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chateautae · 1 year

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to turn a bad thing good | jjk. I

➵ summary: jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

➵ pairing: ceo!jungkook x law student!f. reader

➵ genre: series, arranged marriage!au, fwb!au (?), haters to lovers!au, smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating: 18+

➵ word count: 13k

➵ warnings: swearing, loads of angsty arguing, sEXUAL tension, mentions of sexual content

➵ a/n: YAYYY it's here!! thank you endlessly to everyone who has loved, supported, and anticipated this series ever since I announced it. i’m grateful for your patience and hope you enjoy this first chapter. I have so much in store 🥺 pls forgive me for mistakes i did not have a beta bLEH. your feedback means the world to me <3

chapter one: “i’ve been to someone’s tomorrow”

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“Hello! Don’t you two dare get couply with me, I’m having a mid-life crisis!”

“Dude, you’re only 23, this isn’t a mid-life crisis, just a fucking crisis, goddammit.”

Jungkook scoffs derisively at Kim Taehyung’s curt voice over the phone. He rolls his eyes, knowing full well that his ride-or-die, lifelong friend is much more interested in indulging his wife right now. He’s happy for the man, he truly is, but Jungkook’s life is currently on the brink of destruction.

And he goddamn needs some sympathy.

“Hey Jungkook, it’s me.” Jungkook feels blessed to hear Taehyung’s wife on the phone, a much more kindred soul compared to his broody friend. “Go on, what happened to you? Why do you sound so scared?”

God, it’s good to hear that voice. Taehyung’s wife’s concern always sounded so genuine, like she’s handing you a cup of tea and creating a safe space for you to tear out your heart and empty its heft. It’s so goddamn sweet, it makes a person want to spill all their secrets until their soul is cleansed—it’s what makes Jungkook steel himself before relaying what’s happening to him.

After attending his friend Jung Hoseok’s club opening last night, he encountered the most enchanting woman he’s ever met. Her alluring eyes, her graceful body and seductive smile caught Jungkook like a Venus flytrap, unable to escape once nipped; but it was her sharp tongue and cleverly sexy mind games that keep Jungkook captive. He found that he enjoyed being captured, enjoyed the sweet pain of her cage and drowning in her nectar despite the poison; it resulted in the most mind-blowing sex of his entire life that night.

Until he was slapped with the shittiest turn of events.

“What’s up, Jungkook? Did something happen with your hookup?”

“No, I need to tell you the crisis. So I had mind-blowing sex, yes, but then I woke up a couple hours ago and tell me how I heard my parents talking about getting me an arranged marriage, an arranged marriage for fuck’s sake!” Jungkook grinds his teeth with contempt, the word ‘marriage’ tasting foul on his tongue.

“What? You’re getting an arranged marriage?”

“Yeah, my parents were just talking about it and I’ve been having a mental breakdown for an hour now, what am I supposed to do? I can’t fucking get married.” The very thought has been clawing at Jungkook’s stomach ever since. Marriage? Monogamy? Having his freedom stripped away?

He may actually turn green and throw up his stomach contents.

Jungkook has always been far from what most people expected a rich kid in Seoul to be. Devil-may-care, disobedient, allergic to responsibility. The word itself could make a disease break out in his blood, appalled by anything that demanded more than a night of fun or partying—it threatened his formula of escapism.

Ever since Jungkook was old enough to grasp his family’s affluence, he’s had tradition, discipline and business politics rammed down his throat. The sheer force of it trained him to have an acute disgust for anything resembling it, resulting in a “troubled” child that rarely followed what his parents desired.

It was not his fault his father owned one of the largest gaming companies in Korea, on track to raiding the American markets and introducing a global name for Jeon Entertainment. It was not his fault he was his father’s child and his first born son, burdened with the responsibility to inherit the company from the moment he drew his first breath. It was not his fault he carried the weight of a thousand expectations of who he should be.

It was all decided for Jungkook. He had no say in the matter, no method to refute his prominence. No, he’d been forced to bid his parent’s wishes, unable to live a life of his own. So what did Jungkook do? How did he break out of these confinements and live his intemperate, so-called recalcitrant life?

He developed the only method he’d considered most effective; he’d live unapologetically.

Tattoos, piercings and partying proved his disobedience. He wouldn’t be the prim, proper son many expected of the Jeon family, adopting what society believed to be a “delinquent” image. Instead of posh ceremonies and frivolous flattering, Jungkook found his tongue down a woman’s throat in a dark bar or worked out until his muscles burned.

Instead of unsteady politics and people-pleasing, Jungkook traversed every club in Seoul or smoked enough weed to forget the entire events of a weekend. Instead of empty words and fake smiles, he traded them for carefreeness, straight-forwardness, genuineness.

Some would say Jungkook’s too simple, that he indulges in vices and the finer things in life because he’s too daft to comprehend the complexities of the ways of the world. A notorious playboy who’s only merit appears to be his ravishing good looks and god-like stroke game, but that’s only the image he builds, the persona he carefully curates for outsiders.

It’s not that he hides who he truly is, no, he merely goes about life without over-complication, allowing him the freedom he’s been forced to renounce. It’s his plan for the rest of his life; take as much control of it without giving a fuck about others, and he’ll always be happy.

It worked for as long as he was smart enough to understand people, to understand his indulgences and pleasures. But when Jungkook overheard he was being shoved into an arranged marriage, distaste was too light a word—he was filled with absolute loathing.

This is a complete fuck-up to his plan.

“Shit, you’re only 23, too, why would they be marrying you off?”

“I don’t know, I heard something about how she’s the daughter of some what-its-face CEO that our family knows.” Jungkook relays with a hard swallow, clutching his phone in his hand so hard his knuckles must be white. He gazes upon the horizon before his eyes in the early morning, brimming with an orangey hue that bathes the gorgeous skyline of Seoul, its light rays dancing across the Han River.

It rids Jungkook of the nausea climbing up his throat, threatening to hurl over his balcony. “I’m gonna throw up. I can’t do this, marriage is literally my kryptonite and I can’t get married, I can’t. What if the girl’s some stuck up brat? What if I hate her? Oh God.. what if she’s some goody two-shoes? What if-”

“Shh, Jungkook, calm down.” Jungkook took a deep breath at the sound of Taehyung’s wife’s voice—he knows he’s losing it. “Look, I know it sucks and you didn’t agree to this, but maybe the girl won’t be so bad? Maybe you’re being matched because-oh fuck, Kim Taehyung, don’t you dare put your mouth there right now.”

“What? I can’t have my breakfast, thought I’d at least have a snack.”

Of course, this is what Jungkook should’ve expected to hear after he saw Taehyung and his wife nearly fucking each other on the dancefloor at Hoseok’s club last night. They were ravenous, practically impossible to not stumble upon and find either devouring each other with their eyes, one sitting in the other’s lap or lips passionately glued to one another.

Part of him envied their love and intimacy, but he's more glad the two seemed to be jolly again after the fight they’d been having for weeks. And as much as he’d love to hear the lovebirds go at it this morning, his patience was running thin. “Ugh, could you guys not get disgusting in front of me? I’m still having a fucking crisis here.”

“Right.. right, Jungkook.”

“Jungkook, dude, look. Arranged marriages aren’t even that bad, look at how mine turned out.”

“That’s because your wife is literally perfect, you asshole.” Jungkook grits—he’s telling the truth. His friend’s wife was possibly the prettiest woman inside and out he’s ever seen. She’s kind-hearted, head-strong, and even has these adorable doe-eyes that could charm any man. It’s no wonder his friend fell so hard for her, he couldn’t blame him.

Jungkook harboured strong feelings of admiration for Taehyung’s wife—of a Seoul rich kid able to defy the status quo and live for herself.

His friend’s wife was a tale often heard and discussed; the daughter of famous architect and CEO Min Namhyun, running away from the family to pursue her dreams on her own two feet. While it wasn’t an exact replica of Jungkook’s tale, it was still a distant cousin. Someone who despised the closed quarters of a suffocatingly rich family, the disarming responsibilities, the soul-crushing pressure.

Jungkook could only hope he’d escape it like his friend’s wife did, but this marriage tosses him right back to square one.

“I mean, I can’t argue with that.” His friend boasts over the phone, tugging Jungkook back into reality.

“Fucking hell, you guys are just a special case, too. And it’s only because your wife is literally so perfect, and caring, and cute, and cool, not to mention a ride or die. I mean, who the fuck throws a right hook like her? And for your sorry ass? She’s literally the epitome of wifey material, hot and sexy-”

“Jeon, shut the fuck up before I personally murder you.”

“I mean, he isn’t wrong. I’m pretty cool. I also have nice eyes, don’t I? Not to mention my plushy lips? And my cute height, too, Mr. Kim?” Jungkook had to bite back his laugh, remembering when Taehyung became uncharacteristically timid and told all their friends three things he liked about his new wife. His marriage was still fresh after the initial arrangement then, just two strangers forced into matrimony, but even Jungkook knew there was something special between the two of them.

It was obvious; something warm and kindred in the way his friend looked at his wife that indicated his heart was meant to belong to her.

Jungkook knew his story wouldn’t be the same fairytale.

“You’re so sweet, Jungkook. You’re like the perfect package, all endearing but then you have muscles like that too? Do you work out?”

Jungkook nearly blushed, flattered by the compliments. He’s seconds from adding to the joke before Taehyung’s so-calm-it’s-scary voice rippled through the phone.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Princess. You’re naked right now, and I have access to every inch of your body. Want me to touch you while he’s on the phone? Let him hear the way you moan for me? Maybe give him a sneak peek of what happened last night? All I remember is you digging your nails into my back and riding me until-”

“Okay, Tae, shut up! God, you’re so annoying.”

Jungkook heard Taehyung bellow out a laugh, and he couldn’t help but be a shit-disturber like always, their happiness contagious. “Damn, Tae, I’m gonna get turned on over here, you know I have a voyeurism kink. Invite me over next time you’re going at it, I like watching my porn live-”

“Jungkook, you’re dead to me. Goodbye.”

“Wait, wait! I’m serious, Tae. What do I do about this goddamn marriage?!”

“Suck it up and marry the damn girl, for fuck’s sake. She’s probably not even that bad, if anything I feel bad for her, you’re the asshole, Jungkook.” Taehyung snips back. “Watch you end up falling in love with her, I’m gonna be there to say I told you so.”

“But-!” And Jungkook’s cut off, left to stare at his phone. He resists the urge to toss it over the railing and let it plummet to the ground, its pieces scattering everywhere until they’re eventually dust. How hilarious; that sounds a fuck-ton like Jungkook’s ravaged freedom right now, his goddamn autonomy, his sovereignty.

What happened to Jungkook’s rights? Why can’t his parents respect the goddamn progressive state of the world and just let him live?

The things he’s fought to preserve ever since he was a kid, the things he valued more than anything else, gone with the wind just like his right to choose. He knew there was no fighting this one either, no manner of escape he couldn’t accomplish without completely destroying his family.

And despite what many want to believe about him, Jungkook isn’t selfish.

He can’t choose himself without damning others, so he swallows down his pride, his anger, his instinct to defy, and marches back into his room. He tosses away his shirt and strips off his dress pants, left to crawl into his bed and marinate in what the fuck he’s going to do.

“Avatar is literally one of the best movies ever.”

“Crap. The best movie ever is Inception and you know it.”

“Oh please, you’re just trying to be edgy. You’re the same guy who hates on Silence of the Lambs for the fuck of it.”

“Not my fault I’m not into serial killers who skin their victims and wear them.”

You snort as you whack your best friend Taeksu in the bicep, giggling into your martini. “Admit it, you just like to be different.”

“What can I say, I’m a one of a kind guy.”

Taeksu’s full-of-it smirk makes you bop him in the shin, earning an overly-exaggerated exclamation of pain from him. You roll your eyes as you request a refill on your martini from the gorgeous bartender who hasn’t been discreet with his few-too looks in your direction and his sexy lop-sided grin. You send him a lascivious one in return, drinking up his bulky muscles and square jaw you ache to kiss.

“Hello, earth to Y/N?” Taeksu flails his hand in front of your face, earning a scoff from you.

“Why are you interrupting my game, loser? What the hell do you want?”

“I asked how your final essay for contract law is going.” Taeksu bites back with the same attitude, swirling around his Whiskey before downing it. “Forgive me for goddamn asking, you idiot.”

“Says you.” You retort, narrowing your eyes at him. He stares right back, challenging you with his formidable eyes, though not threatening in the least.

That was the thing about your best friend Cho Taeksu, his eyes told everything. Their stunning shade of hazel with green flecks made his gaze appear soft and light no matter the situation, and never allowed you to take the man seriously.

It’s what made you two such a great pair; both of you didn’t take anything seriously. You’d discovered your similar laissez-faire approach to life when you met the snot-nosed kid at the age of 8.

You stumbled upon a young Taeksu lounging in his bedroom rather than enjoying the bustling party his parents were throwing downstairs. He was wearing a dapper little button up with his tiny tie a little off-center, sniffling away his allergies. His light-brown hair was mussed and his lips drawn into a pout, annoyed with his constant sniffling.

Your mother had let you wander the Cho mansion earlier, a notion she was comfortable with considering the Cho’s were good friends with your parents.

Taeksu was playing with a model car, imitating the sounds of a roaring engine as he knocked over a tower of wooden blocks. His room appeared as cool as an 8-year-old’s room could; a gigantic lava lamp in the corner, a car bed with a water mattress, a Nintendo 64 with his very own TV. You’d opened his door further as curiosity plagued you, only for the creak of the cherrywood to alert Taeksu of your presence.

Fear gripped you at invading his space; would he be like the other boys that didn’t want to play with a girl? That refused to share their expensive toys with anyone else? That would be mean to you?

“Are you not having fun?”

You tilted your head; what a weird question. “What do you mean?”

“At the party, is it not fun?”

The boy seemed so… calm, relaxed. He continued playing with his car as you ventured inside his room, timidness overcoming you. “I don’t like these parties. Too many people.”

The boy pouted, sighing. “Me neither.”

“Won’t you get in trouble by your parents? For being here?”

The boy pouted again, jerking his small shoulders up and down as he sniffled. “It’s okay. No biggie. I’m having fun like this.”

His lack of care honestly shocked you in that moment, taken by his ability to shut out what others wanted of him and simply pursue something he enjoyed, even if it was merely playing with a toy car. It was a trait of Taeksu’s that remained consistent throughout the 15 more years you’d known him, a trait you’d come to admire.

You found that your lives were so similar, so entangled that being best friends was simply fate. That connection extended to your families, your parents such synergistic friends that forging an unbreakable bond was inevitable.

It doesn’t hurt that Taeksu isn’t ugly either, no, he’s objectively one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen. His eyes were like rare gems of amber and emerald, a product of his Persian mother, complemented by brown, silky hair and flawless face structure courtesy of his Korean father. The man was a beautiful mix of rarity on his own. His physique was tall but lean, straight teeth that made for a handsome smile, and a kind heart that could ensnare the affections of any woman he set his eyes on.

He never really utilized that much around you, though.

After staring too hard, you and Taeksu burst into laughter, the alcohol poisoning your bloodstream by now, becoming loose-lipped and loose-limbed. Taeksu also appears slightly flushed, his grin a little too wide indicating that he’s now tipsy, and easily swayed. “So what, haven’t started your essay for contract law yet?”

“No, I started. Finished, actually.” You correct yourself, glugging your shot of tequila before sucking on a lime. You let the liquor burn your throat and dizzy your mind, leaning your cheek into your palm against the bar counter. “Why are you asking, anyway? Looking to copy off?”

Taeksu snorts. “Please, if I ever copied off you my GPA would drop.”

A look of disgust dawns on your features before punching his arm, once again earning his dramatics. “What the hell, Y/N?”

“You’re the one doing things to deserve it.”

Taeksu shakes his head in disapproval as your drunkenness takes over, slowing your speech. “Why are you even talking about school when that blonde chick over there has been eyeing you for 20 minutes?”

You make a light gesture towards the girl’s general direction, Taeksu flitting a glance to indeed find a gorgeous girl smiling at him, confident enough to even wave him a seductive hi. Taeksu scoffs through his smile, wetting his lips before his gaze falls to you. “I don’t remember saying I’m sleeping with someone tonight.”

“Well, you should.” You encourage him, clasping his shoulder like he’s your teammate. Indeed that’s what Taeksu always was; your partner in crime, your buddy, your homie. As attractive as the man might be, he’s also the same man that’s seen your absolute worst, and you his. You knew the kid when he thought replicating the movie “How to Eat Fried Worms” was a genius idea and his mother spanked him raw for destroying her microwave with cooked worm.

You knew the kid when he vomited all over you during field trips, his motion sickness as persistent as the damn devil. You even knew him when he needed to jump ship on a hookup because his dinner settled terribly in his stomach and he had the runs. You were his saviour that night; you posed as his mother texting him that his aunt had died.

Bless Taeksu’s auntie, but it was his most embarrassing moment he refused to tell anyone—save you.

Suffice to say, Taeksu was and will always be a friend. Your feelings never bloomed beyond that. You could never see him in a romantic light without something foreign crawling through your blood or feeling as though you’re deeply wronging him.

The furthest you’d go is sleeping with him, and that would cause nothing but carnage. Your appetite for sex was nothing like his, used to fill a void that haunts your soul—sex could mean absolutely nothing to you but everything to him. You couldn’t risk rousing those feelings inside him nor jeopardizing the future relationship Taeksu could have with the right woman, someone he truly belongs with.

It’s what always allowed you to operate like this with Taeksu; best friends, and nothing more.

“Why do you think I should?”

“Because law school is so stressful, and you need a good fuck to relax.”

Taeksu frowns. “Who says I’m stressed?”

“Says the damn wrinkles forming on your forehead.”

“My what?!” Taeksuk screeches as he snatches his phone and accesses his front-facing camera, examining his forehead—you cackle.

“Taeksu, if you stress over the wrinkles, you’ll get even more.” You continue to snicker as Taeksu tells you off, flinging insults and teases he never means at all. Your banter persists for another five minutes before your gorgeous bartender refills your glass without you asking.

“Oh, I’m sorry. But my bill’s already quite–”

“Bill? It’s on me, love. Every drink has been.”

The magnetism of his stare has you believing you’re North and South poles, destined to connect. Your body could feel the buzz his own promised; thick muscles and broad stature, the low timbre of his voice invoking libidinous thoughts. The ghost of his whispers, the heat of his desire, the rough masculinity of his roaming hands…

“You look like you’re seconds from orgasming.”

Taeksu’s voice makes you cut a side-long glance at him. “And how would you know what that looks like?”

“Think I’ve made enough women come to know.” Taeksu sips his Whiskey with a smirk. “But neither of you are being discreet. Are you thinking of sleeping with him?”

“Yes, I very much am.” You answer matter-of-factly, your bartender returning to concocting more drinks, but the ghost of a smile on his lips telling you he’s in the same boat as you—your foreboding eyes cut to Taeksu. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Taeksu stiffens like he always does, swallowing a little harder than he should. He steels himself, though, draining the rest of his liquor. “But you’re quite drunk. Sober up before sleeping with him.”

“Don’t worry, I’m only tipsy, Taeksu.” You drawl, stroking your bottom lip with a seductive finger, eyes only for your bartender. “Like I said, how else do you get rid of stress other than a good fuck?”

Taeksu breathes a laugh at your proclamation, nodding. “Like you said about the guy last night. You didn’t tell me much about that.”

The simple reminder of last night left tremors through your body, forced to recall the ecstasy of it. All you had in mind was perusing a newly opened club belonging to an infamous chain owned by Jung Hoseok, a man one would call Dionysus himself. His music was spell-binding, his liquor of the finest quality and his circle of people even more delicious.

You barely remember the man you’d had inside of you last night, but there wasn’t much room for talking once his lips landed on yours. His roaming hands made fireworks explode in your veins, his touch igniting a burning passion within you.

