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cornsoupflavour · 4 months

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New Collaboration (Twice NSFW Smut)

⚠️18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI⚠️

TWICE Mina Myoi x Sub!Male Reader

Tags: 4.5k words, age-gap, multiple creampies, possible breeding/impreg

While at a popular variety show, you found yourself backstage waiting for your cue. It was a chance for you to perform alongside your favorite artists and one of them was Mina from TWICE. The atmosphere was tense, a mix of adrenaline and nerves. You'd only seen her through watching other variety shows or managing to catch brief glimpses of her at awards shows. But there she was, standing amongst the other TWICE girls.

You could see the rest of them leave for the bathroom as Mina stayed behind to watch over their belongings and their cue. You decided that this was your moment to make the connection. You walked up to her, braving through your nerves and fear.

"Hey, I'm Y/N," you said, extending your hand to Mina. She looked up from her script, her eyes wide as she recognized you. She smiled warmly, shaking your hand. "Nice to meet you in person. I'm Mina. I've been following your debut for a while and I'm a huge fan of your work."

You smiled, your cheeks turning a bright red. Mina Myoi, popular idol from TWICE knows of your work? Your eyelids fluttered, slightly taken aback by her open admiration. "Y–You know about me? I'm so honoured! I'm such a big fan of you...r work with TWICE and MiSaMo!" Nice save.

Mina giggled at your obvious nervousness and the two of you began chatting. The topics ranged from the things you'd be doing on the show to what you think of the industry so far. The nerves set in as you realized how close you were to performing. You found yourself gradually moving closer to her. Mina appeared to be doing the same, her eyes locked onto yours, neither of you aware of the distance between you closing.

The sound of a bell ringing in the distance broke the trance, signaling that it was time for you to take the stage. You took a deep breath, glancing at Mina before giving her a confident nod. "Good luck," she whispered, a playful smile on her lips as the other TWICE girls returned to stand around her.

You gave her a nervous but thankful smile and sauntered off, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. As the show went on, you subtly glanced at Mina a few times, her beauty somehow shining through all eight other members. It was as if no one else existed for those very brief moments. You admired how she commanded the stage, the energy she radiated. The feeling only grew as you made your way backstage after your performances.

"You were amazing out there!" Mina congratulated, rushing over to you as soon as you were both backstage. She hugged you tightly, her scent enveloping you as she lifted you off the ground slightly. "I'm so proud of you."

You blushed, the sincerity in her eyes warming you from the inside out. As the other TWICE girls went to rest in the designated backstage room, Mina stayed with you. The two of you sat down in a secluded area and ended up chatting for hours.

Your heart swelled as you struggled to contain yourself. You got to, not only talk with your all–time favourite idol, but she hugged you really nice and tight too. As the night began to wind down, you found yourselves alone, the cast and crew dispersing to prepare for their next filming. That was when the topic of age differences came up naturally.

"So, you're, what, 19?" Mina asked with a playful grin. You nodded, chuckling at the surprise on her face. "And here I thought you were a little older. You're quite mature for your age."

"T–Thank you," you replied with a humble smile. "You're...?"

"The ripe age of 27," Mina said, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at you. "But I guess it's the experience that counts, right?"

"27?! No way! I could've sworn you were my age," you teased before continuing, "but yeah, you could say that." You couldn't help but let your gaze linger on her face for a while. Such smooth skin... such pretty lips... You stared at her for a considerable amount of time before snapping out. "You've been in the industry a while, and I could learn a lot from you."

Mina's eyes sparkled, and she leaned in closer. "Anything you want to know, you just have to ask." Her lips grazed your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine as she whispered, "And sometimes lessons are best learned by doing."

The closeness between the two of you was undeniable, and the air around you felt heavy with tension. You subconsciously leaned towards her as she did the same. The scent of her perfume mingled with the lingering smoky scent of the stage, creating an intoxicating mix. You could feel your heart racing, the heat in your cheeks increasing, turning them red.

Mina's hand brushed against yours, and your eyes met, locked in a heated gaze. Both your lips were inches away from one another, something in you just wanted to pounce forward and claim her in a deep and passionate makeout. The weight of the moment was suffocating, yet exhilarating. The silence stretched, and the tension built, growing thicker by the second.

Just as your chest tightened, and it felt like your heart would pound right out of your chest, the sound of voices echoed through the backstage area, snapping you both out of your trance. Mina quickly leaned back back, the grin on her face replacing the intensity that had been there just moments before.

"Guess I better get going," she said, straightening her outfit. "The girls are gonna get cranky if I leave them for too long... but you've got a bright future ahead of you. I'm looking forward to seeing what you do next."

She gave you a final warm smile before she slipped away, leaving you standing there, your mind reeling with the encounter. The memory of Mina's voice, her touch, the intensity of those stolen moments would linger, pushing you to dream and fantasize about what could be. Your admiration for your favourite idol might have just developed into a full blown crush.

Months passed, and you found yourself 'crossing paths' with Mina at various events. Crossing paths in the sense that you'd steal brief glances at her while in a massive crowd. But each time, the lingering eye contact and flirtatious smiles sent your heart racing. You found yourself always glancing toward her, trying to catch a glimpse of her in between your own performances. There was something about her that drew you in, and you wondered if it was mutual.

After one of M Countdown's award shows, you found yourselves waiting backstage once again. The anticipation of the night's events, and the memories of your previous encounter, made your nerves skyrocket. Mina spotted you and walked over with a bright smile, separating herself from the rest of TWICE momentarily. Her confidence commanded the space around her.

"Oh my, you look amazing tonight," she complimented, her eyes looking you up and down before settling and on yours and never leaving. "It's been a while since we've seen each other. How have you been?"

"I've been doing pretty well," you said, feeling your cheeks heat up. "A little busy, but it's been great. How about you?"

Mina laughed softly. "Y'know, same old, same old. But I'm glad to see you doing well. You've got a lot of fans out there rooting for you."

"Likewise for you too. Hell, I'll always root for you... and TWICE... yeah."

Mina let out a sultry giggle as the two of you began chatting about various things, from the music you both enjoyed to the latest scandal in the industry. Mina's hand brushed against yours as she gestured, and a jolt shot through you, making you wish that contact would linger. You could feel the tension build between you, the air thick with unspoken desires.

"You know, we should do something together," Mina suggested, her voice soft and sultry. "A collaboration, maybe. I bet it would be amazing. Fans might like that as well, what do you think?"

"T–That would be incredible, I'd love to," you stammered, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. Your eyes met hers, and the intensity was palpable. You could feel every nerve in your body tingling, as if electrified by her presence.

A few more comments were exchanged, small jokes shared, and the tension between the two of you grew. Mina leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "I think I'll be staying up late tonight, and the girls are gonna be out... Want to join me?"

Your breath hitched, and you could only manage a nod, your mind reeling at the possibility. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and it felt like the world had slowed down, leaving the two of you to exist in a bubble.

"Excellent, I'll see you back here once the place has cleared up a little~"

The conversation ebbed away, replaced by the chaos and noise of the after–event. The weight of the moment hung in the air, heavy and thick, as Mina departed with a wink and a smile.

The night continued to unfold, and you found yourself seeking her out, unable to shake the pull she had on you. Your heart raced with anticipation as you waited for the event to come to a close, dying to deepen connection with her.

The event finally came to an end, and the guests began to disperse, leaving behind the echoes of their laughter and conversations. You met with Mina at the decided spot before she led you back to the hotel she was staying at. Her hand clasped yours as you walked through the empty halls.

"I think a collaboration between us could work perfectly," Mina said as she unlocked the door to her hotel room, gesturing for you to enter. "You have quite the unique sound, and I think our voices would mesh well together."

As you crossed the threshold, the room was dimly lit, the only light filtering in from the city skyline outside. Mina closed the door behind you, the quiet of the moment hanging in the air.

"Have a seat and we could talk about it. Could I get you anything to drink?" she suggested, motioning to the couch. You shook your head as you sat down, your heart thudding in your chest.

"So... what kind of vibe are you going for?" you asked, trying to keep your mind focused on the task at hand, the desire for her still palpable.

"Hmm... How about something that showcases both our styles," Mina replied, taking a seat beside you. "Maybe, a mix of hip–hop and R&B. The lyrics could focus on breaking free from societal expectations and finding one's true self. The chorus should be catchy yet poignant, with a hard–hitting beat."

The two of you continued to discuss ideas, concepts, and possible producers for the collaboration. The conversation flowed effortlessly, your minds mingling as easily as your bodies seemed to desire. As you talked, Mina's hand crept closer to yours, her fingers brushing against yours every now and then.

"Okay! Now that that's settled, I'm really excited to get started on this," you said, the passion in your voice reflecting your feelings for the project, as well as the woman beside you.

"Me too," Mina replied, her voice low and sultry. "Let's celebrate the start of our collaboration~"

Her hand found yours and her thumb began to trace circles on the back of your hand, the contact both calming and arousing. You could feel the heat radiating from her touch as she leaned in, her lips inches from yours. Your eyes were locked on her lips... something about them looked so... delicious...

"To new beginnings," she whispered before pressing her lips to yours. The kiss was soft, tender, and as it deepened, it grew more intense. Mina's hand traveled up your arm, her fingers lightly brushing against your neck.

You could feel her breasts pressing against your chest as she climbed atop you, the heat of her body igniting a fire within you. As the kiss continued, her hand slid under your shirt, tracing gentle circles on your skin. The pleasure from her touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel your body responding to her touch, your arousal growing with each passing moment.

"Are you ready for our next chapter?" Mina asked, her breath hot against your ear as she nibbled on your lobe.

Your body ached for more, more of this stunning older woman you've admired for so long. The beginning of this new chapter had you both on the edge, ready to embark on a journey of passion and collaboration.

Nodding, you surrendered yourself to the moment, your body eagerly responding to Mina's touch. She guided your hand to her breast, letting you feel her firmness through her top. Her nipple hardened against your touch, the silky texture of her shirt doing little to dampen the sensations.

"Mhmm, just like that," Mina moaned softly, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. She peeled it away, her eyes fixated on your body as she revealed it to her.

The heat between the two of you grew, and Mina's lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles that sent shivers through your spine. You let out a soft moan, your body arching into her touch, the need for more becoming almost unbearable.

"So responsive," Mina whispered, her voice laced with desire as she began to unbutton your pants, her nimble fingers sliding beneath the waistband.

"God– fuck, Mina–" you let out a loud moan as her hand found you, her touch adding fuel to the fire already burning bright within you. She began to stroke you through your underwear, her thumb teasing the tip. The rhythm of her strokes increased, and you found yourself writhing beneath her touch, unable to contain your pleasure.

"Mina..." you groaned, your voice thick with arousal. "I want more..."

With a wicked smile, Mina stood up, pulling you with her. She guided you to the bed, her hand stilling on your chest as she undressed. The sight of her slowly freeing from her clothes was intoxicating, and you let out a low, appreciative moan.

"Mina... The woman that you are..." you exhaled, your voice pleading.

"Patience, my dear," she said, her voice sultry and full of promise. "I have a feeling our collaboration will be a hit."

With that, she climbed onto the bed, leaving you hanging, eager for more. The anticipation and the teasing had you on the edge, desperate for the physical expression of your newfound partnership.

Mina laid herself down on the bed, her body twisting and turning ever so slightly, making your cock visibly harder and harder each second. She seductively sat up and beckoned you with her finger, inviting you closer. You climbed onto the bed next to her, your eyes taking in the sight that is Mina Myoi.

"Come here, baby," Mina whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "Let's make some music together."

You couldn't resist, moving closer, and before long, your lips met hers once more, the kiss deepening, your tongues entwining. Mina's hand found its way to your now hard erection, gripping it firmly, her thumb gliding over the head.

"Oh, Y/N, you're such a good boy. You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" she purred, her voice a mix of lust and admiration. "I can't wait to feel you inside me."

You fumbled with your pants, quickly shedding them and your underwear. The anticipation built, and you found yourself hovering over her, your cock at the entrance of her wetness. Mina's legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Please, I need you– Mommy Mina needs you, baby," she moaned, the vulnerability and desire in her voice sending shivers down your spine.

Slowly, you began to enter her, the tight warmth enveloping you. Mina's moans grew louder, filling the room. The age gap between the two of you seemed to melt away, replaced by the shared experience of lust and desire. Within seconds, you had bottomed her out.

"Fuck– I didn't think you'd be this big, Y/N. I can feel your cock throbbing inside me," she cried out, her nails digging into your back. "Harder!"

You complied, beginning to thrust into her, the rhythm growing more intense as you both found your pace. You could feel the slick wetness enveloping you, the pleasure building with each movement. Mina's moans grew louder, her head thrown back, her body arching to meet your thrusts.

"Oh, Y/N, baby, you feel so good," Mina moaned, her voice thick with lust. "You're so hard... So deep... Ravage my pussy, baby~"

Her hands found your chest, fingers tracing circles, eliciting a shiver from your spine. She began to rock her hips, her movements rough and desperate. But after a while, she made you slow down. It was as if she was savoring the sensation, prolonging the inevitable.

"Mina, you feel amazing," you groaned, your voice rough with desire. "I–I need more of you."

Mina's movements grew more urgent, her hips slamming back against yours. You could feel your own body responding, the pleasure building once more.

"God, Y/N, I'm close... Don't stop, Y/N," she urged, her voice breathless. "Give it to me."

Mina's body shuddered against yours, the intensity building between you both. Her movements grew more frenzied, her moans more desperate. You could feel the pressure inside you, the need to release, to fill her, to claim her as your own.

"Y/N– gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... I'm so close," Mina cried out, her voice thick with lust.

You could feel her pussy tightening around you, squeezing every inch of your length, spurring you on, driving you closer to the edge. The room filled with the sounds of your bodies connecting, the wet slap of skin against skin, the cries of pleasure.

"Mina, I can't hold back," you groaned, your voice thick with desire.

Mina's nails dug into your back, her body arching, inviting you to take her to the precipice.

"Y/N, give it to me, fill me up," she urged, her voice thick with need.

With a final, powerful thrust, you let go, your release spilling into her, the pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave. Mina's body followed, her own climax hitting her like a freight train, her body convulsing, her release coating your length.

"Oh, Y/N, yes, I'm cumming– Y/N! FUCK!" she cried out, her body arching, her nails digging into your back some more. "Fuck, yes, that feels so good."

The two of you clung to each other, your bodies trembling, the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Mina's breathing grew heavy, her body still quivering from the intensity of her orgasm.

"That was... wow," she panted, her voice thick with satisfaction.

You found yourself wrapped in her embrace, the two of you still joined, the sweat glistening on both your bodies. Mina's hand found your cheek, her thumb brushing away a droplet of sweat.

"Y/N... that was amazing," she breathed, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. "...but I need more. Mommy Mina needs more~"

Before you could even catch your breath, Mina rolled you onto your back, her body straddling yours. She began to grind her hips against you, her wetness coating your still–hard cock. The sight of her, the feeling of her body against yours, sent shivers down your spine.

"I want to feel you all night," Mina purred, her voice dripping with lust. "You're going to breed me, baby. Make me a real mommy, alright?"

Her words sent an electric jolt through you, the idea of impregnating this woman, this idol, almost too much to bear. Mina positioned herself above you, her wetness enveloping your cock as she sank down onto you.

"You're so big for me, baby... I'm so full," she moaned, her breasts swaying above you as she began to ride you leisurely, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Mina–" you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "Please, don't stop–"

Mina's hips began to move faster, her moans growing louder, filling the room. You could feel the pleasure building once more, the thrill of being at her mercy intoxicating.

"Mina, I'm so close... Fuck– you're so tight," you warned, your body tensing with anticipation.

"Cum for me, Y/N," she ordered, her voice a mix of desire and command. "Give it to me. Fill me to the brim."

You couldn't resist, the order sending you over the edge. Your hips bucked against her, the pleasure cascading through you as you came once more, filling her even more deeply than before.

"M–MINA~!" you cried out, your body trembling. As you both came down from the high, Mina's body shuddered, releasing her own pleasure in waves. Her juices coated your cock, the warmth and tightness of her pussy as she came almost overwhelming. You could feel her squeezing you, milking your cock as she rode out her orgasm.

"Oh god, you're incredible..." Mina panted, her eyes locked with yours, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax.

"Mina... I... mmf..." you whispered, your own breath coming in ragged pants.

But before you could fully recover, Mina's hand found your softening cock, stroking you gently until it began to harden once more. Her eyes were filled with lust, the desire for more evident in every line of her body.

"You're not done with me yet, are you?" she purred, the promise of more in her voice.

You exhaustedly shook your head, your cock returning to its hardened stature. Mina took the lead, turning over, her body arching, inviting you to take her from behind.

"Get on your knees, baby," she commanded, her voice a mix of lust and desire. "Fuck me like the breeding stallion you are."

You obeyed, positioning yourself behind her, your cock meeting her wet entrance once more. Mina's nails dug into the sheets as you began to thrust into her from behind, the new angle setting off a fresh wave of pleasure.

"Oh god, yessss~ Y/N, you feel so good... fuck me... impregnate me," Mina moaned, her voice thick with lust.

Her words sent shivers down your spine, the taboo nature of the idea driving you wild. The thought of breeding Mina, this stunning woman, filled you with a primal drive.

"Mina, I'm going to cum again–" you warned, your voice thick with pleasure as you began to thrust harder, faster.

Mina's moans grew louder, more desperate. "Cum inside me, baby. Anhh... Fill mommy up~"

You didn't need any further encouragement. Your thrusts grew more frenzied, the pleasure building once more. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies connecting, the wet slap of skin against skin, and the cries of pleasure.

"Oh, god, Mina–!" you cried out, your body trembling as you poured yourself into her once more.

As your release filled her, Mina's body shuddered, her own pleasure peaking, the waves of orgasm washing over her.

"Oh, Y/N, baby, yes... Y/N, you're going to make me a mommy, aren't you? I can feel it in every thrust. I'm all yours, baby~ Take me." she cried out, her body arching as she came.

"You're mine," she whispered, her body still straddling yours. "And I'm yours..."

"But I want more," she continued, her voice thick with lust. "I'm not done with you yet, Y/N."

Mina disentangled herself from your embrace, her eyes filled with desire as she shifted to straddle you, sitting on your lap. Her hands roamed over your chest, her lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. You could taste the lingering sweetness of their previous lovemaking, sending shivers down your spine.

"I want you inside me again, Y/N," Mina breathed, her voice heavy with lust.

You were so obviously drained and tired... But Mina Myoi is asking YOU for a god–knows–what round... You'd be insane to turn that down... You helped her lower herself back onto your cock, the familiar warmth enveloping you as she took you in. This time, Mina chose a more sensual pace, rocking her hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her breasts swayed with each movement, her nipples hard as they brushed against your chest.

"Oh, Y/N, you feel so good– Just like that–" she moaned, her voice thick with desire. "Your cock is perfect."

Mina leaned forward, trailing kisses along your jawline, her lips finding your earlobe, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. The sensation only served to heighten the pleasure of her movements.

"I want to feel you deep inside me, Y/N. Breed me like the wild animal you are. Bottom. Me. Out."

The words sent a jolt through you, the primal desire to claim her as your own pulsing through your veins. You reached up, grabbing Mina's hips, helping you both find a faster, more vigorous pace.

"Mina, I... I'm getting close again," you warned, your breath coming in ragged pants.

Mina's moans grew louder, her body arching with each thrust. "Don't stop, Y/N. Fill me up. Knock me up, baby~"

You couldn't hold back any longer. Your thrusts grew more urgent, the pleasure building once more. Mina's nails dug into your chest as her own climax approached.

"Oh, god, Y/N, I'm... I'm cumming– I'M CUMMING~!" she cried out, her body tensing, her pussy tightening around you as her release washed over her.

You couldn't hold back any longer. With a final, powerful thrust, you bottomed her out once more as you proceeded to cum inside her, the sensation of flooding her to the brim spurring you on.

"Oh fuck– Mina–!" you cried out, your body trembling.

The two of you clung to each other, riding out the aftershocks of your pleasure. Mina collapsed against your chest as you flopped backwards onto the bed. Her breathing was heavy, her body still quivering from the intensity of her orgasm.

"Let's just lay here, Y/N," she whispered, her hand reaching up to caress your cheek. "Let's just enjoy each other for now... You made Mommy Mina very happy today..."

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into a hot, passionate makeout, savoring the taste of each other's lips.

As the two of you lay entwined, sweat glistening on your bodies, your hearts beating in unison. The bedroom was filled with the sounds of your breathing, the aftermath of your passionate encounter settling around you. And in that moment, there was nothing but the two of you, basking in the afterglow of your shared passion.

[Let me know if you want a part two or if you want me to make this a long running story. And let me know who else you'd want to see a fic about.]

[ New Collaboration Pt. 1 – See Pt. 2 ]

#mina x male reader #mina smut #kpop smut #twice smut #twice x male reader #male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #male! reader #male!reader #x male!reader #male reader smut #x male smut #idol x male reader #female idol smut

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mystra-midnight · 5 months

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— CALL ME LITTLE SUNSHINE | part i

pairing: rockstar ! eddie x innocent ! reader

tags: pet names. dirty talk. making-out. fingering. oral; (fem receiving). marking; (hickeys). loss of virginity. corruption kink. semi-public sex. eddie is entirely pussy whipped.

w/c: 6.7k.

a/n: welcome to part one! it's been a hot minute since i've posted anything as thought out and in-depth as this so if you could take a few minutes to reblog or comment some feedback, i'd very much appreciate it. ♥

"Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin!"

The ever-growing crowd had been calling for the band the entire time you'd been waiting in line, which, after looking at the watch tucked beneath the sleeve of your cardigan, had been almost an hour and a half. The chanting had gotten so loud that, at some point, you'd stopped being able to hear yourself think, instead relying on Steve's large hand clasped around your own to tell you when to shuffle forward.

You felt out of place, unlike Steve and Robin. Everywhere you looked, people were dressed in leather and chains; piercings here, there, and everywhere; fishnets; big black platform boots; heavy make-up; and tattoos. And then there was you, dressed in a simple summer dress, hugging a knitted cardigan around your shoulders, wearing strappy sandals, and looking like someone right out of the Stepford Wives.

Other people noticed; you'd swear it, though no one said anything. As you looked between people, you caught a few of them looking at you, their expressions a motley of emotions that made you shift uncomfortably. Metal music had never been a particular favourite of yours, and concerts like this—where people were packed in like sardines—definitely weren't your preferred scene. The thought of being alone, snuggled beneath a blanket, and enjoying a glass of Moscato was much more appealing.

But you'd promised Steve and Robin that you'd come.

Well, no, not exactly. You hadn't promised either of them anything; instead, you'd given in to their constant whining. Steve and Robin had hung themselves from your legs as though they were dramatic, tantruming toddlers, pouting, and begging you to go with them. And after promising to cook dinner every night for a week—no, wait, a month!—your resolve finally broke.

That was how you found yourself finally walking through the double doors of the stadium. A gust from the air conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, blowing your hair into your eyes and lip gloss, but it was a welcomed relief.

"I think that took literally forever." Your feet were already aching, and the thought of standing for another two hours was mentally and physically exhausting. Sure, you'd listened to some of Corroded Coffin's songs and thought they were good, but you weren't looking forward to standing in a sweaty crowd.

"Right. That was crazy, and they only have two scanners going. It's going to take forever to get everyone inside." Steve replied. His fingers tightened around yours when he felt your strides slowing, and he turned to notice your attention was on the merchandise display a few feet away. Following your gaze, he found the band tees hung up on a pinboard, images pressed onto the fronts and backs of each one. Some showed the band's tour dates and the cities they were scheduled to stop in, while others had stylised versions of Eddie's face.

Steve practically beamed with pride. He was proud of how far Eddie had come since they'd met—from school freak to famous rockstar. It was a big change, but a well-deserved one, given all the shit he'd been through. Somehow, he'd remained modest and hadn't forgotten where he'd come from; he'd gotten his uncle out of the trailer and into a two-bedroom apartment; he thanked his uncle and friends during every interview; he'd even forgiven his childhood bullies, though he never forgot what they'd done to him.

