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endless-ineffabilities · 5 months

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Maroon (part four)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

And I lost you The one I was dancin' with In New York, no shoes Looked up at the sky and it was maroon

A series loosely based on the song Maroon of off Midnights by Taylor Swift ▪︎ read more Daemon & Aemond midnights imagines here: masterlist

series list: part one - part two - part three - part four - part five -

themes/warnings: jealous!Aemond, language, a LOT of tension, very event-heavy

word count: 11.4k

The Dragonstone ball is here. Will the reader and Aemond finally reconcile, or will things stand in the way? Again.

It had been eleven days of bliss.

Eleven days since Aemond visited you in the bookstore, and you found him waiting for you at the corner table, perfectly illuminated like some mythical Valyrian god.

Eleven days since he confessed his feelings for you, asked you to be his partner to the Dragonstone Ball.

Afterward, he had started picking you up from lectures, taking you to places around the city, visiting you more frequently, shadowing you when you spend time with Helaena, to which she would simply roll her eyes and jest about being a “third wheel.”

You found yourselves in their secluded estate an hour away from the city, sitting in the clearing of a beautiful lush field overgrown with blue lupines and marigolds.

By then you still had not gotten accustomed to being with Aemond. Your heart still skipped each time your hands touched, and he gazed at you with longing.

You had come to realize just how good and proper of a lover he can be. He was careful not to overstep any line, not to take things too fast. You know you’re not experienced in this kind of thing, either. A connection so real. Something like that cursed four-letter L word that the both of you had managed to avoid when it comes to crushes, dating, romantic relationships in general.

He sat on the green-and-black gingham blanket that he previously laid down on the grass in a flourish. You had giggled when the wind threatened to whip it over his head.

“Laugh it up, darling.” He playfully glared at you, which didn’t do much to quell your laughter. Aemond watched on, feeling warm at the sight.

You watched him, studying as the outline of the side of his face eclipses the sunlight in the horizon.

He has no idea, does he?

He seemed oblivious to your staring, until he suddenly spoke, still keeping his gaze trained forward to the trees, “I’m glad I have your full attention.”

You were certain all the blood rushed to your cheeks at his remark, but you scoffed, and playfully shoved him. He was caught off guard, and failed to prop himself upright in time.

He shot you a glare as he brushed himself off. Without any warning, he wiggles his fingers against your side, making you audibly yelp in surprise.

The bastard fucking tickled me.

“You did not just…”

“Oh, but I did, darling.” Aemond nodded slowly, taunting you.

You raised your hand to retaliate, but that didn’t work. Because in a flash of movement, Aemond grabbed your forearm and then your waist.

And then, you found yourself underneath him, lying back on the mat. His halo of white-gold hair framing his face as he hovers above you, glowing brighter than the fading sunlight.

When his lips met yours, you realized that there truly were moments in life when time stands still. When everything is reduced to a humming of heartbeats in sync, and of someone else's warmth against you.

When his blue eyes blazed into your own, you thought that maybe… just maybe… that was what it was like to be in love.

-----------------------

Love, love, love. What is it really good for? Aemond has seen people fall apart because of it, suffer in spite of it.

He is quite sure that his mother has grown to love his father, despite theirs being a marriage of convenience. This is why she continues to care for him, and turns her cheek at any wrong done to her.

Aemond has been on the receiving end of his mother's love, more so than his siblings. But sometimes he wonders if this is borne out of obligation and instinct. Would she still love him if he wasn't her only doting son - with Aegon never in the picture, and Daeron having grown indifferent to family affairs?

Does his mother truly see him, for all that he is, or does she see some idealized version of herself? One that she puts on a pedestal? Her golden child who has the chance to attain what she never could.

There are times when Aemond fears that he does feel love himself, or not the truest form of it, at least. Sure, he loves his family. But is it also due to an uncontrollable pull of the heart, or simply out of duty? Does he feel like he needs to love them, being of the same blood? Has he just gotten used to being the binding force among his siblings, shepherding them like he actually is the eldest child? Do they even love him in turn? Certainly not with the same ferocity, Aemond knows, but in their own way? Most times, he finds it hard to tell.

It’s all like a game. They are all pieces on a chess board, playing a match that has no end. Moves and countermoves - isn’t this all that love is? Do something for them, protect them, as they will do for you. It is ultimately the right thing to do.

But with you, Aemond knows it’s different. It has been, since you stumbled into his life. He never felt the need to maintain a sense of devotion. Never really gave it much thought, or any planning. It was just there. Out of the blue. Much to his surprise, and not without hesitation.

He did not understand what it was at first. You certainly did not need him. Did not ask anything of him. He saw how you approached him with no expectation. He was never Aemond Targaryen, Prince of the City, to you.

Only Aemond. Your best friend’s mildly sullen yet cordial brother.

And you, well… you were just a passing fancy. Not bad to look at, pleasant enough to talk to.