You’d had the most mind-blowing sex you’d ever experienced, a rarity in your usual escapades. The man knew how to touch you, not just that he knew women. He excavated your body, understood your pleasures as though he was a study in what made you tick and utilized it to give you the night of your life.

The sheer memory of him made you sweat, shooing away the thought before you longed for something gone. He’d left by the time you’d awakened in your apartment, alone, wondering whether you were angry at him or angry at yourself for expecting something more.

“Not much to tell.”

“The look on your face says there’s a lot to tell.”

You roll your eyes at Taeksu and flick his cheek, your face contorting with teasing. “You definitely need a good fuck; would teach you to stop over-analyzing me.”

Taeksu chuckles, leaning his elbow against the bar counter. “Whatever you say, loser. Don’t say I never warned you about not being sober tonight, though.”

“Noted.”

You’re ready to make your move, downing your glass of water before straightening out of your dress and breathing deeply. You face Taeksu and blink rapidly, touching your hair. “Is my hair okay? I’ve been running my hands through it all night.”

Taeksu studies you, and it’s the kind of look that could get him in trouble. He gazes like you’re the only woman in the world, that softness shimmering with something indescribable. You swallow at the look, at his hand coming up to your face to softly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb coasts your cheek before he grins, a genuine and sweet one. “Bartender was right to call you beautiful.”

You inhale sharply, returning his smile before nodding and propping off your seat. You’re in the middle of banishing the conflicting thoughts Taeksu’s gaze just stirred when your phone begins buzzing on the bar counter, revealing a photo of your mom.

“Damn, why is she calling me now?”

Taeksu shrugs. “Want me to answer? Could be something important.”

“It’s okay, I’ll answer.” You thank him, snagging your phone and accepting her call without a single idea of the reality that’s going to hit you.

“You want me to what?”

“I want you to come with me on this cruise next weekend, Y/N. We’re meeting some very important people and I don’t feel like going alone.”

“But mooom—”

“Bidulgi, please. I’d much rather journey on a cruise with my daughter instead of alone.”

You sigh listening to the term of endearment your mother used with you. Bidulgi, dove, something she likened to calling you ever since you were four years-old and declared to the world that you wanted to be just like your mother—a lawyer who fights for people’s justice and freedom. She’d taught you that doves symbolized peace, freedom, and love, and wanted you to become not only a lawyer, but someone that emulated those things.

You couldn’t resist her when she called you her dove.

“Fine, mom. But who are we even meeting? And why is it a cruise? How long are we gone for?”

“Just half a week, Y/N. They’ve invited us on a cruise for the day that’ll dock in Hong Kong, and from there they’d like to take us to the Maldives.”

“The Maldives?” You squeak in question, absolutely bewildered. “Who the hell is taking us to the Maldives?”

“You’ll meet them next weekend. Spend this week packing for the cruise and the Maldives.” You sigh at your mother’s neglect for your life, not even registering how sudden this is.

“Mom, as much as I’d love to go on a trip, I have school and my internship. I can’t just up and leave for a luxurious vacation.”

“Taeksu already told me that you’re ahead in all of your class assignments and merely have studying left. You’ll have plenty of time to study upon the cruise and in the Maldives, and we’ll be back before your exams. As for the internship, considering you’re the daughter of the firm’s owner, I see no reason why you can’t have some time off.”

“But mom, you know I love working for your firm—”

“That’s final, Y/N. You will accompany me to this meeting. Am I not allowed to spend time with my daughter?”

You exhale heavily, shaking your head as you rummage through escape plans from this. You come up short in the end, because is there truly a way? There’s no winning an argument against a lawyer; a task as Herculean as beheading a Hydra. “Fine, mom. What about Jihoon and dad, though? We can’t just leave them.”

“Your little brother has school, and you know your father’s condition—he won’t be able to join us.”

Your mood plummets at the news, refusing to let it damper the rest of your night. “Okay. We’ll talk about this more later, though.”

“Good, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Always ask questions before taking any deal.” You breathe a smile at the pride in her tone, her parenting always having been through the lens of a lawyer. As annoying as it could be sometimes, it did have its perks, too.

“Bye, mom.”

“Take care, nae bidulgi.”

Cutting the call, you narrow your eyes at Taeksu. “You knew my goddamn mom was gonna whisk me away to the Maldives? And you didn’t tell me.”

“Hey,” he protests, hailing up his hands in surrender. “She told me not to say anything and you know your mom. The woman’s a kickass lawyer for God’s sake, I couldn’t defy her.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you march towards where you last saw your bartender, fed up with the situation—you might as well fuck your mind off it. Unable to locate him, you land on the first employee you can spot, leaning over the counter. “Hey, have you seen that really good-looking colleague of yours? Dark hair? Super buff?”

“Ah, you probably mean Hyunwoo. He just went to the back. One of my best guys.” The man flashes you a sunny smile as he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting your head at his words.

“One of your guys? As in you’re his boss?”

“Everyone’s boss, technically. I kinda own the place.”

You’re far too tipsy to consider you’re speaking to the Jung Hoseok, having barely noticed him at yesterday’s club opening. You thank him for the information and he tells you it’s no problem, along with what time Hyunwoo gets off work.

His information was more than correct, because you ended up finding Hyunwoo after his shift, sticking your tongue down his throat, and letting him shove his hand in your panties as he pressed you up against his car, grinding like two teenagers in heat. He drove you to his place where you both went at it quick and dirty, rough and nasty, left with enough whisker burn to have scratched you raw.

Though it was like nothing you had with the man the night before, left with the ghost of him haunting you, and wondering if he’ll ever return.

“You want me to what?!”

“We want you to take over the company, son.”

Jungkook scoffs as anger rages inside him, threatening to boil up all his blood. “You can’t be fucking serious, dad.”

“Watch your language, child.” Jungkook’s father rebukes him. “You knew this was coming, son. Why are you so upset? You were always destined to inherit the company.”

“But I thought I had time, time to actually want it.” Jungkook argues, exasperated beyond belief. “I’m only 23, dad. You can’t make me run an entire company.”

“And who says you can’t?” Jungkook’s mother cuts in, her arms tightly folded across her chest. “Son, your father built this company at 20 years-old, who says you can’t run it at 23? Besides, you’ve always loved games, what’s stopping you now?”

“Mom,” Jungkook exhales with a dry laugh, raking his hands through his long hair. “Enjoying games is one thing but running an entire fucking company is another. You can’t just drop this responsibility on me, you can’t!”

“Jungkook, you cannot escape this.” His father’s voice grows stern. “You are my firstborn and only son, and you are to inherit my company. There is no negotiating this; I do not care how hard you try to rebel against me or ruin your image. I do not care if you are nothing more than my playboy son who wastes the last half of his brain on partying and drinking, you will inherit my company and embrace my legacy.”

Jungkook attempts to hide the disgust on his face, the sting in his heart when his father regards him with such disdain. He’d grown used to his undermining and condescending language since he was a boy, speaking to Jungkook as if he were an obtuse child unable to fill his father’s shoes.

This is why Jungkook has always looked the other way, why he’s been fighting for his freedom since the day he understood his fate; disappointing his parents by being the worst was much better than disappointing them with his best.

Jungkook’s fist clenched open and closed, remembering to breathe through his fury, to channel it into his fists later when they met the hardness of a punching bag. His head is pounding, his brain computing five million possibilities at once, his body buzzing with the need to rampage. “You’re already forcing me to marry someone, you can’t force me to own your company. You just can’t.”

“Yes, I can. And you will.” Jungkook’s father remains unmovable, utterly stubborn. “Do not defy me.”

“And what if I ruin your company?” Jungkook venously retorts, jaw tightly locked. “What if I run it to the ground and you lose every precious thing you’ve worked so hard for?”

Jungkook’s father smiles grimly, replicating the malice of the Joker himself. “Then you’ll be damning yourself and the rest of our family, son. And I know you’re not so stupid as to jeopardize that. After all, your money has been my money your whole life; what are you to do without the penthouse you live in or the car you drive? The luxuries you bathe in everyday? What of your mother and sister? Will you let them lose everything because of your ignorance?”

Jungkook’s mind shatters; this is why his father was doing this. He knew Jungkook would have no choice, knew that his one weakness was always his family, that he’d do anything for them. He was manipulating that love, knowledgeable that Jungkook truly had no choice when sandwiched between these two tragedies. He had to run the company as best he could to support everyone, and failure to do so would result in his worst nightmare.

His family destroyed… his sister…

Jungkook laughs, meek and dry. He’s tired, he’s furious, he feels like tearing everything in this room apart. His chest aches and his brain throbs and his shoulders feel heavy with the weight of so much pressure, like a boulder crushing every tendon inside him.

He’s so… so fucking tired.

“Fine,” Jungkook grits, barely able to stand. His eyes fill with malevolence as he accusingly points at his father, his voice taut. “But I am not, and will never do this for you. I’m doing this for Mari… only for Mari.”

Jungkook doesn’t even give his father time to rebuttal before he turns his cheek and throws open the door of his parents’ suite, venturing away with white hot rage radiating through his every step.

“Mom, why the hell are you dressing me up?”

“Because, my love, you need to look pretty for this meeting.”

You grumble as your mother flocks around you like a wild bird, pestering you about your makeup and hair and outfit and shoes and purse as though you’re meeting the Prime Minister of Korea himself. Her constant blithering is enough to make your eardrums surrender, left utterly exhausted.

“Mom, what’s wrong with you? Why are you acting as though this is the most important meeting in the world?”

Your mother stiffens for a millisecond before softening, her expression calm and collected. You know the woman spent the better half of her life schooling her emotions as a lawyer, slaying any feelings of anxiety and doubt like a warrior. But the nerves always showed in her eyes, in her hands that sometimes shook, in the entirely unconscious way she’d clean just to distract herself.

Right now she was tidying up your entire suite on the cruise, her voice distant. “Nothing’s wrong, Y/N. You know appearances are everything and I just want my daughter to look beautiful.”

“Do you mean to say I’m not always beautiful?”

It’s only a joke, your light-hearted tone and a small chuckle saying that much, but your mother gasps as though someone has misplaced one of her files. Your mother has always hated when people touched her files.

She approaches you with a kind smile as she cradles your cheeks, her eyes sweeter than cotton candy. She’s been so benevolent lately that you’re afraid this may be the calm before the storm, wary of what today really entails.

She still refuses to share many details about the meeting today, nor has she informed you of the people part of it. You could be walking into a den of monsters and not know, but she’s your mother—the woman who raised you to be relentless, strong-spirited, a goddess. You’d always trusted her, always let her be your confidant because she offered so much more than just being a mother—she acted as a best friend, a sister, a counsellor even.

Even if growing up under her strictness and expectations wasn’t easy, you like to believe she truly molded you into the person you are today. She did what was necessary; polished a rock hard enough until it became a diamond.

You trust your mother, so you’ll blindly follow her into this meeting if you have to.

“You are the most beautiful woman, Y/N.” Your mother coos, tracing one of the earrings you wear. “You look stunning.”

Your lips naturally curl, touched by her love. “I’m only beautiful because I get it from my mother.”

She grins, wide and true, but you can’t help but distinguish the lightest regret in her eyes, as though she’s shielding something from you. You want to press her, desperate to understand what’s going on, but you know your mother—whatever it is, it’s for your benefit.

Taking a deep breath, you clasp her wrist, bouncing your brows. “Shall we?”

She giggles warmly in return, gripping your hand. “We shall.”

To say this cruise was beautiful is an understatement, it was absolutely lavish, decadent. Its sheer opulence begged the question of the wealth of whomever you were meeting tonight, only a billionaire’s pockets deep enough to afford this.

Your mother still opted for secrecy regarding everything tonight, but she informed you of the cruise. One of the most luxurious to sail; it was owned by the man you were both meeting, colouring you 26 shades of impressed. The activities and events on board were enough to spend days on the ship; it was genuinely disheartening to think you’d only be able to indulge until tomorrow.

Manuevering across the ship and into a more private, though equally opulent room above the main deck, your eyes widen at the sight beyond the windows. The vast sea offers a soothing sight tonight, the scent of salt water like balm to your soul. The sounds of waves crashing are shut out in this room, though present, threatening to lull anyone who listens too carefully to sleep.

You’re so busy admiring the breadth of the ocean that you’re startled by the sound of an older man entering the room, his voice joyful and welcoming. “Bitna, there you are, how great it is to see you!”

“Ah, Chinhae, it’s great to see you too!” Your mother lights up with a merry smile, reaching out and embracing the man with familiarity. “Let me introduce you to my daughter, Y/N.”

“Well would you look at her, she looks just like you, Bitna.” Chinhae politely compliments, extending his hand for a shake. You meet him in the middle and respectfully bow, plastering on a smile. “Nice to meet you, dear. I’m Jeon Chinhae. I’ve heard wonderful things from your mother.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon.” You squeeze his hand, soon shooting your mother a reprimanding look. “I’m sad to say my mother didn’t tell me much about this meeting or yourself.”

“With good reason, Y/N.” Your mother tuts.

“Bitna, how could you? I think you’ve wounded me a little.” Mr. Jeon jokes, causing you and your mother to chuckle. They begin some light small talk as your mind starts to wander, contemplating the significance of tonight’s meeting.

What is your mother planning? Considering this man owns this ship means he’s incredibly wealthy; perhaps a politician? Another lawyer? Someone you could potentially work with after you’ve finished law school? But you don’t know of any extravagantly affluent lawyers by the name of Jeon, already familiar with Seoul’s upper echelon of justice representatives.

Seoul’s upper echelon… now that gets your gears shifting. He must be a member if he’s in possession of such a lavish vessel and freely offering you and your mother an all-inclusive vacation to the Maldives.

You rake your mind for the name Jeon then. It sounds so familiar, a company of sorts often on the news and in stores… ah! Jeon Entertainment.

This must be the CEO of Jeon Entertainment, it’s the only viable option. Of course the CEO of a gaming company could afford all of this; the gaming market remains crazy profitable as technology advances, creating new ways for humans to escape their reality and immerse themselves in alternate worlds.

“She’s only told me of the wonderful trip you mean to take us on, which we’re very grateful for, Mr. Jeon.” You honestly extend your gratitude as you cut into the conversation; it’s not everyday an illustrious family waves you a free ticket for a vacation in your face.

“No need for thanks, dear. I’m certain we’ll be like family on this trip, anyway.” Mr. Jeon smiles kindly, and his words slightly confound you. Like family? Surely if your mom considered the man family, she would’ve told you about him.

“Please, Chinhae. Where is the rest of your family? I haven’t seen your wife in far too long.” Your mother laments, causing Mr. Jeon to regretfully exhale.

“Ah, she’s with my son. I’m sure they’ll be out soon.” Mr. Jeon kisses his teeth with slight annoyance and swivels around, calling out to the corridor he emerged from. “Jagiya, our guests are here!”

You and your mother fall into needless conversation to seem polite as Mr. Jeon nearly stomps his way to the corridor, calling out again. It’s then you hear whispered-yelling, barely coherent but evident. They sound angry and distressed, alerting you that something seems off about this.

Mr. Jeon settles as two shadows appear before him. His smile, though fake, rises. “Ah, Bitna, Y/N, let me present my wife and son. Jeon Aecha and Jeon Jungkook.”

You’re smiling politely, ready to respectfully bow for the two people that enter the room. What you’re met with is nothing you’d expect; your jaw unhinges the second you lay eyes on a frustrated man venturing into the room as though he’d rather watch paint dry, and his distraught mother trailing behind.

Your heart stops, your blood spikes and suddenly every hair on your body rises, unable to fathom…

This is the exact same man you slept with the other night, the one who absolutely rocked your world.

And now here he is before you, his eyes widening just like yours. Clearly he’s as shocked to see you, frozen. It takes all but two seconds for shame to dawn on his features, evidently recalling how things were left between you two—he’d run off before you could even wake up, dooming the night to a simple one night stand.

Petty anger settles into your bones, once again either hating the man for leaving or yourself for expecting him to stay. You weren’t anticipating much; you’re a woman who stands by one night stands, sex merely something you craved and often got. But you at least expected him to stay until breakfast, to have that awkward but mollifying conversation where both parties either agree to continue the relationship or end things there.

And you’d wanted to continue things with this man. He was different, and deliciously good in bed. But no, he didn’t respect you enough to have that conversation, or clearly hated the sex so much that he disappeared like a thief in the night.

Looking at his stupid face now, you hate that he did, hate him for leaving you, hate that his skills in bed were so good you’d been reeling for days.

You decide to toss aside those notions now, forget the fact that you’ve slept with the goddamn CEO of Jeon Entertainment’s son. You could hardly look Mr. Jeon in the eye now, introducing his son as though you didn’t already know what he feels like inside of you.

The thought forces you to clear your throat and collect your wits, schooling yourself as you greet who you now know as Jungkook, and his mother.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” You say, swallowing down the urge to stare at Jungkook. “What could be bringing our two families together in such a wonderful place? I’ve heard the ship actually belongs to you, Mr. Jeon.”

“Ah, yes, it does, dear.” He grins widely. “I’m sure my son would be happy to show you around tomorrow. You’ll be spending quite some time together after all.”

You then remember you’re meant to spend this entire vacation with Jungkook’s family, and of course, Jungkook himself. The thought nearly makes your insides coil, forced to be with the same man that left you that night. Still, your mother was friends with this family, and you’d use every available method to hide the true nature of how you know Jungkook in order to preserve niceties.

No matter that the fucking heat of his stare from across the room keeps distracting you… fuck.

“Of course, the trip to the Maldives. Is there something to be celebrating?” You query, curious as to what occasion there is. Jungkook’s entirely blank face suddenly folds when his eyebrows quirk in confusion, eyes darting towards you. It’s then shock blooms on his features, soon his jaw flexing as he looks away.

“Oh? Did your mother not tell you about our meeting today?” Mr. Jeon asks, shaking your head as you peer at your mother.

“No, she didn’t. Is there something I should know?”

Mr and Mrs Jeon then send each other puzzled looks, your mother barely able to meet your eyes. Your confusion only grows, peeking between both hesitant parties.

Mr. Jeon then grins politely, speaking carefully. “Ah, Bitna, you didn’t tell your daughter about the marriage between my son and your daughter?”

You choke, both literally and figuratively. Your body goes rigid, mind blanketed by a snowstorm. Your very understanding of reality crumbles, chest pierced by a cruel arrow of pain. You glance at your mother, who looks at you with a world of regret, finally understanding why she seemed so off today.

This entire time… this entire time she planned on having you married off, and she didn’t tell you?

“Mom…” You breathe, ribs threatening to cave in, leaving you bare and naked as you face the people in this room. You feel too vulnerable, too seen, too exposed. “Mom… you-you didn’t tell me?”

Your mother smiles with guilt, reaching out for you. “Bidulgi, I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to meet the Jeon’s without any judgement.” She coos, coos like she always does, even using that term of endearment with you to sweeten the blow of her words.

She planned this… she–she ambushed you with this news, purposefully withheld the information so you had no choice but to agree. You couldn’t rudely reject the marriage in front of the Jeon family, not with them letting you stay on their ship and taking you to the Maldives. Not with their son right here, who’s gone so still you’re certain the man is stone.

That’s nothing like you, though. No, you're a whirlwind of emotions; hurt, betrayal, pain, sorrow, betrayal. You feel like you’re living somebody’s life, somebody else’s tomorrow, certain this is all a cosmic joke because this can’t be your life.

But your eyes then fall to the woman responsible for this; your mother. Not anyone else’s, yours, meaning this is your life, and it is happening to you. You feel horribly wronged by her; she knew you trusted her, used that trust and manipulated you into a deadlock of a decision.

Marriage? Fucking marriage? She wanted you to marry someone, and of all fucking people on Earth, it’s to the man who left your bed as though you were some meaningless rump in the sheets?