"Come on," he said while tugging your hand. "We should get in before the show starts," he said when you hesitated, teeth tugging on your lower lip as you continued to eye the shirts, bandanas, and posters on display. It was called the Upside Down Tour, and the band had released a limited-edition shirt for the tour.

"I want to get a shirt; this is the first concert like this I've ever been to. I want something to remember it." You explained. You wriggled your fingers in his, hinting that you wanted him to let go. If you'd have blinked, you might have missed it, but you swore that Steve and Robin shared a look—the kind that carried secret conversations and amusement.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, painful and sudden, while your mind raced to a dozen terrible thoughts. What if they regretted bringing you along, even though they'd practically begged you to go? What if they were angry? Fuck, what if they hated you? You must have looked like you were about to pass out because Steve took pity on you, reassuringly squeezing your hand as he stepped closer.

"Shit, sorry," he apologised with a crooked smile. "It's all good. We can pick one up after the show, okay? We need to get inside before security locks the doors."

"Oh," you answered. You ducked your head to hide your face, which felt like it was burning with embarrassment. You suddenly felt childish for letting your anxiety get the better of you, especially given that this was Steve and Robin, who had been nothing but kind from the moment you'd first met them. "Of course. After the show."

As though she sensed your distress, which she more than likely did because you radiated emotions like the sun radiated heat, Robin grabbed your other hand, lacing her fingers with yours, and gave you a sympathetic smile that mimicked the one on Steve's face. You loved them, but sometimes you hated them. So often, Robin and Steve seemed to be on the same page, on the same mental wavelength, having entire conversations with the lofting of a brow or half-smirk while you were on your own, a stranger looking in.

You tried not to think about it and tried desperately not to let negative emotions get the better of you tonight. You were at a concert with two amazing people, about to see a fantastic band play live. It was going to be a good night. Steve showed his ticket to one of the women managing the traffic flow, who motioned down a steep staircase into a standing pit right in front of the stage.

As you predicted, the crowd was already massive; there were too many people to fit comfortably within the stadium, but no one would complain as long as everyone behaved. And everyone would behave if they were able to see the band play. It wasn't long before the lights went down, and the crowd's cheering rose to a thunderous crescendo.

You felt the violent vibrations of the bass guitar as the bassist began the opening rift—how it rattled the ivory cage around your lungs until your entire body swayed to the rhythm. A sudden fireworks explosion dazzled and blinded you as the crowd rushed forward. Then the atmosphere turned electric, casting a weaving web on the crowd and drawing them in.

When the smoke settled, you saw the band had taken their places on stage, dressed in black denim, leather, chains, tattoos, and wild hair. They preened beneath the attention of their peers as the frontman and lead singer, Eddie Munson, moved to stand before a microphone. "I hope you're ready to rock, Hawkins, 'cause we're not stopping until the cops come knocking!"

Steve grabbed your wrist and dragged you in front of him, pushing you closer to the stage. That was how you found yourself standing front and centre. One of his hands grabbed your hip firmly, ready to break the fingers of any other wandering hands. He wrapped his other arm around Robin's shoulders, holding her to him as they sang along to a song you didn't know the words to.

It wasn't your proximity to him or the bruising grip of his fingers that warmed your blood, but the singer on stage. You'd seen pictures of Eddie in the trashy magazine you picked up from the gas station occasionally; each one seemed to be a different headline, each as scandalous as the last. Corroded Coffin's singer caught with another woman? Eddie Munson, Satanic Priest! Some of them were ridiculous, and none of them had been particularly entertaining, especially when, in every interview, he seemed humble, perhaps even flustered by the fame.

The sight of him on stage sent heat dripping down your cheeks and into your neck, spiralling through your veins to gather at your core.

He looked like a devil but had the face of an angel—wild curls bounced around his face, you caught glimpses of his inked skin, and there was a perfect trail of hair on his abdomen. He strummed at his guitar strings as though it were his lover, plucking the cords with perfectly practised movements. You wondered what else his fingers could do, and a wild blush crept into your face.

As though your thoughts weren't mortifying enough, he seemed to have noticed. His eyes found yours in the crowd, as if he could see straight into your brain and was plucking the fantasies from your mind.

The world slowed to a crawl and faded until it was just the two of you and your racing thoughts. You drank in the sight of him. You caught glimpses of his tattoos, watched how droplets of sweat rolled down the hollow of his throat as the heat of the stage lights bore down on him, and watched how his lips moved as he sang, the rasps of his voice enough to make you tremble.

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, almost afraid to look away; you wanted this moment to go on forever and ever. But as abruptly as it began, the fantasy ended when he looked out across the crowd, and as he did, the world snapped back into place. Your heart was racing, and your breath was erratic.

You felt silly having been caught up in such an intense moment with a perfect stranger, even if he was handsome and famous—a perfect mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment. You glanced at Robin and Steve, hoping they hadn't noticed your captivated state. They hadn't.

The two were still singing and enjoying the music, bouncing up and down as a guitar solo swept through the speakers. Worrying your lip between your teeth, you looked back at the stage, trying valiantly to refocus on the music. After a while, the guitar's pounding bass and electrifying energy were enough to pull you back into the moment.

You felt captivated, as though whatever dark spell he was weaving had fallen upon you, too. His performance was filled with raw emotion and a rebellious spirit, with the lyrics resonating with something deep inside you, echoing your desires, and enticing a wildness to spark in your veins.

You stole another glance at him, and his eyes again met yours. It was almost as if the universe had conspired to connect you two in a chaotic sea of people. With a sudden burst of courage you didn't think yourself capable of, you gave a bashful smile and lifted your hand, waving at him.

He saw and acknowledged you with a knowing smile, to your surprise and amusement. It felt like a dirty secret. You would swear that your face was on fire from how hard you were blushing, your fingers wringing together nervously at the front of your dress.

It seems silly. In fact, you knew it was silly, childish, and stupid.

You didn't know him, and he didn't know you. You knew the media's version of him—the stylised rockstar who'd grown up poor, defied the odds, and came out on top—the playboy who had a different girl every other week and who'd been caught having sex with fans in odd places. But what you'd felt, however brief, had ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach. You felt it smouldering as you were lost in the music and its wild energy.

The last guitar riff played, and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. You expected the crowd to thin down now that the show was finished, but they remained, hooting and hollering, vying for his attention.

"He was incredible!" You shouted as you turned to Steve, straining to be heard above the crowd. He gave you a funny expression and tilted his head to the side, causing a stir of hair to fall into his face.

"What?"

"I said," you shouted while moving closer to him. "That was incredible!"

This time, he heard you, chuckling under his breath and holding you in place when you tried to slip through the crowd. And then you saw Eddie standing at the edge of the stage, a security guard at his side. You could see they were talking, now if only you'd learned to read lips. Except you didn't need to read lips to know he was pointing right at the three of you.

Your heart stopped mid-beat, your mouth running dry, as a second security guard approached the three of you. From where you were frozen in time, you didn't see Steve and Robin grinning at each other or the glint in their eyes.

You were star-struck, staring at the security guard as if he'd grown a second head. And he might as well have because things like this didn't happen. Maybe it happened in the movies, but not real life and you weren't some perfectly poised beauty. You were a real woman with feelings; they were all over the place right now.

You grabbed Steve's arm when he stepped away, pulling him to a stop. He looked down at you with a furrowed brow. "What the hell is going on?" you hissed at him, not angry but entirely surprised and uncertain. He gave you a dashing and daring smile.

"Think he just invited us backstage."

"What?"

You'd tried to convince yourself that this was a wild dream. You even pinched yourself—twice. Things like this didn't happen to ordinary people, especially people like you. The shy woman who had to have a drink in her hand, the woman who took sips to fill the silence when talking became overwhelming, the woman who stammered and blushed with little more than a wink from a handsome man.

But it was happening. And now there you were, backstage, with Steve and Robin at your side, staring at a door with the band's name written in block letters. You could hear people milling about inside.

The security guard knocked, and you heard the muffled sound of movement, followed by something being knocked over and a chorus of laughter. Finally, the door was hauled open.

"Eddie!"

Robin's outburst startled you. She pushed past you and Steve, then the security guard, and threw herself at the man. You gawked at them, eyes wide as your soul burst to life, heart skipping several beats when he spun her in a circle. Robin's feet didn't touch the ground as they laughed.

You couldn't believe it.

There, standing not even five feet away, was the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Eddie-fucking-Munson—the very same man you'd been eye-fucking on stage not even an hour ago. A part of you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you whole. Another part screamed at you to cling to him as Robin had done.

"Hey," Steve whispered, leaning slightly closer to your ear. "Are you doing okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"What?" You replied, your voice rising an octave in panic. Your gaze whirled between Steve and the duo, who seemed oblivious to your presence, and then back again. "Yes, well, no! You didn't tell me you knew him!"

"Who? Eddie?" He asked.

"That guy, right there, the famous guy hugging our friend?" You were incredulous, your arm flailing in their direction, much to Robin's amusement and Eddie's confusion. "Yes, him! You two know him?"

"What about Eddie?"

The sudden appearance of his voice made you squeak in surprise. His voice was dark, deep, and delectable, like chocolate, and hoarse. It felt like liquid heat pouring down your spine, flooding every intersecting bone until you trembled. Eddie smiled, and his cheeks dimpled in a way that had you blushing wildly.

You stared as Steve and Eddie swept each other into a bear hug, slapping each other on the back and again on the arm as they came apart. Robin gave you a playful poke in the side, bringing your attention back to her.

"What about Eddie?" She asked, which inevitably brought all of their attention to you. You shifted beneath the weight of their combined stare. Your eyes found Eddie's, and you looked away quickly.

"Yeah, what about Eddie, girl?" He playfully added.

"Nothing! It's just that—um—well, I didn't know you—uh—that they knew you. That's all." You say, stumbling over the words like an awkward teenager. You mentally kicked yourself, but in truth, you'd never been good at talking to people. You'd always been a little shy, and everyone made fun of you before Steve and Robin slowly started coaxing you out of your shell.

And it wasn't as though he knew you. He probably hadn't seen you in the crowd. Now that you think about it, Eddie was just as likely to be smiling at them, not you, when he was on stage. But that didn't do anything to pull the blush out of your face or stop the way you shuffled under the gaze of the trio.

"Oh, yeah," Eddie said with an awkward laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Your eyes went a little buggy when his shirt rode up, revealing that trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his jeans.

You looked away quickly before he could catch you staring, finding something on the wall that suddenly fascinated you. He didn't notice, or at least didn't say anything if he did. "Yeah, yeah, the three of us went to high school together. It seems like a lifetime ago."

Robin stared at him, her expression incredulous. "It was, like, five years ago, Eds. Don't you dare make me older than I am!" She said as the back of her hand connected with his stomach. Eddie huffed as he doubled over dramatically, clutching his stomach and coughing as though she'd just punched the air from his lungs. You laughed despite yourself, momentarily drawing his attention to you; he flashed you a dazzling smile before hustling the three of you inside.

It would have been spacious inside the room if it wasn't filled with boxes of merchandise, band equipment, and the rest of the band. The little composure you'd managed to hold onto disappeared when Steve and Robin rushed inside, similarly greeting the others, hugging and laughing like old friends.

You lingered at the door, unsure what to do with yourself, when you felt a hand against the small of your back, fingertips tapping just above the curve of your ass, high enough to be respectful but low enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.

"Come on, sweetheart. They don't bite," Eddie said with a laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear. You felt his breath against your neck, the warmth of it making you shiver as he caught a glimpse of your cleavage before you hugged your cardigan around yourself.

"Well, I might," he added. "If you ask nicely."

He didn't wait to see your reaction, but from the beaming smile plastered on his face, he'd heard your squeak of surprise. Instead, Eddie flounced into the room, joining Steve, Robin, and the others as you followed.

Once official introductions were made, you sat at the end of one of the couches next to Eddie, who seemed entirely unaware of your nervous inner turmoil. Occasionally, his thigh brushed against yours, jostling you in his excitable state as the group recalled their high school years.

"You were quite the ladies' man in high school, Steve. Don't act bashful now," the drummer, Gareth, said with a booming laugh. You found yourself smiling and laughing with him, amused by the way Steve rubbed at the back of his neck and tried to deflect.

"I remember Robin telling me that the girls used to call him King Steve." You added. Gareth howled with laughter at how Steve flushed a deeper shade of pink. You smiled at him, pretty and sweet, but should have known he wouldn't let that slight go unanswered. You hardly had time to steel yourself before he returned fire.

"Hey now," he said, his smile positively devilish. "Don't start throwing shade if you can't handle the sun, sweets. Because I could tell some stories about you, too. Well, no, I couldn't. I don't think I've ever heard those bed springs squeak."

You choked on a mouthful of beer, coughing as you glared at him in horror. "Steven Joseph Harrington!" Your face burned at the revelation of a secret you'd shared with him one drunk and wild night. Using his full government name was enough for him to know he'd crossed a line, but the laughter of his friends encouraged him.

"I can't help it if that's the truth, you know," he said with a shrug.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Eddie shouted, shaking his hand wildly to get everyone's attention, especially yours. You squirmed in your seat, pushing yourself hard against the arm of the couch to try and escape his intense stare when he rounded on you.

"Never? As in never, ever?"

At that moment, you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you. It wasn't that you were embarrassed to be a virgin, but the attention made you uncomfortable. You'd never been the type of woman to want a one-night stand with a stranger. Steve had offered once when you'd both been drunk and confessing secrets, but you'd never felt the itch.

And it wasn't that you considered your virginity to be a cherished and sacred part of yourself. But you'd never wanted to be that vulnerable with someone unless you trusted them entirely.

"Bullshit." Eddie spat, not nasty, but disbelieving. "You've gotta be shitting me. A pretty thing like you hasn't ever had sex? I know you're lying."

You stared at your hands resting in your lap, fingers wringing the hem of your dress until the stitching threatened to fray. From across the room, you heard the vague sound of Robin talking, mumbling something about you being as ripe as a cherry. She purposely popped her lips, and you wanted to die.

"Jesus Christ," you managed to choke out. "Yes, okay, I'm a total virgin. Can we talk about something else, please?"

The universe appeared to take mercy on you because the conversation changed topics at breakneck speed. One moment, Eddie was gawking at you; the next, he was focused entirely upon Jeff, who'd bought up something called the Hellfire Club. You took the opportunity to down the rest of your beer, letting the flavour of it wash away the taste of embarrassed tears.

The night went on in relative peace. You drank with them, listening to their wild stories of high school shenanigans and offering your own when prompted. You hadn't realised how much time had passed until you glanced at your watch and gawked: two in the morning.

"So, never?" Eddie asked without warning, his voice soft and almost innocent, breaking the silence that had blossomed within the room. You pulled your cardigan around your shoulders as though the thin material could shield you from his gaze. The others had fallen asleep, either drunk or high or just beyond exhausted. It was just the two of you.

Just you and Eddie.

"Look," you said with a sigh, your face burning again. "I really don't want to talk about that."

He held his hands in the universal sign of hold up. "I'm not judging you, sweetheart. I'm just curious. A pretty thing like you has to have a trail of broken hearts behind her."

You laughed despite yourself and relaxed back onto the couch, enjoying the warmth radiating from him. He was so close that you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, the way he traced his lips with the tip of his tongue, the way the fabric of his jeans stretched across his lap, the bulge there. . .

You snapped your head away when he caught your staring.

"It's not like that. I've had boyfriends. I've just never felt comfortable doing anything with them. Not that they were bad people. I didn't want to do it because everyone was doing it. Then I got busy, and dating stopped happening. You understand? Of course you do. You're famous; I doubt you have much time for dating. Not that anyone wouldn't want to date you."

You were rambling, the words falling from your lips like verbal vomit, and you couldn't stop. Eddie silenced you, moving without warning to close the distance lingering between the two of you. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, his fingers rough and warm, pulling you into the wall of his chest so that he could slot his mouth against yours.

Eddie Munson tasted like cigarette smoke and alcohol, dark desire wrapped in leather. Eddie Munson smelled like adrenaline and sex, a woman's wet dream. Before you knew what you were doing, you kissed him back, desperate for more.

Eddie led you into an adjacent room, his fingers enveloping yours, providing a comforting anchor. The soft snores of the others faded into a distant hum as he closed the door. Your gaze traced the contours of his back, the curve of his shoulders, the way his studded jacket draped over them, the weight of his chunky black boots and the ruggedness of his ripped jeans. The belt cinched around his narrow waist, crowned with a buckle shaped like a bat, adding a touch of mystery to his rugged charm.

He turned abruptly, his hand slamming against the door beside your head, eliciting a startled yelp from you. Eddie pressed against you, your hands instinctively clutching the fabric of his shirt. Caught between the desire to pull him closer and the instinct to push him away, you found yourself staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Your heart pounded against its ivory prison, the uncertainty of the moment adding to its frantic beat.

"E—Eddie?" You managed to stammer his name, your voice impossibly quiet, overflowing with uncertainty and a mix of fear and desire. He didn't seem to mind. He smiled at you, his breath washing over your mouth and nose like a sweet rum, leaving you light-headed. You squeezed your thighs together as tight as you could, desperate to stifle the growing heat at your core.

He felt it, your nervous shifting and the wild beating of your heart as he cruised a hand along your body, from your hip and then over your breast to clutch the back of your neck. He rubbed his thumb over your racing pulse. "Has anyone ever kissed you like this before? Pushed you against a wall, touched you, told you how beautiful you are?"

Your face burned. Eddie knew that you'd been kissed before; you'd told him as much. But you'd also told him you were a virgin. At twenty-four, you'd almost grown out of being embarrassed by the fact.

"No," you answered in a low exhale, trying to duck your head to avoid his smouldering stare. His eyes were blown with lust, almost black as coal, as he pushed his thumb against your chin, forcing you to look at him.

He leaned in closer, the feel of him like a weighted blanket on your chest, making it harder to breathe but in a pleasant way. It made your head fuzzy, like floating in a beautiful daydream, except his lips ghosted over yours. The faintest of touches had reality snapping into place around you.

"Never, ever?" Eddie whispered, his lips brushing, tugging, teasing yours. He was so close that he'd invaded all your senses until all you saw, heard, and breathed was him. He held fast when he wanted to move. Eddie waited for someone to give in to desire and bring the other into the flames. He wanted and needed it to be you.

The tiny whimper you made shot through him, racing through his blood like a bolt of electricity until his cock throbbed. And then you took the plunge, a hand at the back of his neck, the other hauling him in by that pretty studded jacket so you could brush your mouth against his.

It was all he needed—a silent confession, unspoken permission.

Eddie pushed against you until you felt the studs of his leather jacket and his dangling chains pressing into you through your clothing, your dress suddenly restrictive and in the way. His hands were everywhere, cupping your face, running through your hair. And then he dropped to his knees with a thud, pressing kisses down your stomach, leaving wet marks against the fabric of your dress as he ran his hands up the backs of your legs.

"No one ever touched you like this?"

You felt like you were going up in flames. His touch was fire licking your skin, beautiful and pure, leaving you trembling. His hands moved up the back of your thighs, and when his mouth found your belly button, tongue swirling once, then twice, you grabbed him by the shoulders to steady yourself.

"Words, sweet girl. I need you to answer," he said in a husky tone, pinching the back of your thigh to bring you out of your mind and into the moment. He looked at you from beneath his impossibly dark lashes, his eyes dark, twinkling with mischief.

"Never," you managed to gasp when his hands began drifting high, pushing your dress up until he could bunch it at your hips. And then he was face-to-face with your panties, groaning dramatically, making a sound that would make a pornstar blush.

"Have mercy," Eddie moaned, his breath hot against your mound even through the barrier of clothing. His eyes moved back to yours, and you flushed with embarrassment. He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. "Even your fucking panties are adorable. That little bow? I'm going to take my time unwrapping this present."

Yet, despite this admission, he didn't take his time.

His mouth landed on your clothed cunt without a preamble. Your knees shook and threatened to give out as he worked his tongue against the wet fabric, tasting your arousal and letting it slide down his throat like a fine wine. Eddie found that virgins were quick to get wet. His calloused fingers kneaded the globes of your arse, pulling you closer, his talented tongue pushing your panties into your slit so he could tease your clit with gentle licks.

You bit your knuckles to stifle the sounds of your moans as pleasure snaked through your veins, creeping through your bloodstream until you broke into a sweat.

"Put your hands in my hair," he demanded with a rough voice, and like a mindless fool, you complied. His hair was a mess of wild curls that you pulled on, sinking your fingers deep into his plush locks when he started to work your panties down your thighs. "Good girl."

"Oh god." As the fabric pooled at your ankles, your head hit the door with a soft thud. You were like putty in his hands—willing to walk through the fires of hell if it meant he'd keep touching you. Eddie freed one of your ankles and threw your leg over his shoulder, bringing you closer.

Words could not describe the feeling of his tongue against your slick folds or the sensation of the tip flicking against your clit. It was like lightning arched through the sky to melt the skin from your bones. You were burning up. And he'd lit the match.

Eddie was loud and messy, lewd. The sounds that clawed up his throat were pornographic. Each wet schlick of his mouth was accompanied by a throaty moan as he sucked your clit and teased your throbbing hole with the tip of his tongue.

It was an out-of-body experience—you never realised you could feel this good. Eddie held you by the back of the thighs, his grip firm, pulling you onto his tongue until your flesh goosepipmpled beneath his touch. You could have collapsed when he withdrew, a line of saliva connecting the tip of his tongue to your clit.

"Words, pretty girl. You gotta use them, or I'm going to stop."

You whined desperately, weaving your fingers deeper into his wild hair. "Please don't stop, Eddie. . ."

"Then talk to me. Let me hear those pretty sounds."

He waited only a moment, his dark eyes staring into yours with the intensity of the sun. He took in your flushed cheeks and shallow breaths that made your chest heave. Then he resumed his meal. The sound you made in response was embarrassing—at least, it should have been. You should have wanted the ground to split open and swallow you. But you didn't.

"It's good," you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut as he ran the flat of his tongue along your slit, the tip flicking your clit in a delicious way that made your hips twitch; forward, then back, like you wanted him to eat you alive but also to escape.

The feeling was exquisite—like nothing you had ever felt—knocking the air from your lungs, making the muscles in your legs tense and your core weep. Your whole body jerked under his tongue, a shiver shaking your spine, your bones turning to jelly as he licked and sucked your drenched cunt. "Oh god. . . I think. . . I—I'm close."

You'd had orgasms before, but nothing quite like this. It was a slow build, each swipe of Eddie's tongue amplifying the pressure between your hips, sending jolts of electricity through your veins until your nerves crackled and popped. It was difficult to describe; you could taste the words on the tip of your tongue, but they melted away with each moan he drew from your lips.

And then it spread out through your body, a searing warmth that threatened once more to melt the skin from your bones.

"You're so wet, sweetness, m'fucking drowning here," Eddie said. Even though his words were vulgar, the low growl with which he spoke sent you tumbling down the other side of pleasure. The first wave zinged through you, knocking the air from your lungs and sparking every one of your nerves to life.

You bit your knuckles hard until you tasted blood, but the flavour was quickly lost as the second wave seared through your limbs. Eddie didn't stop—not once. Each swipe of his tongue against your clit, each push of it into your virginal hole, sent wisps of fire shooting through your veins, adding stars and galaxies bursting to life behind your scrunched-shut eyes.

When you returned to earth, you found yourself trembling, his strong hands the pillars that kept you upright. Eddie kissed his way back up your body, slowly working your dress up as he went until he could pull it over your head. He threw it over his shoulder, the fabric a distant memory as it hit the ground, lost and now forgotten.

"No one ever made you cum before, have they?" He whispered, his breath hot, his smirk feral, as he teased his lips along the slope of your neck. You whined when your bare cunt rubbed against his dark denim jeans, the rough drag of the rips and tears against your lips sending you hurtling toward the sky once more.

"No," you managed to say before catching his mouth for a wild, clumsy kiss. Eddie happily obliged, pushing his tongue into your mouth and licking your teeth so you tasted yourself.

"Touch me. . ."

"What do good girls say?"

"Please."

You would die if he didn't touch you in the next three seconds. You would collapse to the ground, melt into a puddle at his feet, and literally die.