Until you weren’t just that.

There were times when Aemond feared that did not feel love himself.

Until you.

And you became everything.

-----------------------

3 hours before the Dragonstone ball

Alicent has been walking in a flurry all over the penthouse, her bluetooth earpiece buzzing constantly. Having final consultations with event coordinators, on-site production staff, caterers, florists, and security staff, among others.

Talia trails her all around the vast living room, prepared to give a helping hand.

“Yes, yes, that was the one that I asked for, I don’t know why I have to clarify this again,” Alicent seethes, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking up at the ceiling in her frustration. The caller’s rushed apologies echo from her earpiece.

Her youngest son walks past her, an ascot tie loosely hanging around his neck.

“Daeron!” Alicent grabs him by the arm. “Are you all settled? Have you finally gone through options with the tailor?”

“Yes, mother,” Daeron cheekily sneers at Alicent’s worried expression. “I’ve just chosen which necktie I’ll be wearing, as you can see here. Just went down to get something to eat. Do try to relax, would you?”

“What about your brother? Please tell me he has had his suit vetted.”

Daeron replies, “I assume you mean Aemond, since Aegon will probably turn up in something ridiculous, like an inflatable dragon costume.”

Alicent scoffs before responding dryly, “If he actually does that, I just might consider sending him to the Silent Sisters institute.”

Daeron shrugs, “Best keep the family doctor close by, then. Oh, and Aemond’s all prepped since last week! You know him. Mr. Stickler-for-rules with a stick right up his a - ”

“Daeron!” Alicent exclaims.

“Alright, alright, I’m kidding!” Daeron puts his hands up, laughing. He turns on his heel and strolls down the hallway.

“My children,” Alicent sighs, sharing a look with Talia, who smiles knowingly in response. “Whatever will I do with them?”

“Oh, what will you do without them, ma’am?” Talia offers.

Alicent hums in acknowledgement. She feels as if the lines on her face have deepened the past few months, though they’ve long made themselves evident, due to all her ceaseless worrying about Aemond's condition and all this commotion about the ball. But what else is there to do?

She removes her earpiece and places it on Talia’s awaiting palm.

“Are you alright, ma’am? Do you need some refreshments, perhaps?” Talia asks.

“I need…” Alicent sighs, preparing herself for the task to come. “I need to go see my son.”

“He isn’t here at the moment, ma’am.” Talia shuffles from one foot to the other, a force of habit when having to share something that may induce more stress to Alicent. “He left for his apartment at Blackwater Residences last night. He has requested that everything he needs for the ball be sent to him there.”

“And I was not informed of this because?” Alicent inquires, her mask of composure remaining. Aemond used to be the one she would run to first, should she need anything. Her confidante. Her dutiful son. And he’s always been comfortable enough to keep her in the loop about his affairs.

But not lately. Not since the accident. Her son has rebuilt the impenetrable wall around him, and she has not been allowed access inside.

“Well, you’ve been very busy, ma’am. And Sir Aemond really didn’t tell anyone, he just informed me so that I may relay the message as I should.”

Alicent sighs in finality, “Fine. That’s fine. Have we made sure that his partner for the ball is in line? That model… uhhm, Alys, was it?”

“Yes, ma’am, she has made all the necessary preparations. And she is already aware of the regulations to follow, as she has attended the ball with Sir Aemond before.”

A question remains in Alicent’s mind. “You alluded once to something going on between Aemond and Helaena’s friend. The one who’s studying at the local university? I had thought that she would be his partner…” She trails off, remembering the one time she crossed paths with you. It was one evening in the penthouse, her kids and a number of their acquaintances sitting around a big round table of drinks and hors d'oeuvres. She only came round for a moment to retrieve something from her office, lingering in the foyer with Talia to get some documents in order.

She noticed you because you were sitting across the table from Aemond, who had been sneaking looks at you the entire night. Aemond clearly thought no one would notice, but if anyone would, it would be Alicent.

Aemond has always been the most stoic of her sons, the least likely to wear his heart on his sleeve. But she saw, plain as day, that he was drawn to you.

Her son fancied you, but has something changed? As for Alys, Alicent has never been her biggest fan when it came to Aemond. Their age gap is not her favourite thing, but how can Alicent claim to be a judge on that matter when the man she married is 11 years older than her? She’s chosen to set that aside, but the Rivers model has struck her as highly self-regarding and standoffish.

Alicent would never admit it to herself, but perhaps the main reason why she dislikes Alys Rivers is that she sees part of herself in her. What she might have devolved into if she hadn’t married for power and privilege at a young age. Alicent, Alys. The latter being a recreational drug-addled, provocative social climber who Alicent doesn't think is good for her son.

Talia dithers on her response. Who can explain what is going on in Aemond’s mind after all? It is clear that the attraction remains, but his actions are all over the place. “As I gathered, ma’am, he did ask her. But… and I am not sure why, he ended up asking Miss Alys instead. Which is a downright shame, if I may add. She is really a sweet young girl. She and Miss Helaena dote on each other.”