You’re shaking with anger by the time your mother and Jungkook’s parents begin talking, discussing the most menial of things. Mr. Jeon asks about your father, and your mother gives the usual answer she does. Mrs. Jeon even dares to joke about wedding decorations, her and your mother beginning to discuss which flowers to purchase for the ceremony.

They continue to speak freely, acting as though their children they’re forcing to wed aren’t even there, mere pawns to be moved around on their chessboard. You can barely stand now, white hot fury poisoning your blood. To be in the same room as your mother feels akin to burning, the sting of her betrayal more agonizing than any venom.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, incapable of remaining here, of accepting this. Your embarrassment is gut-wrenching, unbelieving that your mother could do this to you, could leave you looking imbecilic in front of your future fiance’s family—those very words taste wrong in your mouth.

She was always such a modern woman, forward-thinking and progressive. You would’ve never thought she could do something as old-fashioned as marry her daughter off to a stranger—it seems you were wrong.

You can’t even breathe anymore, so overcome with emotion that you excuse yourself for a breath of fresh air, fighting to keep the contents of your dinner in your stomach.

“Uh… hey.”

You whip your head around to find Jungkook hesitantly sauntering onto the deck, shutting the door behind him. You grip the railings of the bow of the ship, letting the sea breeze whisk through your hair.

You’d ventured outside to clear your head, to let the unsettling waters of the ocean perhaps distract you from the choppy waves in your own mind. But it’s far from clear now as you watch Jungkook’s eyes dart elsewhere, lodging his hands into his pockets, feet shifting.

You despise that your memory of him the other night resurfaces, distraught with how he appears the same; strikingly handsome with a boyish charm that completely contradicts his playboy sex appeal.

You could sneak a peek of the tattoo sleeve you knew decorated one of his arms, extending to the back of his hand. His piercings present dangly earrings that glint in the moonlight, his lip ring harkening back memories of its metal against your skin. His hair is longer than your traditional male, falling in soft, slightly wavy strands that frame his face handsomely. A few even curl over his forehead in a comma, a faint undercut adding a hint of roughness to his soft features, his strong brows mesmerizing.

You can’t help but scoff, despising yourself for finding him even remotely attractive. He just had to have a Herculean body with delicious muscles that hugged a tall torso, adding insult to injury. Had to have thick thighs and a thick chest and thick shoulders that could carry the entire world.

Absolutely unfair.

“Well… if it isn’t you.” You snark, ripping your eyes away from the damn traitor. His hesitant behaviour in the meeting earlier indicated that he knew about this marriage before you did, possibly even knew it was to you. “Did you know about this shit? Because if you did, I won’t hesitate to throw you overboard.”

You listen to Jungkook scoff, tonguing his lip ring. “Wow, says the girl who told me her name was Yeji before sticking her tongue down my throat the night we met. Nice to meet you by the way, Y/N.”

“Please,” you narrow your eyes at him, disgust sprawling all over your face. “I don’t remember you hating it, so stop acting wounded. And you didn’t tell me your name, anyway. I was under the impression we weren’t going to meet again… let alone marry each other.”

“Trust me, I want nothing to do with this either. And no, I had no clue my parent’s arranged a marriage until after our… night together. And I just found out it’s to you… of all fucking people.” The last part he whispers to himself, causing rage to simmer within you.

“Fuck you; you’re the same person who left my apartment like I was some trollop.” You venomously retort. “I can’t believe I have to marry you of all people.”

Jungkook visibly stands down at those words. You hate that your hurt is apparent enough for him to soften, his body less rigid. His eyes shimmer with the lunar rays of the moon, reflecting… sympathy. “Look, I’m sorry I did that, okay. That night was… overwhelming, and I never meant to make you feel—”

“Forget it, I don’t want your pity.” You spit his way, tightly clutching your shawl over your body. The sea had grown colder, attacking your exposed skin in this thin dinner dress your mother chose.

Now you want nothing but to toss it into the ocean.

Jungkook sighs deeply as he pinches the bridge of his nose, distress written all over his face. He runs a hand through his hair, lost in his head. “Listen, I know you may hate me, Y/N, but we’ll have to make this work somehow. We have to—”

“Are you mad?” You genuinely question, laughing even. “Jungkook, we’re going to pretend like the other night never happened, and we’re not going to get married, end of story. We’re going to march right back into that room and tell our parents that this isn’t happening.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh dryly, gesturing towards you. “Are you mad? We can’t fucking avoid this. We have to get married, we have no other choice.”

“We do; we simply don’t.” You refuse to budge, tone growing in its malice. “Don’t you see this isn’t going to work? We barely know each other and made a mistake the other night. We are not getting married.”

Jungkook’s features contort in disbelief. “We have to, okay? You don’t fucking get it, Y/N. I need to marry you, I have too much riding on this stupid fucking marriage.”

A derisive laugh escapes you, unbothered. “And what could you possibly have riding on this marriage? What more could a little fucking rich boy like you need?” Your words cause Jungkook’s eyebrows to furrow, a wicked grin forming on your lips. “Yeah, I did a Google search on you the second I came out here. All you are is a spoiled playboy who’s had his daddy feed him with a silver spoon all his life, what more could you need?”

Jungkook locks his jaw tightly, his fists clenching and unclenching. You knew you recognized the bruises on his knuckles, the coarseness of his calluses running over your heated skin that night. He clearly boxed or performed some kind of exercise fighting, indicative of the way he squeezes his hands together to no doubt control his anger. He swallows harshly, hard enough his Adam’s apple bobs and draws unnecessary attention to his neck… a sexy neck.

Fuck.

“Wow, you’re like a fucking angry kitten. Unaware of her size in the world and yet still slashing her claws.”

“Shut the fuck up. I am not a kitten.”

He breathes a tight laugh as he eyes your height, clearly finding you ridiculous. So what if you’re shorter than him? You are not a docile kitten, you’re a lioness ready to pounce on anyone who fucks with you.

Jungkook’s cadence is leveled, his voice condescendingly honeyed over as he folds his arms. “We have to get married, little kitten. We just have to, we have no choice.”

“Well, I don’t want to marry you.”

“And I don’t want to fucking marry you either!” Jungkook suddenly explodes, his eyes wild as emotion overtakes him. “But for fuck’s sake, I have to take over my father’s company! I have to marry someone and prove something to him! I have it the fucking worst, the worst, and yet I’m still trying. I’m still compromising.”

“You have it the worst?” Your voice cracks, tears brimming your tired eyes. “I was fucking ambushed by my mother, the woman I trust most in this fucking world! She betrayed me in front of your family, you can’t possibly have it worse than I do!”

“Please,” Jungkook laughs, his tone cutthroat. “You did a Google search on me? Well I did one on you, too. You’re the daughter of a wealthy lawyer couple with a famous law firm, you were fed everything on a silver spoon, too. How hard could you have it?”

Rage boils inside you, having half the mind to not march over and slap him across the face. He knows nothing about you, absolutely nothing. Indignation becomes your friend, gritting at him. “Says fucking you.”

Jungkook appears exhausted now, shaking his head. He sighs again, hands perching onto his hips as he peers up at the inky black sky. “Look, I don’t care if you don’t want to marry me. You’re the only way I’ll get my parents off my fucking back, so be a doll and just do what you’re told, yeah?”

Now’s the time you truly can’t stand the man, approaching him with angry steps to invade his personal space. “Don’t you dare call me a doll, and what? You’re just gonna use me like you did the other night? Leave me once your needs are satisfied?”

Jungkook becomes formidable then, shoving himself in your face with mere inches between your heated, angry bodies. You hate that you focus on his height in comparison to yours, large enough that he could easily manhandle you. He towers you, sexily so, and you use every ounce of your strength to fight back your arousal.

“If I recall correctly, you’re the one that had four orgasms that night, kitten, so whose needs were really satisfied?”

The rumble of his foreboding voice shoots electricity through you, shoving down the urge to remember those four wonderful orgasms he made explode in your body. His words still implant disgust within you, ready to shove the man overboard.

Jungkook seems to notice the way you swallow, his lips curving smugly, eyes dancing with amusement. “And here I thought you forgot about that night.”

You grind your teeth, hating his stupidly gorgeous face and sexy smirk. “Still doesn’t give you the right to use marrying me for your own benefit, you bastard. I want nothing to do with you.”

“Like fucking wise, wifey.”

“Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Then don’t you dare call me a bastard.”

You’re at your limit, hanging on by a fucking thread as Jungkook refuses to drop your gaze. He stares dauntingly, challenging you with his unmoving look. He’s still in your space, the gap between you two small enough to be closed by a single step. Your body reacts stupidly, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

And something about being burned intrigues you beyond explanation.

You huff in his face, shaking your head in controlled fury before shoving past him and marching towards the door, shooting him an alarming death glare. “Mark me, and mark me clearly, you mongrel. I’ll be damned before I wed you and share a fucking marriage bed with you. Goodbye.”

“And here’s the bed you’ll be sharing!”

You gawk at the suite with wide eyes, unable to speak. It’s similar to the room you share with your mother, except this room doesn’t have two beds… but one.

One fucking king sized bed that belongs to Jungkook.

“Mom, what is this?” You rudely question, ignoring your tone and the fact that Jungkook stands just behind you. “What do you mean I’m sharing his room?”

“Well, us parents just thought it’d be better for you two if you shared a room together, so we decided to place you in Jungkook’s. You’ll be married soon after all!” Your mother appears overly thrilled, smiling widely with her hands clasped together. You can’t believe her at all, shaking with resentment.

“Mom, you can’t make us share a room.” You fume, barely containing your temper. “You’ve already done enough, this is too much.”

“We don’t have much of an option, dear.” She coos, acting as though she hasn’t just entirely fucked up your life. “The Jeons suggested it and it’d be rude for us to not accept their hospitality. Besides, Jungkook’s a sweet boy, and I’d hurt him myself if he ever did anything to you.”

Your mother reaches towards Jungkook and cradles his cheek, her later warning bright in her eyes. Jungkook smiles politely, as though he wasn’t just up in your face and spitting poison half an hour ago. “Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N. I can assure you I’ll treat your daughter with respect. Always.”

Your mother hums delightfully at that, flashing a look at you. You refuse to meet her eyes, emotions still too raw inside you. She sighs and bids a farewell, leaving you two with your dicks in your hands.

You simmer angrily; your things were already transported here so you couldn’t make the excuse of leaving for them—shit. You suppress a snarl, hating every second of this.

“So, what was that about not sharing my bed, kitten?”

You scoff, hissing at him. “Fuck off, and don’t call me petnames.”

“But it’s so fun.”

Patience will certainly become your best friend with this man, whipping your head around with a death glare. “I’ll sleep on the Godforsaken couch if I have to. I am not sleeping with you.”

Jungkook laughs, dry and curt. He makes it a statement to walk towards you, slow and calculative. He invades your space as he pins you with an amused look, eyes as dangerous as the sea itself. “Don’t know if you’ve forgotten, kitten, but you’ve already slept with me.”

The pride in his smirk leaves you unhinged, shoving Jungkook away from you. “I remember it being the biggest mistake of my life.”

Jungkook laughs humourlessly this time, obviously not used to a sharp-tongued woman. His gaze harbours something you can’t quite distinguish, like he’s attempting to figure you out, entertained by solving whatever puzzle you appear to be to him.

You hate that he’s trying, indicative of his still unwavering will to try this marriage, to truly be bound to each other as husband and wife. You can’t understand it, can’t understand how the man is so eager to prove a point that he’s soiling one of the most precious things in human life; the bond of marriage.

It only makes you consider how your mother could do this to you, strap you to some random person’s son as though you’re her doll. For all she knew you were in a relationship, in love, goddamn handfast with someone else, but her refusal to divulge any information or inquire about your love life says enough.

She doesn’t fucking care.

Your thoughts send you swimming in the doubts of your mind, negativity poisoning the waters. You slowly step away from Jungkook, your anger subsiding like a tide that reveals the rocks and shards of your sorrow when it pulls backs.

Her betrayal hurts more than anything. You had always been her partner in crime, her confidant, her person, but she kept something so vital, so life-changing from you…

“I can’t believe my mother would do this…” The words escape you without thought, flattering onto the bed behind you. “I trusted her. I’ve trusted her my whole life… and she didn’t even tell me.”

The vulnerability is evident in your cadence, vision focused on nothing but the hardwood floor. You can’t see Jungkook, who stands a few feet away from you, but distinguish the slight sympathy in his tone when he speaks.

“What about your father?” He asks carefully, his hands finding his pockets. “Did he know?”

“He’s… sick.” You swallow, slapping concrete over your heart so it doesn’t crumble at the thought of your father. It’s a story you rarely tell, and one you’re certain you’ll never tell Jungkook. “Don’t ask about him, ever.”

Jungkook seems to get the memo, ending that topic. He sighs then, long and deep, before taking a few steps towards you. “I’m not even doing this for myself, you know.” He informs, his voice oddly soft, quiet. “I’m doing this for somebody else. Someone I care about.”

Your eyes flicker up to him. “Who?”

“My little sister, Mari.”

“You have a little sister?”

“And you have a little brother.” He adds with a charming smile, taking a seat as furthest from you as he could. You’re unsure whether he did it for your sake or his. “Google search, remember?

You silently absorb that information, tasting it. “Where is she now?”

“Asleep. She didn’t sleep the night before because she was too excited about the trip.”

Your lips don’t know which emotion to convey, left merely blinking. “How could someone like you be doing this for your little sister?”

Jungkook puffs air through his nose as he tongues his cheek, leaning back on his palms. “Just because you don’t like me, doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.”

You weigh his words, chewing on them—they’re indicative of the exact predicament you’re in. He needs to be logical about this, there’s sincerely no way you two could agree to marriage when you don’t even know each other’s character, let alone favourite colour. “But that’s the point, Jungkook, I don’t like you nor do I know you well enough to even discern if you’re a bad person. Neither do you with me. Don’t you see that we can’t marry each other? It’s blasphemous.”

“It’s just a marriage, Y/N.” Jungkook leans back with a devil-may-care attitude, completely unbothered. “It doesn’t mean shit.”

“It may not mean shit to you, but it does to me.” You snap back, harmed by his idiotic nonchalance. “I’d rather marry a man who doesn’t leave my fucking bed in the middle of the night like a thief.”

Jungkook scoffs, his stupid doe eyes cutting you deep. “Says the woman who seduced me like a siren.” He spits. “Trust me, I want nothing to do with you and your sorry-ass way of getting attention.”

Now you’re hooked up to a livewire, darting off the bed and accusingly pointing. “Please, you’re the one who craves attention.” You snarl. “Anyone could take one good look at you and know that you only party and act like an idiot for mommy and daddy’s attention.”

“Shut the fuck up.” His eyes harden with clear fury; looks like you’ve hit a nerve.

“Well would you look at that? Seems like I’ve hit a bullseye.” You sweetly condescend. “I’m right, aren’t I? You act like a little tantrum-filled playboy to get mommy and daddy’s attention. What? The silver spoons aren’t enough?”

“I said,” Jungkook fumes, his jaw locked firm enough he could’ve been breaking a tooth. “Shut the fuck up, Y/N.”

What a fucking classic; another boy with anger and mommy and daddy issues, should you really be surprised? It’s a tale as old as time, and you have no energy to poke at it anymore. “I’d shut the fuck up if you put on your big boy pants and told your parents to fuck off.”

Jungkook’s face contorts with disbelief, shooting up from the bed. “Like you’re saying shit to your mother? You’re the same little girl sobbing in a corner just because your mommy made a decision without you. Why don’t you put on your big girl pants and tell your mother to fuck off?”

“Fuck you,” you growl, both words dripping with venom, eyes the very harbinger of death. “I’d rather eat grass than spend another minute with you.”

“Then get used to the taste of dirt, kitten. You’re spending a whole lifetime with me.”

You can’t believe him, you can’t believe how insolent and reckless and idiotic he is. Spend an entire lifetime together? Is he insane? He’d rather spend a lifetime with a stranger than stand up to his parents? He's the very definition of a fool.

“What is wrong with you? How are you okay with spending a lifetime with a stranger? How are you okay with that?”

Jungkook smirks, wide and charming. “Well, we’re not exactly strangers, are we, kitten?”

“Don’t fucking call me that, and stop brining up that night.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks with almost fascination, entertained by your denial. “Why do you want to forget it, Y/N? Is there something about that night that bothers you?”

He crosses the room to you now, his each step fluid, methodical. His approaching only makes you retreat in response, his aura enough to corrupt yours. His very existence alters the workings of yours, leaving your heart racing and your breath hitching and your skin heating. It made no sense, made no sense beyond being physically attracted to the man…

Oh fucking hell; you are ravenously attracted to this man.

And with him approaching you like this, with his eyes intent on you, his gaze hungry, you’re left nothing but to be his prey, succumbing to him.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He purrs, taking his last step before standing mere inches from you, scavenging the depths of your soul with his piercing gaze. “Tell me, why do you want to forget it? Why do you want to forget what our bodies felt like against each other?”

His words surge memories through you, seductive, bitter, sensual, powerful memories you’d much rather purge. You stand your ground despite shaking with arousal, despite your nipples hardening against your dress as you meet the man’s fiery gaze. “Because you were a mistake.”

Jungkook laughs that laugh that’s quick and dry, his voice deeper and richer than an aged bottle of Whiskey. “Was I really a mistake, Y/N? Do you really regret what happened between us?” He invades your space so much your ass nudges the vanity behind you, squeaking. His sex appeal oozes out of him as he stands this close, suffocating you, leaning down to your height until he cages you between himself and the vanity, hands gripping the edge either side of your hips.

You swallow harshly, hormones on high alert. “I-I do. I regret it.”

Again, one of his laughs, making it a statement to tongue his lip ring, tempting you with his tongue. You unconsciously watch the hypnotic movement, recalling exactly what it felt like to kiss him; majestic, Dionysian, ecstasy.

He dares graze his mouth along your ear, causing goosebumps to freckle your skin. “Do you really, Y/N? Because I think,” he breathes hotly, electrocuting your body. He chuckles at your jolt, voice dropping an octave. “I think that night bothers you because you hate how much you want me.”

Disgusted by his accuracy, you become angry, not even understanding this yourself. “Shut up.”

“Why, Y/N? Because I’m right?” He chides, voice utterly spell-binding. “Because you remember the taste of me? Because you remember my hands roaming your body? My lips worshiping your skin? Because you remember the feeling of me inside you, and never wanting it to end?”

You’re an idiot, you’re an absolute fool for not listening to your head and shoving him off, calling him every repulsive name in the English language and demanding that your mother cut off this marriage. You’re an idiot, because your body is reacting too easily to this man, falling right into the trap he so effortlessly crafts for you.

You want to resist, want to break this spell, want to tie up every memory of that night and store it away in a box, but you can’t. That night infiltrates your mind like a dam being let loose, remembering his coarse hands on your body, the cherry taste of his lip balm, how he speared you open with the sheer size of him, bigger than anything you’ve ever felt.

You can’t stomach this, overheating by the second. Your head feels light and your pussy can’t help but throb, hating his heat, his proximity, his fucking scent. “Jungkook… shut up.”

“God, the way you say my name.” He practically groans, his breath fanning across your cheek as he levels himself with you, lips only separated by mere inches of space. “I should’ve told you that night, could’ve heard you moan it.”

Oh, he’s dangerous, he’s hazardous and calamitous and fucking dangerous. The temptation of him is stronger than your will, using every weapon in your arsenal to fight him. “Jungkook…”

“Tell me, Y/N.” He rasps, as overheated as you, breathing hard. “How long did it take? For my hickeys to disappear? For my cologne to stop lingering on your skin? In your hair? How long will it take for you to forget the memory of me touching you? Kissing you? Moving inside you?”

You’re a goner, you’re so close to diving off the deep end, insane with lust. You hate that he’s dictating this situation, hate the power he’s exercising with that stupidly unwavering confidence. Two could play this game, and you need to remind him you’re not the kitten he keeps calling you.