Thankfully, he took pity on you.

Eddie kissed you deeply, with the fire of a thousand suns; his hot breath stole through your lungs when he swallowed your moans, leaving you on the verge of combustion. You felt lost in him, touching him here, there, and everywhere as you tried to strip him. Eddie didn't let you. He grabbed your wrists and held them at the small of your back, and he moved you both across the room.

Your lips never once parted. The moment was composed of hot breaths, searing kisses, and teasing bites, weakening your knees terribly. Eddie fell back into a high chair in front of the make-up mirrors. You were desperate to climb into his lap, to wind your legs around him and leech the warmth from his chest, but instead, he turned you and pulled you into his lap, back to chest.

"Eddie," you whispered his name in a sigh, heady with desire. "I want more. . ."

He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, smiling in response. His lips were wet, his mouth wanting as he lowered it to your next, sucking a mark into your plush skin. "Open your eyes, sweetness."

Eddie hooked your knees over his thighs, spreading you open and exposing you to the mirror. The tips of his fingers ghosted along the crease of your inner thigh, making your breath hitch in anticipation. "You're beautiful," he said with a hum, nuzzling his nose into your hair. You caught his eyes in the reflection and saw the stark desire that had turned his pupils black, the hunger.

And you saw the expression mirrored in your own reflection. Your skin was flushed the subtlest shade of pink, pussy glistening with arousal. Eddie honestly thought you were the prettiest thing he'd ever fucking seen; so sweet, so innocent.

The stretch of his thick fingers was immediately exquisite, the slick of your arousal coating them entirely. Eddie watched the mirror, transfixed by the way it dropped from around his fingers, sliding down the curve of your ass to darken his denim jeans.

He felt you clench around him, tension seeping through your body as the pain collided with pleasure, twisting through your veins like snakes, intertwined, threatening to consume you from the inside out. You cried out when he crooked them, hips rising in search of more; his other hand cruised up your body, the soft swell of your stomach, cupping a tit in the palm of his hand, thumb teasing your nipple into a hardened peak.

Eddie growled against your neck. He was as hard as a rock, and each jolt of your hips had your arse rutting against his aching cock. You reached back to grab his hair, winding your fingers through his wild curls as the pleasure mounted. You were a guitar, and he had years of practice. He watched the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way you couldn't sit still as he fucked his fingers in and out of your cunt, the way you clawed at his jeans.

You put a hand over your mouth to stifle the way you moan, loud, wantonly, like a whore. You felt dirty—like this was a scandalous secret. The thought of being found was erotically terrifying.

"You getting close, sweetness?" Eddie asked; no, he growled the words against your neck, teeth clipping the sensitive skin. "I can feel it. You're squeezing my fingers so fucking tight. Are you thinking about my cock? How much better it'll feel than my fingers?"

As though to emphasise his words, his thrust against you, his erection hard against the globes of your arse, leaving him moaning as his own muscles twisted with desire, pure liquid heat pouring through his bones.

"Cum for me, baby."

He wasn't asking; no, he was demanding.

tag list ::

@micheledawn1975 | @maxstecc

—interest in being tagged in future chapters? send me a message!

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #rockstar!eddie x innocent!reader #call me little sunshine #call me little sunshine - part one

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scarletlizzard · 6 months

Text

Inked Desires - Part 2

Read Part 1 right here

Summary: After your one night stand with a stranger turns into a regular hookup, feelings begin to develop between you and Natasha. A night out at the bar with your friends has her begging wanting more with you.

Pairing: gp!Natasha x fem!Reader

Tags MINORS DNI: natasha has a dick, buff out this world & covered with tats and piercings, little bit of yearning and pining, mentions of alcohol, smut, blowjob, unprotected sex, breeding, begging, miscommunication

Masterlist

A/N: Part 1 blew up like crazy! I never ever thought I would EVER get that many notes. Especially for, essentially, a smut piece I wasn't used to writing. After being asked a few times, I agreed to make a part 2, buuut I've been in a (bad) writing rut lately. So I wanna shout out the person who gave me so many good ideas and an actual plot to work with. Y'all can thank just her for there actually being a part 2 cause there almost wasn't one 🙏 Thanks for helping, kisses for your big brilliant brain.

Hopefully, she and y'all like it? It's a bit longer. Let me know what you think, please, and thank you thank you so much for reading 💞

That being said, there will be a part 3 😄

"Split? Like down the middle?" Kate asks with a look of shock on her face. You walk in step beside her along the concrete path on campus.

"Right down the middle," you laugh and adjust the bag on your shoulder, thinking back to just a few days ago when Natashas skillful tongue worked its magic on your body. Your cheeks heat up at the memory.

That first night you met, Natasha had given you a kiss goodbye and gave you her number before you took a very drunk Kate Bishop home. Since then you had seen the redhead multiple times over the course of the last few weeks. Neither of you seemed to be able to keep your hands off of each other. Each time you met it was for sex, and even the time she had taken you to dinner it ended with you getting fucked into her mattress again.

You knew the basics about each other, where you lived, eachothers jobs... the more you thought about it the more it upset you. The physical level the two of you were on was heavenly, but really, well, you barely knew her.

Kates voice interrupts your thoughts as you enter the English building, and you stop walking as she does.

"What was that?" You ask, looking to the smirk plastered on her face with curiosity.

"I said, speak of the devil," she chuckles and nods her head in the direction of a very tall Natasha striding your way. "See you in there," Kate says and walks into the classroom, leaving you in the hallway.

You want to drown in the sight of her, wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt with old, dirty vans on her feet. You smile, trying not to drool at the way you can see the pops of color show from underneath her shirt or the way the sleeves seem too tight against her biceps as she grips the strap of her backpack.

"Hey there..." Natasha greets you with a smile, head pointing down as she stills before you. "Been a few days, haven't heard from you," she adds, her eyes baring into yours. You want to slap yourself for not replying to her text by the almost hurt look in her eyes.

"Well it hasn't even been a week, you miss me already?" You ask her with a little tilt of your head up at her, biting your lip as you see a blush spread across her cheeks. Her hand moves to the side of her neck, scratching at the ink awkwardly.

"No, no. Wait, I mean -" She lets out a sigh and shakes her head as you giggle at her. It was interesting, the difference in her appearance verses this nervous demeanor. "Maybe I did?" Natasha raises an eyebrow, the silver ring lifting higher.

"I might have missed you too," you shrug casually and watch as her face eases back into a smile. "I'm sorry I haven't texted, I've just been so busy with school and work." You point to the classroom next to you that Kate had entered. She follows the direction and nods.

"No worries, you're a busy lady. I actually took Mr. Furys class last year. Maybe I could take you for a coffee and give you some tips? Or maybe just um, talk?" Natasha asks, her tone quiet as she looks down to you.

You smile at the sincerity in her eyes. "I'm free after this class?" You take a step back, towards the room and match the wide smile on her lips.

"Sounds perfect," Natasha nods, and you can't ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest. Instead of taking another step away you walk forward, leaning up on your tip toes to press a soft kiss to her cheek.

Natasha can feel the burn on her cheeks, the affect you had on her drove her wild. You lean back and smile at her flustered state, leaving her alone in the now empty hallway.

An hour and a half later, you emerge from the classroom, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around at the sight of Natasha sitting on the floor. She had a book in her hand, closing it the moment she saw you and Kate walking towards her.

"Have you been sitting there this whole time?" You ask and tilt your head, watching the way her muscles flex as she runs a hand through her auburn hair.

"Uh, maybe?" A small blush hints on her cheeks, and she smiles at you and your friend. "I'm Natasha, by the way," she says and holds out her hand in front of Kate.

Kate chuckles at the formality, and you hit her arm, giving her a look. She shakes Natashas hand, "Kate... nice to finally meet you," She smiles back and looks next to her at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, you should invite your friend."

You roll your eyes at Kates tease but nod and tell her you'll see her later.

"Coffee?" Natasha asks, and the ridiculous grin on her face is enough for you to agree to just about anything.

As you walk side by side, you can't help but admire her gentle personality. This woman, covered in tattoos and piercings with an intimidating gaze, was the complete opposite. She spoke to you about her schedule and that she was in school for sports medicine with a glint in her eyes.

"Like physical therapy?" You ask her curiously. You watched the way her face lit up at your interest, and she beamed down to you.

"Yeah, exactly that. If all else fails, I'll just be a personal trainer," she lets out a small chuckle, and you take the second she holds the door open for you to admire her toned body.

"How do I sign up? I need a good workout partner," you say with a flirtatious tone, brushing against her as you walk inside. You relish the blush on her cheeks and the small smirk on her lips as the smell of fresh coffee hits you.

"Didn't get a good enough workout last week?" Natasha replies.

"Oh, I had a great workout... but if I had a personal trainer, I'm sure I could get a good workout in at least a few times a week. Isn't that recommended?" You look up to her, seeing her neck redden and her eyes darken.

"I would definitely recommend that," Natasha mumbles as the two of you walk up to the counter.

As Natasha orders, you can't help but notice the change in her posture and attitude. Suddenly, she was standing straight, an impassive and series look on her face. Her tone was low as she talked to the woman at the counter. Natasha turns to you and nods for you to order. You do, and as she hands the woman her card, you smile up at her.

"Thank you for getting this for me," you say gratefully, watching her melt under your gaze. The smile was back, and her eyes came to life again. It seemed she had a soft spot for you.

"Of course, it's my treat," she says and walks you to a small table in the corner.

From there, you spend the entire rest of the evening actually talking and getting to know Natasha. As you already knew, she works out religiously, and you told her how lucky you felt that she had skipped her workout today just to sit down with you. She got her first tattoo at 18 and loved it, so she just never stopped getting them. The first piercing she got was on her eyebrow, and the same there, she just kept going.

It felt as if you were sitting in front of a whole new person than the one you met just weeks ago. The one who pile drived you into the mattress at a party and left you weak in the legs and sore the next day. Natasha was kind and sweet, funny, and surprisingly shy. Any time you made an attempt to flirt or give an innuendo, she would chuckle shyly and blush the slightest.

There were a few times you even had to squeeze your thighs as you thought back to that night. Any time her tongue would wet her lower lip or her eyes would travel to your neck. She loved your neck, you noticed. Every time you had hooked up her lips would go straight for the skin there, nipping at the few small freckles that adorned the area.

"That's a long time to be friends with someone," Natasha states as you finish telling her about yours and Kates relationship. Best friends since the fourth grade, completely inseparable.

"It's nice to have someone so close, who knows me so well. Especially since I'm an only child," you reply and watch her brow lift.

"Oh really? I have a sister, Yelena. She bugs the hell out of me, but I love her to death. She goes to the college just a couple of hours from here. Actually," Natasha looks at her phone, checking the time. "I'm supposed to meet her soon... she came home for the weekend."

You nod slowly and look around, realizing everyone had left and the two baristas were cleaning up. As the two of you stand, Natasha suddenly towering over at you, you feel a little disappointment in your chest. You were having more fun with her than you thought, and you found yourself not wanting to part.

"Hey, Kate and I are going to this bar tomorrow night. A few of our friends are getting together. Joes?" You say to her, smiling to yourself as she once again holds the door open for you.

"Yeah, I've been there a few times before," Natasha says with a grin, standing outside the coffee shop with you.

"If you want, maybe you and Yelena can meet us? You don't have to, of course, but..." You trail off.

"I will definitely be there. Text me a time?" She asks, and you nod happily. Natasha leans down, and you think for a second she's going to kiss you, but her lips land on the soft skin of your cheek. You put your hand on her arm as she does, feeling the tattooed skin burn underneath your touch.

****

Joes Bar is crowded, but that's to be expected on a Saturday night near a college campus. A local alternative band plays loudly on the small stage on one side of the room, and you find yourself on the opposite side sitting at the bar. Kate is nearby talking to friends and a few strangers, but you only had one person in mind.

You glance at your phone again, seeing no notifications. With a sigh, you finish your second drink, ordering a third as you contemplated the possibility she wasn't going to show up. This is why you didn't do this type of thing. You don't hook up with hot strangers. You don't get coffee with gorgeous, sweet women. You stayed to yourself, guarded your heart, and let yourself be safe from any type of rejection or heartbreak.

But God Natasha was worth breaking your rules.

You found your way back to reality as the bartender handed you a drink and said thank you before grabbing it and removing yourself from the bar stool. As you turn, you bump into someone, almost spilling your drink on them.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry!" You apologize, shaking the liquor off your hand as you had spilled a little on yourself.

"It's okay, I was just trying to squeeze in next to you," the woman says, and in your tipsy state, you raise an eyebrow. She seemed about your age, dirty blonde hair, and a familiar grin on her lips. You definitely hadn't seen her in here before.

"I was just getting up, actually. You can have my seat. Is that an accent I hear?" You ask curiously, moving out of the way so she could take your place.

"Yeah, I still have a bit of an accent, I was born in Russia. Lived there for a while," she says and nods. She then orders two drinks before turning back to you.

"Wow, you're a long way from there. You go to school here?" You ask her and sip your drink, feeling Kate stand behind you.

"No, but my sister does, though," the blonde smiles and grabs the two bottles of beer from the bartender. She looks at you and extends her arm towards Kate to hand her a bottle. You give her a confused look.

It's only then you realize, as an inked hand reaches over you to take the beer, that it's not Kate standing there, but Natasha. You turn instantly and look up, a habit your neck was quickly getting used to doing.

"Well, well, look who showed up," you say and take your bottom lip between your teeth. Natasha smiles at your words, noticing the way you take in her appearance.

If it was possible, Natasha looked hotter than ever. She wore a black t shirt underneath a leather jacket. Her flaming hair was behind her in a braid with a few loose strands framing her face.

"I see you've met my sister, Yelena," Natasha chuckles and nods in the direction of the blonde woman.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Natty here hasn't been able to shut up abou-" Yelena is cut off by Natasha flicking the bottle cap at her face, a stern expression on the older woman's face.

You smile at the siblings' banter, watching Yelena laugh and shrug innocently. Whether it be the alcohol flowing in your bloodstream or the way Natasha looked at you, you slide your hand into hers. She tenses at first, not used to the public display of affection from you, but quickly relaxes as you intertwine your fingers with hers.

"Come on, come meet everyone," you say and tug on her hand in the direction of Kate.

You find them huddled around a pool table, watching as Kate lines up the pool tip to the cue ball with one eye closed. Carol stands leaning against her own stick, shaking her head and putting out the cigarette she smokes into the ashtray on the edge of the table.

"Anyday, Bishop..." Carol groans, earning a laugh from the group.

"Seriously, how long are you going to take?" Peter chimes in.

Kate ignores them and continues to stare intensely at the 8 ball. Her arm begins to pull back to take the shot, but as Yelena comes into focus on the opposite side of the table, Kate is finally distracted by the beautiful blonde. The cue ball misses her target completely, rolling across the table and sinking into the pocket.

"Scratch!" Carol cheers and high fives Monica. Kate looked up at Yelena, her lips parted as if she was going to speak, but no words came out. Carol then steps up to the table and sinks the 8 ball, ending the game with a dramatic bow.

You smile at the group, raising an eyebrow at the silent state of your best friend. "Guys, this is Natasha and her sister Yelena," you say, receiving waves and friendly greetings from everyone. You introduce them to the Romanoffs a little more before they rack up for another game.

"You any good?" Carol nods to Natasha, who gives a humble shrug.

"I'm decent," she replies with a smirk on her face as she brings the bottle to her lips. Carol hands the pool stick over before going to get drinks for the group.

"Hope you're good, Romanoff. We still haven't beat Y/N," Peter says begrudgingly. You only hum in response as Kate hands you her stick, positioning yourself across the table.

"Is that so?" Natasha watches with playful eyes as you skillfully break, the balls rolling in different directions along the table and a few of them sinking into the pockets.

When you lean up, you smile and reach your hand up to pat her cheek. "Good thing you didn't bet anything," you chuckle.

After a few back and forth turns, Carol returns with shots, to which you all cheer and take at the same time. The alcohol was definitely settling its way into your system now, and you were hot to the touch each time Natasha had to lean down to take her shot. Between the focused look on her face and the way the pool stick slid between her fingers, it was enough for you to want her right there.

You step forward next to her, looking at the direction of the shot she was trying to take. "That's a tough one, baby," you say to her, the term of endearment catching Natasha off guard.

Her body visibly tenses as she looks to you with a visceral reaction and swallows hard. You feign an innocent smile, taking a mental note to call her that again just to see her reaction. Natasha misses the shot and curses under her breath.

"That's not fair," she says and shakes her head as she stands tall. The red head removes her jacket, finding that the room was getting hotter.

You shrug and easily pocket two more balls on your turn. When you look to Kate to make a comment about the shot, you realize she's strayed from the group, chatting up Yelena. With your friends being in their own worlds at the moment, you decide to have a little fun with Natasha.

"You're not so bad, you know. The others have a hard time keeping up with me," you smile as she leans down, and your hand rests on her back, rubbing over her shirt.

"Y/n," Natasha mumbles, the blush on her cheeks evident she enjoyed your touch.

"Yes, Nat?" You pur, watching the muscles flex understand the fabric. Knowing you had this type of effect on her gave you a sense of power that only made you hungry for more. Your hand slithers underneath the bottom of her shirt, nails scratching at her back. She misses. You smile.

"You're a cheater, you know that?" Natasha says in a playful tone, her body naturally leaning towards you.

Your hands rest on her stomach, "I don't know what you're talking about." You lean up and plant a soft kiss on her lips, smirking as she leans down and melts against your mouth. "I'm just having fun," you whisper.

At that, you step away from her, crossing over to the opposite side of the table. You lean down more than you need to, and you don't miss the way Natashas eyes dart back and forth from your breasts to your neck. She finishes another bottle, and you can tell you've stressed her out by the way her hand grips the glass.

You continue to do the same thing for the remainder of the game, teasing her with every shot she took and making sure to bend in front of her any chance you could. It came down to the 8 ball, and you had to admit, you were dragging the game on longer than you needed to.

"Last one," you sigh and put your hand on the back of her neck as she leans down. Your fingers squeeze gently as she clears her throat, trying to ignore the shivers that run down her spine every time you touch her. You lean down with her, your lips brushing against her ear. "Good luck, baby," you whisper and kiss her cheek.

Her neck gets red at your words, and her grip on the stick only tightens. You think it'll snap in half with how hard she holds it. Natasha quickly shoots and misses, causing you to raise an eyebrow with just how quick she took the shot. Instead of stepping back, she continues to stand pressed against the table. "All yours," she mumbles and holds her hand out to the table, shifting uncomfortably as she stands.

You line up the shot and sink the black ball easily, looking up at her with a wide smile. She only gives you a small smile back with a nod. "Aren't you going to give me a victory kiss?" You ask as you step back to her.

Natasha hesitates for a moment but finally turns to face you. Your hands move up to wrap around her neck, your body pressing against her front as she leans in. Before your lips can touch your eyes, widen the slightest. You now realize the reason for the sudden uncomfortable physical shift she had taken when you felt her bulge pressing hard against you.

"Oh... was I teasing you too much?" You ask with a smirk on your lips. She rolls her eyes and moves to pull away, but you don't let her. "What was it?" You ask her.

"What was what?" She replies, her hands moving to your waist. You press your body further into her and relish the hiss that leaves her mouth.

You search her eyes, thinking to the moment her demeanor had changed. Suddenly, there was that power-hungry feeling again when you realized the reasoning. The fact that you could get her hot and bothered by a simple word leaving your lips, by your voice alone, and the thought of you driving someone like her mad. Natasha was weak in the knees for you, and she struggled internally with the way you made her feel. She wasn't used to it.

"Why don't you let me help you take care of your little problem... baby, " you whisper to her, feeling her shoulders tense above you. "Come on." You slide back and take her hand in yours, leading her away from the pool table and towards the bathroom.

As soon as both of you are inside and you lock the door, the two of you are on top of each other just like the first night you met her. Natasha kisses you feverishly, like she'd never been kissed before, with your back hard against the door. You welcomed her tongue into your mouth, moaning as the two halves wrap around your own.

With one hand, you hold onto the front of her shirt, gripping tightly, with the other you slide it in between your bodies, letting yourself grope the hard bulge in her jeans. Natasha lets a hint of a whimper leave her lips, one you hadn't heard since the first time with her, and you smirk into the kiss.

"What's the matter, baby? Do you need some help?" You ask innocently, lips ghosting hers. She breathes heavily and nods as your hands move to undo her belt.

"Sweetheart... please," she says, and you decide in that moment that you need her to say that again. Just the idea that this strong, formidable woman could so easily melt in your presence made you thrilled.

Her hands rest on either side above your head, pressed flat against the door as you slide her pants down. You can see the precum dampening a spot on her underwear, and you feel yourself get wet at the sight of it. She needed you, bad.

"Please, what?" You ask, your hand moves to grab her through her boxers, and you stroke her length through the thin fabric.

"Fu-fuck," she barely breathes out, eyes searching yours. Natasha hadn't begged a day in her life, but she would happily beg for you. She was at the point right now that she was willing to get down on her knees and beg for you. You made her desperate.

"Please touch me, please. You feel how hard I am for you? Just -" You squeezing a little harder makes her gasp before continuing. "I need you to touch me. Please, sweetheart... please, " she begs. You smile at her words, enjoying the way her body melts at your touch and the way she begs for you.

At her words you slide down her boxers, and her cock twitches at the feeling of finally being released. She lets out a sigh of relief as your delicate fingers wrap around her. "Is this what you wanted?" You hum, beginning to move your hand up and down. Natasha nods, chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly at your movements.

When you stop, she looks at you with a disoriented look, eyebrows lifting as she watches you drop to your knees. You take her cock in your hand, letting your other rest on her thick, toned thigh. From here you can see her happy trail peaking from underneath her shirt, making your panties wetter. The way she looks down at you with a breathless expression and parted lips makes you want to live your life on your knees for her. Your lips kiss along the side of her length, teasing slowly with your tongue licking up it. Natasha groans with pleasure at the feeling and her hips instinctively buck towards you.

You give in, not wanting to tease her anymore tonight, and take her cock into your mouth. The moan that leaves her mouth is outright sinful, and her fist hits the door with a thud as you begin to bob your head. Your cheeks hollow out when you begin moving faster, taking as much of her as you could. When the tip hits the back of your throat your eyes sting, tears threatening to leave your ducts. Natasha pants heavily above you, savoring the moment of you on your knees for her, sucking her off.

"Look at you, such a pretty girl with my cock in your mouth- fuck," Natasha speaks low to you, her eyes dark as she watches her cock disappear against your lips. Your fingers on her thigh dig in, your nails digging into her skin to leave crescent shaped marks, at her words. "All night you've been teasing me... this is the only way to shut you up, isn't it?" She says and you moan against her, the vibrations sending her close to the edge.

Her breathing gets heavier and you can tell she's about to cum, but before she can you quickly remove your mouth, your saliva coating her as you release with a pop. You stand, not ignoring the frustrated look on her face.

"Baby, I think you're confused," you say, your hands moving to the top of your dress. "You're not in charge right now," You let out a small laugh and pull down on the fabric, letting your breasts spill out. Natashas face reddens in response, and she immediately moves to kiss your chest. You can feel the marks she leaves as her lips trail across your breasts, her skillful tongue pleasuring your sensitive nipples.

Natashas' large hands move to the bottom of your dress as her kisses begin to litter up your neck. You let her move the material above and over your hips, but stop her as she reaches your panties. "I wanna hear you," you mumble out. She lets out a huff and pulls away from your neck.

"Y/n... please." Natasha says. You only continue to look at her with innocent eyes. The fact that she would beg for you - is begging for you, made you feel instant gratification.

"Please, pretty girl? Please let me make you feel good. I want to fuck you, want to make you feel good so bad..." She begs, and you let her slide your panties down your legs. Natasha slides her tip between your closed thighs, her cock now being coated from the wetness that spread between your legs.

She slips in between your folds, waiting for your words. Her fingers dig into your hips. "You drive me so fucking insane," Natasha whispers as her head ducks to your neck again. "I could cum from just looking at you. Just hearing you say my name. You know how much control you have over me?" Her hips continue rocking against you, your thighs squeezing her hard cock. She begins to pant again, her neck red and hot to the touch as you wrap your arms around it, interlocking your fingers behind her head.