“A shame, indeed,” Alicent hums. She begins walking down the hallway, Talia in tow, who then adds, “She will still be at the ball, though, ma’am. As Sir Jacaerys’ partner.”

Alicent’s brows furrow, and a grimace flashed across her face on instinct. “Got a Strong pup, has she?”

“They’re close friends - ”

“So I’m not certain what’s been going about, but my son likes her… or used to like her. But now he’s coming with Alys, and she’s coming with Jace?” Alicent spins on her heel, huffing out her confusion, her fiery auburn hair whipping around her. Regarding Talia whilst shaking her head, she exclaims, “Quite the handful this ball is turning out to be, and isn’t that just exactly what I need?”

-----------------------

Alys Rivers rarely does her own makeup, preferring the ease of having a glam team on call 24/7.

But as she deftly applies medical-grade concealer on Aemond’s scar, her hands pat and press with a practiced ease of someone who had to do her own makeup on public buses at the age of 16, sneaking off to castings without telling her foster parents.

She huffs with impatience from her stool. “Could you keep your expression neutral, dear? I dunno why you look like you’re in pain.”

Aemond responds in a cold voice, “Why, do you find that this is something I should enjoy, dearest? You’re smattering something on my face to make me look presentable. I’m allowed to react in a manner of my choosing. My sincere apologies if it’s not acceptable for you.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” Alys drops her hand, frustration clear on her face. “Look, I can see that you don’t want to come to the ball.” She packs on more product on the brush in a rapid motion.

“Oh, is that your input?” Aemond mumbles, disinterested. He simply wishes he had placed his glass of firewine within reach.

“Yes, that is my input,” Alys snaps in return. When her brush meets Aemond’s face again, she does it with less care and more impatience. “If you’re not going to be civil to me, then you should have accepted the help of the makeup artist your mother assigned - ”

“I won’t have some fucking stranger’s hands all over my - ”

“I know!” Alys emphasizes, her exasperation growing evident. “Which is why I’m here. Which is why I agreed to help when you asked. I - ” She stops working, leaning back, her shoulders stooped in her frustration. “I only want to help you, Aemond. I care about you. You know this.”

Aemond finally looks at the woman sitting in front of him. Appraising her irate expression, which he had caused. “I did not want this. This… concealment of my scar was my mother’s idea, to keep up appearances - ”

“Oh, I know - ”

“I don’t know how you expect me to be, Alys, considering - ”

Alys stands abruptly, walking away to look out the window. “Aemond, this has been going on even before that godforsaken accident.”

Aemond sighs deeply, wanting to be anywhere else but in the room. Only that isn’t true, he wouldn’t want to just anywhere else.

He wants to be with you.

Alys continues, “It all started that night when I visited you and you sent me away. Next thing I know there’s been whispers of you going around with some random girl.” She does not mention you by name. It’s better not to give you that power. She doesn’t need Aemond’s attention to drift any further from her than it already has.

She has not been blind to the switch in his demeanour, having been on the brunt end of his anger one too many times. He still maintains his impeccable sense of decorum and tact most of the time, but she can easily tell that it's only for show.

She once felt Aemond’s eyes on her, with some form of desire. Whatever he is capable of mustering, at least, even if it was never enough for Alys. At least she had hope that it could turn into something more. She can change him. Make him fall in love with her. But now, it’s like he sees straight through her. Only calling on her when absolutely necessary. Like this very moment.

“Hmm.” Aemond looks to the side. He feels the weight of the product Alys just applied on his scar and it starts to irritate him. More so than the situation at hand, to his surprise. “What do you want from me?” He lifts his arms up offhandedly.

“I heard… about you and her. I’m not an idiot,” Alys says, trying not to sound desperate.

“No one ever said that you are,” Aemond responds impatiently.

“Did you ask her to come with you to the ball before you asked me? Am I just some last resort…”

“The fuck does it matter? You’re here because I asked you, did I not?” Aemond snaps, whirring around, away from Alys. The reminder of you is throwing him off, threatening to chip away at the mask of composure that he has prepared for this night.

He hasn’t been able to shake off the scent of your skin, how warm you felt against him, that night he last saw you.

And tonight, he will see you again. Aemond never fancied himself a romantic, but he knows that your presence would be the one thing that will make this night worthwhile. This dreaded ball, which he has never looked forward to. Save for a few short weeks when he thought it would be you on his arm.

But he fucked it all up, didn’t he? All because he’s too weak to let you see him as he is. He thinks he’s not good enough for you. But a part of him has always known, because of your goodness, your undeniable warmth, that you would not mind the way he is right now. You would accept the person he has become - that’s just who you are. Good.

And even then, Aemond always comes back around to the same conclusion. You’re too good for him; he’s not good enough for you. Might as well save both of you the pain, and try to stay away.