You grab his collar without thinking, digging your claws into the expensive material. You tug him so close you could’ve been kissing him—his eyes widen in shock when you sneer. “And what about you, playboy? Do you like remembering that night because of how much you liked it? Because you can’t forget the way I moaned? The way my nails dug into your back and scratched you raw? The way I pulsed around you when I wanted more?”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to pant, chest rising and falling with his faltering self-control. You hear how hard he grips the vanity behind you, creaking under his grip. You challenge him nonetheless, ready to relish in the way this man snaps.

But he merely smiles, as shaky as it is, and accepts your challenge. “Seems like we’re back to remembering that night, then.”

You shake your head, scoffing at him. “Face it, Jeon. You say you don’t like me but you’re so ready to marry me because you can’t help but want me after that night, and you fucking hate it.”

He exhales haughtily, his smile as wicked as the devil himself. “Then why don’t you face it, too, kitten?” He breathes, lips hovering just above yours, touching them. “You don’t want to marry me because you’ve been aching for me ever since, and you hate knowing what’ll happen if we spend a lifetime together.”

God, you’re seconds from shoving him against your mouth. He’s got you so hot and bothered you’re squishing your pathetic thighs together to stop your pathetic essence from leaking out of your pathetic cunt. You can’t help but breathe into his mouth, mere centimeters from kissing, his hips pinning you to the vanity.

You swear you feel the ghost of his length for a millisecond, and you’re close to transforming into a wild animal. His eyes dart between your lashes and your mouth, clearly losing his sanity the same way you are. The heat between you is searing, the tension so palpable you could cut it with a knife, only the modicum of respect you have for yourselves keeping you from risking it all.

That very thought sucks you back into reality, recalling the situation you’re in with this man, the gravity of your future. This isn’t going to be a fairytale with a happy ending, nor is Jungkook ever going to be your knight in shining armour or Prince Charming you’ll fall in love with. He’s the bane of your existence, an impertinent bastard that isn’t worth selling your happiness for. All he wants is to marry you to benefit himself.

It has nothing to do with how he feels about you, and all about what you can do for him.

The very reminder of his stupidly sexy face saying those words makes you hurtle him off you, watching him stumble back a few steps. He shakes his head as though he were lifted from a trance, swallowing as his eyes meet yours. You level your breathing and snarl at him, teeth bared. “You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You don’t give him an opportunity to speak before you’re searching for your night bag, loaded with everything you need for your night routine. You salvage your suitcase for the Godforsaken thing but can’t find it, exasperated when you remember that your mother was using it this morning, so of course it wasn’t here.

You storm out of your shared room with Jungkook and stomp all the way down to your mother’s, using your keycard to open the door. You were glad to find it vacant of her, rummaging through the bathroom for the bag. You find it, but snatch other things she was sharing with you, far too angry with her to lend her anything anymore.

This one task alone eats up over 30 minutes, nearly exploding at just how many of your things you shared with your mother, and yet she couldn’t share this one fucking thing with you—the fate of your future.

As anger becomes your old friend, you march back to your new room, swinging the door open. You expect to harp on Jungkook and his idiocy again, having concocted seamless arguments to counter his ridiculous notion of marriage the entire walk back, but are shocked as you enter the room.

Jungkook has changed into his nightwear, most likely a pair of shorts with a white t-shirt. You can’t exactly tell, because he’s tugged a throw blanket over himself, his hand resting on his taut stomach as the other remains wedged underneath his head… with his long legs nearly dangling off the couch.

Your mouth opens and closes as you find the empty, untouched bed, attempting to manufacture a sentence. Saying anything seems like a moot point now, though, considering his breathing is stable enough to suggest he’s sleeping.

You shake your head, so utterly confused by him. You throw away any trifling thoughts and quietly prepare yourself for bed, careful not to wake him. You despise that his presence remains something you’re careful about, or that your kindness-deprived brain keeps considering the benevolence of his one action.

Labelling it as a stupid whim, you tuck yourself into the unoccupied bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering what on God’s green earth you’re going to do about Jungkook, and considering the hell you’d rather perish in than ever marry him.

a/n: y’all forgive me if it acc doesn’t only take around 24 hours to sail from seoul to hong kong on a direct cruise i swear i searched up the nautical miles and did the loose math if the boat doesn’t dock at any ports. I SWEAR I’M NOT DUMB so if i’m wrong forgive me <33

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #thebtswritersclub #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #btswritingcafe #bangtansorciere #bangtanarmynet #clubzerooclock #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #fic: to turn a bad thing good #jungkook series

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 month

Text

⛧ 𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 ⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/fluff/angst

⛧ Summary: It's Halloween 1996, you've just broken up with your toxic ex, and there's a killer on the loose. When you go to the local video store to find your next distraction, you run into your longtime crushes who have their hearts set on looking after you. But you must be careful. Not everyone's who they appear to be.

⛧ Word Count: 2.1k

⛧ Warnings: brief discussion of murder, implied possessive ex, intro to knife play if you squint, suggestive, psycho Minsung, you probably have a killer fetish, & that's all my loves. It's otherwise quite fluffy tbh.

⛧ A/N: I'm starting this series as my love letter to 90's slasher films aaaand because I just love Minsung. I'm writing this in "tapes" instead of chapters for ✨ ambiance ✨ so I hope the vibes come across. I'm already working on part two so I'll have my knives and fingers crossed you babes enjoy this one.

💀 >>> Go to Tape 2 >>> 💀

A bell dings overhead as you step through the door of Topline Video. A crowd of middle school kids dart by, nearly knocking you over in their excitement to get home with some cheesy slasher flick they definitely shouldn’t be watching. All are in full costume, wearing the kind of plastic masks that smell sorta funny when you put them on.

The kid dressed as a goblin turns back for a second, peeling up the murky green mask to reveal an apologetic face. “Sorry, lady!” he shouts, taking your gentle smile as a sign of forgiveness and racing to catch up to his friends. “Lady?” you whisper to yourself, the door creaking shut behind you, “Great, now I feel ancient.”

Lucky for you there’s no time for an existential crisis as you’re swept into the frenzy of the video store. The walls are packed with what must be a thousand VHS tapes. Double sided displays line the aisles with hundreds more. Every one of them is some brand of horror movie with even the most obscure subgenre present.

Black and orange streamers travel from one end of the ceiling to the next with tiny spiders dangling from them. Giant skeletons lurk in the corners guarding jack o lanterns with flickering eyes. Every year people eat it up but this year is particularly spooky. It sends a shiver down your spine when you recall why.

“I heard they found another leg” a red haired girl says, casually smacking on a piece of bright pink bubblegum. Beside her a shorter girl files through tapes under a large bloody hand drawn sign reading SERIAL KILLERS.

“I thought they already found both of his legs. A guy can’t have three legs.”

The red haired girl shakes her head, smiling mischievously. “That is not true. I hooked up with him once. You could for sure consider that thing a third leg.” The girls break into a fit of giggles. Dodging their insensitivity, you squeeze yourself into the Monster Movie section.

“Hey Drac” you sigh, staring up at the Dracula cutout looming over you, “I live in a town of idiots.” “You don’t mean everyone, do you?” a voice answers back with the worst Dracula impersonation you’ve ever heard. Suspicious that it isn’t coming from the cardboard cutout, you peek around to see a familiar face stocking the shelves.

Your heart immediately begins to flutter, a blanket of warmth encompassing you. Han Jisung. If you flip through the dictionary you’ll find him under D for dreamy. The glow of the setting sun kisses his dark curly hair, making it almost sparkle. And those brown eyes, they’re so…no…keep it together.

“That’s a terrible Dracula voice” you tease, arms folded across your chest. “I don’t know what you mean. Bleh, bleh, bleh” he carries on, pretending to bare his fangs. Now it’s you who’s giggling and you can’t stand how easily he gets you to.

“You are such a dork, Han.”

Returning to his normal voice he only shrugs, “But that’s why you’re so insanely in love with me isn’t it?”

His words intensify the heat moistening your palms. Fidgeting with the sleeves of your jean jacket, you wrack your brain for some witty response only for nonsense to tumble out.

“No. What? I…uh…um…early.”

Popping a copy of Megaverse Massacre 2 onto the shelf, Han raises an eyebrow at you, “Early?”

Your brain finally catches up to your mouth and you spit it out. “Uh, yeah, early. I heard you guys were closing early because of the…”

“Body hacking psycho killer?” a voice cackles, gripping your shoulders from behind. You let out a blood curdling scream that draws the attention of a few nearby shoppers. Swinging around, your fist ready to dish out a debilitating gut punch, you come face to face with Lee Minho. You haven’t quite decided if he can be filed under “dreamy” or “asshole” yet.

Minho grins, never finding you cuter than when he’s getting on your nerves. “I’m sorry, babe. Didn’t hurt you did I?” he teases, straightening out your clothes with a gentleness you weren’t expecting. The sun’s doing that thing again. The sparkle. The glow. The radiant brown eyes searching yours, threatening to make you fall even deeper into them than you already have.

Han dips between the two of you, separating you before you rip Minho’s head off. “I’m sorry. Really. He was deprived of air in the womb. Being an asshole’s just a side effect.”

Over Han’s shoulder Minho frowns, “Hey! Rude much?” Digging into his pocket, Han pulls out a lollipop. It’s sugar blown into the shape of a blood drenched kitchen knife. “Are you bribing me with a sugary murder weapon?” you ask, staring at it skeptically. Han flashes you a close lipped smile, his cheeks so fluffy it’d be a crime to deny him.

Snatching the lollipop you waste no time popping the wrapper off and tapping Minho on the head with it. “Hey! What was that for?” he winces, wiping lollipop residue from his head. “Sorry, babe” you grin, sucking on your tool of revenge, “Didn’t hurt you did I?” Han buries his face in his hand but it does nothing to hide the joy he takes in his best friend’s pain.

This is nice. Laughing with someone. With them. It’s been a while since you felt this light around other people. The recent weight on you hasn’t been of some invisible boogeyman sneaking off with one of your limbs. No, your boogeyman was someone you knew well, or at least thought you did, and he’s haunted you every chance he can.

Speak of the devil…

A bell dings, drawing your attention to the door where a man in a demon mask scans the room for someone. You recognize him immediately. Those boots. Those pants. That flannel shirt you always found totally hideous on him. Your heart sinks, the lollipop in your hand tumbling to the floor.

You see Minho and Han’s hearts sink too. It’s as if they sense that any joy you’d been feeling just went down the drain that instant. Minho whispers something into Han’s ear. You can’t make out what, only the calculated tone of his voice. “Hey!” Han says, perking up again, “We’re having a movie night tonight. You should come.”

As the man in the demon mask spots you, your eyes dart back and forth between the men. “A movie night? Sure that would be…I’d like that.”

Han takes you by the hand, “Wicked. Come on, you can pick a movie from the back.” He leads you towards the backroom just as the man advances towards you. Peeking over your shoulder you spot Minho blocking his way. A quick left turn stops you from seeing what happens next, filling your vision instead with tattered old movie posters.

Passing a few of Han’s coworkers, you wave politely and they smile in return. The back room’s like a dustier, quieter version of the sales floor. The walls are still lined with tapes, only there’s no way these have been watched any time in the past decade. Through the dust you see the spine of a tape titled Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 4.

“That one” you decide, stopping dead in your tracks.

Han stops too, squinting to spot what caught your eye, “A woman of taste I see.”

Pulling it from the shelf, he blows the dust away and hands it to you. “Only the finest for you.”

You feel that lightness again. It's easy to feel it when he smiles at you like this. Such an unexpected but welcomed sense of safety. “Han, thanks for…” you start but the surprise sensation of his lips pressed to yours makes anything you were about to say feel insignificant.

With one hand still holding yours, his other hand comes to rest on your lower back. Your lips are somehow softer than he’d imagined. Even in the absence of the lingering strawberry flavored lollipop, he knows they’d taste just as sweet. Minho’s gonna kill him when he finds out that he kissed you first but nothing could be more worth it.

“Thank me by not worrying about your ex,” he says, “He won’t bother you anymore. I promise.”

You want to tell him how much he doesn’t understand. That your ex doesn’t give up that easily. But you decide not to ruin the moment, even if letting yourself believe him feels delusional. “Jisung, we need you up front!” one of his coworkers shouts back. He hesitates, unsure if he should leave you or not.

You kiss him first this time, turning him loose, “Go. I’ll be fine back here. Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 1-3 have gotta be rotting around here somewhere right?” One last kiss and he’s rushing back up front, clueless as to how he’s supposed to focus on anything else now.

Turning back to the shelf you realize how big of a challenge you’re in for. Maybe there’s a feather duster somewhere? Or a respirator mask?

“Give it here. That has to be wrong.” Minho approaches the kitchen counter where you sit, playfully swinging your feet. He reaches for the magazine in your hand but you clutch it tightly to your chest, refusing to fork it over.

“Live with it, Minho. You are Suspicious Boyfriend.”

“Suspicious boyfriend” Han sings, retrieving a bag of freshly popped popcorn from the microwave, “I think it has a ring to it.”

Hopping down from the counter, you skip your way over to Han extending the magazine and the pen in your hand out to him. “Your turn, Hannie.” You see the skepticism all over his face but don’t give up. All torture must be equal after all.

“I’ll take that” Minho smiles, stealing the popcorn for himself.

“Sure. Why not?” Han surrenders, grabbing the magazine and the pen. You and Minho watch on, far more amused than you should be, as Han skims the pages checking off answers to silly personality questions. Pick a country to travel to. Pick a favorite food. Upstairs or downstairs?

After a minute or two he finishes and slides the magazine back over to you. You can barely contain yourself as you assess his results. Leaning across the counter, you share them with Minho who immediately begins to laugh.

“What’s so funny? What did I get?” Han asks looking so genuinely concerned that you almost feel bad for telling Minho first. Minho empties the popcorn into a bright orange Halloween bowl, shoveling some into his mouth. “Comic Relief Best Friend” he mumbles. Han frowns, coming to see for himself. You hold the results page up for him.

Which Horror Character Are You?

You point to his score beneath the headline “Comic Relief Best Friend”.

“Oh, okay. So I’m funny and I die before him. Perfect.”

“Aww, come on. Don’t be like that” you say, poking at his chin, “It’s not like I got the best result either. I’m the Final Girl.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Minho asks, his words muffled by food, “It means you make it to the sequel.”

“No, it means that I’m boring. Badass but boring. I wanna be the killer. They have more fun.”

Han shakes his head, a sympathetic hand resting on your shoulder, “I hate to break it to you but you’re not really killer material.” Minho takes your hand like a doctor prepared to give you some bad news, “Yeah, you just…you don’t have it in you, kid.”

“Don’t have it in me? I do so!” you protest, your tantrum not doing much to make you less adorable. Minho moves toward the knife rack behind him, carefully selecting the biggest, sleekest one he can find. “Okay, so kill me.”

There’s a long, tense silence.

“Come on. It’s not that hard. Just…” Minho mimes stabbing himself in the chest, his tongue stuck out sideways. “Give it!” you shout, running to take the knife away. Minho catches you by the wrist, slipping the knife into your hand and raising the tip of the blade an inch away from his throat.

“Do it” he dares, his hand tightening around yours, “Prove us wrong.”

There’s an unnerving excitement in his eyes as he awaits your decision. An excitement that doesn’t seem to want you to back away. No, it wants you to come closer. He wants you to come closer.

“Hannie,” you plead, “Can you talk some sense into him please?” Han joins the two of you, saying nothing at first, simply observing. The way that they watch you is intensely sexual and some part of you, one you hadn’t known existed until now, seems to take pleasure in it.

Han laughs, bringing his arms around your waist, “Oh but sweetie, we’ve played your game. Don’t you wanna play ours now?”

#stray kids au #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #han jisung x female reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x reader #chubby reader #minho x reader #minho x you #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #plus size reader

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50shadesofrossi · 2 years

Text

Ruining You

Ser Harwin Strong x Female Reader

Summary: You’re Viserys’ eldest daughter, the blood of the dragon running thick. You have a temper, and it seems Harwin is the only one brave enough to tame it despite your mutual loathing

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, swearing and depictions of violence

A/N: Holy shit. This was originally 13k words but in the last thousand the plot went a bit haywire and the writing was bleh so I deleted that and just fixed a few things to make it where it is now. I sincerely apologise if this isn’t what you thought when I originally posted the idea, it did kind of run away on me but at the same time, I lowkey love it. Enjoy, this 12k fic :)

Rage boils deep within your veins, the bubbles extremely close to spilling over. Your father always said you and your sister Rhaenyra share the blood of the dragon, especially the hot temperament, though he underestimated just how ferocious you can get, even as a child.

You feel every emotion with such a raw intensity that sometimes you don't know what to do, or how to deal with it and it explodes, consuming you whole and turning you into someone entirely different. Your alter ego, as your uncle Daemon calls it.

Much like now, wildfire blazing within your eyes, steam simmering out of your ears and blood spilling into your mouth from grinding your teeth so hard. It takes every ounce of strength to not erupt, destroy anything in your path and embarrass your father further.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Viserys yells from the throne, his voice echoing down the great hall for all to hear.

No, you're not listening to him, too busy trying to direct your anger elsewhere, direct it at someone else. Pain flares up your arms, wrapping around like a snake as your nails dig into your palms.

Viserys calls your name and almost stumbles back in response to your attention flickering up to him. "Is that all, your grace?" You grit.

The small group of occupants cease breathing. Viserys sighs exasperatedly, gesturing for your dismissal. Without hesitation you spin on your heel, marching your way out of the hall and toward the fastest exit out of the Keep, away from prying eyes.

Servants, lords and ladies all evacuate the premises, steering clear of your path of destruction as you make your way toward the back of the gardens, your secret area you call it. Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heeled boots clipping the ground.

You barely make it in time, rounding the large tree and searching for your hidden blade. The steel glints under the sunlight, ringing as it slashes through the air and makes contact with the already-exposed bark. Bits fly everywhere with each swing, your bottled-up rage slowly leaking out.

You don't hear the person approach, nor do you feel the eyes watching you intently, silent and observing. To say the knight is used to your outbursts is an understatement. You never fail to remind him of who you're descendant from, the unyielding anger and raw emotions of a Targaryen.

A dragon.

"Fuck!" You scream angrily, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and your knees buckling. You hit the earth harshly, staining your dress, not that you care at this moment.

The sword falls from your grip, landing amongst the dirt.

"I half expected you to climb atop your dragon and burn King's Landing to the ground," the knight muses from behind you, making himself known and slowly approaching you like a rabid animal.

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing him away and hoping to awaken from this horrible nightmare. You hear the debris snap under his weight with each step closer, reigniting your hatred.

With precision, despite the dress, you come to your feet and whirl around, your hand having grasped your blade in the process. "And you best believe I'd burn you first, you fucking snitch." You seethe, pointing the end toward him.

"Princess-" he starts, daring to place his foot down and inch himself closer.

"Unless you want to be choking on your blood Ser Harwin," you address him. "I'd stand down and leave me be."

Harwin swallows thickly, an inkling of fear rolling down his spine. "It wasn't me," he starts off carefully, deciding to keep his distance. "I never told anyone, certainly not your father or mine. But to be truthful, I'm glad someone else did."

"Liar," you approach him with purpose, resting the point of the blade on his knitted tunic. "You have the most to gain by staying on his good side, being rewarded with his favour; Commander of the Gold Cloaks." He holds your eye, his fingers twitching. "My uncle is bound to screw up eventually and when that happens, you'll slide right into his position. All you heirs are the same."

"Princess," he tries again.

"Breakbones."

His jaw flexes. You've struck a nerve, a nerve you love to hit. "Don't," he warns.

"Go guard your honourable princess, and leave me alone. I'm in no tolerable mood." You indicate your younger sister, Rhaenyra.

