking his head slightly. This throws her off, as she tries to keep meeting his eyes.
“Yeah… ‘m fffii- gooodd…” she mumbles.
“Let’s head out then. It’s late, we should probably rest.” He turns, pretending to be focusing on using his staff to get to the rooftops, when he’s actually keeping an eye on her.
She nods, which seems to be a mistake. Immediately, her hand moves to her head, and she looks about ready to fall over.
She’s either really sleep deprived, or something is wrong.
“You’re looking a little dizzy there,” he comments.
“Juss…” she pauses, seeming to gather herself, “I’m fine. Just tired.”
The words take an immense effort and he frowns. She seems to notice his suspicion, and hurriedly swings her yo-yo to bring herself to the roof. He’s right behind her.
She’s clearly unbalanced, whether from whatever is going on or her rushed landing.
He puts a gentle hand on her back to steady her, leading her farther from the edge.
“Okay, so I think we both know I don’t believe you.”
She glares.
“Prove it. Just walk to the other side of the roof, in a straight line,” he gestures at the flat space before them.
She does it, though she mumbles something along the lines of ‘not drunk’. He ignores her and watches her walk. Or, rather, her attempt to.
She’s stumbling slightly, and there’s no way that she’d be able to make it across the rooftops if she’s struggling so much with what should be an easy task.
“Ladybug…”
The heroine huffs, turning to him and raising an eyebrow under the mask. The look she’s giving him would typically be enough to make him back off, but not tonight.
He opens his baton, walking over to her as he types a simple sentence into it.
He turns it to her, “Can you read this?”
Ladybug looks at it. She keeps looking. She squints. She grabs it to hold it further, then closer, then turns to him, “Y’rrrr sc’eeenn is bl’rrrryy.”
“No. No it isn’t. What happened?” He rests a hand on her shoulder.
She purposefully won’t meet his eyes, “N’thin’...”
“My lady, you must have gotten hurt before the fight. Maybe when you got hit earlier it made it worse?” He knows she doesn’t like bringing up her civilian side, or showing weakness, and it’s the best explanation he can think of.
She pauses, clearly conflicted, “No.”
Alright then. He’ll get to the bottom of this.
“Do you know what happened?”
“Ye- c’ncusssioonnn’...”
That… that makes sense.
“When did that happen?” They’d had a fight just a few days ago, and she’d been fine.
“...fighttt…”
“You got in a fight?!” That didn’t sound like her at all.
“Nnno!” she shakes her head quickly, shaking her hands to indicate that wasn’t the case. She seems to become dizzy, and it takes some time for her to continue, “...’kuuumma.”
“What?” He’d seen her get hit, but he’d also seen the cure. Everything should be fixed, “That doesn’t make sense. The cure-”
Ladybug tenses slightly at the word, and he looks at her critically.
She’s standing stiffly, not meeting his eyes. She’s chewing on her lip, a nervous habit he’s noticed from their over one year of partnership.
“Ladybug.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Ladybug. What’s going on?” He doesn’t raise his voice, or even let any emotion in. He just says it flatly, doing his best to imitate her Look™.
“N’thinnn’... ‘t’sss ss’upid…” she slurs, “Doesss’n madderrr…”
“Ladybug.”
Nothing.
“Why didn’t the cure heal you?”
She still won’t meet his eyes. He’s got a sinking feeling in his chest.
Chat doesn’t like this. Not at all.
He grabs both of her shoulders and turns her to look at him, he lowers his voice to speak softer, “Ladybug. Please. I’m worried.”
Oh that does it. She looks so guilty, and mumbles something he can’t catch.
“What was that?”
“Cure doess’n worr’ on me. Neverrr hasss.”
Never.
The cure has never worked on her.
This whole time.
Every. Single. Fight.
Every injury.
She mistakes his silence as something negative, “I jusss’ didn’ wan’ worrrry you. ‘M fi-”
He tightens his grip on her shoulders to cut her off. “No. No you’re not.”
“Juss’ a c’ncusssioonnn’.... ‘ve ha’ worsssse…”
“That’s my issue,” he says firmly, “This whole time, every battle. Have people been asking questions in your civilian life?”
Her silence is enough of an answer for him.
“Oh, Bugaboo, I know you didn’t want to worry me, but you should have told me. I could have-”
She shakes her head lightly, ‘Nuthin’ youuu… ‘ann dooo…”
“Still.”
They’ll just have to agree to disagree for now.
“There’s no way I can let you go across the city like this. But with identities…”
She gives him a look.
Alright. He can’t take her home, and she can’t come to his house.