And maybe, he can use Alys as a distraction. Choosing to bring her to the ball was an act of a coward, Aemond knows. Making you feel unwanted, pushed to the side.

But this is what he deserves. The bruises on his knuckles from that incident in Pentos have only just healed, after all. He is still out of control.

He’s never been a true believer, but the gods only know what he might do when he sees you on his nephew’s arm. Just the image of it causes him to clench his jaw in distaste.

In pure jealousy.

Aemond is blind to the possibility that you and his Jace are only friends, and will stay that way. All he sees in another man, holding you, laughing with you, looking at you like you’re the best thing in this world.

Another man, and not him. Aemond is going to need a lot of ale to get through the night.

And maybe more.

Alys snaps him out of thoughts of you, walking across the room in a flash, until she stands right in front of Aemond. “Do you think you can just use me like this? I’m not second best, Aemond. You asked me to come with you, but you’re acting like you wouldn’t even touch me with a ten-foot pole.”

Aemond remains unmoving, gauging her livid expression. Calculating the next move to make. He’s found himself settling more and more into his old rhythm. Careful, methodical. Almost machiavellian. Never giving away too much. Far from how genuine he allowed himself to be around you. He did not have to pretend or mask anything. But that was then. That was with you.

“Say something, goddamnit,” Alys breathes, her slender fingers wrapping around his forearm.

Aemond’s eyes drift to Alys’ touch, feeling nothing at all. There used to be a time when he would want her company. Crave it even. Although that may have been for the most depraved purposes, one that he allows himself to indulge in now and again, it was still theirs.

Now, Aemond cannot feel right having anything with anyone else. When all he wants is you.

“I asked you to the ball because I wanted to, Alys.” Aemond relents, choosing to take the calmer road. He presses further, knowing that Alys would need more assurance than that. “You should know that I don’t trust many people, and yet here you are. That should count for something.” The sentiment is honest, at least, if not completely heartfelt.

It isn’t as if Aemond grew to have Alys as a confidante by choice. It began as a series of run-ins, then deliberate nighttime invitations.. The trust he formed with her does not mean he values her above anyone else. It was more so that he knew, even early on, that he could never be tethered to her. They had an understanding of the nature of their relationship.

He knew he would not fall in love with her. And he knows because has tried. It spares him from ever truly being vulnerable. It spares them both from any pain.

He takes her hand in his, a final gesture to temper her storm of emotion. And it’s enough. For now.

When Alys leans in to plant her mouth on his, he sees it coming. But he stops himself from taking a step back, or turning his head. He knows that Alys would not dare back out of being his partner for the ball, the publicity and prestige of it all too good to her to pass on. But he does not want to risk having the same useless argument again.

The kiss is cold, fleeting. It leaves a faint hint of maroon by the corner of Aemond’s lips. Like a mark of betrayal.

“Okay, honey.” Alys reaches upward to smooth his hair. “Let’s do some final touches on you, then I’ll go to my suite and get ready.”

Some time later, she finally reaches some satisfaction on her work on Aemond’s scar and departs the room, eager to get started on her lengthier high-profile event glam routine.

Aemond only has one consolation.

He gets to freely indulge on firewine now.

-----------------------

You sit in anticipation at the edge of the bed in your humble apartment.

Helaena had granted your request that you get ready in the confines of your own small but comfortable space, though she preferred that you take her up on her offer of getting ready in their penthouse.

You knew it was best to concede to your friend when she said she would send someone to deliver your dress and to assist you. It couldn’t hurt, you thought, half-expecting that it would only be Talia.

You didn’t expect that sending someone in Helaena’s terms would mean two makeup artists, a hair stylist and his assistant, a nail technician, and Baela Targaryen, who had quickly risen through the ranks of the fashion industry with her clothing brand, Moondancer.

Little did you know that Baela herself would be arriving at your door.

“Hello, sweetheart. I heard from a little birdie that you might need some assistance?” Baela says, stepping into your apartment without waiting for an invitation, confidently occupying any space.

“Baela!” you exclaim. “How are you? Helaena did say she would send someone.” Before you could shut the door, a garment rack comes rolling through, about a dozen designer dresses whipping right past you.

“Where to, ma’am?” A lanky man asks, his mop of ginger hair peering from behind the rack.

“Just there,” Baela gestures to a far wall, before glancing at you, as if remembering that it is in fact your apartment. “Is it fine?”

“Sure,” you smile. As if refusal was an option.

“Our dearest Helaena has informed me of your top choices,” Baela says, as her red-haired assistant began to gingerly pull each dress out from their garment covers. “And I commend your taste, by the way, most of these are my favourite pieces from the collection.”

Soon enough, all of the dresses are revealed to you, each one more beautiful than the next.

“These are all amazing, Baela. Thank you. I owe you.” you say appreciatively, pulling her into a hug.