Harwin breathes steadily through his nose, ignoring the fact that you're trying to get under his skin, to piss him off like you are. It's almost routine by now, especially when you're this riled up.

"And so you plan to torture the tree? With that flimsy sword, which by the way, will shatter the moment it meets real steel."

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling harshly. Harwin makes a split-second decision, one that he's sure will land him as food for your dragon. He knocks your sword away, the unexpected force causing you to stumble back and blink up at him.

"Never take your eyes off your opponent."

Confusion begins to overlap your previous state, your fingers twisting for a better grip on the handle of your sword that now is by your side. "What are you-"

"Who taught you to wield a sword?" You don't answer. Harwin speaks your name, a different kind of fire burning within you. "Who taught you?" He presses, his tone firm, as though he talks to a child.

"Ser Criston Cole."

"Ser Criston Cole," he drawls, almost in disbelief. "Of fucking course." He mumbles to himself. His own kind of anger sparks, his skin crawling at the thought of the two of you alone. "And let me guess, you begged and pleaded with him to teach you how to defend yourself because you know that going outside the Red Keep is a stupid fucking idea."

He should slap himself for speaking so indirectly, informally to you, his princess. Yet, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

During your nights, you spend them down in Flea Bottom, or anywhere that's not the Red Keep, spreading your wings and soaring. You hate being holed up, being monitored and being expected to carry out duties you never asked for, never wanted. Even as a child, you wished you of been born to a low-born family, even a lady and lord would be better than King Viserys' firstborn.

When your mother and brother passed, Viserys was prepared to bake you his heir, but you declined. You could think of nothing worse, having seen the stress and duty your father must endure on a day-to-day basis. You know Rhaenyra will be a better Queen.

Not to mention, you wish to marry for love. As childish and dreamer-like for you to want, you gave up fighting years ago.

On most of your escapades, Harwin finds you, and ultimately drags you back to the safety of the Keep. He's the only knight that you know of, that's caught you, leading you to believe he is responsible for reporting it to your father. Hence why you were abruptly dragged from your chambers this morning.

"And you think you can do better? Ser Criston at least understands that I'll do as I please, not try and reprimand me at every given chance." You lower your voice. "And watch yourself, Ser Harwin, I'm still your princess, no matter how much you hate it."

Regret flashes in his eyes before it's gone. "Then let's see what you've learnt."

Harwin draws his sword, knowing damn well he could be executed for doing so. But at this moment, you're both too wound up to differentiate between what's right and wrong. A habit, of the both of you.

You flinch at the large sword, deep down knowing Harwin would never jeopardise you, never put you in harm's way or risk hurting you. You lift your chin, swallowing the lump in your throat and raising your sword.

He watches in amusement, allowing you a heartbeat before he attacks, bringing his sword down. You block with ease, unprepared for how light it is. He's pulling all his strength back. You push the sword away, moving around and keeping your footwork light, smirking.

"Is something funny?" Harwin raises an unimpressed brow, his eyes never leaving you.

You bite back a smile at his clear agitation. "No."

He grunts, striking again. Your reflexes move before you think, blocking and attempting to counterattack yourself, refusing to show your frustration. He's still clearly overpowering you and much more experienced.

You silently pray for those that meet the end of Harwin's fury.

"Tell me, Princess" he starts, a loud ringing vibrating into the area as your swords clash. "Has Ser Criston taught you hand-to-hand combat, or how to escape someone's grip?"

The question takes you off guard, your head tilting as you try to remember. Harwin uses the moment to smack your sword out of your hand, his own dropping for your safety and his arms wrapping around you.

You cease breathing, the constricted in your throat and your heart skipping a beat. An arm gently presses against your throat, Harwin having put you in a controlled headlock, your back flush with his front.

Your lips part, your fingers instinctively digging into his arm. Heat crawls up your neck, blood pounding in your ear. You know this is a training exercise, but you can't help in feeling so safe in his arms. Your muscles automatically relax, your adrenaline calms and your breath slowly comes back to you with each second.

You should hate the situation you're in. Granted, if it was any other person you'd be kicking up a shit storm and preparing to have them fed to your dragon but it's not just anyone. It's Harwin, and that makes you hate him more.

Hate him for having this effect on you, for consuming your thoughts and imprinting himself amongst your dreams. Though you know he's not to blame, it's yourself.

For falling so profoundly, and irrevocably in love with him.

"No doubt, you could handle yourself in an armed fight but what if they get the upper hand, like I did just now, and you're left with close combat, or even worse, they grab you like this," Harwin says to you, his voice thickening with an emotion you can't quite place. "How do you get out?"

You shake with nerves, at the thought of your escape plan. It's stupid, and it might not work and fuck everything up. Though it could work, and once again, fuck it all up. You push the insecurities down, knowing that he's trying to teach you a life lesson, even if you don't want to hear it.

You twist your head, his grip not being tight in any way, and find his lips with ease, capturing them. Harwin falters, his arms opening and allowing you the opportunity to slip through and distance yourself from him.

"That's how." You lick your lips, drawing the taste of him into your mouth.

Harwin studies you with a deep look of something, mixed with unhinged anger and fear. He doesn't say anything, even as he quickly reaches for his sword, sheathing it against his hip and holding your eye for a moment longer.

"One day," he croaks. "You're going to wake up and find yourself all alone." And with that, he turns his back on you.

You watch him leave, shakily bringing the pads of your fingers to your lips, brushing them tenderly. You feel humiliated, shameful and disgusted. You also feel lighter, having finally answered your own question; his lips are soft and the taste of his breakfast still lingers.

"I already am." You whisper to yourself, biting your finger to keep the tears at bay, the anger subsided.

The sun begins its descent from the highest point in the sky before you arrive back at your quarters, dismissing your maids in exchange for silence. You sit atop a lounge on the windowsill, breathing the fresher air from the high distance, ignoring the crestfallen ache in your heart.

You knew something like this would happen, that Harwin would reject you and push you away. It's part of the reason why you hate him because you know you can't have him. Your father would never allow it, as his firstborn. He'd see to it that you marry a beneficial house, to further strengthen your sister's claim to the throne since you turned away from it.

It doesn't make it any easier, or any less hard. You've spent almost every day in each other's presence, in either passing or company. You've known him since he was a boy. Uncoordinated and lanky, until he grew and filled out into the man he is today.

"I don't know what you've done, but I'd steer clear from father," Rhaenyra bursts inside, speaking before seeing you. She calls for you when you don't respond, hoping she'll leave.

She doesn't.

Rhaenyra perches herself beside you, brushing a strand of your curly hair behind your ear. "What's happened?"

"Ser Harwin told father of my nightly adventures."

Rhaenyra frowns, gazing out the window. "It wasn't him, it was Ser Criston," you gape at her, shifting to lean your back against the wall, mirroring your sister. "He said as much when Ser Harwin confronted him about teaching you how to wield a sword, and the two go into it."

"Shit," you murmur, leaning your head back.

"I assume he came from seeing you, with how riled up he was. Never seen him so angry."

She looks at you expectantly. "I kissed him." Her eyes widen. "To prove a point! He asked me how I'd escape from a headlock, and I kissed him, to distract him. It worked because he let go of me."

"Makes sense," Rhaenyra nods, referring to his destructive path. "What was it like?"

You glance at her, a small smile ghosting your lips. "It was only brief, but they are smooth, the complete opposite of him."

You both giggle, dismissing the fact that you dishonoured not only yourself but Harwin. For a few minutes, you sit in silence, relishing in the company of your sister. These moments are rare, as of late, with her newfound responsibilities.

"Are you going to listen to father?"

You stare at her, the answer shining in your lilac eyes. "What do you think."

Harwin surrounds himself with his fellow gold cloaks, in an attempt to enjoy his night off. They laugh and joke, spilling their alcohol and losing their hands on woman's bodies.

He finishes his drink rather frustratedly, slamming it on the counter accidentally. He can't get the stupid fucking kiss out of his head, replaying the scene over and over.

The way your body moulded to his own, your smaller frame engulfed and your erratic heart pounding against his arm. How he divulged himself and allowed his nose to brush your hair, inhaling your scent and losing his control.

And fuck, when you leant up and kissed him, he couldn't help but respond. His restraint snapped at that moment, and if it weren't for you slipping out and distancing yourself-he doesn't want to imagine what he would have done.

From your first meeting, he knew he'd grow up to love you, your hot-headed temperament and stubborn wilfulness. Before he arrived in Kings Landing, his father had drilled into him how to act, how the royal family would act, yet there you stood, unaware of his presence as you yelled profanities into the sky. Not to mention, when you caught him gawking, asked him, the fuck are you looking at?

Your first words ever spoken to him.

He sighs dramatically, rubbing his face and deciding to leave, knowing that drinking his problems away won't solve anything. The cool air nips at him through his woollen clothes, his dark cape swaying behind him as he makes his way back to the Keep.

Approaching the gates, he hears a rustle, pausing to make sure his senses aren't clouded. "Fucking shit," Harwin immediately reaches for his sword, keeping his hand on the hilt whilst cautiously making his way closer to the whispered profanities.

He watches you, straightening your clothes and checking to make sure the coast is clear before you walk off toward the city. He raises a brow at the choice of clothes; black pants and a shirt, with a jacket that is a size too big and a cloak to hide your white hair. Though nothing can cover the deep lilac of your eyes.

He makes the hasty decision to follow you, keeping his distance yet being close enough to protect you should anything happen. Harwin smiles to himself, knowing this is the perfect opportunity to teach you a lesson.

If it's so easy for him to sneak up behind you, imagine someone else, with impure intentions.

He follows you for some time, a small part of him enjoying the look of awe and joy at the sights. Each night you leave, you try to explore new parts of the city, learning about your folk. Harwin must admit, not many royals would do so, preferring to stick to the comforts of the Keep.

The moon is high in the sky, shining down and revealing clear paths as you steer left and right, nowhere in particular yet taking note of each turn. You may be reckless, but you're not stupid.

Harwin chooses this moment to make his move, observing the way you slip steadily down the passageway and pause at the sound of water lapping against the walls. He creeps out, covering your mouth and pulling you to him, stepping out of the light and into the darkness.

You scream against his gloved hand, thrashing wildly and reaching for your concealed knife when, "and just like that princess, I've killed you. Or worse, knocked you out and used you for my pleasantries. How many times must I tell you until you get it through your thick skull that this isn't safe."

You stop, your heart thundering and your adrenaline pumping. You close your eyes, subconsciously leaning further into Harwin. He hesitantly removes his hand, waiting for the explosion.

"I could have killed you," you murmur, the weight of the blade heavy in your hand. You were prepared to stab him in the kidney. The thought of harming him destroys you. "I could have killed you, all because of your stupidity!" You whirl around, still touching him.

"My stupidity?" He repeats.

"Yes!" You fire, glaring up at him. "All to teach me a lesson, when I'm not stupid! Have you ever thought that maybe I just don't give a fuck? I know it's not safe, why do you think I sneak around and blend in." You pause, avoiding his gaze and staring at the Strong house crest on his chest. "This is the only time I feel normal, where my existence is insignificant."

"Princess, no one asks to be born into their roles, to be born rich or poor," he starts, remembering all the times you spoke of wishing to be someone other than a princess, other than Viserys' firstborn. "But it's our duty to push through, to become what we're meant to be; Lord of Harrenhal, and Princess, of the seven kingdoms."

Your emotions are high and twisted, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. "I didn't want to be a Queen, I sure as hell don't want to be a princess. I just want to be someone's wife, someone's mother. Someone's greatest love. Is that so hard?"

You can't control the words, the heartfelt words that shatter Harwin. Suddenly, he understands you. He knows you. He says your name, softly, bringing his hand to your chin and tilting it up. Forcing you to look at him.

Harwin wipes at your cheek with his thumb, tenderly caressing the flesh and relishing in the feel of you in his hand. So small and frail. So exposed. He opens his mouth to say more when the sound of metal armour clanging together draws his attention elsewhere.

"Shit." He curses.

He has nowhere to move to. The path spans over a hundred metres, with a wall on one side and the water's edge on the other. He couldn't even go to a corner. Solutions run through his mind, the sound of guards nearing causing him to do the first thing that pops up.

"Sorry, Princess." He mumbles, pushing you against the concrete wall and covering the majority of your body with his, with no space left between you. Your brows furrow in confusion, question flashing in your eyes.

Harwin does what he's always wanted to do: press his lips to yours.

You squeak, given no time to prepare, your eyes wide in surprise. Only twelve hours ago, he was looking at you with utter hatred and disgust for you doing the same thing. The blade clatters against the ground.

The gold cloaks walk past without an issue, chuckling at the two of you but paying no mind. Harwin keeps his lips firmly against you, hating having to put you in this situation.

When they become a dot in the distance, does he pull away, searching your eyes. "You kissed me back," you refer to earlier. That was your first kiss, this you never realised Harwin had responded. Your eyes harden, your lips pursing as you inhale as much air as possible before being your hand up and slapping him. His head snaps to the side at the sheer force, shock yet understandable written on his face.

He doesn't respond, the words unable to form in his mouth. He swallows thickly, his jaw taut. He deserved that. He dares look at you again, his chest rising rapidly and the air crackling.

You push off the wall, shaking your head in disbelief and attempting to round him. Your shoulder clashes with his when he turns to grab your upper arm, halting you. You glare up at him, opening your mouth to hurtle harsh words at him. Harwin moves first, pulling you back to him and claiming your lips.

You're not even given a chance to respond before he pulls back, his face still close and his breath fanning your cheeks. He looks at you with hunger, lust and want. Realisation dawns on you; he's just as conflicted as you are.

Your heart tugs you forward, your hands gripping his tunic and meeting him halfway. Harwin's hands cup the sides of your head.

He devours you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease and his hands sliding to the base of your neck and head, titling you up to give more access. You whimper, grappling with his tunic as if he could suddenly move away from you.

He doesn't, shifting to have your back against the wall again, his apparent hard-on pressing into you. Your lungs ache with release, the lack of oxygen making you lightheaded yet desperate for more.

Slowly and reluctantly, you part, his forehead resting on yours. Your lips are evidently swollen, the taste of him still lingering as he peppers you softly, not quite wanting to stop.

"Harwin," you whisper, gliding your hands up to his cheeks, running the pads of your fingers over his beard and around his features.

"I know."

He could be executed for this, you could be disowned. But gods, does it feel right. Right to be in his hold, to be desired and kissed. You never want to stop.

"Fuck I know." He repeats, lower.

You nuzzle each other, refusing to leave the comfort of one another's warmth and touch, despite that nagging thought tugging in the back of your mind. Harwin murmurs that he needs to return you to the Keep, reluctantly standing straighter and removing himself from you.

You follow him in silence, sticking close and for once, not giving him grief. A step up from your usual nights out.

You soon arrive, pausing before you part and he enters through the main gates whilst you scamper up your hidden passageway. "I know it wasn't you, who told my father." You start. "It was wrong of me to accuse you, and I hope one day you can forgive my insolence, and accept my apology."

"Of course, Princess. It is known for spoilt children to lash out when they don't receive what they want," he begins to walk back with a teasing smirk.

You narrow your eyes, watching him for a heartbeat longer and then turning to disappear yourself. The journey back to your quarters is always short, your footsteps light as you work to not attract attention to yourself.

Heaving the door open, you stop dead in your tracks at the sight of your father standing in your room. "Father-"

"Where have you been?" He says in a low, deadly voice.

"Taking a walk,"

"Don't lie to me!" Viserys yells.

The room falls silent. You stare at one another, refusing to break contact. "What will it take for you to listen to me?"

You think over your choice of words. Is it wise to mention that you wish to marry for love? That you wish he'd allow for you to leave this godforsaken city and be elsewhere, anywhere. Be with Harwin.

"I wish-" you choke, refusing to look at him as you lay yourself bare. "I wish to marry of my own free will."

Silence. More silence, his fury-ignited eyes never leaving you, even as you brave the idea to glance up. "No."

"What-"

"You refused me in naming you heir, you will not refuse me in arranging a marriage for you. That, I can not accept." You gape at him, horror and sickness twisting deep within you. "Take this as your punishment for disobeying me."

"You can't do this!" You yell at his retreated figure, anger surfacing and exploding.

"Yes, I can." Viserys ends the argument, storming out of your quarters and forcibly shutting your door. You release a blood-curdling scream, frustration and betrayal gnawing at you.

You grab the closest object, a cup, and hurtle it across the room. It clangs every time it meets the ground, the metal ringing dying down when it rolls to a stop. Your chest heaves, your jaw clenching and unclenching as you grasp for some control, to leash your emotions.

You can't.

You want to hurt your father, hurt him like he's hurt you. There's only one way you know how, leaving you to quickly exit your room through the hidden passageway, navigating down unfamiliar tunnels.

When you were younger, you explored them all, yet there is only a small handful you use, mainly for your adventures outside the Keep.

You basically float over the ground, your steps carefully placed despite your fast pace, eager to arrive at your destination. You reach the door, knocking quickly but firmly, making sure you don't arouse the Hand of the King, or his younger son.

"Princess?" Harwin questions, glancing beyond you. "Is everything alright?"

You say nothing, surging forward and claiming his lips. Harwin can only raise his brows in surprise, at both your forwardness and boldness, your hands resting on his chest to walk him backward, closing the door swiftly behind you.

"What was that for?" He presses, distancing himself from you. He doesn't want to think of the penalty if you were found at this very moment. "Hmm?"

You nibble your lip, holding his gaze even though you'd rather burn for the next words that come out. "I need you."

The room falls silent, only the crackle of the fire is enough from keeping it dark and noiseless. Harwin studies you, not quite believing you. "You need me?" He approaches, agonisingly slow. "I find that very interesting, since only an hour or so ago, you were quite content."

He stands before you, his fingers coming under your chin and leaning your head up. He observes you, enjoying watching you squirm. "The truth, now." He knows you're lying, or at the very least, not entirely honest.

"I am telling the truth-" Harwin changes his grip, pulling you close to him by your chin. You almost collapse. He murmurs your name, the sound rolling down your back on waves. His eyes glint with a challenge, daring you to protest. Your neck heats up. "I could find little sleep, and my," you stop, wishing for the floor to open and swallow you hole. Harwin raises a brow.

"My fingers were insufficient."

You don't realise, that the previous fire of wrath has simmered down, laying dormant. A different burn ravages your body.

A wicked smile pulls at the corner of Harwin's mouth, his demeanour shifting. "Was that so hard?" His voice holding a certain husk, that you've never heard.

His thumb brushes your smooth skin, braving the course of your lips. You release a small breath you didn't realise you were holding and your mouth parts. Harwin drags your bottom lip down, enjoying your compliance.

"You need me to soothe that ache, Princess?" He tortures you, his mouth ghosting you yet inching up every time you try to close the gap.

"Please," you're not sure what you're begging for, the words just tumbling out. You close your eyes in frustration, his breath fanning you.

He finally relents, coming down on your mouth heavily. You barely have a moment to properly respond, his fingers tightening on your chin and his free hand coming to the base of your neck, keeping you steady as he takes your breath.

"This is all you needed," he pulls a hairsbreadth away, his nose pressing onto the side of yours. "Someone to dominate you, leave you powerless." He realises, looking over your wanton state.

Your hands fist his shirt, desperation clear on your face. He smiles softly, abruptly pulling back and creating a well-spaced distance from you. You feel as if a cold bucket of water has been poured over you, watching as he takes a seat by the fire.

"Go to bed, Princess."

You gape at him, fury bubbling to the surface. "Harwin," you start, taking a tentative step forward.

"What you are asking for, is treason. The fucking death penalty."

You flare up. "So is kissing me! What is going a little further?"

"We are talking about your virtue." He raises his voice, momentarily forgetting about his whereabouts. Gods above, should someone come knocking. "That would be despicable of me, to take something that belongs to your husband."

You frown, coming to stand before him, the sudden rush of heat inflicting goosebumps. "It should be mine to give away, not his to take."