"Please," Natasha whimpers, and the sound is enough to make you moan. You needed to feel her inside you immediately, hear more of those moans leave her lips.

"Show me how bad you want me, how insane I make you feel," you finally say and lean forward to bite her lower lip. She wastes no time lifting you up, helping you wrap your legs around her hips. Your back presses against the door again and with one hand she guides her cock inside of your warm velvet walls, easily ,with how wet you were for her.

Natasha begins to thrust up into you, a feeling you had become accustomed to these past few weeks, although you weren't sure you'd ever get used to her size. She groans against your chest, nipping at the skin. The small bathroom fills with the sounds of her pounding into you, both of you moaning practically in sync with every thrust.

"So good, pretty girl, feel so good wrapped around my cock. I love fucking this pretty pussy," she breathes heavy against your skin as she speaks. You hold on tightly to her, only breathless moans escape your lips in response.

Suddenly, from the outside, someone bangs on the door, Natasha doesn't halt her descent on you. "Can you hurry the fuck up in there?" A stranger yells from the other side. Your eyes widen, a little bit of adrenaline rushing into your chest as she continues fucking into you.

Natasha smiles, now at your flustered state. "Occupied," is all she replies before her thrust picks up the pace. "You better keep quiet, sweetheart. You don't want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me, letting me fuck you in the bathroom."

You squeeze your eyes closed as she fucks herself into you, trying your best to keep quiet. Each thrust was now hitting that special spot inside of you and drawing you closer to an orgasm. The feeling of her muscles flexing around you only intensified that feeling.

"Fuck I-I can't I'm-" Natasha stutters out as she groans into your neck, feeling your hot cunt tighten around her cock.

"Me too, Nat," you moan along with her, and your legs squeeze around her waist. "Let go, baby... wanna feel you fill me up." You watch her face twist in pleasure at your words, and the fact that it was enough to make her cum only added to your ego in the moment. Natasha grunts against your skin as she does just what you say, filling you up completely.

The sensation alone is enough to make you follow right behind her, the burn in your lower stomach blazing as you scream out her name.

"That's it, sweetheart, that's it... such a good girl for me," she coos as you fall apart in her arms, kissing your face as you breathe heavily. Your head falls against her shoulder, face panting in the crook of her neck as she holds you tightly, letting you come down off your high.

After a few moments she pulls out slowly, and you can feel the mixture of both your arousal dripping down your thighs. Natasha carries you to the sink, letting you rest on the hard surface while she pulls her pants back up and you fix the top of your dress.

"Hi," she says with a smile. You giggle, remembering she said the same thing afterward on the first night at her party.

"Hi," is all you reply, grabbing her shirt in your hand and pulling her closer to kiss you again.

****

"They have eight legs and eight eyes. How are they not scary?" Peter drunkenly speaks to Monica, who sits next to him with an amused look.

After your time in the bathroom with Natasha, the two of you had rejoined the group, and over the course of two hours, you had become increasingly wasted with the rest of your friends. As Yelena joined in on the topic of spiders, you feel Natasha rest her head back against your front.

She sat slouched back in one of the chairs that scattered near the table while you stood behind her, hands stroking her neck and massaging her shoulders. You can't help but smile down at her.

"You're so cute," you giggle and watch her brow raise. Your finger traces the dark lines on her neck.

"Anything but cute," Natasha groans, with a playful smirk on her face. "Why do you say that?"

"You're different than you look, you know? Why are you so nervous around me?" Your words slur, and she chuckles at your drunken state with a shrug, looking at the beer bottle she held in her hand.

"Must be the alcohol?" She says. You shake your head and poke her nose.

"You were drinking when I first met you, and you weren't like this," you point out and watch her swallow. You decide to move in front of her, settling yourself between her muscled thighs. As you stand in front of her, she sits up straighter, the two of you now practically the same height.

You take her hand in yours, playing with her fingers. She smiles a little as she looks at your intertwined hands.

"Maybe I was drinking that night to get enough courage to talk to you... and maybe I- maybe I'm drinking tonight to get enough courage to say I want more with you. More than... the hookups," she says and finally looks back up at you. Your heart races in your chest at her words, panic written on your face as you freeze in front of her.

That was exactly what you wanted. More of her, more of this beautiful person who was even more beautiful inside. To get to know what makes her really tick, what makes her happy, how her day was, how she likes her coffee. She wanted more, too, so why were you not speaking out loud?

"What?" Is all that comes out of your mouth.

Natashas face falls completely, misinterpreting your flustered state for a sign of rejection. She had hoped this wouldn't happen. Part of her wondered if this had just been a hook up, but the other part of her desperately hoped it wasn't.

Before the words could leave your parted lips, Kate calls over to you, taking the attention of both you and Natasha.

"Y/N, you ready to go? You can stay if you want, I'm gonna take Pete home, though," she nods to the direction of where he sat drunk rambling to Yelena.

"No, not -"

"Actually, Yelena and I have a lot to do tomorrow. We should head out too," Natasha interrupts you and stands, her hand moving to your lower back as you stare up at her with a pout.

"Are you sure?" You ask her, your hand reaching out to her side. She tenses under your grasp.

"Yeah, I'll text you later," She smiles at you, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes this time.

You nod anyways and smile back, leaning up to kiss her lips softly. "Thank you for tonight.. Hopefully, we can do it again soon?"

And while you were talking about hanging out with her, Natasha assumes you were talking about her fucking you.

"Yeah, soon," she lets out a breath and grabs her jacket, not taking a second look back at you as her and Yelena exit the bar.

***

A smile fills your face as your head hits the pillow, the soft comforter pulled over you as you lie on your warm bed and mull over tonights events. You wondered why Natasha had left in such a hurry before you could say anything, but you decided not to think too hard on it. She probably did have to go. It was early in the morning by the time you left, and besides, you would hear from her later.

Every morning, she texted you a quick and sweet text, telling you to have a good day.

Your chest swelled at the thought of it, how sweet it was that such a small, simple thing could brighten your entire day. What you assumed would happen tomorrow is that the two of you would talk about wanting more and how desperately you agreed with her about it.

But when the late morning came and the sunshine streamed through the windows, no text came with it.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x reader #gp!Natasha x reader #marvel #marvel one shot #part 2

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like-a-diamondinthesky · 10 months

Text

only you | y.j.i

-> the first i love you m.list

pairing... bf!jeongin x gn!reader tags... fluff, established relationship, soft pda, skz teasing their maknae 😖

jeongin doesn’t like affection. except when it comes from you, and only you.

wc... 933 words a/n... inspired by this request! this took much longer to write than i would've liked hahaha,, but here it is! it's a bit different that the others but i really did enjoy making it so i hope you all enjoy <3 let me know what you think!!!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“This can't actually be my mission, it's impossible!” Jisung exclaimed in disbelief. He showed the camera his paper which read ‘Hug I.N for 5 seconds.’

Everyone knew that the youngest of the group valued his personal space, which posed a huge challenge for Jisung. It didn’t help that Jisung was terribly obvious about his mission, making his target even harder to catch. He spent the whole day chasing Jeongin around the venue of their shoot trying to wrap his arms around the boy. But, it was all to no avail, and he had failed his mission—which surprised no one.

Although the shoot was finished and the missions were over, Jisung was still trying to succeed, even getting the other members to help him.

“Yah, get away from me!” Jeongin laughed as he moved to shield himself behind the black couch by the dressing room's wall, crouching down in an attempt to protect himself. “Why are you all chasing me? I've done nothing wrong!”

“You know, all you’ve done is corner yourself. Now Jisung is guaranteed to get you.” Seungmin remarked unhelpfully from the corner of the room, where he watched the whole scene with an amused smile on his face.

Jeongin’s jaw dropped as Jisung moved forward to grab him, but the younger boy quickly escaped. However, Jisung managed to capture his arm, keeping him from leaving successfully.

“I got you, Innie-ah! Now you have to accept my hug!” Jisung taunted in a singsong voice, as Jeongin wriggled his arm.

“I don't want your hugs. I don’t want your affection, shoo! Leave me and my personal space alone,” he cried, trying to pull away from his captor.

Minho scoffed at the youngest as he continued to struggle in Jisung's grasp. “Don't lie, you loooove affection. We see you with Y/n all the time, you stick to them like a puppy to its mother!”

As if on cue, the door to the dressing room creaked open, drawing the eight boys’ attention to the person walking through.

“Y/n!” Jeongin came running to you, finally breaking free from Jisung's hold. He hid behind your back, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Save me, please. They’re trying to attack me, or something.”

Taken aback, you laughed as you watched Minho point at Jeongin and shout, “See, you just proved my point!”

Jeongin tucked his head into your neck, shielding himself from his older members’ teases. You greeted the other members with a shy smile, dragging yourself and your koala of a boyfriend to sit on the couch.

“What did you guys do to him?” After a failed attempt to pry Jeongin off of your body, you gave up and leaned back on the couch as the other boys continued to tease him.

“We didn’t do anything! He won’t let us do anything.” Jisung crossed his arms and playfully pouted.

“Alright, alright,” Chan lightly tugged Jisung towards the door. “Let's let the love birds have some alone time.”

Jeongin scrunched his nose at the title, making some of the guys snicker.

“We'll be back in ten minutes, don't do anything dumb!” With that, the seven boys left you and Jeongin alone to lounge on the dressing room couch.

Though he was still sprawled atop your body, Jeongin seemed to relax at the absence of his members and melt further in your arms, making you smile at the boy.

“So, what was all that about?” You tangled your fingers in Jeongin’s curls, twirling the soft strands.

“Jisung had a dumb mission for our video and they all ganged up on me.” He looked up at you with a pout situated on his face. “They’re bullies, I’m telling you.”

Jeongin buried his face in your neck, rubbing his face against the soft fabric of your turtleneck. You gently massaged the base of his nape, humming as you urged him to continue his story.

“I was running away from them all day, mostly to make Jisung fail his mission,” he let out a chuckle. “But I also didn't feel up for any of their affection. I don't like when people get all up in my personal space.”

“What? But you love when I'm all affectionate with you,” you teased, poking at your boyfriend's cheek.

“Yeah, I’m only like that with you! You make me feel giddy and happy and sweet when I’m around you.” Jeongin mumbled into your shirt. “But that's probably because I love you.”

Your eyes widened at his confession and you nervously let out a breathy laugh. “What did you just say?”

“I love you?” Jeongin tilted his head up at you, confusion clouding his eyes. “Have I not told you that before?”

“No, no you have not,” you laughed softly as you gently moved him off your chest and guided his head so that you were eye-to-eye. “You really mean it?”

Jeongin flashed a gentle smile, showing off his adorable dimples, and brought his hand to the side of your face. His thumb brushed the apple of your cheek as he replied, “Of course I mean it. I love you, and only you”

You placed your hand over his and guided it back to place it on your neck. You pulled him into a hug, your arms tightened around his middle, and you whispered into his ear, “I love you, too, Innie.”

Behind the door, you could vaguely hear Jisung whining about failing his mission, but you paid him no mind. You were already set on soaking up the rest of your ten minutes of peace with your one and only sweet, cuddly, and affectionate boyfriend in your arms.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

taglist: @kflixnet @jinnixxn @elllisaaa @captainchrisstan @laylasbunbunny @starsandrqindrops @fiqire

comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! © like-a-diamondinthesky 2023

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badbtssmut · 3 months

Text

A party for three

As usual, you and your boyfriend Taehyung travel by van to the same festival the both of you have been going to since you first started dating. But when you run into his best friend at the festival, you suddenly end the night with your pussy filled to the brim.

Contains: Everyone is under the influence, drunk, threesome, dubcon cause nobody’s thinking clearly, yn gets called a slut, double penetration in pussy <- yn winces and says it’s too tight but Tae encourages her, yn cries out of pleasure, riding, missionary, doggystyle, boobplay, multi orgasm, just fucking with literally zero thoughts

Admin note: fuck me I wrote this all on the tumblr app and it didn’t fucking save and I had to do it AGAIN!! :)

—

It was a warm night in the middle of summer as you and your boyfriend, Taehyung, pulled up in the parking lot of a venue you knew all too well. The two of you had been coming to this exact music festival for a few years now, and tonight was just the same as any other.

Or so you thought.

You cheered as one of your favorite bands entered the stage and took the crowd by storm, their fans immediately beginning to crowd the stage and the surrounding area.

Taehyung, on the other hand, wasn't even watching the band. He was busy watching you, your smile lighting up your entire face as you swayed your hips to the music and sang along to the lyrics. When you felt his eyes on you, you glanced over at him, smiling at him before you stepped closer and gave him a peck on the lips.

"Are you enjoying the show?" You asked him, giggling.

He shrugged. "I am now," he said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him.

You giggled at his words; not sure if it was because you were tipsy or because you were amused by his cheesiness, but nonetheless he made you giggle.

A tap on his shoulder caught him by surprise and he turned around in confusion before a grin made his way to his face.

“Hey!” Jimin greeted cheerfully, (he was Taehyung’s best friend), waving at the two of you.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Taehyung asked, which earned a playful push from Jimin.

“Dude, the same as you two are doing here, obviously, except I don’t have a pretty girl on my arm.”

You smiled at his compliment and reached over to give him a hug, and he hugged you back.

Jimin tagged along with the three of you, and the band was still going strong and performing, so you all decided to continue partying together. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and you were definitely a bit more than tipsy at this point. Your head was spinning, your body felt light, and you couldn’t stop giggling as you leaned into Taehyung for support, who was also quite drunk.

The band played a song that was more on the slower side, so everyone was moving along to the music rather than jumping up and down like they had been earlier.

"Hey," Taehyung murmured in your ear, and you turned around to face him, "want to head back to the van and relax a bit?"

You nodded in response.

“Jimin? You coming with us or staying here?" You asked, turning to his best friend.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

And with that, the three of you walked out of the venue and to the parking lot, where you all stepped into the van; it was one of those fancy ones, the really big vans that had a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen— it was fucking expensive but Taehyung insisted that it would be cool for road trips and it definitely was.

You flopped down on the bed and closed your eyes, your head spinning, and a few seconds later you felt the bed sink a bit, and you opened your eyes to see that it was Jimin, and he was staring at you.

"Y/N, I have been curious for a while... can I ask you something?" He said, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Sure." You responded, curious as to what he wanted to know.

"Your boobs, they look really soft, can I touch them? I've always wanted to feel them."

You laughed, his bluntness amusing you. “Okay.”

He reached his hand forward, and you watched as he gently cupped your breasts through your bra. He squeezed them a few times, and then he looked up at you. "Can I touch you under your shirt?" Jimin asked, his eyes hopeful.

You were feeling bold (probably due to all the stuff you took), and also very turned on, so you nodded. "Go ahead."

With your permission, he pushed your shirt up and over your head, and you sat up and unhooked your bra, letting it fall off of your shoulders. And then before you knew it, you and Jimin were cuddled up, your back rested against the wall as he laid on top of you, sucking on your tits and groping your boobs.

You had one hand resting on his head and the other found it’s way between your legs, rubbing your pussy through your shorts, moaning at the sensation.

Before you knew it, Jimin’s cock was in his hands, and he was pushing your shorts to the side and grinding his erection against your clit before it slipped in and was sliding in and out of you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as he pounded into you, the two of you breathing heavily.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so wet, baby," he moaned, thrusting his cock in and out of your pussy, his hips snapping against your ass, "so good, fuck."

You were panting, throwing your head back as his cock slammed into you, over and over.

The door then creaked open, and you looked over to see that it was your boyfriend, standing in the doorway. However, he didn’t seem fazed by the fact his girlfriend was getting fucked by his best friend. Instead, he stepped forward and crawled onto the bed, next to you. He grabbed hold of your face and kissed you, his tongue slipping past your lips, and you could taste the alcohol on his breath. His fingers trailed to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb as he continued to kiss you.

Taehyung pulled away, taking in the sight of his best friend’s cock drilling into you.

“Good pussy?” Taehyung asked with a chuckle.

"Very good pussy," Jimin replied, moaning as he thrusted his cock in and out of you, "gonna beat it up so good, gonna fuck it all up," he groaned, his hand reaching down to grab onto your tit.

“Mmhmm, I know how much she likes her pussy getting beat up. Do you like having your pussy beat up, baby?" Taehyung cooed.

You could only whimper, your mouth hanging open and your eyes squeezed shut.

“She loves it, dude, look at her," said Jimin, smirking.

Taehyung watched in awe as you rode his best friend's cock, your walls fluttering around his thick length. Taehyung could no longer ignore his hardening cock, so he reached down and unzipped his jeans, his erection springing free.

You felt him press his cock against your cheek, and you opened your eyes to see him holding his errection, the head rubbing against your cheek.

"You want it, baby?" He asked, and you nodded eagerly, opening your mouth. He guided his cock towards your mouth, and you opened it wider to take it, allowing him to slide it between your lips.

As you sucked on his cock, he ran his fingers over your arms before he held onto your hand and watched as you bobbed your head up and down, slurping and sucking on his shaft, your mouth full of his cock.

“Jimin…” You whined, spreading your legs as far as they could, allowing his cock to slam into you even deeper, and it was driving you crazy.

"What's wrong, miss Tae’s girlfriend? Can't take anymore?" He teased, grinning as he watched your face contort in pleasure, Taehyung’s cock slipping out of your mouth. Jimin grabbed you by the hips, holding you in place as he adjusted himself, fucking you from a deeper angle. Taehyung wrapped your fingers around his shaft, and you started to rub him off, watching as Jimin drilled into you.

"Such a pretty little slut, taking me and Tae's cock, I bet your pussy's just dying to get fucked, isn't it, slut?" Jimin asked with gritted teeth.

You cried out in response, your eyes rolling back in your head, and soon you were cumming, your pussy squeezing and contracting around his cock.

Taehyung stroked himself faster, watching as you came, and Jimin pulled out, wanting to feel your mouth around his cock, while Taehyung took his place, lifting you off the bed and putting you on his lap, facing him.

You sunk yourself onto his cock, wrapping your arms around his neck as you started to ride him, and he thrusted his hips upward, meeting yours.

“Yeah babe, ride my cock just like that, bounce on my dick," Taehyung encouraged, groaning as he watched you bounce up and down on his shaft, his hands resting on your hips.

Jimin stood next to the bed, jerking himself off as he watched you get fucked, and he stepped closer to you and held his cock out, and you immediately took him into your mouth, moaning as you moved your head back and forth, taking him all the way in.

“Love it?” Taehyung cooed, his hands moving to your ass and squeezing your cheeks.

“Love it so much," you managed to say, the two of them thrusting their cocks in and out of you.

"Love your holes filled with my cock and my best friend's, don't you, baby?" Taehyung whispered as he caressed your face.

"Yes, Tae, love it, love cocks so much, please," you begged, your voice a whimper.

"Gonna fuck you until you're sore and can't walk," he said, smirking as he slapped your ass, "want two cocks in your pussy? Think you can handle that?”

“She wants two cocks?” Jimin pulled his errection out of your mouth, stroking himself as he stared at your pussy.

Taehyung lifted you off his dick, turning you around, your back against his chest and his dick pressed against your ass.

"Jimin's cock is nice and big too, so I think it'll be a tight fit. Think you can handle that, babe?"

“Please, want them,” You giggled, rolling your hips impatiently, “put cock in me, I want it."

Taehyung grabbed hold of his cock and pushed the tip into you, and then slowly lowered you down onto him, letting out a hiss as your sweet pussy engulfed him.

You leaned back into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands resting on your stomach. He began to pump his cock in and out of you, his eyes falling closed.

"Mmhmm," he hummed, "love your pussy, so good, babe."

"I love it too," said Jimin, climbing onto the bed, his cock brushing against your thigh, still rock hard. “Where do I put it in? Don’t see space, too tight."

You were about to open your mouth to tell him where to put it, but before you could, Taehyung spoke first.

"Just push it in on top of mine," Taehyung told him, "don't worry, she'll make space."

Jimin did what he was told, and you felt him start to push in, at which you winced and whimpered.

"Shhh, you'll be okay," cooed your boyfriend, his hand going to your clit and rubbing it gently, "just relax and let it happen, baby. Don't worry, we're not gonna hurt you, promise.” He whispered against your ear, before leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

“Too tight, too full…” You whimpered, squirming in his arms, but he held you in place, his grip tightening around your waist.

"Baby, I can feel Jimin’s cock, it’s almost in all the way, you feel it too? He's rubbing his cock against mine," said your boyfriend, chuckling softly.

"Yeah, yeah," Jimin breathed, finally pushing his cock all the way in, letting out a deep groan, "fuck, so tight, fuck."

The two of them started to move, and the sensation of having both their cocks inside of you was almost too much to bear.

"Please, don't stop, don't stop," you chanted, tears streaming down your cheeks as they pumped their cocks in and out of you, stretching your pussy even further, filling you up so perfectly.

They both began to speed up, and the room was filled with the sounds of their grunts and moans, along with the sound of your pussy squelching as they fucked it.

"Shit, she's milking my cock," said Jimin, his hands grabbing onto your thighs, pushing your legs back as he drilled into you. Taehyung never lost his rhythm, pounding upwards with a steady pace, his cock hitting all the right places— while Jimin pushed in, Taehyung pulled out, when Taehyung took a break, Jimin didn’t stop, and occasionally you’d be double drilled when they’d both push their cocks in at the same time, the sensations overwhelming and mind numbing.

You cried out as your pussy began to spasm, and soon you were cumming again, the two of them fucking you through it, their dicks continuing to pound into your pussy, not slowing down for a second.

“Oh, oh!” Your eyes rolled back, mouth wide open and drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. You didn’t know how you were taking two cocks at the same time, but you were, and it felt amazing.

After the double penetrating, you ended up in the arms of your boyfriend who fucked you missionary style, the two of you making out while he thrusted into you, his tongue down your neck and his hands exploring your body, squeezing your breasts as he enjoyed your pussy. Then after, Jimin took over and fucked you doggystyle, your legs spread and back arched as his cock rammed into you from behind, your ass jiggling each time his hips met yours.

You didn’t know how long the three of you managed to keep it up, but you fell asleep somewhere between the sex, and when you woke up the sun was shining through the curtains and you were wrapped in a blanket.

Taehyung was heard in the kitchen, presumably making breakfast.. or lunch.

You sat up, wincing as your muscles ached and the events of last night replayed in your head.

That was just a fucked up wet dream, right?

Your boyfriend stepped into the room, holding a plate.

"Hey babe, here, I made you some breakfast, thought you needed it after last night."

#bts x reader #bts smut #bts requests #bts smut requests #bts fanfic #bts smut fanfic #taehyung smut #jimin smut #taehyung x female #taehyung x yn #Jimin x female #jimin x yn

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 2 years

Text

Keep Moving Forward

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You're determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he's just some guy that's taller than most people right? He's probably harmless! Well, he's a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: Just want to say a massive thank you for everyones lovely comments on the last part, I can't believe how many notes that has now 😱 I've got a taglist so if you want to be added or removed (I just stuck down everyone that commented or reblogged the last one with tags/comments) lemme know! Also I've got my own version of what König looks like and I've been including details so hopefully you like my thoughts on him 🥰

Part 2 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

A forbidden crush, a whole unit of men watching out for any missteps and a job that required you to be on your A game - it all sounded a bit like a bonkers netflix plot, but no this was your life now. You were desperately trying to hide your little (massive) König crush, while trying to get through your days and it was going horribly. The universe was working against you.

König kept appearing for one. Now that he knew you weren’t talking to him just to fuck with him, you’d been meeting more and more and talking for longer each time. In fact, you’d come to learn a lot about the man in the short amount of time you’d spent together and unfortunately for you, nothing about any of it turned you off. In fact, you were only falling harder for him.

Every touch, every grazed hand when you were reaching for mugs and brushed sides when you sat together on the couch - they were driving you crazy. Not to mention catching little details about him here and there, painting a mental picture that rivalled the mona lisa.