Baela keeps an arm over your shoulders when you pull apart, leading you to take a closer look. “You don’t owe me anything, sweet. So,” she says, “what are we thinking?”

“This one seems reasonable,” your hand drifts over a plum coloured dress, the material feeling nothing short of luxurious to the touch. It is a lovely A-line maxi dress, with intricate sequin detailing all over.

“Reasonable,” Baela snorts. “It’s lovely and all, but awfully safe, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with being safe?” you raise an eyebrow at her statement. “This is my first and possibly only Dragonstone ball, Baela. I just want to get through it without making a fool out of myself.”

“But you won’t make a fool of yourself,” Baela squeezes your shoulder in encouragement. “You belong there just as much as anyone else. Maybe even more so, because we actually do like you. Jace especially.”

Baela has a reputation for being quite the enterprising young woman, making a name for herself outside of the Targaryen business empire through her brand. She takes no prisoners, they say. If she wants something, she will go and get it herself. Most find her intimidating, and you count yourself lucky to be at the receiving end of her sweeter side.

“Hmm,” you feel a sense of ease wash over you, making you brush through the other dresses on the rack.

“This dress you chose is nice, and if safe is what you want then…” Baela gives you a once-over, her eyes gaining a mischievous spark. “... that’s all well and good. But, sweetheart, don’t you want to leave Aemond a groveling mess by your high-heeled feet?”

Your stunned expression betrays you, hindering any attempt at denial.

“Oh, I know.” Baela smirks. “Let’s just say that Hel may or not have clued me in on how absolutely childish he was to ditch you like that. I’ve always been of the opinion that my dear cousin needs to get his damn head screwed on straight, but hey, I might be biased.” She raises her hands, knowing she already got her point across.

It won’t be long before she wins you over to a not-entirely-safe dress.

The idea of Aemond possibly exhibiting any form of adoration upon seeing you at the ball is one that you have entertained too many times in the months leading up to tonight. To deny that would be foolish.

Some part of you wants to save yourself from what can only be described as the rollercoaster of attempting to maneuver a relationship with Aemond. But an even greater part… just can’t let him go.

You sigh in finality. Baela grins at that. She clearly won this one, but there was never really any doubt.

“I’m glad you agree, because I have something for you.” She nods over to her assistant, who promptly leaves the room and returns with another dress. The dress.

“Baela, what in seven hells.” You appraised the dress with evident stars in your eyes. “This… this was not in the catalogue Hel made me choose from.”

“Of course not, silly,” Baela responds proudly. “Because I designed this just for you.”

You shake your head in amazement, lightly asking, “What if I had stuck to my first choice, huh?” You wouldn’t have, not after seeing the dress, and you know Baela is aware of this.

“Impossible,” Baela reaches for the dress and holds it against you, studying you like a subject. “I had planned to custom make dresses for the ladies in the family anyhow. Well, apart from my beloved aunt - your dearest’s mother - so making one for you too was a no-brainer.”

You thank her profusely, as she and her assistant, whom you discover is named Lancel, check how the dress fits you. Seeing if any last-minute alterations were needed, but there was really nothing else to do with it.

It was perfect.

“Lancel will stay to assist you, and Helaena’s sending a whole team, and they should be here soon.” Baela says, growing busy with her buzzing phone. “I’ll be off to prepare myself.”

“I don’t know what else to say, but thank you again, Baela. Helaena said you would be in charge of our dresses but I certainly did not expect this.” You say sincerely, as you see her to the door.

“It was my pleasure,” Baela responds, and in true fashion, drops her head in a dramatic bow. As she walks down the hall, she does not miss her chance in calling back and adding, “and it will be an even bigger pleasure to witness the absolute anguish in Aemond’s face when he sees you.”

You welcome the shiver that runs up your spine at the thought of that. That’ll show him.

As if on cue, the rest of your designated prep team arrive not long after, and you surrender yourself to the frenzy that followed.

-----------------------

The Dragonstone Ball

The Valyrian Hall is a place of marvel in the city.

Erected nearly a century to the day, it essentially marked the dominance of the Targaryen empire in the country. Designed like an amphitheatre, the looming structure has hosted many history-marking events.

As befits it, it is also the venue for the annual Dragonstone Ball. Revamped for the purposes of each ball, it transforms into a hub of merrymaking and pageantry. Its attendees include no other than the rest of the nobility, dignitaries, notable artists and academics, as well as the nouveau riche.

The country of Westeros is officially an oligarchy, with the heads of the most powerful Houses in power. But the unspoken truth of it is that the Targaryens rule over them all.

And no expense is spared by the ruling family of the country.

The media is flocked outside the hall, a thousand cameras flashing at each arriving guest. Hurling empty exclamations at the impeccably dressed attendees walking down the black carpet. The theme for this year was simple - Firelight - a play on the Targaryen and Hightower slogans, honouring the long-standing alliance between the two families. The dress code warranted only their traditional colours to be worn - red and black, green and silver.