He looks up at you, his curls dishevelled and unruly. He wears a worn shirt, the casual appearance causing your stomach to twist. What you would give, to share days where you are laid bare with each other, to see the other side of Harwin, the improper side of him.

"I trust you, Harwin," you begin, standing between his legs. "I want it to be you. No one else but you, who sees me, and touches me." You hoist a leg over his lap, moving to straddle his lap, your knees digging into the edge of the cushion.

Instinctively, Harwin's hands come to your waist, keeping you situated. He battles with his morals, his body and heart reacting completely opposite to his mind. If you were a low-born, he'd have fucked you back in the passageway, without a care of onlookers.

But your status halts him.

You say his name again, caressing his jaw, your nails scraping through his beard. He doesn't break contact, his palms wandering along your side, moving with a mind of their own. It's plain to see, how much he wants you, how much you want each other.

Painstakingly obvious.

You swallow nervously, inching down to press a gentle kiss on the underside of his jaw, allowing time for him to push you off should he really not want to continue. You wouldn't ask that of him. His fingers flex into your flesh, his head angling up slightly.

A ghost of a smirk plants itself over your lips, a sudden arrogance blooming at his reaction, at his heavier breath intake. You travel to his neck, feeling the urge to nibble lightly, Harwin rolling your hips into him reflexively.

You gasp into his skin at the sudden pleasure, the seam of your pants pulling tightly over your clit. Harwin groans lowly, both at your mouth finding his sweet spot and your hips rutting into him. A sinister thought crosses his mind.

Effortlessly he hoists you up, placing you over his thigh. You sit back in confusion, your initial reaction being that he wants to stop, until he speaks. "You say you use your fingers," your slightly wide eyes are enough of a confirmation. "Then use me. Get yourself off using me."

Your lips part, your eyes searching his. He smiles reassuringly, dragging your hips over his thigh. "Take your pleasure, Princess."

Your head drops into the crevice of his shoulder, an airy moan escaping you at the new sensation. Naturally, you begin to move on your own, a hand snaking up the other side of his head to thread through his curls, using him as leverage.

Harwin jolts his leg up, the action bringing a new wave of pleasure through you. You whimper into his shoulder, your mind reminding you how improper this is, how a woman takes no pleasure from laying with a man yet your body ignores every lesson you've ever been taught.

A low pressure builds, your thighs starting to shake and your movements quickening. Harwin makes the split decision to help, driving your hips down and over, the new motion brings you to your release.

You pant against him, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to move you gently, drawing your orgasm out. Slowly he comes to a stop, allowing you a moment to really comprehend what's happening before he shifts in a way that he can plant a kiss on your head.

"Was that good?"

You nod, a familiar heat rising in your cheeks. Gods that felt fucking magical, and he barely did anything. You can only imagine how his cock will feel.

He chuckles lightly, coaxing you to sit back and reveal your pretty face. He drags the backs of his fingers down your cheek, memorising each fine detail. Deep down, a small part of him fears this will be the last he'll ever see of it.

In one movement, Harwin stands and gingerly lowers you onto the fur rug in front of the fire, the flames dancing dangerously close. He knows how much you love the heat.

You gaze up at him, allowing him the opportunity to worship you. His large hands slip under your shirt, dragging the material as he roams every inch of your side. You arch your back and raise your arms, allowing easier access to glide the shirt off.

Goosebumps erupt under his hardened callouses, his fingers interlocking with yours once he moves up your arms and allows the shirt to bunch above your head. "Keep them here," he murmurs, capturing your lips.

You figure he means your hands, nodding against his mouth. His tongue invades your mouth, his breath becoming your own and his fingers flexing at the sheer taste of you. You have no idea how much power you wield over him.

His hands begin their descent, grazing your flesh and finding solace on your breasts, his mouth following suit. You grab onto the edge of the fur rug, gripping it firmly.

His tongue flicks your erect nipple, his teeth meeting the tender flesh. He nips and sucks around the area, a hand paying attention to your other breast, careful to administer equally. You gasp and writhe under him, unaware that he could bring you any pleasure from this.

Eventually, he moves on, stopping at your waistline. He flickers up to you, a silent ask of permission in his eyes. You give an airy yes, anticipation gnawing at you. Harwin pulls your pants and undergarment in one motion, the cool air causing you to jump.

He laughs softly, grinning at your nakedness, at the way your skin glows under the firelight. Right now, you're all his, his to take, to touch and love. His mind captures this moment, storing it away for a time when he plans on replaying it over and over.

"How do you feel, Princess, knowing you're about to be my dessert."

Your eyes brows raise at the comment, unsure of his hidden innuendo. A dark part of Harwin relishes in the fact that it's him, that gets to taint you. That he's the one to open the gates to a whole new world of pleasure. He plans on ruining you for any other man.

"What are you doing?" You ask more in curiousness than fear. Of all your lessons, the Septas never mentioned a man putting his head between your legs.

"I'm dining on my Princess, is that alright with you?" A dark glint shines in his eyes from between your thighs, his beard grazing your soft flesh. You whimper, biting your lip and giving him the go-ahead.

You suck in a deep breath at the first contact of his tongue, your body seizing. Fuck. You throw your head back in a silent moan, Harwin's mouth ravaging you. His tongue explores your folds and clit, emitting all pitches of sounds from you.

Suddenly his hands snake around your thighs and grip you thoroughly, spreading them further around his head and giving him easier access. You squeal at the feeling of his tongue entering you, pumping in and out.

"Harwin," your knuckles have since turned white.

This is a high you never thought you could experience, the intensity hitting you like a wave. The combination of his tongue, his lips and his beard is enough to drive you over. Of course, Harwin intends for you to be fully prepared, momentarily coming up to gauge your reaction as he pushes a finger into you.

You release a deep groan at the intrusion, the pleasure brewing. He takes his time, moving in and out of you, slowly adding a second finger at the same time his thumb rubs your clit.

You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to do anything but writhe under his hand. Gods you wish you could put your arms down and grab him, show him how good he's making you feel. Harwin spreads his fingers carefully, intently studying your reaction. He wants you prepped as best as possible, wanting your first-time pain-free.

With all these motions and pleasantries you fall over the edge, calling out his name. Harwin continues his movements for a second longer before removing his hand, allowing you to come down from your high.

He skims over you, capturing your lips and emptying your lungs. You instantly wrap your arms around him, eager to keep him close. He grinds himself into you, allowing you a moment to feel how hard he is.

You lick your lips whilst you watch him undress, tossing his clothes somewhere before diving straight back down to you. You barely get a chance to admire his hard-earned body, instead running your fingers deep into his back muscles.

"Give me your hand," he guides it down, wrapping it firmly around his cock. You suppress a giggle at his involuntarily deep groan. "This is what you do to me," he says your name. "This, and so much more. You have no idea the kind of control that's in your favour."

You can't help but smirk. You leave your hand wrapped around him, a little unsure of what to do. "You take the lead, whenever you're ready." Oh. He means for you to put him in.

You glance down, hesitantly gliding to the tip, drawing it closer. "Can you help?" You have no fucking idea what you're doing.

His hand envelops your own, guiding it to you and nudging your opening. You suck in a deep breath, flickering up to his own deep blue eyes. He leaves you to your own devices, gritting his teeth at every inch.

The feeling is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For the time being, it's uncomfortable and unnatural, your body's initial reaction to close your legs and get him out of you. But you don't, removing your hand and granting Harwin the opportunity to ease in.

"Harwin." You grunt, clawing at his shoulders.

"You're doing so well, taking me so well." He praises, finally stopping once he's filled you. As time passes, your body begins to relax, climatizing to having his cock stretch you open.

"Move, please move." You strain, wanting this first part to be over with.

He does, slowly rocking out and in, the slight pain shifting to pleasure, your deep breaths becoming short. You have no idea what to do besides lay here, wrapped around Harwin as he thrusts into you, restraining himself from fucking you into the rug.

That will be for later.

For now, he intends on showing you a softer, gentler side of him, one where he tenderly brings you to release.

He fists the fur beside your head, his other hand on your hip as he steadily moves within you, your back arching slightly when he reaches parts of you, you never thought he'd reach.

You bring a hand to his face, brushing a part of his curls back and revealing his prominent features, trying desperately to hold contact.

He uses the hold on your hip as leverage, lifting your hips ever so little when he ruts into you, eliciting all frequencies of sounds from you. Your walls begin to clench around him, alerting him of your impending orgasm.

Slipping his hand over, Harwin teases your clit, eager to really please you. With this being your first time, your climax quite quickly, Harwin's name falling from your lips.

You gasp at his sudden eviction, a small part of you wondering if that was it. Harwin soon answers, scooping you up off the ground and planting you beside the fire, your front pressing against the wall. Thankfully the fire leaves it warm.

"Harwin, what are you-oh fuck!" You cry out at his sudden intrusion, entering from behind.

Harwin leaves no space between you, your legs spread to give him better access and a hand weaving through your hair and pulling your head to the side. "You wanted this, Princess, and you'll take it." He grunts into your ear, his thrusts hitting sharply. "But don't worry, you'll find yourself soon enjoying it."

You almost flutter around him, the words sinking in and leaving you in a hot and bothered state. His guttural voice mixed with those cold, demeaning words.

In a way, he's not wrong, the new position causing all sorts of pleasures to tremble through your body; your nipples grazing the stone, his cock hammering into you and his dominant hands manoeuvring you like a whore.

You snake an arm around, cupping the back of his head, keeping him close. With your cheek melted into the stone wall, his breath moulds with your own, your lips dangerously near, yet not touching. You close your eyes, enjoying the brutal fucking and not to mention, Harwin's own grunting and groaning.

It brings you joy to know that he finds great pleasure in you.

"You have no idea what you've just done, allowing me the honour to be the first to have my way with you. It wasn't a smart move Princess because I intend to ruin you," it's as though his own words spur him on, harshly rutting into you and carving you into the wall. You can do nothing but take it, and endure his treatment.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

"I intend on breaking you in to my cock, destroying all hope for you to ever enjoy someone else." He lowers his voice almost menacingly. "No one will ever fuck you like I am."

You attempt a nod, knowing he's correct. As fucked up as it seems, you know that only Harwin can bring you to these highs. He's the only one you'll ever allow to treat you this way. Like an object, a vacant hole.

You know your close, your legs beginning to shake and your breath quickening. "Harwin, please," you whimper, once again not entirely sure what you're pleading for.

Whatever it is, you know he can grant it.

Somehow he hits a deeper angle, leaving you to cry out clenching around him. He falters for a second, close to spilling over himself. He so desperately wants to, but he's holding out. With the new tempo, you crumble, spilling around Harwin as he continues to thrust into you.

You whine against him, the overwhelming pleasure causing tears to prick in the corners of your eyes. He doesn't stop, only slowing as he whirls you around, picking you up by your thighs and clamping them to his waist.

"Gods," you moan airily, his cock ramming against your sensitive walls.

"The seven won't help you here." He muses, observing your expressions.

Amazingly enough, Harwin increases his tempo, similar to before. You choke, pawing at his chest. "Harwin I can't,"

"Yes you can, hey," he cups your jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. "One more, be a good girl and give me one more, you can do it."

You bite your lip at the pain beginning to throb, your body exhausted and to be honest, your pussy used. His dark eyes watch you, a hand coming down to press against your clit, helping in relieve that pressure building once again.

He groans your name, his other hand moving to brace against the skirting around the fireplace. With his strength and subconscious force, he breaks the corner of it. You barely react to the stone crumbling at his feet, more focused on climaxing for a third and final time.

He swallows your scream, the rush of you around him enough to bring him over, spilling his seed deep. You lean your head back, your chest heaving and no doubt your back scratched. You feel content, Harwin slumping into your shoulder, nuzzling your flesh.

"I never imagined it would feel like that," you say more to yourself, your fingers threading through his sweaty curls.

Harwin lifts his head. "It's never like that, Princess."

The wild winds blast through your hair, your dragon's head blocking the majority from hitting you smack bang on your chest. At this height, the force is unimaginable.

You slowly begin your descent, dreading the moment you land and go back to reality, your cruel reality. In these last few months, you were made to follow your sister during her tour, allowing the lords to put themselves forward for your hand, alongside Rhaenyra.

You scowled the entire time. A cold, blank sheet was over your face, your eyes narrowed and dark. You could burn your father for the agony he's put you through, refusing your one ask of him. He's strained his relationship with you.

As more and more days pass, you ponder the thought of running away, denouncing your blood and flying off into the distance, far from this heartache.

You know it's foolish, that you must uphold your duty, but fuck duty.

Your dragon lands smoothly, his large frame dwarfing you once you climb down, your hand brushing against his scales and his head. He growls softly, leaning into your palm and hoping to draw this time out. He's missed you, much like the dark-haired knight that only just received word of your arrival.

You and your sister returned in the night, and since dawn you've been up in the skies, forgetting the situation at hand for a while longer.

You gesture for the dragon keepers to guide your dragon back into his nest, turning swiftly and making your way up to the Keep. Eyes watch you, studying you with every step. Since your last conversation with your father, you've turned into a cold little bitch.

It's the only way you know to protect yourself.

Your steel gaze burns through anyone who makes contact, challenging them to speak their mind. You know of the rumours that spread, how you've turned down every suitor, how your attitude has changed and you are no longer the nice Princess.

You don't notice the deep blue eyes following your every move through the courtyard, studying your behaviour. A part of you wonders how your first interaction would be, having not spoken a word to him since that night.

After he helped you dress, you snuck back into your room riddled with guilt. Suppose you came to your senses, realising exactly what you'd just done. But somewhere, you didn't care, you still don't. The next day you prepared yourself to send him away, should he come looking, but he never did.

And then you left, following your sister around Westeros.

"Have you seen him?" Rhaenyra sidles up to you, accompanying you to your quarters where you must prepare for the large feast. Your father has organised a large gathering where he can personally meet both of your suitors.

"No." You answer plainly.

You confessed the incident to Rhaenyra, trusting her to keep it to herself. She has and is more excited for the two of you to speak than you are.

"We should have you dressed your best tonight, show him what he's had a taste of, and what he's no doubt missing."

You roll your eyes, looping an arm through hers. She's been your rock through the whole ideal with your father, understanding both sides, yet gravitating towards yours.

Rhaenyra takes the opportunity to order your ladies as she sees fit, demanding your hair be styled up to accentuate your chest and collarbone, as the dress she picks is an off-the-shoulder. The black and red material falls to the floor, the sleeves being a cape, tying to the bodice only at the shoulder and leaving your arms to be either hidden or shown.

The dress plunges down your breasts, opting for a revealing look, courtesy of Rhaenyra. She finishes it off with a dragon-like necklace, alluding to the animal protecting your neck. Throughout the design, scales to represent your house has been embroidered, making it one of a kind.

Your sister's dress is similar, in the revealing sense. The both of you are definitely pushing your father's buttons, and you have no care.

The hours past by swiftly, and soon it's time to present yourselves. You walk side by side to the great hall, an anxious tug pulling within your stomach. You can't help but wonder how the evening will play out, and just what will happen with Harwin.

The great doors swing open, Rhaenyra being introduced first as she's the heir, and you second. Your heart rate quickens with each step, hundreds of eyes staring. You debate whether to search for his, your pace faltering as you connect.

Gods be fucking damned, he looks divine.

Your mouth dries at his black attire, at his curls being pulled back and revealing his defined features. It seems he's had a similar thought, dressing his best.

So many words portray through your eyes, so many thoughts and emotions. His jaw flexes as you draw near, his seat being close to the high table. The rest of the room fades, his gaze agonisingly slowly moving down your body, images of your naked figure coming to mind.

He pauses at your breasts, subconsciously moistening his lips before he flickers up to your face. He inhales sharply. These past months have done you justice, or you've simply become a woman since he had his share of you.

Your exchange doesn't go unnoticed, by both of your fathers.

Rounding the high table, you opt to take your seat, unlike Rhaenyra who greets Viserys before joining you. Neither of you bothered for Alicent, who flares daggers at you in particular. She normally leaves you alone, yet since the altercation with your father, she guns for the both of you.

You keep silent through the speech, given by your father, focusing on the detail of the cloth before you. A burning sensation spreads through you, almost like a sixth sense, sensing a pair of eyes boring into your skull.

You clench your jaw, preparing to scare them off when you pause. It's Harwin, unable to keep his eyes off you. Your skin heats up, your thighs pressing together. Fuck, the effect he has on you.

Viserys takes his seat, the people either beginning to eat or taking to the dance floor, music filling the air. You decide to eat, keeping your attention locked on your plate, desperate to finish it before you go looking for Harwin. You want answers, and one way or another you'll get them.

At some stage a young lordling braves the high table, asking for your hand. You pause your chewing, your eyes venomous. "As you can see, my lord, I have yet to finish my meal," you gesture to the full plate.

The boy's cheeks redden, and quickly he excuses himself. You scoff, resuming your meal with your eyes scouring the hall. You watch the people dance, eventually ditching your plate and leaning back in your chair, your eyes narrowing at Harwin's empty place beside his brother.

You find him amongst the crowd, his attention on a young maiden. Or so you thought, until his gaze flickers up to you, before averting again.

He wants to play that game.

Rising, you round the high table and descend the small flight of stairs, accepting the first person to offer a dance and joining everyone else. At first, you attempt to pay attention to your partner, your bodies moving in partial sync across the floor.

It's not until you spin outward, that you notice Harwin, now with a different girl.

With each movement, you glance over at him, a shadow of annoyance covering you as you realise he refuses to acknowledge you.

You inhale deeply, deciding to ignore your heart's biggest ache and try to enjoy your time without him. You switch partners, losing sight of Harwin as the night progresses. You've lost sense of yourself, spinning and moving to the flow of the music, changing partners every so often that you have no idea who each one is. Your cheeks are warm, your eyes alight. You haven't had this much fun in a while, the suitors flocking to you for a chance to dance.

Your current partner twirls you around, his grip firm and unwavering. For the first time, he matches you, each movement sturdy and confidence clear in his steps. He makes for a great dance partner. You can't help but laugh as he draws you to him, only to raise his arm over your head and redirect you.

His hand slips from yours, signalling a partner change, and you spin to stop in someone's chest. You instinctively brace yourself on his chest, an apology on your lips as you glance up. "Ser Harwin," you breathe his name.

"Princess," he curtly acknowledges.

His chest tightens at your appearance, wide and excited eyes, wisps of hair falling from their place and framing your face. Not to mention, your delicate hands still pressed to him, leaving only a splinter of a gap between you.

You follow his gaze, realisation dawning. You go to remove yourself from him, when his own hands cover yours, gently plucking them off his chest. You expect him to let go, throw you aside and move on, but he doesn't.

Harwin grasps your hands, leading you into the next dance. You follow him, lost within the depths of his blue eyes, so many words threatening to tumble out. You move fluently, matching his pace.

"Harwin," you say lowly, unsure of how to proceed.

"Don't." Your brows furrow, your chests pressing together as you both move in. "Just don't say anything."

You scoff. "You expect us to dance in silence?" He says nothing, despite the electricity sparking around you. "I've been gone for months and this is how treat me?"

"What do you want me to say?" He grits.

"Anything!" You say a little loudly, breaking contact to stare at his house emblem stitched to his chest. You sigh, closing your eyes. "Why didn't you come to see me?"

"My apologies, Princess, I didn't realise I was your lap dog."

You snap up to him. Fire burns within your hard stare. "What is your problem? Why are you like this?"

He raises an eyebrow, extending you away from his body, only to snap you back to him. You collide with his chest harshly, flashbacks of that night coming to your forefront. Reminders of how easily he dominates you.

"Are you so dense, Princess, that you can't see your actions have consequences."

You gape at him, matching his hard levelled glare. "Careful Ser, anyone else and I'd have their head." Normally, Harwin would never dare speak so freely, yet at this moment the mere presence of you sets him alight. He grunts in response to your warning.