You’d caught a glimpse of a scar that snaked up from his lip and a few that marred his hands and arms, you’d noted bruises that carried back from missions and most of all you couldn’t help but think of the little birthmark on his left hip that he’d exposed when he’d been reaching for tea. You thought about running your fingers along them often, kissing them all better.

You’d learned that it was pretty much pointless to make movie references to König because he barely took time to watch them. He was much more of a doer, he didn’t like to sit still for long and most film runtimes were over an hour and a half, which was no good for him. And so you’d slowly gotten a peek into his more active hobbies. Hiking, rock climbing and skiing, only to name a few. The man was an athlete that rivalled most of the soldiers you knew.

“And this was the view from top!” he’d proudly said after he showed you another picture from one of his hikes.

“Woah, no wonder your legs are like tree trunks,” you’d murmured, raking your eyes over his thick thighs.

“What was that?”

“Oh! Just- you must get a good workout climbing all those hills.”

Just one of the many times you’d let your appreciation for him slip. You could barely help it most of the time, he had your words fizzling out like some kind of mentos and coke explosion. The highly trained soldier in you died the minute you were in a room with him.

It was when he grabbed you that you finally went stupid for him. König was - as Captain Price had described him - a mammoth in many regards. You’d already taken note of his verging on monstrous height, but you’d come to learn a lot more about his strength. He could lift you like you were little more than a lap dog.

How had you come to find this out? Well -

“Watch out!”

Your head had been completely in the clouds, busy catching up with messages from your family, when suddenly you were in the air. You gasped as you felt a pair of hulking arms pick you like an apple from a low hanging branch and squeaked when you looked down and came to notice the pile of vomit that lurked below your flailing feet. Gross.

Then you’d come to the slow realisation of exactly whose arms were wrapped around you. Suddenly the rising feeling of nausea was replaced by hordes of stirred up butterflies.

“Are you ok?”

You blinked, still shocked that König was holding you like you were nothing.

“Uh- ah- yeah! Yup! All good, big guy!”

You’d hurried out your reply, sputtering out your words like a leaky tap. You felt like an idiot. Then the feeling intensified when he put you down and turned you to face him. In fact, you felt like someone had placed a heat pad to your face after running a marathon.

If he could lift you that easy when you were limp, imagine how easy he could lift you up against the wall and-

“Are you sure you’re ok? You look…not so good?.”

You gulped and offered him what you hoped was a reassuring smile and then - to make matters worse - a double thumbs up (who did that???). You silently cursed in your mind, but covered up your embarrassment by staring back at the sick pile for a second and then facing König again.

“Ew…thanks for saving me from that! I would’ve been throwing up as well if I’d had to clean that outta my shoes.”

“Any time, friend!”

Friend.

It stung a little, but then you had to remind yourself you were both supposed to be acting professionally, this was a base afterall, and quickly righted yourself. Friend would do fine in a setting where Price would have your head for even looking at König a little flirtily. Especially when the resident gossips had continued to grass you in for any interactions they caught.

-☠️-

“That was some amount of whitey those new recruits left all over the hallways yesterday,” Soap had remarked after finishing a set of pull ups.

You hummed in agreement, remembering back to being lifted and growing quiet as you thought about Königs bulging arms. It had been a recurring thought for the whole twenty two hours since it had happened. Not that you were counting or anything, especially not being obsessive by any means. It was just that the electricity that had been sparked by that touch had been racing around your body and now you were stuck replaying the scene over and over in your head like an accursed rerun.

“English, Soap,” Ghost grunted, from a nearby bench.

“There was a lot of puke all over the place yesterday,” Soap sighed, rolling his eyes at the Lieutenant.

“Oh yeah, I heard about that. Did you hear sneaky almost stepped in it?”

“Ooft, that’d be a shite shift cleaning that off.”

“I know. Luckily little sneak got airlifted to safety,” Ghost said slyly, giving you a pointed look. “Got snatched away by a certain giant before they stepped right in it.”

You froze in your spot, just about to curl a weight upwards before letting it crash out of your hands and onto the floor. That fucking, no good old dear prick! How had he heard about that? You hadn’t thought anyone else had been around when it had happened.

“Careful, sneak. The German’s not here to stop that from stubbing your toe,” Ghost chuckled.

“He’s Austrian actually…And how did you know about that?”

“Oooh! Austrian,” Soap snickered.

“Well I do apologise. You should know by now that I hear about everything when it comes to our unit, sweetheart.”

You hated that. Whenever Ghost patronisingly called you sweetheart it made your blood boil and clouded your thoughts like a thick red mist. Though, there was nothing you could do about it. He wasn’t someone you could wage revenge on without being thoroughly outgunned in all respects. Plus, it would only make you look more guilty.

“Well, you didn’t even know what nationality König was so you don’t know everything,” you muttered.

“Well, now that you’ve filled me in, I can go tell Price you were getting lifted up by the big Austrian cunt that he told you to stay away from,” he countered smugly.

“What! I can’t help who snatches me out of the air from nowhere,” you hissed. “Have you seen the size of him? I can’t exactly stop him.”

He tisked.

“Well then, soldier. Sounds like you need more training. C’mere, we’ll practise getting out of holds!”

You yelped as Ghost had come crashing toward you and dove out of the way just in time to miss his outstretched arms. Even if he was smaller than your new companion, Ghost was still built like a tank - and he would pin you down like a mouse under the wheel of a 4x4 if he caught you.

“Stay away from me!” you’d squealed, running away from the gym.

“Oh now you’re suddenly averse to getting grabbed!”

-☠️-

Essentially, you were discovering a new level of hell every day. Your entire unit had cottoned on to your little thing with König and now there was no escape from the jokes they made. Well that is until Price came along and no one was quite enough of an asshole to mention your activities to him. You all knew the consequences of getting his back up and it wasn’t worth the stress for anyone.

Though, not everyone was aware of that - König himself for one. Unluckily for you, you’d found yourself in the kitchen with Price and Soap and just as the kettle was put to the boil, who should walk in but the Austrian giant himself.

“Evening,” he murmured, barely loud enough to be heard over the kettle.

Soap looked up from his phone as he noticed König and widened his eyes before searching you out and giving you a sly smile. Oh lord. You knew he was going to love watching you squirm.

Suddenly your heart was thudding like a samba drum and your mind was racing to find your self restraint. Don’t let Price see you turn into a nervous fucking wreck! You repeated that over and over like a mantra, turning it over in the sands of your mind as if you might find some calm that way.

“Evenin’” you smiled, feeling your voice lilt.

Oh god.

You smiled at König as he approached the counter and promptly scampered away to the table, hoping that by keeping some distance you wouldn’t be so transparent. Fat chance considering the stupid smirk that was all over Soap’s face as he pretended to batter his eye lashes behind Price’s back. Asshole!

You knew you looked guilty as hell, even if you were walking away from König. However, any chance of not being caught ogling by Price was worth taking. So you figured you’d stare at your phone instead and prayed to all the gods you knew of that König was busy and he’d have to leave again after getting himself something to drink.

Why didn’t he ever go out for food? There was a perfectly nice pub just over the road and he could easily go there instead of looking over you all the time - putting you in grievous danger of toilet duty. You’d have to tell him about it sometime, and hope that he’d ask to go with you.

“Anyone else want a brew?” Price offered, in the midst of pouring his own cup.

You looked up from your phone screen, darting your eyes over to the captain. Answer him! Speak normally!

“Oh! Yes, me please.”

Maybe that was a little more polite and nicey-nice than usual, but at least you were coherent. That was something, a small victory.

��Coffee for me, Price,” Soap grinned.

You breathed out a small sigh now that Price was distracted by Soap and let your eyes wander over to König, resting your chin in your hand. He was so big, he towered over the two other men by a few heads at least. He could pin you down like a lion and there’d be nothing you could do about it, nothing you’d want to do about it.

“That’s the wrong one.”

You jumped as König’s accented voice interrupted the thankful silence and widened your eyes as you watched him turn to Price. What was he doing? You sucked in a breath and watched as the two men became locked into an exchange and silently hoped a rogue sniper might take you out.

“Sorry, what was that?” Price asked, frowning deeply as he stared at the masked man.

“That’s the wrong tea,” König supplied helpfully. “Sneaky likes this one.”

As if correcting Price on his choice of tea wasn’t enough, König went to the lengths of picking a bag of your herbal stuff out. He dropped it into the mug and stuck the other bag back in the back, tilting his head as Price stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well then…thanks for the advice,” he finally said, turning to stare you down. “It’s never nice when you expect one thing and get the other.”

You were in deep shit.

He was giving you the ‘I’ve killed before and I’ll do it again’ look. You gulped and slumped in your chair, feeling like a tiny child that was about to get reprimanded. Price was going to learn all about your involvement with König soon, the game was up.

“Oh yeah, no problem!” König said, sounding like he was smiling under his mask.

That idiot!

Though, in fairness to him he knew nothing about the toilet duty thing. He didn’t even have any idea that you weren’t supposed to be interacting with him, especially when you’d gone so out of your way to do it over the past month. It wasn’t his fault, but at the same time you could strangle his beautiful massive neck for what he’d done.

“Sneak, would you mind coming with me for a moment? I think we should have a little chat,” Price smiled. “I’ll bring your tea.”

He was probably omitting that he was going to dump it over your stupid head, you thought worriedly. This wasn’t good at all.

You gulped and nodded at him, slinking out of your chair like a dog about to take a beating. Though, you continued to follow behind him just as dutifully - Ignoring Soap as he gave you a little wave off and a snarky smile. You knew as soon as you’d left that he was messaging the group chat right then, and the whole 141 would know that you were getting pulled up for speaking to König.

He lead you down the hall and into an empty meeting room, setting the two mugs down on the table, they hit the wood like death knells, and pointed to the chair in front of him. It all felt very formal, like this was going to be one of the worst telling offs of your life.

“Don’t look so scared, kid.”

You bit your tongue and chanced a look in his eyes, seeing the glint that lingered within them. He didn’t look furious, but he didn’t look like he was going to offer you a cuddle and kind words either. It made you sweat a little less, but you weren’t dumb enough to completely untense your body yet.

“Y-you’re not annoyed that I’ve been speaking to König?” You asked, chancing your luck.

“Oh, I’m annoyed, but I’m not going to kill you for it,” he laughed humorlessly, leaning back in his chair. “You look like you’re going to shit yourself.”

“I think I might,” you said, biting your lip and fastening your shaky hands around your warm tea cup.

“See, that’s why I’m concerned about this…relationship you’re building with König. I worry about you.”

You frowned, thoroughly surprised by his reaction. He was being a damn sight more sympathetic than you were expecting. This wasn’t a bollocking, this was an intervention.

“You don’t have to worry. We’re just friends - strictly platonic! We talk and have tea together, nothing more than that,” you explain breathily, hoping it’ll appease the captain.

He strokes a hand through his beard and eyes you warily. He’s clearly unconvinced. His jaw is set into a worried line.

“Hmm.”

He doesn’t give much away.

“Really, I’m not trying to take things f-further.”

You stutter like a liar. Really, that is what you’re doing if you’re honest with yourself. You might not be asking König out on dates and braiding flowers into his gear, but you have been shamelessly flirting with him and getting into close proximity with him at the slightest chance. Plus, Price practically knows you better than your own parents, he’d be able to tell when you were acting differently, like you were in terminal stages of puppy love.

“Look, he’s not part of our unit, so really it’s none of my business, I can’t actually do anything about it - as much as I’d like to,” he says, glowering for a moment. “I just think that he’s dangerous and I don’t like the thought of you getting close to him. For all I know, he’s nice enough to you, but when he’s on the field that man’s an animal. There’s something wrong with him.”

You gasp a little as he says it, shocked that he’d say something like that to you. What did he mean there was something wrong with König? Sure, you thought, he was quiet and intimidating but he was so polite and cheerful when you’d gotten to know him more. It’s not like most people were their best selves on a battlefield - it was in your training to leave all that behind. It was hypocritical to judge Königs actions given your experience with the 141 out on missions.

“What do you mean there’s something wrong with him?” You finally asked, curious to know just what Price meant.

“He takes too much pleasure in the work he does. He’s sick when he’s out there- like letting a rabid dog out of its cage. I worry about you getting involved with him and being at the mercy of a man like that. You wouldn’t have any chance against him, Sneak. I’ve seen him crush bones like they’re twigs, he’d snap you like a toothpick.”

You can feel your pulse in your ears, can hear it working away like a jackhammer. You don’t know how to respond. The fact that Price is this worried for you really does concern you, but on the other hand König has never given you any reason to be scared of him beyond that first encounter you’d had with him. Then again, you reasoned that that surely wasn’t the real him - that was guarded walled up version of him. Right?

“I see,” you sighed, not able to come out with more.

“I know you won’t want to take my word for it, and you’re going to keep doing whatever it is you're actually doing. I just want to know that you’ve been warned and you’re going to be careful.”

You took a breath and looked away, roving your eyes over the assortment of chairs on the other side of the room. Sure, you could take his warning on. Though, it didn’t feel like it was going to stick, not when you thought back to his arms wrapped around you and making you feel like a precious gem.

“I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind,” you acquiesced.

“Good soldier,” Price smiled, leaning over and patting your shoulder.

You swallowed thickly and stood up, feeling your breathing return back to normal. Well that was it then. You weren’t going to be killed on sight and you didn’t have to worry about staring down the bowl of a toilet for the rest of your miserable life.

You both stepped out the doorway and into the light of the hall. You felt dizzy on your feet, but relieved that you were getting away without any punishment. Well, other than the fact that König might be someone to worry about rattling around in the back of your mind, that is. Then again, you had a sneaking suspicion that you’d forget all about it as soon as you were in his company again…

“Remember what I said, Sneaky! Otherwise I’ll let you think about it some more while you’re on your knees scrubbing toilets,” Price said over his shoulder, taking an indulgent sip of his coffee afterwards.

You stopped in your tracks and shared a look with Soap, who’d poked his head out of the kitchen to check on you. Well, maybe you weren’t going to completely forget Price’s warning. His lingering threat would keep you on your toes.

-☠️-

“It seems a little late for you to be out walking,” you noted.

You watched as König whirled around, and went wide eyed when he looked like he might hit you. His fist was drawn back and just when it looked like he was about to swing it - he stopped and let it fall flatly to his side. As soon as he’d scanned his eyes over your shrinking form he went limp immediately.

“Scheiße! Where the hell did you come from?” he cursed.

You took a moment to recover but eventually found your heartbeat returning to its regular rhythm and swallowed, relaxing your shoulders soon after. That was close. You assumed he’d have known you were sitting there on the wall, he always seemed to have a hyper awareness of you as if he was some kind of bat. Though his echolocation must have failed for once, you’d been too obscured by the untrimmed tree branches that had surrounded you, most likely.

“I-I come out and sit here sometimes, its nice to look at the stars.”

König regarded the wall you were sitting on, just a low down thing made of worn stone and his head followed where it stretched down the road. It cut off the pavement from the small scatty park inside. Then when he looked back at you with his twinkling azure eyes, those eyes that had you forgetting all about the near miss that just happened, you finally got to take him in properly. You watched him as he settled next to you on your makeshift seat.

Two things struck you all at once. Firstly, König was wearing a neck warmer instead of his usual sniper hood, probably so he wouldn’t scare any civilians more than a hulking giant like himself normally would, it was drawn way up to the bridge of his nose, but nevertheless you knew it was him under there. And next - the mess of shaggy dirty-blonde hair on top of his head. You had to fight the urge not to ask if you could run your hands through it. It was like putting a moth in front of a thousand watt bulb. You ached to feel the fuzz of his faded sides and get to rearrange the chaotic locks above that sprawled in every direction.

“You’re staring.”

You bit your lip as he said it, and looked away guiltily. Oh fuck. It’s not like it could be helped though, this was the most you’d gotten to see of him. He was always so covered up and burdened by gear you could barely make out the man from the material - and now you were getting to see what was basically a visual buffet of König. It wasn’t fair. You could look at every inch of him that he’d let you see all day.

“Sorry,” you finally breathed out. “I just- uh was surprised is all.”

“Why?” he smirked, eyes crinkling as he stared right back.

“Didn’t think you’d be blonde,” you say, thinking blessedly quickly.

“What is it they say? Blondes have more fun?” he chuckled, coming to sit on the wall next to you.

You snorted and looked away from him again. Even though you’d been talking for a while now, his silly humour could still surprise you, especially when you recalled the way everyone acted around him, as if he’d bite them if they got too close. It was like getting to see a tiger roll onto his stomach when no one else was around.

“How come you don’t wear that around the base?” you asked, tilting your head at him.

“Why would I? I can wear my hood there without getting questioned about it.”

“But isn’t it less stuffy with the neck warmer?” You ask, crinkling your nose at the thought of being trapped under that heavy material all day.

“Yes, but it’s as though I can physically feel people's eyes cutting into me when I wear this - or nothing. The staring is too much.”

You pause for a second and laugh at yourself, feeling a little more embarrassed.

“...Like I was just doing to you there.”

König laughs a little with you, but after a second he shakes his head and breaths out into the frigid night air. The skies had been dark for a little while by that point and the light of the moon was bright and shiny, reflecting in König’s eyes like a gleaming pearl. It was probably the first time you ever recalled admiring the moon that much.

“I didn't feel like I was being dissected by you, no.”

You felt a little tingle run rogue down your arm. So he didn’t mind you looking at him? You smiled a little wider to yourself and tried to conceal it with a scratch of your cheek.

“Really? Why’s that?” You asked, feeling a little brave.

“You stare at me all the time, I’m used to it.”

Instantly it felt as if the air had caught fire and was charring you into oblivion. He’d caught you? Why hadn’t he said anything before? You opened your mouth ready to come up with some kind of silly excuse, too flustered to think of something good. Though he interrupts you before you can get a sound out.

“I didn't mean to embarrass you, I find it endearing,” he soothed.

“What? Why?” you ask dumbly.

“The way you look - with your wide doe eyes…” he says trailing off.

Now he cant look at you. His head turns away. You can't speak either, so you're both left frozen in place.

“The way you’re looking at me now,” he finally says.

“Maybe I just can’t stop staring at your messy hair,” you chuckle, trying to awkwardly change the subject. “Someone should fix that for you.”

“Does someone want to?” he asks, his brows setting as he tilts his chin.

Oh no. You bite your lip feeling like your body’s going to astrally project onto another planet. Was this really happening? Did he actually just give you permission to touch him, no, run your hands through his hair?

Part of you wants to laugh him off and prevent any embarrassment when he turns around and says he was kidding, says you’re a weirdo for wanting to touch him like that. Your mind starts going down avenues of all the awful things he could say about the little freak that looks at him too much, but then the sane part of your mind kicks and acts as a buffer stop, halting the run away anxiety train. König would never do that to you.

You were far too used to dealing with Ghost and Soap, and all of their stupid teasing. But even then, not even they would do something so cruel.

“I do,” you murmur.

König nods and leans forward and closes his eyes, giving you what little advantage he can with the amount of height he has on you. At first, you’re incredulous that you’re in a real life scenario and not locked into a fantasy seven layers deep, but you quickly give up that idea and decide to tentatively reach out. You’re too excited not to take the opportunity.

Your hand shakes a little at first as you make contact with his soft hair, and immediately you think of the devil dog your neighbour used to have when you were a kid. It was a huge old thing that barked like a foghorn, but once it got to know you, it would roll over and present its downy fur and you could spend hours at a time running your hands through it. Now, though, it’s not the scary shepherd you’re taming, it’s König.

He sits perfectly still while you sort through all the strands, smoothing them back and fixing them into place. You swear you can hear soft groans coming from him, but they’re so quiet you could be mistaken. That, and you’re too mesmerised by the task at hand, forming his hood mussed hair into a style.

When you’re done and his hair is mostly settled - apart from a small cow lick you can’t seem to fix - you can’t help but run your fingers over the fuzz on the side of his head. Immediately he shivers like a harsh breeze has rolled in, surprising you, but when he snaps his eyes open they don’t look annoyed like you worry he is, instead he looks ready to pin you down and take you right there against the wall.

“That felt very nice,” he said softly, blown out pupils shifting away from you as he straightened.

You’re not sure what to say, you just smile and bite your lip, keeping your eyes fixed on him. You know rightly that your pupils are just as wide as his, you can practically feel the explosion that’s going on. You want him.

“König I… I uh-“

Footsteps sounding from nearby, crunching up the leaf littered pavement, interrupt all your thoughts and both of you turn your heads as someone walks up to you both. You hold in a breath, feeling like you’d scream otherwise and watch as a face comes into view from out of the shadows.

Mercifully it’s not Ghost or Soap that marches up to you, it’s Gaz.He’d been the only one not to completely batter the dead ‘Sneaky and König up a tree’ horse. He stops when he sees you both and his eyes widen as he spots König, probably just as shocked as you were when he realised he can see his face. Though, he quickly averts his eyes and looks at you instead, awkwardly shifting his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Captain said to tell you we’ve got an early start tomorrow,” he says looking at you pointedly , “we’ve got a briefing at four. Said you best get all the sleep you can.”

“Oh…do you know anything about it?” You ask, still feeling a bit breathless from before.

“From what I gather, the 141 and KorTac are heading out together, but I don’t know much beyond that,” he shrugs.

You give a sideways glance to König and watch as he regards you the same way. That meant you’d be working together for the first time. You take a breath and look back at Gaz, finally nodding your head.

“Thanks for coming to let me know, I’ll head in in a minute,” you assure him.

Gaz nods back curtly and turns on his heel, retreating to the base again and leaving you alone in the only silence. You finally look back at König, only once you’re sure there’s no one lurking around and looking to catch you with him, and smile softly.

“Looks like we’ll be working together then,” you laugh awkwardly.

“Seems like it,” he replies, lowering his head. “Perhaps we should listen to the captain’s advice and head in.”

You feel a stab of disappointment tear through your heart immediately. You’d wanted to resume things from where you’d left off. You wanted to pull back the cloth from his face and kiss him under the stars as if they were watching and you were the only ones there. There were fireworks and sparklers going off in your mind, but now they were being snuffed out as you watched König stand up from your not so secret spot.

“Come on, you need your rest,” he insists, holding out his hand.

You raise your eyebrows, but put your hand in his and rise as he guides you up. Even with you standing, he towers above you. It’s especially noticeable as you stand so close to him, almost pressed to his big wide chest. There’s a snapping creature in your mind that distantly wishes to jump onto him and kiss him, but you beat the thought back and look away from König instead.

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting your head back with his rough gloved fingers. “I want to pick things back up too, but…not before a mission. We can do this again after all that. Yeah?”

You gulp, feeling your spine light on fire with tingles. Did he just acknowledge that things were about to go further there? So he definitely felt the same as you…

“Makes sense,” you murmur, feeling your desperation roll off you in waves.

He is speaking sense, but you don’t want him to be.

“You can fix my hair for me again when we get back,” he teases, rubbing his finger against your jaw again. “I’m sure it will be very messy.”

“Am I your stylist now?” You smirk, feeling your mood lift.

“Amongst other things,” he says, eyes showing the smile that was surely on his lips.

You raise your eyebrows and just as you’re about to ask what things, he silences you with what he does next. He leans down and brings his lips to your cheek, and through his mask, kisses you.

You freeze in place, your heart thudding like it’ll explode and close your eyes. You can’t believe what just happened. You laugh a little to yourself - letting loose a giggle and open your eyes, watching as he smiles back at you and gestures his hand back to base.

“To be continued,” you whisper to yourself.

-☠-

Next Part Here

#König #König x reader #könig fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction #mw2

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ahundredtimesover · 8 months

Text

I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I've been thoroughly enjoying your asks and replies about this story (sorry I can’t get to each one!) I see that a lot can relate to what OC's going through and I'm sending you hugs! 🤗 Again, I appreciate your love and excitement. And uh... Golden JK in that white tank. YUP. 🤭 Hoping you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The spring in your step tightens the closer you get to Jungkook’s penthouse the next Monday. Walking here to start another week, there’s a mix of emotions you’re carrying with you.