Viserys himself was the mastermind behind the theme, in an effort to make a show of strength in the family, after the horrid incident between Aemond and Lucerys. Alicent was slow to warm to the idea, if she ever did at all.

Tensions are still high, especially between the mothers of two belligerents, with Alicent having shared unsavoury comments about Lucerys’ upbringing.

And of course, it is an open secret in this year’s event that everyone is in anticipation of finally seeing what has become of Aemond Targaryen.

-----------------------

Your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed and beautiful, standing tall with a quiet confidence you didn’t think you could muster.

Clad in the dazzling red gown Baela crafted specifically for you, and your tresses adorned with an embellished tiara crafted by the silversmiths of Volantis, you surprisingly do not feel like a whole other person. Not exactly.

You feel more yourself than you ever had before.

“I could be a Targaryen,” you jokingly share with Jace as you both study yourselves in the mirror. “If only I had that damned silver hair.”

“Trust me when I say that it’s not as fun as people might think,” he laughs in response, catching your eyes in the reflection. “But you look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You whirl around, not even bothering to hide the blush on your face. Jace would see right through you, anyway. “And you look handsome as ever.” You take a deep breath, trying to do away with the nerves that are threatening to emerge. Calm down.

You lightly brush your hands across his shoulders. “Well, I cannot believe that I am going to the ball as the famous Jacaerys Velaryon’s date. What an honour, really. You’re practically a prince!”

“Oh, ha-ha,” he says dryly, rolling his eyes playfully. “I’m just Jace to you, thank you very much.”

“This is going to go great,” you sigh in encouragement, mostly to yourself. I’ll finally see him, won’t I? What could go wrong?

What could go wrong, indeed? How much will it string to see Alys Rivers draped on Aemond’s arm. To see them dancing with each other, barely an inch apart.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jace smooths your perfectly-done hair in reassurance. “You and I are going to enjoy this godsforsaken ball with Hel, Luke, and the rest of our friends.” Don’t even think about him, he wanted to say, but you already knew that.

He holds his arm out for you to take, indicating that it is finally time to head to the ball.

“Shall we?”

You loop your arm around his with a steady smile, bracing yourself for what would turn out to be one of the most memorable nights of your life.

-----------------------

You feel the limousine idly come to a slow stop in the private road leading to the front of the grand Valyrian Hall. All at once, everyone flocks around to catch a glimpse of whom they presume to be members of the Targaryen clan, but the security detail is quick to ensure that none may come too close. Even if it would be impossible to peer through its heavily tinted windows.

“Don’t worry, we won’t come out here.” Jace is quick to note, when he sees the apprehension on your face. “We’ll head inside to the inner courtyard.”

The yelling of photographers outside sounds like a cacophony, an endless buzzing, and you are grateful you don’t have to go right into their throes.

The limousine moves once more, presumably following the one before it, passing the towering gold palisade surrounding the hall.

“Special entrance for special guests, eh?” Jace nudges you, smirking.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You hum in response. You try to fight it, but your mind races. Is he already here? ‘I’ll see you at the ball,’ he said. Sure. What then?

“There are still photographers and members of the media here, but only ones vetted by the family,” Jace explains. “I’ll take the lead, so you don’t have to worry about answering any questions if you don’t want to. Just stick with me.”

Ever the gentleman.

The chauffeur opens the limousine door, and Jace gently tows you along with him. When the blinding camera flashes first hit your eyes, you enter into a sort of haze. Like on autopilot, you don a practiced smile and smoothly walk with Jace down the black carpet.

Jace opts to have only one brief interview, with whom you recognize to be the prolific Mysaria, the head news anchor for the channel owned by the Targaryens.

“And who is your lovely date for this evening?” she beams, and the camera pans over to you.

“This beauty here is y/n, one of my best friends.” Jace drapes an arm around you, then smiles to the camera. You admire how flawless his media training is.

“That’s right,” you hear yourself saying, “someone needs to keep this one in line.”

Mysaria laughs, “Oooh, we love your attitude. Well, you two do make the most gorgeous pairing.”

She asks a few more questions, then the interview quickly wraps, and Mysaria shakes both of your hands in her professional manner.

Event coordinators usher the two of you inside the sprawling foyer, lush with intricate Targaryen red and black tapestry. But right as you start to appreciate the detailed engravings on the bronze panels propped up on the walls, you are directed up a flight of stairs and into a private parlour.

Your shoulders visibly slump in instant relief when you spot some familiar faces.

Helaena stands speaking to Lucerys, who incidentally is her date, as she refused to be paired with anyone unfamiliar. Luke had been gracious enough to volunteer to be her partner.

“Even if her brother and myself fucked each other over a while back, I still love Hel,” you heard him joke once, a pit of dread settling in your stomach. Leave it to Luke to be nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Look who it is,” Luke greets loudly, “my brother finally looks like an actual human being.”