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply to keep the dragon at bay. The last thing anyone needs is for you to boil over and explode. "What actions are you speaking of?"

You honestly have no idea what he's referring to. "Ahh, so you're ignorant as well. Tell me again why you came to me that night, why you begged,"

"I did not beg!" You almost growl. Fuck he makes you angry, almost rivalling your father at this moment. Your veins simmer, your stomach twisting in rage. "I told you why-"

"I don't believe you." Harwin cuts you off. He lowers his face, so close to your own. His breath bares down on you, his lips dangerously near, yet Harwin's movements are calculated. There's no warmth in his eyes. "I think someone got angry at daddy, and decided to get back at him using me."

You freeze. You never expected him to say that, to call you out. "Harwin," you start, desperation filling you. You need to explain yourself, to make him understand.

Betrayal flashes across him, his back straightening. "Good evening, princess." He spits out your title, removing himself from you entirely.

"Harwin," you choke, reaching for him when a figure steps in front of you. You barely give the man a glance before you intend on following the knight.

"If I may, Princess?"

You ignore the man offering his hand for a dance, staring off at Harwin as he makes his way through the crowd and exits the hall. Distress floods you, your body shaking as you fight the urge to heave.

You feel sick.

"Sister, are you alright?" Rhaenyra notices, immediately coming to your side. You can't say anything, darting between her and where Harwin just left. She nods in understanding. "Go, I'll tell father you're feeling ill."

You squeeze her hand gratefully, before making your way toward a different exit, with a plan of cutting him off. You have vague ideas of where he would go. With everyone in the hall, it leaves the corridors vacant.

Picking your dress up at the knees, you pick up a run, your shoes hitting the floor lightly as you intend on making minimal noise. Blood roars in your ears, your heart pumping erratically.

You round corners, desperate to slip out of the Keep before anyone realises. Finally, you enter the gardens, stopping when you spot Harwin storming his way toward you, unaware of your presence.

You step into his view, flinching as he stops dead in his tracks. He goes to speak, but you beat him to it. "I am to speak, and you are going to listen." You raise a finger, keeping him rooted whilst you close the distance.

You stand dangerously close, your chest heaving and your hair falling to your shoulders. "Yes, I came to you because I was furious because I knew that it'd destroy my father much as he'd done to me. He asked what it would take to contain me, and I voiced a marriage of my own free will. He refused." Harwin stands rigid, his fingers flexing at his sides. "But I came to you-"

"Because you knew I'd do it. You took advantage of my affections for you, you used me!" Harwin raises his voice, his emotions controlling him. You deny it, trying to explain yourself when he talks over you. "You have no idea how I felt the next morning when my own gold cloaks told me that the King was to select your hand. You shattered me," you close your eyes at the sound of your name leaving his lips with such pain, tears building.

"Yet you have such a fucking hold on me that I stupidly offered my hand."

Your eyes fly open, meeting his own despite the darkness. The bright moon shines down, lighting the area as best as possible. "You," you drawl, comprehending his words.

"Yes, and I had to endure your father and his court's laughter."

"But your his Hands son-first born son! Heir to Harrenhal!"

He chuckles darkly. "Exactly, all I have to offer you is a half-burnt castle, courtesy of your ancestors."

You can't fathom that your father didn't even consider Harwin, that he belittled him. He has no idea what he's done.

"Harwin," he shivers. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. What my father did is cruel,"

"A trait that runs in the family."

A tear slides down your cheek, defeat seeping in. It seems no matter what you say, Harwin refuses to hear. After a heartbeat of silence, Harwin moves to round you, pausing at your palm coming into contact with his chest. The feel of him sends a shiver down your spine.

Harwin slides your hand off as if you've burnt him, continuing on his path. An intense wave of pain surges through you, obliterating every part of you without remorse. Your chin trembles, your mind steaming at you to stop him, to fuck the protocols and policies.

You open your mouth to call out, to tell him the truth but it falls short in your throat, lodged well. You fear for what happens when you lay yourself bare, what he'll say and do.

"I'm in love with you."

Harwin completely seizes, as if he was close to falling off a cliff.

"I came to you, because deep down I knew my father would never approve, especially of us marrying." With each word Harwin approaches you, his body weightless. "So I decided that before I became caged and forced into a dull marriage, that I'd take control and choose who takes my virtue. That I'd lay with the man that I love, even if it were for a night."

Harwin stands directly behind you, his front pressing against your back, his breath on your neck. "If you're lying to me,"

You turn to face him. "You think I'd allow anyone to treat me like a whore?"

A flicker of understanding passes between you. How he manoeuvred you, how he controlled you like a puppet and fucked you against the wall without mercy.

"What do you know of being a whore?"

You tilt your head, standing on your toes to brush his cheek. "I know I'd let you do whatever you want, so long as it pleases you."

Harwin inhales sharply, his body itching for you. He murmurs your name, his voice trembling and his restraint slipping. He allows his fingers to loosely hang off your hips, drawing you closer.

Your mouth ghosts his, the temptation seeping in. You move your arms to his neck, threading your hands through his hair. Harwin groans, his hooded eyes burning through you, his control snapping.

He captures your lips, his grip on you tightening and his palms travelling every inch of your back, one of them ending up in your hair, the other on your neck. You whimper softly, Harwin using the opportunity to slip in his tongue and ravage you properly.

You're powerless against him, the lack of oxygen having its effect on your brain. You feel him move you backward, directing you through the garden until you stand flush to a wall, out of sight. Harwin found this hidden spot behind the bushes when he was a young lad, oft venturing here as he grew older to escape his reality.

He skims down the skirt of your dress, lifting it to cup your pussy. You whine, pulling apart to lean your head into the brick. Harwin smirks at your state, his palm moving in circular motions.

"Your drenched Princess. How long have you been like this?" He taunts you.

"Since I laid eyes on you," you answer airily.

Harwin hums in satisfaction, removing your undergarment and tapping the inside of your thigh to signal you step out of it. A chill shudders down your spine in realisation; Harwin plans on having you against this wall, where anyone could easily happen upon you.

"Hold this," he refers to your skirts, bunching the front into your stomach. You do as he says, biting your lip as he works to remove himself.

Harwin pauses, his cock hard and throbbing in his hand. "Tell me you want this," he rasps.

"I want you to fuck me."

A cold smile tugs at his lips, "as my princess commands."

He nudges into you, giving you a moment before he slides all the way in. You tense, having only had him months ago and nothing since. It doesn't exactly hurt, it feels uncomfortable, like he should be there but he is.

You grapple with his shoulders, hissing once he reaches the hilt, filling you with every inch of him that you can take. He shudders at your walls clenching around him.

Slowly he eases out and in, working you to a steady rhythm as to make sure he won't hurt you, that you've accustomed to him. You have.

He slams his hand onto the wall beside your head at the same time his hips rut into you. Your mouth opens in a silent groan, your forehead pressing against Harwin's as he intends to watch you.

Each thrust is intentional, his cock hitting as deep as possible and his slow but hard movements driving you crazy. Your whimpers and small sounds spur him on, a hand on your hip to help leverage him into you.

Though he's fucked you before, you still have no idea what to do, not wanting to just stand here and take his brutal pace. You remember how it felt to have your legs around his waist, how he was able to hit deep angles and completely fill you.

Lifting a leg up, you hook your ankle around his waist, Harwin instantly shifting. His hand glides down to your thigh, keeping it locked to him and his hips drive deeper into you.

You begin to feel that burn within your abdomen, brewing with each thrust, especially as he switches to almost completely vacating you before he hits home. You cry out, Harwin instantly covering your mouth.

"Quiet Princess, otherwise this ends very quickly." Harwin grunts, referring to someone potentially finding you.

You attempt to nod. He doesn't exactly trust your control, keeping his palm where it is as he continues to piston out of you, his heavy pants signalling how close he's getting.

You dig your heel into his lower back, so close to falling over the edge, desperate for him to follow. Harwin glides his hand from your thigh to your clit, paying particular attention to the bundle of nerves and the added sensation being enough for you to climax.

Your moan is muffled, Harwin's hips faltering at the feeling of you gushing around him. His own restraint slips, his cock ramming into you one last time, his seed spilling. His head falls to your shoulder, his hand slipping from your mouth to rest on the side of your head.

Your chest heaves, a slight sense of fatigue threatening to wash over you. "I hate you, with every fibre of my being." He whispers into your skin, his lips grazing your exposed collarbone.

"I know." You reply, your mouth dry as you run a caressing hand over his hair. You don't know what to do from this point onward, whether you and Harwin go your separate ways or you fight for him.

It ultimately falls on him.

"I would burn this fucking city to the ground for you," you murmur, wanting him to comprehend just how much he plagues you, how much he wields you, how nothing else matters in this lifetime but him. Hesitantly, Harwin lifts his head, unprepared for the serious glint in your eye. "Don't give up on me, not yet."

"Then don't leave me."

Your lilac eyes shine with fire and determination. "Never. I love you too much," he looks away, releasing a heavy breath as though he doesn't believe you. "Hey," you grab his face, forcing him to meet your stare. "I have loved you, since I was a girl. You, are why I hate my status. If I were a lower-born daughter, we could have wed a long time ago, without the burden of our duties."

"Show me," his words are barely audible, but you catch them. Show me.

Steadily you lower your leg from his waist, ignoring the slight irritation from your hips and sudden blood flow. His soft cock slips from you, hanging limp. Pushing down the nerves that erupt along your body, you sink to your knees, glancing up at him through your lashes.

A flicker of surprise passes over Harwin. He didn't exactly mean this. Though he'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity.

"You're the only man I'll get on my knees for," you quip, tentatively wrapping your fingers around his cock.

Harwin hisses at the contact, his hand bracing himself against the wall. You allow instinct to take over, cautiously pumping him, studying Harwin's reactions. His lips part, his breath becoming heavy with each glide, his cock hardening under your touch.

"Am I doing it right?" You ask nervously, unsure of what else you could be doing to him.

"Princess," he grits, his fingers curling into a fist above you. "You keep that up and I won't be able to last."

Your cheeks flare at his comment, your thumb brushing over his inflamed head. Harwin grunts under your ministrations, his other hand flexing as he withholds the urge to grip your hair.

"Can you teach me, how to use my mouth?"

Harwin's eyes fly open, instantly finding your own. "You don't have to, what your doing is just fine."

"But I want to," you pause your movements, looking up at him expectantly. "Either teach me or I'll learn myself."

His eyebrows rise to his hairline. "You are a determined thing, aren't you?" You scowl, gently tightening your grip on him. "Alright alright," he repeats, his body stiffening. "Put it in, and for the love of the seven, don't use your teeth."

A wicked grin spreads across your face, setting Harwin on edge as you take him into your mouth, inwardly cringing for a moment. Harwin shudders, his hip's reflexively jutting forward.

"Just," he pants, at the mere feeling of his cock inhabiting your mouth. "Move like you were before, and use your tongue."

Your brows furrow slightly, hesitantly gliding along his cock and back down, dragging your tongue on his underside. He groans, his hand coming to your hair and threading it. How he so desperately wishes to face fuck you, but he won't. Not until you're his.

You bob your head, following Harwin's instructions as he guides you to bring him to a climax, his leverage on your head allowing him to gingerly rut his hips into you. "Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes closing in pleasure.

An idea flickers, your tongue swirling around his swollen head and your hand wrapping around the base of him, a small smirk threatening to spread as Harwin stammers.

You feel powerful, knowing that your mere mouth can bring Harwin to this state, his moral restraint close to breaking like the chains kept around your dragon.

Harwin calls your name, his cock twitching in your mouth. He's close, dangerously close and he fears that if you don't stop, he won't pull out in time. You remember how he felt you near your climax the night he disappeared between your thighs, sucking gently on your clit to bring you over.

You wonder if the same applies to him.

You move to his tip, gently sucking. Harwin cries out at the unexpected sensation, forcing his hips forward and ultimately thrusting his cock further into your mouth as he shatters.

You squeak, his seed filling your mouth and slipping down your throat. You can't help but cringe at the taste, pulling off him to wipe your mouth.

Slowly raising, you observe Harwin's state, as he comes down from his high. He releases a heavy breath, his senses clearing. A sense of pride runs through you, for being able to please him as he did to you.

Being with a man, is not at all what the Septas told you.

Harwin grabs the underside of your jaw, pulling you up to him. You fist his jacket, a small moan escaping you when his tongue slips in. He doesn't care that he can taste himself.

He steals your breath, your lungs aching and that familiar burn searing through your abdomen. He reluctantly pulls back, his forehead leaning on yours, his lips feathering you, refusing to completely stop.

"Harwin," you whisper, your hands sliding to his neck, playing aimlessly with his loose curls. "What are our next moves?"

"Hmm?" He hums absentmindedly, too lost in the feeling of your cheek against his. He nuzzles you, an act of intimacy that even fucking you couldn't compare to.

You chuckle, deciding to leave it and enjoy the moment, as much as the two of you should plan out the next steps.

"You're mine," he says lowly, his gravelly voice sending chills down your spine. "And I'm yours."

You nod, a smile gracing your lips. "You've ruined me for anyone else."

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#ser harwin x reader #harwin strong smut #harwin strong x reader #hotd #ser harwin strong #ryan corr #harwin strong imagine

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usagikookiejams · 22 days

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HAVING A CUTE DATE WITH THEM

Shiba Taiju, Terano South, Ryuguji Ken

A/N: Sorry guys for not updating for long, I wasn't in the mood to write and also due to busy schedule

Shiba Taiju

"Ugh, why do I even agreed to this?," you heard a mumble from behind. You turned around while spotting a large smile on your face, "Come on babe! It's not even that bad, right? I mean.. look at all those cute cats, who could resist them?!." Taiju rolled his eyes on you, sighing, "This does not fit me baby. What if my gang members see me like this?." You just ignored him, knowing that he will follow you nonetheless. Both of you got into the Cat Café; it was obvious who wanna be here and who DOES NOT. Bleh, whatever, he will get use to it. After settling down in one of the tables, you waited patiently for the waiter to get your order. "Babe, look at Bobby. He wants to be pet by you," you alerted Taiju. "Huh? Bobby who?," Taiju looked confused. "Duh? The cat by your lap? Look there babe, he wants you to pet him," you responsed while patting the cat on your lap that was wearing a collar with 'Miku' on it. Taiju looked over at Bobby, seeing those big blue eyes staring at him cutely. The staring contest continued for a few seconds until Taiju heard you laughing. "Hahahaha look at the both of you! So hilarious!," you stated while bringing Miku near your face to kiss her nose. You looked very adorable doing that, Taiju could feel his heart beating fast as if it was your first met again. He sighed, admitting to himself that this indeed was not a bad idea. Mentally noting that he will bring you here again next time <3

Terano South

Well, it was his idea to go to a theme park. Cuz he imagined himself enjoying numerous thrill rides here with you. But never, I mean NEVER has it occured once in his mind that he will be waiting in line for this ride instead. "Omggg! I have not go on merry-go-round for years! Can't wait for our turn babe!," you jumped in your spot. Sigh... yes merry-go-round. Who the hell go on those besides kids? Plus, he is too tall to go there, people will be looking at him weirdly. "Baby, I think I might have to pass on this. Why don't you go while I take a lot of pics of you from here, hmm?," he suggested. "Oh no need babe! I just wanna enjoy this together with you. Pleaseeee?," you looked at him with puppy-eyes. He sighed again, knowing that you are too cute to resist. Welp, it's your and South's turn now, so no turning back. You giddily chose the one that you want to ride, while South just chose whichever closer to you. After a few seconds, the merry-go-round song started playing, indicating that the ride was about to start. South couldn't help but having a very bored expression on his face, knowing this ride didn't give him even an ounce of excitement. That is until he looked ahead at you seeing how you were directing the camera towards him while smiling, "Hye babe! This is fun, right?", you asked him. South observed how you were looking very happy, and also squealed at the ride sudden movement sometime... he doesn't have the heart to deny your question. You just looked too cute like this, realizing this free-spirit personality also was one of the reasons he fell in love with you. South could feel himself started to enjoy the ride too, and he replied yes to your question. After the ride end, you couldn't believe that South pulled you into the line again, perhaps like 2 or 3 times more until you have to drag him from there. Lol!

Ryuguji Ken (Draken)

In both of you guys' relationship, you both normally have mutual understanding on dating. I mean, it was not hard to decide on dating activity or location. However, this... this one is new. Well, you came across an advertisment on pottery. So you decided to give it a try, thinking that the idea seems interesting. That is how you and Draken ended up attending this class, on Saturday morning. "Hwaaa. Baby is this a good idea?," you heard Draken asking you while yawning. "Well, I hope it is. But it's okay babe, we just a few minutes in, so it might be interesting later on," you felt sorry having to wake Draken early for this class. You had to admit that a few minutes in, it was boring. I mean, all you guys had done by now was just the theory class on what is the good clay to use and how to use the machine. After some more dreading minutes of the boring lecture, you guys finally started on the actual pottery designing alongside other participants. Draken just randomly making a design, a simple cup. You came to observe his cup and praised him on how good it looked. That is until you came out with an idea to kinda like 'destroy' it. "Hey baby! What are you doing?," Draken hold your hand firmly. "Hahahaha sorry babe! I just thought it would be better if we write our initial there," you pointed out at the cup. Draken observed them, thinking that hey it doesn't look that bad, it actually looked better like that. He agreed that it looks good, and you couldn't help but feel proud at the idea. That is until you saw Draken ran towards your table to mess up your cup too. "Heyyy!!," you ran after him. The other participants just looked at the both of you in awed, hearing the boisterous laugh at how you both were teasing one another. Draken realized how this simple activity means a lot to him, if he could see you keep on smiling like that <3

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hydrngea · 1 year

Text

gyming

a/n : this was a very self indulgent fic that’s very unedited but i hope you enjoy!! this is gonna be a series of short somewhat connected blurbs of gymbro!rafe :))

summary : your first time at a new gym doesn’t start off too great until you meet your new gymbro. | rafe cameron x f!reader, rafe is a gym rat in this, reader is extremely thirsty and downbad lol, fluff.

navigation | masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it took you a good 2 months after moving to the obx to try out the local gym.

you know, you know. there’s nothing really to be afraid of; you know how all the machines work and you don’t have to worry much about your form. it’s just now that you’ve moved away for college, you don’t have your best friend working out side by side with you. and it’s got you nervous.

you finally mustered up the courage after a long facetime call with her. you were gonna do it. expand your horizons.

you felt instantly relieved when you walked into the gym and it was empty. you always thought that nine o’clock at night was the perfect time to go, since all the machines and benches were empty a couple hours before the gym closes.

you look around. there’s about 4 people in the gym other than yourself.

there’s some guy in the corner by the deadlift platform that seems to think he’s batman;with a weird all black getup, wearing…combat boots?

another two are a really cringe high school couple. bleh.

and then the last one by the bench presses.

woah. he’s hot. you think, panning him from far away and taking him in. he’s literally lifting triple the amount of weight you can. you didn’t even know the arm had so many muscle groups.

alright, maybe this new gym isn’t so bad.

you find your way to an open bench and put your stuff down. you stare at the plates for a good minute or two and wonder what would be the best the start with. you decide on a safer weight to warm up. it has been more than a few weeks since you’ve benched.

you lay onto the bench and place you hands into position, puffing out your chest while sucking in a tight breath.

you push up on the bar and immediately regret your overconfidence. the weight moves too heavy, yet you still force yourself to continue with reps.

2…3…4..

you’re so close to hitting 6 reps, but suddenly at the end of the forth one your arms give out and the bar begins to fall on you chest.

you do your best to prepare for the blow, but it never comes. you blink a couple times and realize a pair of strong hands have pulled up the bar from you and a handsome face mirrors yours.

oh god. it’s him. the cute guy.