You got to spend a proper weekend. On Friday, you made yourself some cold noodles and then watched a movie with Jimin and Soomin on video call, who’d said they’ll be visiting you in a week. You took the train to Daegu on Saturday, went to the park, then stayed in to enjoy Min-woo’s cooking and the girls’ stories about school and their youth clubs. You then buried yourself in your mother’s embrace as you told her about your week. You didn’t want to say too much, not wanting her to worry that her daughter isn’t being treated well at her job, but you suppose you said enough.

“I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything,” she’d told you softly. “All I can do is just give you hugs and say words of encouragement that might not even mean much.”

“And you still are, mom. I look forward to being with you because of those hugs. But more than that, you were strong enough to protect me from the bad guys,” you’d assured her. “Jungkook is many things but he’s not a terrible person. I can handle him.”

And you meant it. He may be hot-tempered sometimes but he’s not evil. But just because he made you go home early last Friday, it also doesn’t mean he’s suddenly redeemed in your mind. Sure, he didn’t email you at all over the weekend unlike last time, but he also still didn’t apologize to you nor show remorse.

Perhaps that small nod after he called you telling you that you could go home was his way of saying sorry, or maybe it just isn’t in his vocabulary. You wonder if Hoseok had told him off but even then, it’s a pretty quick change, if you could call it that.

Regardless, you felt like a human being again these past few days; you just wish Jungkook woke up on the right side of the bed this morning and doesn’t find a reason to complain about you.

Unlocking the door, you’re surprised to hear silence - there are no grunts and deep breaths nor the sound of leather hitting leather from his morning workout. You scan the floor before walking around - a habit you’ve developed after finding that laced underwear last week - and then peep into the door on the right, only to find untouched equipment and no other traces of him.

You’re in the living room when you hear another door close, prompting you to turn around and see a woman appearing from the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. Her hair’s a bit disheveled and she’s wearing one of Jungkook’s coats that you saw in his closet.

“Uh, who are you?” The woman scoffs, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised now.

Taken aback, you just stare at her, until you realize she’s not wearing anything underneath so you look away.

You try to make sense of who she is and how you could get out of this situation. You know for a fact that Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend, at least that’s what Lucas had told you, but who knows what Jungkook’s been up to since he got back? There was that red laced underwear from last week after all. Maybe he does sleep around like what Do-hyun said. Maybe this woman just doesn’t know Jungkook has a female assistant. Maybe he’s—

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she says, sounding more annoyed now.

“Oh. Uh, I’m Mr. Jeon’s—”

“She’s my assistant,” Jungkook answers, catching you off guard, given that you hadn’t noticed him walk in.

He’s not in his usual workout attire, although him in a white tank top and gray sweatpants with mussed hair somehow seems more overwhelming than him in nothing but gym shorts. You glance at him as he stands next to the woman, whose face suddenly lights up. Not wanting to look at her, you shift your gaze towards the ceiling, trying hard not to look awkward as you’re rooted in place.

The woman looks at you from head to toe and you feel her judging you, assessing you, while Jungkook stands there, yawning and combing his hair with his fingers.

“Just your assistant?” She asks, sounding incredulous.

“Yeah. What else would she be?” Jungkook answers nonchalantly. Looking at you, he nods ever so slightly that you almost miss it, another hint of acknowledgement you’d seen last Friday. “Just eggs on toast. And coffee.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you say, exhaling the breath you were holding and then walking to the kitchen to start on his breakfast.

“I don’t know, another one of your girls? I see you with a new one every time,” she huffs, sounding bitter, but Jungkook doesn’t sound amused.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, walking to where you are then taking the glass of water you prepare for him. “I called a service for you last night.”

“I was too tired,” she says, and you don’t miss the sultry tone of her voice now. “You tired me out, Jungkook. I could barely get off the bed.”

“And why are you still here?” He asks, clearly not having it with her teasing.

“Because I’m still tired,” she smirks, having followed him to the kitchen.

You feel tense once more; you definitely don’t want to be part of this conversation in any way nor be privy to it, especially given what obviously happened between them last night. And especially not with Jungkook looking and sounding the way he does this early Monday morning.

“And I was thirsty,” she continues.

He sets his glass down and opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water that he hands over to her.

“Ugh, how romantic,” she rolls her eyes, finishing it in a few gulps.

“I have to go to work,” he tells her, frustrated that she’s being stubborn about not leaving when he no longer seems to want her around.

“Actual work, or, you know, work?” She says, gesturing towards you.

You make the mistake of looking at her smug face, the insinuation not lost on you. It’s insane how she can just make claims like that, and you feel that just like you, Jungkook’s getting pissed.

“Can you just leave?” He says much more sternly now. “I can’t start my day with you still here.”

“Ooh, how rude,” she giggles. “Should’ve expected you’d be like that even outside of bed. I like that.”

She walks back to the room, leaving you and Jungkook on your own. You continue to work on his eggs while he stands by the counter, rubbing his temples. You’re unsure if it’s because of her or from last night’s alcohol, but you get aspirin and also a bottle of energy drink and set them in front of him before returning to preparing his meal.

The woman comes back shortly in last night’s attire then walks towards Jungkook.

“I’m leaving,” she announces, tilting his chin so he would face her. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”

Jungkook turns away and does not respond, leaving her to laugh as if there’s a joke that only she’s in on.

“Going all quiet on me now, huh?” She says. “You weren’t like that last night. I can still hear your moans, actually. Fuck, they sounded so good and so loud.”

You almost hit your finger as you slice the apple, clearly not expecting for this stranger to say something so intimate, knowing there’s another person in the room with them. You don’t know if she wants to intimidate you for whatever reason or maybe just make you feel uncomfortable. Whatever it is, it’s working, as you’re unable to focus on the task at hand now.

Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, and it’s what prompts her to finally say goodbye.

“Fine, I’ll leave now,” she whines. “But that was an amazing first time. I hope it won’t be the last.”

Her giggle annoys you for some reason, even more when you mistakenly look her way. Her smug face unnerves you as she holds your gaze while she says, “I’ll see you again, okay? I’ll make sure you’ll scream my name next time,” the words obviously directed at Jungkook.

She finally exits the penthouse but she doesn’t take the tension with her because in this large apartment with you and him, you feel a little too hot, a little too alert, yet somehow a little too curious.

Jungkook groans now as he finishes his energy drink, and he doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about - the fact that the woman whose name he doesn’t remember didn’t go home, or that you’d found out about it in the most embarrassing way and he’d done nothing to stop her attempts at making you feel uncomfortable because that’s definitely what she was doing.

He doesn’t know how it affected you but even he can tell that it wouldn’t have been good. Not that he’s ashamed of his lifestyle but it’s different when you, of all people, get to see what that looks like. You did see the laced underwear on his kitchen floor last week, and he knows you definitely tried to pretend you hadn’t. Perhaps the image of arrogant, playboy Jungkook just solidified in your head and the fact that maybe that’s what you think of him is making him feel uneasy.

Not that he cares about what you think - he definitely does not - but he just doesn’t want that to affect how you would treat him in a professional sense, as if he’s some reckless man who works too hard and parties much harder, even if that’s kind of what he does.

The hangover doesn’t help at all; he shouldn’t have chugged that wine while the woman was giving him head, which was amazing, he reminds himself. He just knows he won’t be seeing her again after this morning because she’d been stubborn and shameless, and definitely not because of how she spoke to you and the insinuations she made.

“Mr. Jeon, your breakfast is ready,” you inform him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He takes a seat on the table and you sit next to him, taking out your iPad to start your rundown of last Friday’s meeting and this week’s schedule.

“So—”

“Wait, give me a minute,” he stops you, and he realizes just how little sleep he actually got and he’s gonna have to push through today’s busy schedule despite feeling physically out of it.

“Okay, sir,” you say softly.

He munches on his toast with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, his gaze falls on you, sitting upright on the chair looking clean and proper in your blush blouse and beige skirt. You seem to be reviewing the reports from last week, your eyebrows scrunched as you scribble on the screen. He knows you took the hours-long trip to and from Daegu over the weekend; the visit, just like any, must have been tiring. Yet you come to his place everyday without fail, ready to do what he needs you to do, and he doesn’t even know if you’ve had anything to eat yet.

“Have you had breakfast?” He asks.

“E-excuse me?”

“Breakfast. Have you had it?”

“O-oh. Yes, I had some crackers and fruit on the way. I ate on the bus,” you respond.

He remembers your address from your staff profile. You live about 40 minutes from him, almost double if you commute. You come at 6:30 everyday, so he can only imagine what it’s like for you every morning.

“Why don’t you drive?”

“I don’t have a car, sir.”

“Shouldn’t that be part of your contract? Or a benefit of some sort?”

“It isn’t. I believe only the CEO’s assistant does,” you respond.

“Bitna has a company car.”

“Ms. Jung requested that when she was still President.”

“Then I’ll request one for you. It's… it’s too early. And you can’t always be assured of public transportation. There could be delays. Or an emergency that would require you to drive.”

Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.

“That’s true, but nothing has happened so far. And there are other options should there be,” you say. “I also don’t know how to drive so there is no need, Mr. Jeon. I leave my apartment early enough to make sure I get here on time, and I’ll let you know if I will be late.”

Jungkook just hums, even if there’s more he wants to know. What about late nights? What if there’s a storm? Well, he does know - he did see you miss out on taxis and then just walk last Tuesday; he wonders how you got home then, and how many hours of sleep you had after all that.

He lets it go; it’s too early to think about this.

“Good. We can run through the minutes now,” he says.

So you do, stating the points and confirming your actions for each one and then noting down his as well. You try to focus, and you’re able to for the most part, but it’s not easy when he sits just a few feet away from you, with his bare arms propped on the table that’s just hard to look away from.

You’ve always liked tattoos on other people, and the art on his right arm looks so delicate and personal; you wonder what someone like him would value enough to ink permanently on his skin. Even his untouched arm is mesmerizing, toned like every other part of him, with beauty marks that you spot as well. It doesn’t help that his slightly long hair keeps falling over his eyes, prompting him to comb them with his fingers every time.

What also doesn’t help are the woman’s words from earlier, as she’d managed to make you think of Jungkook in a very different way, given her descriptions of how he’d been last night. You don’t know what she intended by doing that, but you didn’t miss her insinuations about your relations with him, which are definitely far from the truth. Learning that he’s rough and loud in bed is also knowledge that you could’ve done without. Somehow, he sounds like how he looks - expressive of negative emotions, and the type to drain the other person.

He also sounds like the guys you’ve slept with.

The thought alarms you. These are things you shouldn’t be thinking about your boss, about the man who pays you, about the one who makes you miss meals and buses and who makes you angry because of how he treats you.

You try to dispel these ideas by coughing - the loud sound helps, and you also want to distract yourself from how distracted you are at your task because somehow he keeps getting more and more attractive after every glance.

He stands up, and just when you thought he’d be angry after your disruption, he surprises you by placing a glass of water in front of you.

“You can drink, you know? You can make yourself a cup of coffee. You can even cook yourself breakfast if it’s just crackers you eat in the morning,” he says.

Yes, you think to yourself. You’ve been wanting to try his coffee because of the fancy machine but breakfast sounds… too domestic.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. I mean, the snacks fill me up just fine.”

“It’s not proper breakfast, though,” he argues.

“With all due respect, sir, eating takes time away from all the things I have to do. I manage just fine.”

Expecting an annoyed expression from him because you did just imply that you do too much, you instead see the tiniest hint of guilt on his face, as if he actually feels bad that you’re unable to take care of yourself because of him.

“You’re not a servant, Ms. Cho. You’re not disallowed to do basic things just because of your job.”

“You have standards, Mr. Jeon,” you say, throwing his words back at him. You don’t expect to see his face fall a little, and you’re surprised that you seem to care. “I need to meet them, and I’m still familiarizing myself with how you want things done, and that takes time. I don’t mean to imply that you treat me like a servant because you don’t. I just… I want to be able to do things right and I’m still learning.”

The words hit Jungkook. He knows he’d been too critical during these first weeks, and that’s more because he’s unable to manage the initial attraction that he’s trying so hard to temper. He could’ve gone on correcting you constructively, with no need for harshness the way he did with Lucas when he started.

You’ve also been doing this for a few years. You’ve been working for the VP’s office longer than he has - you know the people and the processes more, yet you’re the one claiming you need to learn and do things right. Even he thinks his father, whom he never thought was the best at looking out for his people, wouldn’t be angry at those below him for irrational reasons. Somehow he thinks he’s worse than his old man now.

But the word sorry isn’t in his vocabulary. He’d rarely ever said it, and the only reason he’d heard it a lot growing up was because people caused his inconvenience, and not because they’d hurt his feelings. He doesn��t know what that’s like - forgiving and wanting to be forgiven. They’re foreign to him, but somehow those are what you’re making him want to know.

“I—”

“Can we move on, Mr. Jeon?” You interrupt him. “You have a scheduled check-in with your father before the 8:30 team meeting.”

“Right, that’s today,” Jungkook says, letting go of any form of apology he could muster.

He nods then stands up to head to his bathroom, and you follow shortly after to arrange his outfits for the week. You clean up in the kitchen after and wait for him to come out, with you reflexively walking up to him to fix his tie and make sure all the creases on his clothes are fixed.

Jungkook tries to remain still as you, like everyday, make sure he looks proper. It always took him a long time to get ready because he used to do all this on his own, but with you taking on the unofficial stylist role - which he admits you do a great job at - he’s relieved of that added stress of looking the part of a Vice President. It just also means that every morning, he has to look unaffected as you stand close to him like this, with you tightening his tie and your fingers grazing his clothed chest.

You smell like roses. It feels warm and nostalgic, like it’s familiar but also something new. It’s refreshing on you, and it wafts through his nose and paralyzes him a little. He tries to hold his breath like always, only briefly glancing at your focused eyes as you make sure he looks impeccable.

He’s caught off guard when you look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t react, but he does linger and surprisingly, so do you. He wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how to. He just hopes you feel it somehow with how he looks at you; he’d like to think you do, as you gently bow and step back, taking your things to go down.

You go through his schedule while in the car, noting his dinner meetings and that the food tasting for next month’s event with the art industry professionals that you’re both organizing has been moved to next week, freeing up his Thursday lunch hour.

“I’ll schedule my visit at Taehyung’s tailor shop that day then,” Jungkook states. “I’ll have a few suits done.”

“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you reply, adjusting his calendar.

He doesn’t say anything after. He takes his leather notebook and sketches like he often does, looking out his window only a few times as he’s engrossed in his drawings. Even with all that he is, you can’t deny Jungkook’s talent. You only know he took an architecture course but you don’t know if he actually practices it.

You start to wonder if Jungkook wanted that to be his profession but couldn’t pursue it because he’s expected to manage the company with his cousin. You wonder if he’d always been into drawing and the arts, if it was an outlet the way reading picture books was for you; you’d wanted to become an illustrator but your mother couldn’t afford drawing classes and that profession just didn’t seem like it could sustain you financially. You wonder what Jungkook thinks when he sketches and what his subjects are, if he feels at peace the way he looks, if he hopes he could just spend his days doing this.

The seeming warmth in your thoughts about this man concerns you, prompting you to turn away from his direction and stare out the window instead. You remind yourself that this is the same person who’d made the past two weeks miserable for you; he doesn’t deserve warmth from you in any form, even if, for the briefest moment earlier after you fixed his tie, that’s what you gave him. You learned that he’s quite mesmerizing when he doesn’t talk or when he isn’t scowling. You also learned you’re quite quick to fall into it when you let your guard down a little.

You groan internally. There’s a lot you don’t know about him and you don’t really care to know more; what you know is enough to put you off anyway. And so these moments of weakness - of curiosity, of concern - should not happen again.

Except, they do happen, over an hour later after Jungkook returns to his room from his check-in with his father. He sits on his chair, his eyes closed and jaws clenched, unmoving for a good few minutes, and you watch from your seat, wondering what transpired that’s got him this disturbed.

It happens again an hour later. He moved the team meeting to the afternoon and he’s now furiously typing on his desktop, making calls, sketching, making calls again, then sitting still with his eyes closed once more. Hoseok walks in, merely nodding at you, then enters the room and speaks with the younger man. Jungkook closes the blinds, and you’re left to wonder what’s going on behind closed doors and what’s got him angry and frustrated.

You take your chance at finding out when Hoseok emerges, asking him if everything’s okay, if Jungkook is okay.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hoseok says, a half smile on display, something you’re only a tad familiar with. “He’ll manage.”

He rushes out, saying he has a meeting to get to, and you nod, glancing at the closed door and blocked window, wondering what troubles Jungkook is handling on his own. If it’s personal, it’s clearly not your business. But if it’s work-related, then it is. You’re there to make things easier for him, after all. You also don’t want to be surprised and be bombarded by new tasks just in case, so it’s better to know if there’s something you can help in resolving things as well.

You walk in his room then place the ginger lemon tea on his desk, a common home remedy for hangovers, just in case last night’s events are still affecting him. You inform him that you’ve sent the reports already for his sign-off, and he responds that he’ll get to them tomorrow.

Glancing at his drink, he halts his typing to look at you.

“Do I look hungover to you?” He asks pointedly.

It’s clearly not what you meant, but you suppose the insinuation isn’t what he needs right now. You want to be swallowed by the ground. He was already calm towards you, civil even, and now there’s another reason for him to be upset at you. You wanted to avoid any possibility of that as much as possible, and now you’re here, at the verge of being told off again, just because your stupid brain decided to care the tiniest bit.

“I, uh, no, Mr. Jeon,” you stutter. “I just…”

You don’t have a reason. Clearly, you can’t tell him that he hasn’t seemed okay all morning - whatever that means - and that just in case it’s last night’s alcohol affecting him, there’s a cure. You stare back at him with worry, but instead of challenging or questioning you, he just sits back with his eyes closed again and dismisses you.

“You may leave,” he instructs.

“What about lunch, sir?” You ask.

You’d never cared before, why the change now?

“I’m fine,” he responds. “Call me when the meeting’s about to start.”

Your stubborn self takes the box of biscuits from the coffee table and places it in front of him. You’re pushing it, you think, but there’s a meeting he’ll be leading and he can’t be unfocused; when he is, it’s all the worse for you.

He doesn’t react and you walk out. When you enter an hour later to call him, you spot the empty cup and the crumbs on the saucer, and you can’t help the tiny smile that you make internally.

It’s short-lived though, as that whole afternoon, he acts unusually - he barely makes comments at updates, he doesn’t make eye contact, and doesn’t ask further questions. He just nods when you say you’re heading out at 6PM, giving you no added tasks to keep you from leaving.

You enter his penthouse the next morning to the banging of leather hitting leather, prompting you to jerk from the loud sounds. He’s grunting and panting heavily, and you just know that whatever it was that transpired yesterday, he’s releasing all his emotions right now, through this.

He exits the gym and walks to the counter where you are, finishing the water you laid for him in three gulps.

“Do you need that tended to?” You ask.

He looks surprised. You gesture towards his hands and he looks at his bruised knuckles; he really let it all out this morning, it seems.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs.

You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.

But fortunately, your feeling of worry fades with each day that passes, as he slowly returns to his normal self after - the focus, the perpetually serious look, the attention to detail, the sketching on his notebook. Perhaps Jungkook just needed a particular kind of release and he’s maybe handling things better now.

For his sake and yours, you wish the issue has been resolved, otherwise another blow up might happen and that wouldn’t be good for your newfound dynamic that’s a lot more civil than anything.

It’s Thursday when you get a call at 5 in the morning, just as you’ve woken up to get ready for work, and Mr. Ri’s voice greets you on the other end.

“Hi, ___. How are you this morning?”

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you yawn, curious as to why he’s checking up on you this early. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he hums. “I was instructed by Mr. Jeon to pick you up today.”

“Why would CEO Jeon ask that?” You wonder, as you sleepily walk to the bathroom to wash up.

“He didn’t. Jungkook did.”

You stop on your tracks. You don’t recall being informed about this, nor do you know of any particular reason why you should be at his place so soon.

“Oh, uhm, okay. I should be ready in–”

“I’ll be there in about 50 minutes,” Mr. Ri interjects. “Sleep in a bit more and have some breakfast. I’ll see you shortly.”

You try not to think about what prompted Jungkook to have you picked up, so you focus on getting ready and then whipping yourself some fried rice using the leftover seafood from last night. You won’t lie, it tastes delicious. It might be that you just haven’t had proper weekday breakfast in a while, but it could also be that you’re energized enough and not pressed for time that you’re able to make this as good as it is.

You decide to bring some to Jungkook’s place just in case you get there late. Sure, Mr. Ri will be driving you, but you don’t know how the traffic is at this time, and this change in schedule is somewhat making you anxious. But then again, there’s always bread or cereal for him to eat; you just think that a little act of thanks wouldn’t be so bad.

Mr. Ri arrives exactly 50 minutes later and he assures you that he’ll get you to the penthouse in half an hour. You trust him of course; he’s been with the Jeons for decades and he knows these streets like the back of his hand. Seated in the passenger seat, you try to figure out what about today has got your boss a little kinder than usual.

“I arrived five minutes late yesterday,” you wonder out loud. “Is that why? He has a meeting with a local artist in the morning and he doesn’t want me to be late. That should be it. Ugh, stupid,” you groan. “I should’ve taken the first bus I saw, but it was so full and–”

“___,” Mr. Ri stops you. “Five minutes isn’t much. Plus, you always arrive 10 minutes before 6:30 and then just wait at the lobby. I don’t know why you do, you could always just go up to the penthouse when you get there, you know?”

“No, I don’t. Mr. Jeon has boundaries and clearly likes keeping his distance. Going to his penthouse before I’m supposed to be there feels like I’m intruding,” you argue.

“You’re literally his assistant, and you go to his bedroom and his closet, fix his things, prepare his meals… there’s no intrusion happening,” Mr. Ri counters. “I know the man. He’ll probably just look at you curiously then go about his routine.”

“Well, since you know him so well, then why did he have me picked up this morning?”

There’s a brief silence before the man next to you responds.

“He did note that you were late for the first time, but that wasn’t his issue,” Mr. Ri says, appeasing you before you react negatively and think that your tardiness was a big deal. “He asked if I knew how you got to Hoseok’s place before and I said you would just take the bus; it was closer to your place so it was fine. They have someone to make his breakfast, too, so you didn’t need to come early; plus, you only went every Monday.”

“What a change, huh?” You attempt to poke fun at yourself and the new arrangement you’re in.

Not that you’re complaining; you know of other executive assistants who do much more for their bosses and what you have with Jungkook isn’t even that bad. But it is quite the shift compared to what you did for Hoseok. You’ve figured out your own routine, though. And the commute isn’t always terrible, for as long as you’re not one of the unlucky ones, given the recent incidents.

“It’s quite the change. I don’t think he realized that until yesterday. He also asked me if I know if you eat properly in the morning. Maybe he thinks you don’t?”

“I’ve skipped meals…” you trail. “And well, I told him that I just eat crackers on the bus. Maybe he thinks I’m losing focus some days.”

“Maybe he’s just concerned.”

You snort at the absurdity of the statement.

Mr. Ri sighs. He knows that Jungkook hasn’t been his best self since he arrived in Seoul, and especially towards you. He’s noticed the young man’s indifference, the occasional passive remark, the frustrated looks, and the tension every morning. He’s noticed your faraway eyes, too, your constant anxiety, and unusual lack of confidence in your usual tasks, given that you look to be second-guessing everything you do.

As someone who’s worked for the Jeons for so long and who’d watched Jungkook grow up, he’s used to the detachment, but it was always because the young man often lived in his own head. There are always lots of thoughts and ideas, and lots of feelings he keeps bottled in.

But he’s also seen Jungkook’s kindness that he doesn’t always show, the guilt and anger that restrain him from expressing his emotions, and the care that he seems to put a brake on when he shows too much of it to someone, and so it isn’t much of a surprise to him to him when the young man gave this specific instruction to pick you up, not just today but everyday moving forward.

“The news on the radio reported on the robberies and complaints of sexual harassment against female commuters last night,” Mr. Ri continues. “They attack at any hour now. I’m sure that’s why. He wants me to drive you home everyday, too.”

“Mr. Ri, that’s too much,” you protest. “That’s not part of my contract and it isn’t his responsibility.”

“Maybe, precisely why I think he’s concerned. It isn’t about making sure you’re not late to work or anything. He’s worried that something might happen to you. And I agree. It isn’t safe, ___.”