“Ah, you little shit,” Jace counters, shaking his head fondly. “How’s the limp?”

“Not bad,” Luke props his right leg forward, showing off some progress.”Lucky for me, we’ll be walking at a snail's pace all throughout this bloody thing. You look stunning, by the way.” He winks at you.

“Thanks, Luke.” you smile at him. “So, what a spectacle, huh? It was crazy out there.”

Helaena wraps an arm around your waist, “If you think that was crazy, wait ‘til you enter the main hall.”

“We’ll be announced next. It’s just us left from the family, really. Everyone else has already walked down the proverbial aisle.” Luke comments, straightening his shawl lapels.

The brothers’ choice of attire contrasts yet complements the other’s, with Luke sporting a burgundy three-piece suit and a black tie, whilst Jace dons a simpler black suit and a red tie.

Helaena looks simply otherworldly in her emerald gown, representing the true Hightower heiress that she is.

“Everyone?” you exhale, the words registering. He’s already here.

“You alright? You remember everything from rehearsal?” Jace confirms with you. Yes, I remember rehearsal quite well. The one that Aemond predictably chose not to attend.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You nod, shaking away any thought of him. We’ll see each other soon enough. “Let’s get this shit done, shall we, partner?”

“You’re up next, Sir Lucerys, Miss Helaena.” The event coordinator summons the pair, directing them to stand in front of the heavy-set ornate doors.

A moment passes, then the doors open with a slow, echoing groan. Helaena shoots you one more smile as she walks through with Lucerys.

You hear the herald’s booming voice announcing their names, just as the doors close once more.

“Two more minutes of this,” Jace remarks. “Or you know, maybe ten, since my brother has to take his sweet time walking down the hall.”

“Hey,” you smack his chest, laughing, “it’s not his fault he still has a limp.”

Taking your hand, Jace leads you in front of the doors. You feel your heart pounding, as the sounds coming from the great hall are amplified.

You turn to Jace, wanting to say something, anything, to calm yourself but your mouth feels dry. “Hey,” he gently croons, coming to your rescue, his hand covering yours as you squeeze his arm, “do you see this?”

Your eyes follow as he points to the figure embossed on the large metal doors.

“It looks like… a dragon?”

“That’s right. I think you know of the myths of Old Valyria, where my family hails from. This dragon is called Balerion, the greatest and largest that my ancestors were said to have claimed.”

“Even in this form, he looks imposing,” you say, gazing at the figure, “and beautiful.”

Jace hums in agreement, adding, “You know, legend has it that Targaryens are of the blood of the dragon. That we, for lack of a better word, are dragons ourselves.”

“Hmm,” you smile at the thought, “and do you believe that?”

Jace shrugs, facing ahead, getting ready. “Why shouldn’t I believe?”

His words inspire a sense of calm, and self-assuredness, quieting your restless mind. I can do this. You hold yourself up, lips curved in a soft smile.

The doors open, revealing the revelry below.

Here we go.

-----------------------

Aemond had been eager to get through with the initial presentation, practically marching through as fast as can be allowed, with Alys clinging on his arm. He did not much care for the dissonant whispering that flooded the hall once the crowd got sight of him. Their missing Prince of the city has returned.

You would think I grew a second fucking head.

It was no use trying to drown them out, even with the orchestra resounding from the balcony.

“What happened to his eye?”

“Is that really him?”

“He looks…”

“In a rush, are we, honey?” Alys asked through gritted teeth, annoyed, but kept her signature sultry expression intact. She pulled him closer to her, “Keep pace with me now.”

When they finally reached the front of the hall, where the rest of his family assembled, he nearly took a swig out of the flask Aegon was subtly trying to hand over to him.

Until Alicent hissed at the both of them. “Not now, boys.”

The crowd continues to sneak glances at him. In awe or pity, Aemond does not care to know. With every new pairing being announced, he is grateful that their attention is momentarily diverted.

He stands tall in his midnight black formal leather overcoat, with a fitted dark green shirt underneath. His hair has grown longer since his last public appearance, and he now wears it in a half-up manner, with his eyepatch neatly in place over it.

He has come to terms with his appearance, and soon enough, he might even grow to accept the moniker Aemond One-Eye as his brother keeps calling him.

“It’s badass, Aem,” Aegon had drawled. “You look like a Valyrian dragonrider from the old stories with that scar.”

The pairings could have blurred in a haze altogether. Lannister, Arryn, Baratheon, Stark, Tully. On and on it went, but none of them left a mark on Aemond.

There is only one person he is so desperate to see.

When Lucerys Velaryon’s name is announced, Aemond can’t help the distaste he feels. He rolls his shoulders, trying to keep composure, Alys’ arm falling from him. She only regards him from the corner of her eye, likely praying that he doesn’t cause a scene and embarrass her.