“easy there, sweetheart.” his gruff voice cuts through your thoughts you immediately fall in love.

he places the bar onto the hinges with ease and you quickly sit up on the bench, face burning. your hands are as red as a tomato from the right grip you had on the bar, and your wrist aches from the failed lift.

you pull your headphones off of your head and turn your neck to look at him, “i’m so sorr-“

you begin to apologize but he cuts you off with a chuckle.

“nah, what are you apologizing for? i’m sorry for not asking if you wanted a spot earlier.”

earlier? did he notice me earlier?

“this used to be my warm up.” you say with your head low, a small scoff coming out during the beginning of your sentence.

the stranger shrugs, “well for the first few sets it looked like you were handling it just fine.”

you raise a brow, not able to control the sudden urge for flirtation that comes upon you. “were you watching me?”

he crosses his arms over the bar and leans against it, shaking his head which caused his hair to shuffle a bit and his muscles to flex in the most mesmerizing way ever.

you’re sure you gawking at him and that you should probably avert your eyes from his body but you kinda can’t help it.

“of course i was. couldn’t stop but notice the pretty girl that walked in.”

you roll you eyes at the comment, shaking your head. “i doubt that i’m pretty.”

he scoffs. “you’re the prettiest girl in here.”

“is that because i’m the only girl in here?” you question, undoing your loose ponytail to redo it.

“you know what i meant, pretty girl.”

“mm. sure…pretty boy.” you test out the nickname and he smiles at you for the first time. you swear your feel butterflies all over your body at the simple action.

he takes a step out towards the front of the bench to face you. “how ‘bout we spot each other so we don’t get hurt, pretty girl?” he suggest, a lop sided smile curving onto his gorgeous face.

god. why are you so down bad for a guy you just met?

“why not?” you acquiesce, sending him your own mirroring grin in return.

you think it’s safe to say this won’t be the last time you’d visiting this gym.

—————

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yongbokkari · 11 months

Text

lovesickness ᝰ໋᳝݊ຳི

ᝰ pairing — bf!changbin x reader

ᝰ word count — 4k+

ᝰ warnings — small argument (again) 🫰🏻, mention of period, reader had a bad day, pet names of baby and darling and slight angst, pls let me know if there's more !!

a/n — @soobnny im finally done 🥹 hope you guys will enjoy this one !! i have mixed feelings about this one bleh bleh bleh but i cried so 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻 btw thank you so much for all the notes on my last seungmin post :(( u guys are so sweet i just want to put u guys in my pocket and carry u everywhere i go and cherish u everyday u guys have no idea how happy i get everytime i read ur notes :( <3

You brought out the leftovers from yesterday you had left to freeze to reheat them, stirring away so it would defrost faster. Your head was still terribly aching as hard as you tried to ignore it, in hopes that it would slowly go away.

The front door opened then, your boyfriend coming in after a visit to the gym. "Honey, I'm back~," He dragged out, his whiny voice instantly rising whenever he was with you. You just hummed, not putting it to mind to greet him in any sort, instead prodding the food harder since it wasn't budging to defrost faster.

"Honey, what are you making?" His voice became louder, and his steps closer until his hands were wrapped around you, his clingy side showing off. It had been a few days since you met since he had to stay at the dorms for a few practice sessions.

And you would've jumped up and down at the sight of him if it wasn't for the awful day you had and the pain going around in your head. The nauseous feeling you were getting wasn't helping either, only making your head ache even more.

"Just reheating yesterday's leftovers," You answered monotonously, shrugging off his arms so you could move to the fridge to take a few vegetables out to cook.

You loved his presence around you, you really did but now it just made you frustrated and annoyed that he wouldn't just leave you alone. You didn't want to meet his eyes, afraid that he would see the tension in you that you were trying so hard to contain inside.

"Are you okay? Did something happen honey, hm?" He asked, coming closer to you, but you continued to cook the vegetables silently, hoping he would get the message to just leave you alone. He didn’t and instead moving his head so he could see your face and was just all over you. You understood his need to help you feel better, but couldn’t you just have your space to yourself for a while?

“God, Changbin just- Can you just leave me alone? I clearly don’t want to talk about it, so can you just stop bothering me?” Your voice seemed to rise more as each word came out and you could see how startled he got at the sudden loudness after how quiet you were being. You stood there facing each other, waiting for him to reply. When it didn’t look like he would, you turned back towards the stove, continuing to stir.

After a while, you heard him say. “I didn’t have that blast of a day too, you know. You didn’t have to scream at me.” You heard the sound of his footsteps receding down the hallway, until finally there was the soft thud of your bedroom door.

You sighed. He was right, you definitely didn’t have to scream at him, so why did you? When the food was fully defrosted and the vegetables were cooked, you turned off the stove and slowly crouched down. Your head was hurting so much more, now that you had raised your voice like that. Guess that’s what you get for acting like an asshole.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” You muttered, your hands repeatedly hitting your pounding head. How were you going to make up for it this time? Do you pretend nothing happened? Yeah, you should probably try that. You’ll see whether he’ll talk to you, then you’ll see where to go from there.

You waited for a few minutes, assuming the time it would take for him to finish showering, as you arranged the plates on the table and served the food. 30 minutes passed. He should be settled down now, you thought to yourself as your braced yourself to enter your bedroom.

You pushed the door open, “Bin-ah?” You called out, looking for him, only to see him at his table with his laptop open. You entered the room a bit more, afraid to come too close to him in case he didn’t want to be close to you. “Bin-ah, let’s eat. I’ve finished setting up the table.”

You had smiled then, shamelessly hoping his heart would soften enough to forgive you, but it was to no use as he didn’t even look up to you as he replied. “I don’t feel like eating. You eat first.”

You couldn’t help the tug and heaviness you felt in your chest. “Oh, okay,” You answered, before exiting and closing the door. Why were there tears in your eyes? Why is the ache in your chest not going away? You clutched at it, breathing in and out, hoping it would go. Now the tears were flowing out. Why were they coming out?

Didn’t you deserve this treatment? After how yours was towards him?

You wiped the tears away and walked to the dining table to put the lids on the containers you used to put the food in. You put the rice back in the rice cooker, and the plates back into the shelf. Your appetite was gone now. Most of the meals you’ve had since you were with Changbin had been with him. It upset you to think that the reason he wasn’t eating was because of you.

You were thankful that you had agreed on your personal room where you could do your work, otherwise Changbin would have to face you. You went into the room, and sat at your table. You couldn’t think of any assignments you had that was due soon, but you managed to find one that was due not for another 3 weeks. But you would take anything to distract yourself from the pain that you simultaneously felt and caused.

˚ ༘♡ · ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The clock showed 11:36. You were at your laptop working on your assignments for 5 hours. Partially, that is. Most of those hours were just you staring off into the distance wondering when Changbin would come and talk to you again.

You thought of whether it was fine for you to sleep in your bedroom. Would he leave and go sleep on the couch? You wouldn’t want him to. He always complained about his back hurting, plus it always felt strange to sleep without him in the room. But usually he would be asleep by the time, so you turned off your laptop and got up to check on him.

You opened the door to your bedroom slowly, peering inside, and true enough he was fast asleep. Changbin’s sleeping position varied on a daily basis. At times he would be sleeping on his stomach, sometimes on his right or left side, facing upwards, and sometimes in questionable positions you didn’t bother to ask about anymore. Tonight he was on his left side, facing away from your side of the bed. Was tonight’s position a random pick or did a certain event of the day lead him to it? Did he not want to look at you that badly?

You went to the kitchen to put the once again leftovers back into the fridge, but the table was empty, containers all washed, the sink clean of foams from the dish soap. Changbin always made sure to clean the kitchen before sleeping. You always told him to let you do it, but he had said you were already doing so much in the house, it was the least he could do. You divided your chores weekly, so in no way were you doing anything more than him. Your heart hurt thinking of what happened in the evening. What you did and said to the world’s sweetest boy.

You went into the bedroom’s bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. You sighed before getting under the blanket, careful not to pull too hard. While Changbin’s sleeping position varied, yours were always the same. You were always sleeping on your side on the right side of the bed. Unless he was hugging you. Then you would be facing him.

But tonight could be an exception. You were scared he really didn’t want to see you, so you didn’t sleep on your left side, and instead opted for facing upwards. Being able to see him from the corner of your eyes was enough, you think. They say beggars can’t be choosers.

˚ ༘♡ · ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You woke up to the left side of the bed empty. You and Changbin loved to sleep in, sometimes even until 3 pm, when both of you were too tired to care about your grumbling stomach, content with each other's company.

That day, Changbin chose to wake up early that day. Was it another random choice or a careful pick?

You heard the sound of pans clattering in the kitchen. You rarely ever ate breakfast. You wished you had. Then you would have a reason to go talk to Changbin. When did you ever need a reason to talk to your boyfriend? Right. Since you decided to be a prick yesterday. You rubbed your face, sighing.

You got up and out of the room and into the kitchen, the view of your boyfriend washing the dishes coming into view. He was wearing his usual gym clothes. It was only 12 pm, was he already going out?

"Oh you're awake," Changbin said, looking up to you for a second before returning his attention back to the dishes. When he was done, he patted his hands on his pants to dry them. "I'm going to the dorm. Chan hyung asked me to come over to help him with something. Then I'm going straight to the gym," He said, before meeting eyes with you. "Do you want to eat anything? I can make something for you."

"No, it's fine, I'm not hungry," You said. Your stomach was hurting, and your headache from yesterday was still there, so you couldn't really focus on your hunger.

Changbin hummed, before making his way past you, and into the room. You made your way to the couch, arranging the papers you were working on yesterday at the table before cooking, but had forgotten to tidy up before going to sleep.

You heard Changbin's steps shuffling throughout the corridor, before finally he came out with his backpack he brought his spare clothes in.

"Chan hyung is probably asking for my help with some tracks, so we'll probably continue after coming back from the gym. You don't have to wait for me to come home. Knowing Chan hyung he's definitely working on the tracks till past midnight. I don't really want him to have to work alone."

You hummed, nodding. Your eyes met for a few seconds, not saying anything. Was he still mad at you? Should you apologize now? Would he accept your apology?

Before you had the chance to sort your thoughts, he came over and planted a kiss on your cheek. "See you," He said, to which you responded the same. Your eyes followed him moving to the front door, before finally getting out of the house, the door closing.

Should you have run after him? Ask him to forgive you and to please stop acting like a stranger? To please hug you like he would always do before he went anywhere without you? Would you be considered clingy if you pleaded for him to hold your face and kiss you so he could make you feel better the way only he could?

There you go again being selfish. It was always for you. Never for him. Then you wonder why he was acting so cold towards you?

You sighed, laying down sideways on the couch. You clutched your stomach, your stomach ache suddenly getting worse. You checked your period tracker, and sure enough the app predicted for your period to come today. Today, of all days?

You went to the bathroom to put on a pad so you wouldn’t bleed out, then sat on the couch once again to continue your work.

You hoped Changbin wouldn’t stay there for too long. Did he have enough for breakfast? You were the one who usually makes breakfast since his cooking skills were limited to frying eggs and making toasts. Should you cook some food and send it to their dorm, or would that cross his boundaries? Though looking at your condition, you weren’t sure if you could even dress up without having the urge to crouch down from the pain every 5 minutes.

Hopefully he had enough this morning. You wouldn’t want him to get a stomach ache too. Another thing you were hoping was to be able to finish your work, but could you even with Changbin constantly on your mind?

˚ ༘♡ · ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

Changbin turned on his phone to see ‘1:30’ flashing on his phone. Did they really work on the songs for that long? He rolled his shoulders that were hurting from sitting slouched on the chair for too long. He pocketed out his keys, before unlocking the front door to your house.

“I’m home,” He mumbled, a habit of his, though he wished you wouldn’t be there to answer him because why would you be awake at that time? Thankfully you weren’t there to welcome him, but rather sleeping on the couch with your laptop propped open on the table.

He arranged his shoes on the rack then quickly put his bag aside to tend to you. “Why are you sleeping here,” He muttered to himself, saving your work, then shutting down your laptop. He looked at you and sighed. “How many times do I have to tell her to take her spectacles off before sleeping? Then tomorrow she’ll wake up complaining about it being crooked,” He muttered smiling to himself, before moving to take your spectacles off of you but then stopped.

His fingers that were in touch with your temples could feel your slightly warmer skin. Were you having a fever? He felt the temperature of your forehead with the back of his hand and you were definitely warmer than you usually were.

“Y/n. Y/n, wake up,” He shook your arm slightly until you slowly stirred awake. “Y/n, hey wake up. Are you having a fever?”

“Hm? Oh, you’re back? I slept? Ah, I’m not even done with my work yet,” You said, all the while he was worrying about your condition. As you tried to sit up, your head started to pound, making you grunt and immediately laying your head down onto the couch again.

“Y/n, are you having a fever? Have you taken any medicine?” He asked, more worried now that you were experiencing more pain.

“I’m not sure, my body’s just a little warm. I tried-” You paused, your headache making you pant, causing you to not be able to talk properly. “I tried searching for the medicine in the drawers, but I couldn’t find any. I think we ran out of them.”

Changbin sighed. “I thought I told you that I keep the spare medicine in the cabinet beside the fridge since they couldn’t fit the drawer.” He got up to get the medicine. He noticed that no food was on the table, so you definitely haven’t had any meals yet. He took out the leftovers from yesterday and quickly reheated them.

He came to your side on the couch once again with a plate full of food. He set down a glass of water and a packet of pills on the table. He scooped up some rice and meat and blowed on it before setting the spoon in front of you, ready to feed you. You were too tired to refuse him feeding you , so you opened your mouth welcoming the food.

You took the packet of pills, but Changbin quickly took it away from you, putting it back on the table. “You haven’t had anything today, so you need to eat more before you can take the pill. If not, you’ll get a stomach ache. Have your period started?” You nodded, muttering 'Just today,'. “Ah, then it’ll definitely hurt more if you take the pill now.” He offered you a spoonful of rice again.

You continued to consume two more spoons of rice, before Changbin finally handed you a pill and the glass of water. As soon as you chugged it down, Changbin was already holding a spoonful of food again.

“Why didn’t you eat? Do I always have to remind you to take your meals?” He sighed. As he was about to feed you another, you stopped him, shaking your head. Your appetite was nowhere to be found and you wished you could just sleep now. He clicked his tongue. “Come on, just finish this plate.”

Were you troubling him? He must be tired. He had been sighing non-stop since he came back. Ah, why didn’t you sleep in the room? Why did you have to sleep on the couch? He had a long day, and now this?

Your throat felt constricted by the second, your guilt rising. Your tears were forming. No, Y/n you can’t cry now. Why are you crying? Come on, come on don’t cry, please, not now, not in front of Changbin, Don’t trouble him more.

As you ate another spoonful, you looked away as you felt your tears were threatening to spill out.

“Why, what happened?” Changbin asked, his voice laced with concern.

You quickly turned back towards him, shaking your head. “No it’s nothing,” You cleared your throat. As you continued to chew, it slowly became more difficult to swallow. You felt the tears you were fighting so hard before roll down your cheeks. You saw Changbin looking more worried. “No, it’s nothing. My head is just hurting too much,” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the situation.

You sat there wiping your tears, before Changbin pulled you into a hug. “No, I swear it’s- It’s nothing. My head is just hurting, it’s fine.”

You sat there forcefully trying to stop the tears, before slowly Changbin brought his hand up to caress your head.

“Does it hurt a lot? Is my baby hurting?” His voice was so gentle, so afraid to break you more, that it ended doing just that as your heart broke more from how loving he was being.

His hold was too warm, that it made your tears spill out more and more, even when you try to stop them. Changbin had a knack for making people’s walls break down, and that night was no different. “It does. It hurts so much. I’m so sorry Bin, I’m so sorry,” Your voice came out in choked gasps.

“You don’t have to apologize darling, it’s fine. I’ll take care of you. The pain will be gone in no time, hm?” One of his hands never stopped caressing your head, the other massaging the back of your neck as he knew how strained it gets when you’re crying.

“No, I’m sorry Bin, for everything. I- I’ve troubled you so much. Yesterday I snapped at you and- and now this. I’m so sorry for being such a nuisance to you. Please don’t hate me,” You grip on his shirt tightened, your shoulders heaving up and down from how hard you were crying.

“Hey, Y/n come on. Don’t say that,” He pulled you away to look at your face, wiping your tears away. “How could you say that baby? I would never hate you. Hearing you say that breaks my heart. I was also acting stupid. I- Some of my friends were just talking about how I was too lenient with people I love that I’ll end up getting stepped on, and you know I want to take care of myself better. But- God, why did I ever think you would do that to me? I’m so sorry baby,” His words came out hurriedly, and once again he pulled you into a hug.

“I was being such a dick baby, I’m so sorry. Here, just hit me, come on.” He took your hand and began to hit his head with it and quickly you shook your head pulling away. “Please don’t cry. I can’t believe I’m making you cry, I’m so sorry baby.” This time it was you who pulled away, taking his face in your hand.

“No, you know I always want you to take care of yourself, please don’t ever forget to just because of me,” You caressed his cheek, your heart breaking from how his lips were frowning. “I’m so sorry for raising my voice at you, you didn’t deserve that. I’ll never do that again, I promise.”

“And I promise I’ll never act cold towards you again baby, not once. God, I’m so sorry.” You hugged again, for how long you weren’t sure but you were more than happy to make up for the time lost without being able to cling onto him.

After a while, he slowly pulled away. “You just have to finish this plate okay? There’s just a little more, you can finish it baby,” His hand was holding yours, his thumb caressing the back of it. You nodded. He continued to feed you until the last spoon. “You wait here, okay? I’ll go wash the plate then I’ll fill a bottle with water for you to drink in bed, okay?” He got up and kissed your forehead before moving to the kitchen. Your head was pounding a bit more, so you laid your head on the headrest.

Immediately after he came back, he took your hand to slowly lead you into the bedroom. He got out of the bedroom for a while before coming back in with a fever cooling patch in hand which he gently stick onto your forehead. He put your hair up into a bun so your hair wouldn’t stick to your neck from the sweat. Though a bit messy, the gesture didn’t fail to make your heart light up. He made sure you didn’t sleep with the blanket so heat from inside of your body could come out. He didn’t too, so you wouldn’t have to face the coolness of the night alone, but he made up for it by cuddling.

You laid in silence, afraid to break it. Were you okay now? Could you finally hug and kiss him all you want now? Would he continue calling you his favourite pet names for you?

“Y/n,” He suddenly interrupted the silence. “I really am sorry. I don’t know why or how I could even think of treating you like that. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me.”

“It’s fine, Bin. I always want you to think of yourself first. I’m happy when you do. It’s my fault for letting my temper get the best of me. I was having a bad day, and my period was on the way, but still, that’s no excuse for treating you like that. I promise I’ll work on it.”

“You know you can talk to me whenever you’re not feeling well, right?” You hummed in response. “Good… Let’s never do that again, okay? I couldn’t really focus on doing anything when all I could think about was the next time I could finally kiss you again.” You chuckled and looked up.

“Well now is a great time for that,” You smiled, and as he leaned into you, it finally dawned on you. You stopped him with your palm on his lips. “Wait, no! I’m having a fever, we can’t kiss! We shouldn’t even be sleeping so close, you’ll get infected!” You tried to push him away, but he only pulled you closer, putting his strength to use.

“Then you’ll take care of me won’t you?” He grinned, coming closer, kissing all over your face.

You slept that night in the arms of each other. You stayed in bed until evening, even when both of you were awake, just to be able to stay close together. The next day, you temperature slowly lowered, unlike Changbin’s. You had nagged him, telling him how you had told him to not be too close to you. But you didn’t mind having to take care of him. At this point, you’d do anything for him. For your heart, your love, your everything.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz #skz fluff #changbin #seo changbin #changbin fluff #changbin drabble #seo changbin x reader #skz changbin #changbin x reader #— arie's collection 📮

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