Or… can he? After Mom’s disappearance, Father had all but shut down the rest of the mansion except for the eight or so rooms they still used regularly. The place is huge, and no one goes to most of those places.
He’d just been to one of Mom’s old sitting rooms, looking for a quieter place to just rest. It felt like home, and reminded him or her.
It was one of the few places in the building that didn’t feel like a cold, dead, prison.
“You’re going to have to trust me on this Bug.”
She nods immediately, which makes his heart soar. That look she gave him when he implied she wouldn’t trust him… Kwami, she’s amazing.
“Alright, get on my back, then close your eyes,” he instructs.
After some struggle, he’s got a bundle of Bug on his back. Her arms and legs wrap around to his front, and he’s well aware she’s strong enough to hold herself up.
“Ready? Eyes closed?” he checks.
She hums softly into his ear from where her head sits. She’s tired, poor bug.
He knows his way along the rooftops by now, and soon enough the mansion is in sight.
Ladybug’s inability to hide her concussion was probably from a lack of sleep, if the way she is already half asleep is anything to go by.
Honestly, only his partner could fall asleep while being carried across the rooftops of Paris while still holding on securely.
Chat locates the window to the sitting room, entering silently, and shutting it behind him.
He sets his partner down on the couch, carefully extracting himself from her arms. She frowns.
He gives her hand a squeeze, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Once in the hallway, he whispers, “Claws In.”
Plagg floats beside Adrien, “You did good kid. She got hit pretty bad.”
“Yeah. I’m going to get a blanket. She’d probably want some water. Oh! And ibuprofen! Do you think a pillow would be good too?”
Plagg snickers, “There’s already pillows in there, but my bets are on you.”
“What?”
“I’d bet my camembert you’ll be her pillow of choice.”
Adrien’s face reddens, and he decides he should really get that blanket.
---
When he returns, carrying a soft blanket, ibuprofen, and a glass of water, he transforms and enters the room once more as quietly as he can. He’s careful to lock the door.
Ladybug hasn’t moved from where he left her on the couch. Her arms and legs are partially off the couch, and her pigtails are loose and messy. She looks like she might be drooling a little.
She’s absolutely gorgeous.
He doesn’t realize that he’s purring lightly until Ladybug begins to stir, “Cha’?”
She props herself up slightly, glancing his way blearily and shaking her pigtails loose. When that doesn’t work, she just wills the ribbons away, letting her disheveled hair fall around her shoulders,
She is positively angelic.
Utterly radiant.
He snaps back to reality.
Hurrying over to her, he holds out the water and ibuprofen, “I got you some water, and ibuprofen.
She smiles at him gratefully, taking both. When she sets the water aside, she turns to where he’s crouching beside the couch.
She seems confused, and pats the spot beside her.
He can hear Plagg cackling in his mind.
“Y’ neee’ resss’ tooo…” she manages. She’s probably trying to avoid speaking with how she’s slurring.
“Alright, alright,” he huffs, faking being bothered. Chat throws the blanket over both of them, and Ladybug leans into his shoulder.
Plagg was right. Of course.
He takes her yo-yo off her, because there’s no way that would be comfortable to sleep with. He takes off his baton as well, setting it to wake him up in about five hours, and then placing it next to the yo-yo.
Ladybug is already out, which is probably for the best seeing as she wasn’t in great shape. He hugs her lightly, and pulls the blanket around her tighter.
He rests his eyes momentarily, this is nice. As he falls asleep, he slides downward, unable to stay sitting up. Ladybug falls with him.
By the time they wake up, they’re cuddled together, her head under his chin. Both have their arms wrapped around their partner.
It’s a good night.
---
Author’s Note: They're precious.
Oh, I wrote another thing last night, and I'd like to post it today, but I want to proofread it more. Expect it late afternoon.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!
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firebirdsdaughter · 4 years ago
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I'm honestly not too shocked that Aruto is going to work together Gai now. He always rubbed me the wrong way when it came to his views about Humagears, esp his reaction to Raiden & Subaru. That was a huge red flag for me. Also, if he's really so concerned about the well-being of Humagears, then he should offer counseling for the destroyed & revived Humagears to deal with the trauma. But I guess that would be too much to ask. As long as they serve humans who cares about Humagears' feelings.
I def agree w/ you, he’s rubbed me the wrong way in many of the same ways.
It’s hard to believe he sees HumaGear as people when he’s all pleased w/ Raiden talking about how he’ll be decommissioned soon and even calling the two of them ‘just like real brothers.’
You know, like he keeps saying Horobi is ‘trying to be like Jin’s father.’