“It’s not safe for me anywhere. I just… it’s too much,” you sigh. “I don’t need this kind of service. I’m not entitled to it.”

“He’ll insist though. Will you argue with him over your own security? I mean, it’s either this or he’ll pay for your driving lessons and then request for a car for you to use.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. You don’t think you deserve it but you also can’t deny that the concern makes you feel a certain kind of way for him; gratitude, for one, and something else you can’t exactly name.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“Good. It’s about time he makes it up to you,” he chuckles. “Boy’s been a brat these past weeks. I wanted to just knock some sense into him.”

“Hmm, not like I expected any less,” you huff. “He just looked grumpy or disinterested during the times I’ve seen him before. Unhappy people like that aren’t always the kindest. Has he always been that way?”

“I wouldn’t say he has. I mean, he just wasn’t joyful or expressive, not like his brother. Jungkook liked to keep to himself; Hoseok often tried to push him out of his comfort zone but the boy wouldn’t really budge. I think as he grew up, that just amplified. People who prefer being alone have their reasons, don’t they?”

They do. You know this just like anyone, perhaps as much as Jungkook. It’s comfortable being alone; there’s no one to hurt you and no one you could hurt. You wonder if his reason is the same, and if, like you, he feels the loneliness creep in every once in a while.

You nod in silence and the conversation doesn’t continue until you arrive at Jungkook’s building. You have five minutes to get to his unit and you get there in three. When you enter, you hear grunting from the gym, and it’s shortly after when he exits and drinks the glass of water on the counter.

“What’s that?” He gestures at the plastic container next to you.

“It’s fried rice. I made it this morning because I had time to eat breakfast at home,” you say, softly smiling and then bowing at him to show your gratitude. Whatever his reason is, the act was appreciated.

“And you’re gonna eat again?”

“I was actually–”

You stop midway. You actually meant to serve it to him in case you arrived late, which you realize is pretty ridiculous.

“Actually what?” He asks, leaning forward on the counter now, with his bare arms from his tank top blinding you a little.

“I didn’t know what time I was gonna get here so I thought as a last resort, I’ll bring this to heat up and serve to you but then I realized that that’s pretty stupid because it’s leftovers and definitely not high-quality ingredients and it’s… just silly. Plus, you don’t eat rice in the morning.”

With his scrunched brows, he asks, “is it good?”

“It’s pretty delicious,” you say. “I mean, I liked it. I don’t know how sophisticated your palate is… Mr. Jeon.”

You smack yourself internally for rambling.

“What’s that got to do with anything? If it’s good, then it’s good.”

“I’m an ordinary person, Mr. Jeon. I have normal people’s taste buds.”

“So that makes me, what? Abnormal?”

“No… I–” you unknowingly pout. You shouldn’t have brought this in the first place.

Jungkook is disarmed again at the sight of your pouty face. If this is your way of thanking him for this morning, he’ll take it. The fact that you’d brought something you cooked from your own place to feed to him is already enough to make him feel hazy, which is why he needs to get away from you right away.

“Just heat it up. I’ll have that. There’s not much food in here anyway,” he says, walking away, leaving you no room to resist.

You do as you’re told, not wanting to overthink and change anything. You do check the cupboard and see a stashed pantry, and you wonder if he’d wanted to find something to criticize about your cooking, too.

He walks in and lets you fix his tie again, and for some reason, you feel more nervous than you normally do today. You sit and busy yourself with responding to emails as he eats his breakfast, careful not to look at him while he does.

“It’s good, a little better than how I do mine,” he says, surprising you.

“You cook?” You ask too quickly.

“Of course,” he frowns, looking a little offended. “I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?”

“Hiring people to do it for you,” you shrug.

Peeking at him once again, you see that he’s almost finished with the dish, and you can’t help the little smile on your face at the thought that he might actually enjoy it. It’s just fried rice, but you let yourself feel the shallow happiness from this. He’s at least not berating you or anything.

He finishes his meal as you go through yesterday’s meetings. There’s not much about the Arts Center he says, just like yesterday and the day before, and you start to wonder if the issue with his father has anything to do with that.

You let it go, opting to just follow his pace and let him talk about it when he’s ready, if he ever will be.

The morning goes by smoothly. Jungkook meets with Yoongi in his office then reviews the reports you’d sent last Monday. He sends you an email, saying that they’ve been approved and for you to attach his signature for sign-off and dissemination, leaving you perplexed at the lack of any other comments again.

He goes for a quick lunch at the dining hall while you eat a sandwich at the pantry, and not long after, you’re back in the car to head to Jungkook’s appointment with his best friend.

Kim Taehyung’s tailor shop boasts of classic European design. It’s elegant in all the ways that he is, as he stands by the desk in his working space, a smaller room on the mezzanine floor with an exquisite couch and displays of his work. He’s donned in an orange suit that you think only he can pull off, while his brother, Seokjin, sits on a chair in an impeccable black 3-piece.

You know as much that Jungkook grew up with both men, but while the brothers are often a hot topic on the news because of their wealth, their successful businesses, and colorful dating lives, you now wonder how Jungkook managed to stay out of the spotlight despite being a lot of the things that they are.

You bow at them after Jungkook introduces you as his assistant, and you’re surprised when Seokjin reaches out his hand to shake yours, bowing as well and offering you a kind smile. Taehyung does the same, and you can’t help but feel the warmth on your cheeks. They’re clearly incredibly handsome men with amazing styles, just like your boss, but they’re obviously respectful and gentle, unlike him.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cho,” Taehyung smiles. “So, what events do I need to dress my best friend for?”

He looks warm, friendly, and you can’t help but mirror his smile as he offers you a seat and some tea. You take out your calendar and enumerate at least three big events in the next months, which would require standout designs. Jungkook also wants four additional everyday classic suits, and Taehyung starts sketching on his pad as you speak.

“Make one for my event, too,” Seokjin says. “I’m launching my traditional alcohol brand in Singapore in September. It’ll be a big thing so Jungkook needs a fancy piece for that as well.”

“That soon?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, it got pushed early,” Seokjin replies.

Jungkook asks you to check his calendar for any activities in the Singapore office, and you state that there’s nothing scheduled during that time.

“There’s a landscape designer I want to meet while I’m there. Schedule one with her later,” Jungkook instructs you, and you make a note to coordinate with Lucas, who will continue to serve as the assigned assistant for the Vice President’s Southeast Asia trips.

Taehyung finishes the rough designs quickly, given that he’s already familiar with the style his client wants. He’s done a lot of Jungkook’s suits, which you know from all the weeks of preparing his clothes, and you do admit that he looks best in these custom-made pieces.

As Taehyung takes Jungkook’s measurements - given that, as per his words, Jungkook has gotten wider since the last time - he asks if you have something to wear for those big events, too.

“Uh, yes,” you say.

“Are they from company events from before?” Taehyung asks.

You nod shyly. It’s not like you’re paid enough to afford a new one every time nor can you wear them anywhere else; there aren’t exactly regular fancy dinners and social occasions you get invited to.

“Have new ones made, then,” Jungkook says, his back turned to you.

“Uh, there’s no need, Mr. Jeon. The gowns still look new and they’re well-made,” you insist.

“Store-bought?” Taehyung asks, his eyebrow cocked.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Nothing beats custom-designed ones though. And I must say, I’m kinda good at them.”

“I, uh… it’s really not necessary,” you stutter, feeling a little too shy and definitely undeserving. It’s Kim Taehyung; his name is the brand.

“I believe it is,” Jungkook says now, turning to you. “They’re big events and we’re organizing one with the arts professionals. Some dignitaries will be coming, too, including the culture minister. I’d prefer if you looked the part of working for the Vice President, Ms. Cho. You represent me in that way.”

“I… uh, okay,” you sigh, knowing you don’t seem to be in a position to turn him down.

“Great. Start thinking of designs, then!” Taehyung beams.

It’s some minutes later when Jungkook’s measurements have been taken and Taehyung calls for you. You sit on the chair facing his desk not far away while Jungkook and Seokjin talk about sports and this new club that opened in Gangnam.

Seated in front of you, Taehyung takes his sketch pad and starts asking what design you want.

“Something simple and comfortable since I’ll be moving around,” you say softly. “And nothing form-fitting or revealing since, uh…”

“I understand,” Taehyung smiles, revealing a gentle side of him that the paparazzi and tabloids clearly don’t capture.

He starts drawing your silhouette, glancing at you then at Jungkook before speaking.

“So, he’s been in this role for a few weeks now. Has he been nice?”

“Define ‘nice,’” you respond, earning you a chuckle.

“I guess that’s my answer, then.”

“I don’t mean to say he isn’t,” you backtrack. “Mr. Jeon just has a different leadership style as Mr. Jung’s, that’s all.”

“I suppose that’s quite a difficult adjustment for you, huh?”

You purse your lips and Taehyung laughs, the soft way he does it is something new and refreshing to you. You didn’t realize how deprived you are of such gentleness, of such acts or sights as simple as a smile. Hoseok is no longer your source. Your team hasn’t been as jolly these past weeks. The only other person you talk to regularly at work is Yoongi, and while he’s definitely been smiling more, it’s a lot more teasing than it is comforting. You’ve been missing your best friends more because of that, you think - Soomin’s smile is blinding, Jimin’s is sweet and infectious. Perhaps it’s why you haven’t been smiling much yourself.

“I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures you. “I just wanted to check on him. This whole move has been tough but he doesn’t say much. I’m guessing he doesn’t tell you, either, but he’ll definitely show it.”

“He has, actually,” you say softly, knowing now that even with his closest friends, Jungkook tends to keep things to himself. “He’s pretty stressed most days, always working and stuff. He’s been a little hard on me but I guess that’s a natural reaction for some.”

“That’s not an excuse though.”

“It isn’t, but… it’s okay. I can handle it.”

It’s not as much of a lie anymore as it used to be. Jungkook hasn’t been overly critical about things as he was just last week. He rarely makes comments on your minutes now, doesn’t correct the reports you reviewed, doesn’t talk over you or doesn’t yell. There’s been a change, definitely, and you wonder what triggered it.

“He doesn’t really smile, does he?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung’s laughter is one of disbelief and pure amusement, catching the attention of the other two men but he waves them off.

“He still does, just not as much,” he responds. “It kinda stopped after the breakup with Chaerin but I guess that’s what heartbreak does, right?”

“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never experienced it,” you shrug.

“Lucky,” he hums. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”

You glance at Jungkook, briefly letting yourself imagine a version of him that’s a lot more carefree, relaxed, perhaps happy. Maybe it’s the loneliness and that you’d understand; that, you’ve experienced. It’s both liberating and isolating. You wonder if that’s how he’s been feeling all these years since then.

“I’m done,” Taehyung announces, showing you three designs that are exactly what you asked for.

“These look nice. And way out of my price range,” you laugh.

“Perks of having a rich boss,” he winks. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? You’re my client and I want you to wear these with confidence. Now, if you’re okay with all this, I’ll get one of my female assistants to get your measurements.”

You nod in response. There’s absolutely nothing you would change about those designs. And if you’re being honest, you now can’t wait for those events just so you could wear them. Hoseok had obviously paid for the gowns you had to wear for the big events, but those were store-bought that A-yeong helped you choose. Some were your own purchases, but this is the first time that you’re getting measured for custom-made clothing designed by Kim Taehyung.

You walk towards the fitting room at the corner where one of his staff meets you. She’s meticulous, which is why it takes longer than usual just to get this done. With her silence, however, you’re able to hear the conversation happening outside, with the brothers now asking Jungkook about the same thing you’ve been wondering about.

“By the way, what was up with you last Monday?” Seokjin asks. “I thought that was gonna be night 4 of you going home with a new woman. But you passed out before you could even ask. And that was just 9PM.”

“Four nights isn’t much, though,” Taehyung laughs. “Didn’t he do that with seven women on seven straight nights when he was in Singapore? That was wild. Was it that stressful there? Or were there just so many to choose from?”

“Shut up. I’m not proud of that,” Jungkook groans. “And that was one time. It never happened again.”

“It never happened seven times straight again,” Seokjin corrects. “You were really living your life out there, huh? Stressful job, a rooftop bar in your apartment building, chauffeur and butler services 24/7, women from all over the world begging to sleep with you…”

“It’s called the post-break up stage,” Taehyung says.

“For six years?!” Seokjin asks incredulously. “It’s either you loved Chaerin that much, you blamed yourself too much, or you just really sucked at moving on.”

“I vote all of the above,” Taehyung states.

“Me, too,” Seokjin claims.

“Fuck you both,” Jungkook groans again.

“I think he also just missed us too much,” Seokjin adds. “Lucas was cleaning up your messes every time, not snapping you out of it. But we’re here now so I guess three straight nights is as far as you’ll go.”

“Two, if you stopped me last Sunday,” Jungkook points out. “You both always insisted that Sundays are a no-no. You were too busy with your own women.”

“May we remind you that you didn’t even make it to our table. You stepped foot in the bar then left five minutes later,” Taehyung says. “But really, what was it about Monday? You seemed angrier than usual.”

“Just… a bunch of things my father said,” Jungkook huffs.

“Did he tell you off again?”

“Not really, surprisingly. He just delivered a message basically, about what the board members were saying about me and my project. Bullshit stuff, you know? I just wanted to forget about it.”

“Did you?”

“Sorta,” Jungkook says. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“But it’s still happening, right?” Taehyung asks worriedly. “The Arts Center, I mean. You’ve been wanting to work on that since the building was abandoned five years ago.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook responds. “I guess. We already put money into it. I’ll just have to make concessions if my father doesn’t side with me on this. I hate to think he’s buying into what those old folks are saying.”

“Ms. Cho, we’re all done,” the staff member tells you, muffling the conversation outside that you couldn’t help but hear.

It felt quite intrusive, hearing how life was like for Jungkook in Singapore, but then again, his personal life seemed to be the topic in the office comfort rooms, and you don’t know how to feel about getting confirmation about those rumors. It felt sad more than anything though, living that kind of life away from friends and family. You wouldn’t know what moving on from a breakup feels like, but you suppose people grieve a lost love in their own ways; you can’t blame them for how they choose to repair the parts of them that broke.

But the bit about his conversation with his father is what bothers you. You’d hate to think that there’s a possibility that Jungkook’s plans won’t be fully realized, and whatever the reasons for that are, you hope they didn’t break his spirit too much. You know the plans now like the back of your hand and the more you learn, the more you believe in it. You hope Jungkook continues to believe in it, too.

You exit the fitting room, catching the end of a conversation where Seokjin suggests a wholesome weekend for the three men of just dinner and drinks. The two other men agree, and they all turn to you once you make your presence felt.

“All good?” Taehyung asks you.

“Yes,” you bow in thanks.

“Great. The gowns will be ready at the same time as Jungkook’s suits will be. I’ll just let you guys know, okay?

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But anyway, we have to get back to work. Thanks again.”

The brothers bid you and Jungkook goodbye, and you head back to the office with not much words said. Jungkook seems less frustrated, but the worry you feel suddenly returns. It’s the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel supported, that maybe what he’s doing isn’t enough, and that more than that, it's him choosing to deal with all this on his own, not even looking to his friends to comfort him.

Jimin and Soomin meet you for lunch at a restaurant that Saturday afternoon. The drive from Busan took longer than expected, they said, but you say you don’t mind. They’re visiting you like they always do every month, regardless of how busy they are back in their hometown, which was your home for a few years, too.

You were in the same class; your mom worked at the school, which was the only reason why you were able to attend a prestigious one in the first place. Even when you moved back to Daegu, you remained in touch with them. Despite the distance, none of you wanted to just let the friendship fade, and even when they had to stay back and you made a life out here in Seoul, they made sure to visit you as much as they could.

They’re why you were excited for the weekend to come and now, you’ll be enjoying a hearty meal, getting your nails done after, lounging at your apartment, and then heading to a club for a night out, which you only do whenever they’re around.

“So, has the boss situation improved?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and laced with worry “Or should I storm the jerk’s house and give him a piece of my mind?”

“It has,” you chuckle. “So no need to call him names or fight anyone. I’m okay.”

“Well, you did call him a grumpy old grinch with nice hair the other week,” Jimin points out. “So… did he get a haircut?”

“No,” you laugh again. “And that was in the heat of the moment. I… I mean, he’s still grumpy but he’s not… as grumpy or unbearable. He’s been—”

“Oh hun, please don’t say he’s been kind and then give him a pass for how he’s been to you,” Soomin reprimands. “Mean people don’t just become nice all of a sudden. And if they do, that’s a controlling tactic - they want you to think they’re capable of change so you’ll soften up to them and then give them a pass every time they do asshole-y things again.”

“You watch too many shows,” you frown, although knowing her statement isn’t wrong; it’s just not something you can relate with Jungkook.

Sure, he hasn’t been the nicest, but he also hasn’t been the meanest. He’s just been… him, you suppose - a bit in the middle; frustrated at worst, quiet at best, stoic on most days. He does seem to live in his head a lot, and while you won’t go so far as characterizing him as kind, he definitely hasn’t been insufferable these past few days.

“I’ve just dealt with too many assholes, ___,” Soomin corrects. “They’re all the same. Men are shit.”

“Except for Jimin,” you correct.

“Except for Jimin,” she concurs.

“I accept the honor,” he bows. “But seriously, ___. How has it been? You… you seemed really sad last week and I would’ve driven here then if we didn’t have that work emergency.”

“I’m okay, I mean it. I’ve experienced worse,” you try to assure them.

“You do know that having experienced something worse doesn’t mean it’s fine for you to experience something bad again, right?” Soomin points out.

“I know, but it also means that I know my threshold for bad behavior,” you say. “Jungkook was in a lot of stress and I did mess up. But I think he’s making up for that.”

“By apologizing, you mean?” Soomin cocks an eyebrow.

Your sigh tells her that’s definitely not what Jungkook has done.

“Well, he approves my minutes and reviewed reports much quicker,” you reason. “And he doesn’t comment as much. But actually, I think he just pities me. And that’s worse.”

“Why would he pity you?” She asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I said that a tree fell on our roof and that mom got injured the weekend before my mishap,” you explain. “And then he found out how early I start my day just so I can get to him on time. He’s made adjustments after those and I… I think he’s guilty or something. And he’s just not being his usual angry self around me to make it up to me.”

“So in short, he’s still kind of an asshole,” Soomin says, prompting Jimin to snort and you to pout. “He could always just apologize if he’s guilty and realized he should treat you better.”

“Some things aren’t easy for other people to say, you know?” You say softly.

“That’s not an excuse,” she points out.

“It’s an explanation,” you counter. “Or one of them, I guess. I don’t know him well enough, but it’s better to think that he’s a decent person who just struggles with emotions than someone who willingly makes people’s lives difficult. I mean, that’s easier to manage and accept.”

“If that helps you deal and he’s indeed improving, then maybe I won’t have to storm his place then,” she smiles, taking your hand and kissing it as she likes to do.

She knows your habit of pressing your nails onto your skin, and she always said she likes to remind you that you deserve gentleness, too; she’ll give it if you can’t give it to yourself.

The rest of the afternoon goes as you planned, with all the banter you’d expect from your best friends amid the pampering and then the chick flick in the background as you get ready in your tiny apartment.

You smile at your reflection in the mirror. The high-waist trousers and sleeveless top ensemble is a refreshing sight for you, as you only really dress up like this for a night out. You’re in your usual pencil skirts and blouses otherwise, and in jeans and tops or oversized jumpers on a normal day.

Soomin’s done your makeup and Jimin compliments you as he looks on, and soon enough, they’re ready as well to head out.

“Where’re we going?” You ask from the passenger seat as Jimin navigates the busy streets of Seoul on a Saturday night.

“Some new restaurant the guys discovered,” Soomin responds. “I think it’s not far from here.”

“Okay, good. Hajoon’s been texting, asking what time we’ll get there,” you tell them.

“Geez, you were already with him last night. Tell him to be patient,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Soomin laughs from the backseat as she teases that he’s just being jealous, to which he points out that he just hasn’t seen you in a while so the man can wait. And you assure Jimin that you’d gladly skip a night with Hajoon to be with your best friends, no questions asked.

You get there eventually, and you immediately spot the group because of the laughter coming from their table. There are four men; the two women are Soomin’s friends, which is how you got involved with Hajoon in the first place. You met some time last year and you’ve been hanging out with him since then - among other things - and you’ve been enjoying it, given the simplicity and lack of drama when he’s not being moody. He’s a warm body who knows how to use it and you’re a good type of relief, as he’d said; there’s really not much more you need as you just try to survive through life and make something out of yourself in however way you can.

Hajoon waves at you from his seat, gesturing to his left to say he’s saved that spot for you. You head there after greeting your other friends, with Jimin and Soomin following you.

Right as you sit down and greet the man next to you, you’re caught by surprise when he kisses your cheek and snakes his arm around your waist.

“Hey, I missed you today,” Hajoon hums, smiling at you the way he did last night and this morning; it definitely wasn’t this sweet when he left for a work trip last month.

“I… saw you today,” you frown, earning you a chuckle.

“I know; I was still thinking about you, though,” he says.

You give a smile - as genuine as you can make it - and then turn towards your friends to your left who are trying to hold in their laughter.

You order a beer after he offers you a glass of wine, and then go for the pork belly when he says the salmon here is good.

“Just craving for meat, that’s all,” you tell him.

“Is there anything else you want? Just let me know, okay?”

You hum your yes and then turn back to your friends after Hajoon makes jokes with his.

“Since when was he this sweet to you?” Soomin whispers with wide, curious eyes.

“Since never,” you reply. “I mean, we’ve never been affectionate outside of bed…”

“Is anything else different?” Jimin wonders, careful not to bring attention to your conversation.

You look back at how things were before Hajoon left and how it was when he was away. Nothing seemed different. You hung out at his place before he flew out, then you messaged each other every now and then during the one month he was abroad. He was more interested to talk, but given the time difference and the pressure and stress you’ve been under the past weeks, you didn’t bother much, neither did he.

But you also think back to last night - how he picked you up from your apartment, which he’s never done before, and how he prepared a luxurious dinner. He made you breakfast this morning, too, whereas you both usually just sleep in in tangled limbs and then separate once you wake up.

“He cooked me fancy stuff but I just thought he wanted to show off what he learned during his cooking masterclass,” you shrug. “And well… he seemed sweeter than normal.”

“Maybe he hooked up with someone while he was away and he’s guilty about it,” Jimin suggests.

“He didn’t say anything about it and he knows I wouldn’t mind,” you say. “We’re not exclusive, even if I don’t hang out with other guys.”

“Maybe he’s over the fucking and wants to do the loving bit now,” Soomin offers. “I mean, he always seemed more into you than you were into him.”

“He’s hot and decent when he’s in a good mood; that’s all I need,” you admit.

“But honestly, that’s probably it,” Soomin continues. “I think he’s hinting that he wants to be more.”

“But I don’t want to,” you whine. “I’m not ready.”

“You’re 30! When are you ever gonna be ready?” Soomin whisper-yells.

“Never!” You pout now. “I mean… Not with him.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him soon, then,” Jimin sighs. “Before it gets messy. And you hate messy.”

“What if men just don’t have feelings?” Soomin wonders out loud. “That way, you can’t hurt them.”

“So that way, they can hurt you?” Jimin points out. “No. I’m not letting any men hurt either one of you, okay? I love you both too much.”

“We know,” you and Soomin say at the same time.

“But I agree with Jimin, ___. You’re gonna have to let that man next to you, who’s thankfully deaf, go. And then just find another person who can give you what you need,” Soomin continues. “Like, uh…”

She looks around the semi-packed restaurant to find some random man to just point to, her eyes widening in awe as she spots a table close by with the type of men she was just thinking about.

“Like them.”

You laugh at her, not taking her seriously, but still, you look towards the direction of her cocked head, only to feel your throat dry up and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes widen in reflex as they meet the piercing gaze of the man who’d given you a headache for weeks. He also happens to look unfairly handsome in his white top and slicked back hair.

“Shit, I would totally go for them,” Soomin adds, “and I only even like men a quarter of the time.”