And don’t even get me started on ‘a caring brother can’t be a spy,’ ‘if only you had been different,’ ‘why did you hurt Izu?’ ‘I’ve never treated them differently’…
AUGH.
To me, Aruto’s ‘dream’ can be summed up in a line from a song that was cut from Frozen (ya’ll thought I’d forgotten about this, didn’t you, but no) that goes ‘It’ll be just like it was, except for we’ll be best friends.’
This got long, so I’m cutting it here. Or. I’m trying to. 
He doesn’t see HumaGear as equal to people, he just wants them to stay right where they are, and ‘be happy’ there. ‘Good’ HumaGear are the ones whose development is convenient for humans. Raiden was ‘good’ when he saw no problem dying bc his ‘purpose was served,’ Naki was ‘good’ when they just wanted to support other HumaGear’s dreams as long as they were steered towards HumaGear w/ dreams of benefiting humanity, Jin is ‘good’ now bc he’s not trying to get HumaGear away from serving humans anymore and is also willing to kill his own father or due himself to do something that will benefit humans. The morality of the show has always been very much centred around humans, how HumaGear benefit humans, and HumaGear are expected to be these perfect little angels who exist to help humans and never think of themselves. Horobi is ‘bad’ bc he has resentment towards humans and has been so deeply under the Ark’s control for so long that he can’t think outside of her (esp not after being possessed) so obviously he doesn’t ‘want’ to be ‘change.’
I said it in the tags of my other post, but there’s something wrong w/ the picture when you’re holding a literally mind controlled AI who hasn’t had any concept of free will or self thought in his entire life aside from small snatches that were quickly stomped out, more accountable than a human w/ full autonomy and knowledge and power who deliberately did things that caused death and harm (and shot someone in the head). It’s not a good message. I’m supposed to feel bad for Gai bc he’s ‘sad,’ but Horobi deserves to die? I’m sorry, what?
The message has very much been ‘humans are special special and HumaGear are expendable/need to be carefully moulded into a ‘singularity’ that’s at the least convenient for humans.’ ‘Good’ HumaGear aspire only to properly serve their humans, to be like them, they are pure and angelic creatures who never feel anything ‘negative,’ and if they do, they need to be purged.
I could rant myself in circles about this for ages. I think for me, the really glaring example is Aruto’s treatment of Jin, a relationship that could have been an interesting learning experience for both of them (though, honestly, I was also hoping to see Fuwa also help Aruto realise the issues w/ his attitude, bc as he started coming down from his prejudice and aggression, Fuwa actually treated HumaGear more like equals than Aruto did, one of the many things I loved about him and Horobi as a pair), but instead ends up being a glaring example of Aruto’s… Whatever.
So Horobi has his first moment of clarity and genuinely fears for Jin, so the Ark steps in and ‘tells’ him to protect his son, so he does and it hurt, and Jin is hysterical. Izu proceeds to walk right up to the still-transformed, clearly emotionally volatile and very uninjured Jin, and announce w/ a smile that Horobi has been defeated. Jin, hysterical and lost, reacts in the only way he knows how, violently, which she should have bloody seen coming, wth. But then, Aruto is demanding to know ‘why did you hurt Izu’ like she did nothing wrong and Jin just attacked her randomly (which was a thing that could have happened and would have made his emotions make mire sense, Jin lashing out at Izu as ‘revenge’ for Horobi), and then Jin gets treated like the total bad guy. Then, on top of that, Aruto finds out during the fight that Jin doesn’t actually know what’s going on, he’s just been raised into this. Instead of immediately trying to change tactics and reason w/ him, Aruto just spews his ‘I want HumaGear and humans to smile together’ line (what does that even mean?), and when Jin rejects that, Aruto just… Gives up and says ‘if only you had been different.’ doesn’t try to prompt Jin to think about what Jin wants, what Jin is feeling, doesn’t bother to try to find out why Jin is so hysterical. It gets even worse when he quickly gains the firepower advantage and learns that Izu will be totally fine, but he still doesn’t bother trying anything else. He just kills Jin, bc… What? Jin didn’t immediately bow to his ‘love’ for HumaGear? Of course once sentence wasn’t gonna do it, he just watched humans kill his father! Aruto didn’t need to kill Jin at all, it would have been easy to disable him—alternatively, if they really wanted Jin to go down there, there were ways to do it that didn’t make it come off as Aruto quickly erasing a HumaGear for having any negative feelings or resentment towards humans, esp when you follow it w/ a scene of him and Izu being all pleased about other HumaGear ‘behaving’ themselves, and then never mention Jin again.
Fast forward, and when Jin comes back talking about wanting to free HumaGear from humans… Aruto actually asks him what he wants, finally? Then Aruto gets the boot from Hiden and decides to go to Jin for help. This should be a turning point where Jin get to properly confront Aruto about what happened and Aruto reflects on what he did, but no. Jin gets to shout a little, but then Aruto claims he never treated humans and HumaGear differently and says ‘I watched my HumaGear dad die’ and Jin just… Says nothing? doesn’t shoot back w/, ‘so did I, humans killed him.’ Then they get interrupted and Jin runs off… Only to… Rescue Izu later? But then after he does he… Grabs her hand and runs away and tries to convince her to be free? After… Literally buying his father time to reconnect to the Ark? And this is Izu? Who he stabbed? Okay… Anyway, then we have more stuff w/ poor connotations of Jin saying he ‘learned something’ from Aruto killing him and Izu ‘choosing’ to keep being Aruto’s secretary like a ‘good’ little HumaGear (her liking him and wanting to stay on his side would be one thing, but this… Esp w/ him claiming that he thought she should choose, going by his later insistence that Jin can’t take G-Pen bc he’s a human’s ‘partner’), and only then does he take a bullet for her. This apparently means something to Jin, although I feel like the implications of ‘she’s worth protecting bc she decided to keep serving humans and I killed you bc you didn’t want to do that’ should not have been lost on him (also wtf did Jin start caring about Izu?). The we have the next ep w/ aforementioned G-Pen incident which for some reason Aruto defending another HumaGear choosing to serve humans makes Jin decide to ‘believe in his dream’ or whatever. But then later the Raiden scene makes it seem like Jin was playing along bc that conversation w/ Horobi about HumaGear needing guidance to break free gave him an idea or something, I dunno, but naturally Aruto reacts like this is some huge betrayal, despite the fact that they hardly have any relationship—okay, so this friendship is something Aruto made up in his head, given his character, and apparent assumptions that all HumaGear actually adore humans, that makes sense. That could work. But then episode thirty fucking six happens. Jin apparently cares more for Yaiba, a human he’s barely interacted w/ who had yet to show any sign of no longer considering HumaGear to be tools, who had previously represented all the things Jin hated about them, then his own father. Acts all protective of her, throws himself in as a shield for her, moons about while she’s in the hospital. Then we learn he decided he trusted her (?????) enough to conspire w/ her to… Use his own father as a sacrifice to kill the Ark. Aruto seems to be more worried about Horobi, but merely yells a bit about how Horobi should ‘remember who he is by now.’ Come ep 37, Jin fucking takes a hit for miss perfect HumaGear Izu (note: aside from her grabbing the idiot ball in ep 15, my annoyance w/ Izu isn’t really something she as a character has done, it’s the way they’ve written her as the ‘pinnacle of ‘good’ HumaGear for her devotion to her human’), and tells Aruto to leave. Now that Jin is behaving in a way that benefits/is convenient for humans, though, Aruto is a like ‘oh, we totally were best buds, I was right!’ and is so worried and distressed about him, forgetting Horobi (who is so ‘bad’ for not being able to break through more than a decade of mind control! forget him, Jin must be saved!). Then we have that incredibly forced scene in 38 where Aruto tries to ‘get through to Jin’ and Jin ‘breaks through the Ark’s control bc of Aruto’ (see my draft horse pack on a shetland pony analogy) and ‘tells Aruto to kill him!’ which continues in to this ep. In which we also have… Gai. Who Aruto quickly puts effort into ‘reasoning w/’ and ‘showing the light’ bc ‘oh no he had a bad childhood’… Okay, but… You killed Jin for that, and he literally didn’t understand what he was doing. Gai had full autonomy and knowledge of his actions. People were hurt bc of both of their actions, but it’s Gai who gets a big speech and Jin who gets blown up. I said it back when it happened. If Jin had been human? I bet they would have made Aruto approach that much differently.
The fact that Aruto is willing to do all that for Gai but killed Jin, and only now considers Jin worth any effort bc Jin is behaving in a way that benefits/is convenient for humans even at the expense of HumaGear (being willing to sacrifice Horobi, even himself, to stop the Ark, while that goal is technically ultimately noble, the context gives a bad connotation), and not trying to talk HumaGear out of being subservient to humans and telling them to think for themselves, or wanting to revive a HumaGear that Aruto was content to leave deactivated bc he didn’t have a ‘use’… But Horobi only gets a few shouts and then ditched bc he ‘won’t listen’… Leaves a really bad impression.
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