Your best friends look at you as they wait for a response, only to see a nervous look on your face, as if you’re seeing a ghost or something, and the way you turn to them and stutter almost seems like you are.

From the other table, Jungkook pants quietly. You finally looked his way, and he didn’t know what to expect your reaction to be - maybe a bit of shock, but definitely not this worried. Granted, you’re out with your friends at a restaurant that he and his friends frequent. It’s not the type of place they’d normally go for - this is a lot simpler, less private, and more accommodating than the exclusive restaurants and hotels they go to for dinners before heading to a club. But Jungkook loves their pork belly; he orders it every week, and tonight, he was craving for this specifically before going to a private party of one of Taehyung’s clients.

Jungkook had seen you when you sat down, and he’d been taken aback when the guy to your right immediately kissed your cheek; it seems he’s barely let go of your waist since then, too. Perhaps the man is your boyfriend - and Jungkook doesn’t know what made him think you wouldn’t have one - but it also seems that the one to your left is into you, too, at least based on how he smiles at you sweetly but rolls his eyes at the affectionate guy to your other side.

But other than the embarrassing obvious affection that both of them are directing at you, what made him lose his senses is how you look, and you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. Your hair is styled, your makeup is bolder than usual, and he won’t even start with how you’re dressed. It’s a lot more skin than he’s used to - you’re out, after all, and if he’ll go by what your companions are wearing, he supposes this is your stop before heading to some club to party, too. Whereas when you’re at work, you have the skirt and long-sleeved blouse ensemble that you wear everyday - still pretty, perhaps just a lot more reserved than what he’s seeing now.

He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you entertain your suppose-boyfriend, even when you engage in hushed conversation with the man and woman to your left, and even when you stare back at him, the initial shock now wearing down to a look of curiosity. Perhaps you’re wondering why he keeps glancing at you, too.

“I told you he’s got it bad,” Taehyung laughs from the other side of the table.

He’s noticed how his friend hasn’t said much in the last 10 minutes, his gaze directed at the loud table close by. One glance and Taehyung knew why.

“Well, we told him,” Seokjin corrects. “He only ever acts out when he’s threatened and he’s apparently threatened by his pretty assistant.”

“I’m not acting out,” Jungkook scowls, finally breaking the staring contest with you.

“You’ve never been this much of a jerk,” Seokjin says. “So yes, you’re acting out.”

Jungkook ignores them, his eyes turning back to you, and finds you downing two shots of tequila consecutively, then using the beer as your chaser. His knuckles unconsciously clench when your suppose-boyfriend scoots closer, whispering something in your ear, his lips grazing your skin.

Jungkook exhales deeply, trying to get a grip of himself. He’s acting foolishly. You obviously have a life outside of work, and it obviously includes going out for dinner and drinks with friends, having a boyfriend, and enjoying your youth the way he is. There’s a world outside of the routine you’ve both created, of the silence you both share, and the time you spend together, unknowingly learning about each other without meaning to, without wanting to.

“___,” Soomin calls your name one more time.

“Huh?” You answer, finally tearing your eyes away from Jungkook, who’d unfortunately captured your attention after you noticed he was there.

You’ve been used to his impeccable looks in his fancy suits; you’ve even gotten used to his tank top and sweatpants post-workout outfits every morning, and while you’re still not immune to that look, his night out wear fit for a party leaves you more choked up than normal.

Maybe it’s the black jeans that you spot as he sits on the edge of the couch, or the white button-up top with the rolled sleeves up to his elbow, or his haircut that makes him look a little more mature. Maybe it’s all that and the way he’s gazing at you, the look in his eyes something you can’t quite read. Perhaps like you, he’s surprised to see you here the way you’re shocked that he’d chosen this place to eat; it’s not exactly a fancy restaurant you know he likes eating at.

But he’s here, and so are you, and suddenly you feel exposed, as if the world outside of work that you’ve kept to yourself is baring open to the man who stands at the center of what you do everyday. And you’re not sure how you feel about that.

“I was just saying… those men are pretty hot and they look interested, too,” Soomin wiggles her eyebrows. “ I mean, they keep looking here.”

“One of them is my boss,” you finally say. “Guy on the right. That’s… uh, that’s Jungkook.”

“Holy fuck, hun,” Soomin chokes on her drink. “Why did you leave out the part about your rude boss being a fucking god?”

“Does it matter?” Jimin scowls. “He’s still rude.”

“It’s different when the guy’s hot. It makes the anger more intense, you know?” Soomin says. “Attractive people elicit more passionate feelings sometimes.”

“Excuse me, that’s not why I was angry,” you pout. “He was really being unfair.”

“Well, he was. But I think my point also applies,” Soomin argues. “I’d just like to warn you that workplace hotties are a menace. Except for Yoongi - he was heaven sent. ”

“Ah, the man who could’ve been,” Jimin sighs. “We at least knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type.”

“Yeah, this dude over here is hot but he’s mean. And that’s your type,” Soomin smirks.

“Can we… not talk about this while he’s there? And while this other dude is right next to me?” You glare at your friends, especially at Soomin whose insinuation wasn’t lost on you. “It’s so… weird.”

“Hey, we’re here for you, okay?” Jimin softens as he looks at you. “Just let us know if one of them makes you feel uncomfortable. We can always just stay at your place and watch horror movies until morning and you and Soomin can lose your voices from screaming and then I’ll lose my hearing because of it.”

His words make you laugh. There’s a tenderness in Jimin that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Even when he’s telling you to stop yelling because you live for the thrill of a jumpscare, he says it so tenderly while laughing before pulling you both in his embrace.

“I’m okay. I’m just… I don’t know, probably just not used to seeing him somewhere that isn’t the office or his home,” you reason. “And I feel a bit exposed, I guess. This is my world and his is… right there.”

You wrap your arms around your body subconsciously, realizing only you’d done it when Jimin asks if you’re cold, offering his jacket then taking it back because Hajoon might smack him or something.

You turn it down, knowing you actually feel hot more than anything. You’re dressed up and definitely dressed in less, and somehow having Jungkook see you like this is oddly making you shy, perhaps a little too conscious.

“Just don’t mind him,” Soomin advises. “It’s a restaurant. You obviously have a social life and he can’t fault you for it, nor make you feel weird about it. Just focus on us, okay? Or on Hajoon, if that’ll happen.”

You follow her words and try to block out Jungkook. You do slightly nod at him, as well as at Taehyung and Seokjin just to acknowledge their presence, but you continue on with your meal, as the dishes arrive soon after.

The pork belly is a winner; you’ll probably come back here for that alone. You do manage to dodge Hajoon’s attempts at feeding you, and your other friends engage with the three of you at the other end of the table. It’s going well for the most part, until Hajoon starts to act a little wary, a little tense.

“Hey,” he says, leaning close to you. “The guy on the other table has been looking at you all night. It’s kinda annoying.”

You glance at Jungkook’s table and he looks away when you do. “Oh, just don’t mind him,” you wave Hajoon off. “Maybe I remind him of someone or something.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel him tense even more, as you look up and see that he’s staring down the man on the other side. Hajoon’s had a bit to drink, and you know he tends to be cocky and irrational when he is. You groan once he shakes his head, saying he’s gonna give “that stranger” a piece of his mind because “he can’t be looking at my girl like that.”

The initial annoyance you feel turns into panic once he stands from his seat and storms to the other table. You follow him, with your friends just looking in worry. His friends are more encouraging of what he wants to do though.

“What the fuck is your problem staring at my girl like that?” Hajoon mumbles, acting all tough when he’s never threatened nor confronted anyone like this, even when he’s drunk.

Jungkook seems taken aback. Perhaps it’s the aggression he didn’t expect, or maybe it’s finally having to acknowledge your presence in the restaurant, just in an unfortunate way.

“Your girl?” He scoffs.

The way the man is speaking to him is quite annoying, but he also knows your boyfriend is slightly drunk, so he dismisses him because Jungkook doesn’t need this drama tonight, especially not in front of you.

Hajoon hates the way this stranger is looking at him and not taking him seriously. He’d seen how he kept glancing at you, perhaps trying to get your attention away from him, and he’s really had enough. His words are slurring but this is the courage he needs to stand up for you. You’ve said before how unwanted attention makes you uncomfortable, and he’s gonna do something about it before the man gets to try anything with you.

“Yeah, my girl. You seem to have a problem with that, don’t you?” Hajoon grunts.

“My only problem is you making a scene right now,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re drunk and insecure and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of your girl.”

Not that you expected him to back off, but you didn’t actually think that Jungkook would further press Hajoon’s buttons. The man is drunk and insecure and indeed embarrassing, but getting told so is a blow to the ego, especially in your presence. And so you’re not surprised that this just makes him angrier, and since you’ve never dealt with this version of him before, you don’t know how to pacify him.

You didn’t actually think that Hajoon had a daring bone in his body despite being the way he is, but when he attempts to lunge at Jungkook, you’re left in disbelief. You’re quick enough to pull Hajoon back before he lands a fist on the other man’s face, but he’d been worked up enough that he hits the glass of wine on the table, knocking it over and causing the drink to spill on Jungkook’s thin white top.

“Mr. Jeon!” You shriek, pulling Hajoon back more forcefully before pushing him to the side so you can get ahead.

You take the napkin from the table and wipe Jungkook’s wet clothed torso, slowing down immediately as you realize what exactly it is you’re doing.

“I… uh,” you stutter, standing straight up and mirroring his questioning eyes.

It was a reflex for you, considering that you constantly make sure that he’s dressed impeccably.

“You know him?!” Hajoon asks in disbelief, tugging on your hand now so you’ll turn to him.

“He’s my boss, you idiot!” smacking him on the chest as you glare at him. “And you just put my job in jeopardy and for what?”

“Well, what can he do?” Hajoon challenges. “Get you fired because of me? Does he own the company and shit?”

“My father does,” Jungkook responds. “And I’m the Vice President.”

Hajoon just rolls his eyes but you aren’t amused. You glance at your table and gesture for one of his friends to take him, so one of them does. He stands up and pulls Hajoon away before he can do or say anything else.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your head bowed down as you apologize. “I…”

The mess on his outfit is too much; the red has stained the white top and you know he feels sticky. He looks like he has somewhere to go after this and that makes it worse.

“I– I can call Mr. Ri to get the car in here. I can get extra clothes from your travel bag,” you say, knowing that Jungkook always has a bag filled with clothes for emergency flights or check-ins.

You get your phone and make a call, telling Jungkook that his chauffeur will be here soon. You glance towards your friends who are still pacifying a drunk Hajoon, and you decide that they can handle all that. Right now, your priority is Jungkook.

You walk out towards the car that’s on hazard mode outside the restaurant and pick out the top that’s most appropriate for a night out, which happens to be a semi-loose black button-up. You head back inside, with Taehyung and Seokjin informing you that Jungkook has gone to the washroom, so you scurry towards there and knock at the door.

“Mr. Jeon, I have your black long sleeves here,” you say as your knuckles tap on the wood. “Just tell me–”

You’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, the sight of Jungkook in his jeans hanging by his waist and his unbuttoned white top catching you by surprise. His hair’s a bit damp and so is his bare torso, as you see that he’s tried to clean the wine off his body.

You catch yourself looking longer than you should, and you immediately look away as you hand him over what he needs.

“Please let me know what else you need, sir,” you say, your eyes glued to the pretty wallpaper as you awkwardly stand outside the washroom.

“Jungkook,” he says, earning him a curious look. “I mean, you don’t need to be formal. We’re not at work.”

You nod, realizing it does sound weird to address him as such in a casual setting.

“Okay… Jungkook,” you mumble, but even the way it rolls off your tongue is a bit odd. You’re not used to it, and you hope you won’t ever be.

He closes the door and you take this time to calm yourself down. You’ve been so worried since you saw the glass tip over and mess up his outfit, and given his hot-headedness, you’re a little surprised that he didn’t fight back. He does have a reputation to uphold but even then, stopping himself from punching Hajoon must’ve taken a lot.

The door opens and you sigh in relief; his outfit still looks good and he’s fully clothed, so there’s no lingering looks this time anymore. You take the top that he gives you, and you take the chance to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” you start. “I don’t know why he— I mean, he’s a bit drunk and he’s not usually like this.”

“You’re not the one who should apologize so don’t,” he responds.

“Well, he won’t apologize so I will.”

“You didn’t spill the drink and you didn’t come at me. That was him,” he counters.

You just shrug, choosing to just concede. “I’ll just return this to Mr. Ri.”

He calls your name before you turn around to leave.

“I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and your boyfriend,” he says, much too low and too gentle than you’re used to. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer softly. “We just, uh, we just hang out.”

You don’t know why you feel the need to correct this misinformation. Maybe you just want to remind yourself because you’re not anyone’s anything; hearing Hajoon claim you as yours made you want to just create that distance even more.

Jungkook wants to push it, to ask more. The man clearly acts like he’s your lover, given the physical affection and the way he tried to stand up for you. But there’s a bit of shame as you state that you and the man “just hang out,” and there’s that wonder he feels - how can you be with someone without being with them, and if turning away people who are clearly into you is a tendency you have. There’s Min Yoongi, after all, who’d liked you enough to remain as your friend when you needed one despite how he felt.

“Okay then,” Jungkook nods. “And your job’s not in jeopardy. Don’t take responsibility for a stupid act you didn’t do.”

You bow in thanks, not much used to this side of him that’s understanding and even calm. You suppose he’d seen you worry about your job, had seen you look embarrassed over something that you didn’t even do, and perhaps he saw the discomfort over how Hajoon was talking about you.

You’re about to walk out of the hallway when his call of your name stops you again, prompting you to turn around.

“About earlier… did I… did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, the worry in his voice surprising you.

You debate over playing it down or telling the truth, but you go with the latter.

“A… a little,” you admit, looking away.

You hear him sigh, and there’s a look of guilt in his eyes as you turn to him.

“I’m so—”

The footsteps of another diner in the hallway disrupts him, and you both make way so he can use the washroom, too. Perhaps you and Jungkook had taken so long, and you don’t want others to conspire about what’s happening, so you walk out and tell him again that you’ll just return his clothing to Mr. Ri.

From your table, Soomin and Jimin watch the awkwardness of your parting of ways, with you scurrying out the door and Jungkook returning to his seat with a deep sigh before glaring at Hajoon.

“He does sound and look like an asshole, aside from being hot,” Soomin observes. “That’s totally ___’s type.”

“Are you saying she likes her boss?” Jimin asks incredulously.

“I’m just saying that’s her type, not that she likes him,” Soomin corrects. “There’s a difference. I still hate him for making things hard for her. I wish he would stop treating her like that. You and I know she won’t quit anytime soon. Especially because he’s a Jeon.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs. “I wish we could protect her from all this, too. But she’s always done what she wanted to do. And we wait for her to tell us when things are hard; we just hold her hand whenever it is.”

“That’s all we can do, I guess,” Soomin responds. “Sometimes though I wish she’d just… let someone else do more than just hold her hand, you know? It could’ve been Yoongi, or even Hajoon before all this mess. It could’ve been you.”

“You know that’ll never happen,” Jimin laughs bitterly, with Soomin knowing exactly what he means. “You’re only ever just her friend or her lover; you can’t be both.”

Soomin hums in agreement, as she’d seen you draw the line with the men you’d come across with. You’d make it clear if friendship is all you want; you’d be straightforward if it’s just sex you’re seeking. You give either just your heart or your body and you’re always careful not to give both. There are parts of you that you don’t want to share, that you don’t want to expose to them; there’s a kind of hurt that you don’t want to experience.

They watch you walk back inside and then head to their table, where you sit next to a buzzed Hajoon who still has half a mind to look at you guiltily.

“I think I’ll head back home after this,” you tell the group. “Kinda not in a partying mood anymore.”

Your other friends apologize on Hajoon’s behalf, proceeding to ask you if that was really your boss and if he’d threatened your job because of it, remarking that it would be such an asshole move of him to do that or to even get mad at you for something you didn’t do.

You come to Jungkook’s defense; he didn’t say anything to that effect at all. Perhaps you’d been the unfair one who assumed that he would - that he’d demand that you apologize, that he’d use this against you.

“He’s… not like that,” you say, meaning it. You turn to your best friends who have disagreeing looks. “He… he tried to apologize for making me feel uncomfortable,” you say softly. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“Look, ___,” Hajoon starts, but you cut him off.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you sigh. “I’ll just pay my bill and head out.”

You, Soomin, and Jimin all pay accordingly and then leave the restaurant, with you turning to Jungkook and his friends, bowing as a form of goodbye.

“Hey, why don’t we buy desserts at a convenience store and have our own party at your place?” Jimin suggests as you all settle in his car.

“That would be nice,” you hum. “This outfit wouldn’t be such a waste then.”

So that’s what you do, as your best friends treat you to all the snacks you love - a usual occurrence, really, as they used to do that back in Busan to cheer you up during the days when you were feeling sad. It’s one of the things that you allow them to spoil you with and they take advantage of that, as you go home with weeks’ worth of goods for you to enjoy.

You also picked up some drinks on the way, so you play some music and dance around with your wine glasses and take shots in between. It’s too early to be drunk but 11PM might as well be 3AM. You’re all seated snugly in your tiny couch as you watch some variety show on mute, laughing at the hosts' antics even if you can’t hear anything.

“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” you huff, leaning on Soomin’s shoulder as you doze off. “Both of you are all I need. Thank you for never disappointing me.”

They know you don’t always let yourself be this sentimental. They also know that when you do, all you want is for them to listen and to hold you. And that’s what they do, as you eventually clean up and fall asleep on the mattress with them, the events from earlier slowly fading away.

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icewindandboringhorror · 6 months

Text

Various images of things

#image commentary in tags once again since they don't allow captions anymore and I feel weird using the alt text for that --#1. PIBBINS.... cheering clapping hooting hollering glorious applause everytime I see a pigeon in public #2. Birthday card that I drew for someone. .. kittys...#3. 2023's annual haul of tiny white pumpkins.. i get at least one white pumpkin every year around fall when they have pumpkins in stores #because I just love the color and texture ... bright white and smooth and cold and round.. kind of like a volleyball or something #4. A brief adventure into watching big brother (only earlier seasons of course as I hate all reality shows post like 2013 or something when #they became overly focused on social media and overproduced memeable phrases more.. like even though ALL reality shows have always #been extremely fake and annoying and mindless it's like..... newer stuff seems A Different Kind Of Fake or something) since whenever #I'm sick sometimes I find weird mindless things like that to watch (that one time I had bronchitis I watched all of Flavor of Love in my #half awake illness stupor and now everytime I heat up canned minestrone soup (mostly all I ate that week) I think of flavor flav since #thats just a weird brain connection I have now lol) ANYWAY.. I was sick and watched like 2 seasons of this and then thought it was too #uninteresting and obnoxious to continue (more like 1 and a half since I skipped the rest of one once only boring people were left) BUT this #one guy had a very mischevious looking face and he also said a few things (like the above captioned speech) that sounded like dialogue #some fantasy character would say.. so I took a screencap of him and edited him into a mischevious wizard i guess.?? idk I was sick lol #~your little friend has a poisoned tongue~ is just a very unexpectedly serious sounding wording for some random normal #frat dude looking guy to say while casually chatting on a reality tv show in like 2008 or whenever that was filmed lol #5. FLUFFY CLOVERS!! I'd never seen them be furry and soft before?? inchresting..#6. Noodle sitting in bed with the cat figurines looming above him... the council of kittys...#7. McDonald's full breakfast platter + asparagus + strawberries & cream (also of course this is old and I am now boycotting mcdonalds etc)#i try to group the images somewhat consistently like.. winter stuff with winter stuff or summer stuff with summer stuff #but I have so many random pictrues floating around on my computer that I never post that sometimes some are not organized or just #thrown into a set because there's nowhere else for them. Like the pigeon picture is from like 3 years ago for example lol #8 & 9 - I think I've posted these before but I just find them very interesting looking flowers. whenever they happen to be blooming #I'll pick up a few when I'm out on walks or etc. ... poof ball looking things #photo diary

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onlyangel4 · 2 months

Text

healing a heart i didn't break. LH44. MV1. SMAU. part two.

cheater! lewis hamilton x reader. max verstappen x reader.

when your boyfriend of three years fumbles, his rival is there to put the pieces of your heart back together bit by bit.

warnings: 14 year age gap with lewis. cursing. cheating. super super angsty.

author's note: this is still building up the angst the proper max fluff will be next. for context reader and lewis broke up eight weeks before the austin gp.

part one // part three

faceclaim: camilla morrone

f1wags

liked by user12, f1fan22, user 45 and 12,382 others

f1wags: y/n y/ln and alexandra saint mleux pictured on a dog walk out near y/n's childhood home. this is the first time y/n has been pictured in a week following the revelation that lewis hamilton had been cheating on her with y/exbff. no one knows how long they have been cheating but sources seem to think it did not start last weekend and has actually been going on longer. we hope that y/n is okay.

view all 439 comments

user12: oh how i would love to hear the goss

user45: alex looked angry in some of the other pictures. i just know y/n is sitting on business

f1fan22: alex flying out to see her is true friendship y/exbff could never.

y/ninsta

liked by maxverstappen, alexandrasaintmleux, charlesleclerc and 680,928 others

y/ninsta: i'll be okay. i've got my girl.

tagged alexandrasaintmleux

view all 9,720 comments

alexandrasaintmleux: my love, i am honestly amazed how strong you have been the past three weeks. i wish to be half the woman that you are.

y/ninsta: i would not have been this strong without you and charles alex. i love you both, thank you for taking me in before i found my new place.

y/nfan: lewis cheated on her with her best friend and took the house and roscoe (WHO THEY BROUGHT WHEN THEY WERE TOGETHER) all y/n got was her husky lilo and a broken heart. I HATE MEN

charlesleclerc: i took this photo

y/ninsta: yes charles you did. well done

user37: y/n is gentle parenting charles omg

maxverstappen: hope you have been okay y/n, been thinking of you recently, missing you around the paddock.

liked by y/ninsta

user17: omg even max in on her side

f1wags

liked by f1fan43, user48, y/nlover and 34,589 others

f1wags: y/n is in her revenge dress era. the ex wag has arrived at the austin gp. she came in and watched fp1 and fp2 with charles and alex and is in the ferrari garage. we here at f1wags are so happy to see her back in the paddock. also lewis and the other girl have arrived but i don't want to post about that.

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y/nlover: what a serve

f1fan43: THE OTHER GIRL even wag pages hate y/exbff

user48: lewis hamilton found screaming, crying, throwing up in the merc garage

user21: did you guys see max. he saw y/n walk in he stopped what he was doing jogged over to her and they had like a proper long conversation.

f1updates

liked by hamiltonupdates, f1fan, user23 and 34,5672 others

f1updates: a story in two pictures.

picture one: lewis and y/n were photographed arguing behind the mercedes motorhome. y/exbff was also there. the video shows them talking to y/n and then y/n running off crying.

picture two: a shaky video captures the moment max watched y/n run off crying and he jogged after her. she said something to him and then he pulled her into a hug while she sobbed on his shoulder. he led her inside but when she pulled away from the hug max's white shirt was almost see through. y/n is obviously going through it. we are left wondering what lewis and y/exbff told her.

view all 7,625 comments

f1fan: oh thank god for max, she looked so lost. looking around for someone to help her while paparazzi started calling her name when she was fucking sobbing.

hamiltonupdates: i am really questioning lewis rn

user23: y/n would not have gone to talk to him about just anything. this has to be big.

y/exbff

liked by lewishamilton, friendone, friendtwo and 342,837 others

y/exbff: sixteen weeks ago we made what we thought was a massive mistake that we vowed to never talk about but eight weeks ago we discovered it was the best thing ever to happen to us. baby coming march next year,

comments for this post have been disabled

taglist: @sinofwriting @toldyouitwasamelodrama @formulaal

@minkyungseokie @shrbehndwn @gr1mes-cc @nichmeddar

@liberty-barnes

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macabr3-barbi3 · 6 months

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CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed.

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh.

Right over his head.

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring.

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you.

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of.

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him.

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed Val coming into a room.

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants.

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with.

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach.

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

#vox x reader #vox smut #hazbin vox #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel #x reader #my stuff <3

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