He keeps his focus on his sister, as she gracefully floats through the crowd in Hightower green. Such a shame it’s that bastard she got paired with.

Helaena and her partner reach the front of the hall, and she throws him a look as if to say, behave. Aemond ducks his head in acknowledgment, lips curling.

I promise I’ll try to be good. For her sake.

To his left, he hears Helaena whisper, “Any moment now.”

Aemond knows exactly what she means, and does not feel the need to muster a response. The anticipation has devolved into some kind of torture, as all he wants to see you again.

To feel you against him, how your skin would glide smoothly against his, how you would fit together.

The effects of firewine are getting stronger, encroaching on his senses. It dawns on him that perhaps he shouldn’t have imbibed in considerable quantities before the ball, but no matter.

The herald begins his next announcement.

“Finally, let us welcome Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Laenor Velaryon…”

“More like Strong,” Aegon mumbles under his breath, but Aemond no longer pays him any mind.

“... and Rhaenyra Targaryen. With his partner…”

The herald says your name, and Aemond can practically feel his heart lodged in his throat. Keeping his arms behind his back, he adjusts his stance, trying to calm himself. He sees you emerge from the top of the steps and watches as your eyes sweep over the entire hall, and eventually, finally, meet his very own.

Aemond can hardly breathe, the blood rushing to his head at the sight of you in that red dress, making him feel all woozy. The firewine surely does not help, either.

She looks like a goddess. You walk down the hall, keeping your eyes trained ahead, hand firmly on Jacaerys’ arm. But Aemond does not spare his nephew any more than a cursory glance, almost entranced by the way your gown enhances your silhouette. By the exposed planes of your skin.

He watches your chest heave against your bodice as you take deep breaths. He knows that you would be nervous, but to your credit, nobody will be able to tell.

That’s my girl. You reach the front of the hall, joining the rest of the family and their respective partners. Your lips part slightly as you get a better look at Aemond, and he wants to know badly what you think. But then your eyes visibly narrow at something, and you turn away, walking with Jace to the other end of the group.

Aemond registers that Alys had looped her arm around his again, and he curses her internally. He can’t help the glare that he throws in her direction, but she must not see the irritation in his eyes or simply ignores it.

Alys mouths, “Have you been drinking?” with a seductive smile that does not fit her query.

Keeping up appearances, as usual.

“Some,” Aemond snaps. “Don’t let it concern you.”

The hall falls into silence as Viserys conducts his opening remarks, followed by a brief speech from his daughter and named successor, Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Soon enough, it’s time for the first dance. All of the main pairings make their way to the open floor in the middle of the hall, standing across from each other as they line up in an orderly fashion. It is the only traditional Valyrian dance of the night, for which participants were required to attend a series of rehearsals prior to the event. Aemond opted out of them this year, not that it mattered. He has long since mastered the dance, having attended every Dragonstone ball since his childhood.

He is tempted to look in your direction, but his instinct to follow tradition wins over.

Always keep your eyes trained on your partner, his mother had ingrained in him and his siblings.

That wouldn’t be a problem, if she were mine.

The dancers raise their right arms to the front, and the music starts. For Aemond, every step almost feels robotic, and his body moves on its own volition. He does not even need to think, nor does he appreciate the closeness the routine requires of the pairings.

Fuck it. At that, Aemond lets his eye wander over to you, as you twirl around with Jace a few feet away. You don’t even look at Aemond, and you shouldn’t, but it annoys him anyway.

He spins Alys around, and her back is pressed to his as they saunter from side to side.

Then you lock eyes. He notices the switch in your expression, which you quickly revert back to a fixed soft smile, but he sees it anyway.

You’re irate at me, my love. The pairings spin around again. And for good reason.

“You smell of firewine,” Alys mutters, when she draws closer.

“Well, I needed something to make this night bearable,” Aemonds responds coolly,

“Aemond,” Alys warns.

Aemond could have rolled his eyes at her reaction. Eye, he smirks at himself. “Don’t worry. It’s not you. I just dislike all this.” Surely that will get her to simmer down.

“Do you really ? Aren’t you a stickler for Valyrian tradition?”

“Hmm.” When in seven hells will this dance end?

-----------------------

When the first dance ends, you audibly breathe a sigh of relief.

It is no longer the apprehension about tripping on your feet, or doing something unbecoming of the tradition of the ball, or even forgetting a part of the dance routine that plagues your mind - all of your worries are set aside, overpowered by the rush of emotion from seeing Aemond once again.

The sight of him had been enough to drown out all the noise. Like the focal point of a kaleidoscope, your eyes sought him out when you entered the hall.

Like a moth to a flame. And he found you too.

You don’t know what else to think, apart from - He looks beautiful.

What was he even worried about? He still looks every bit like your Aemond, though you feel sorry at the now apparent loss of his eye. You know he would not desire your pity, that he would hate being on the receiving end of it from anyone. But you can’t help it.

I’m sorry this happened to you, you want to tell him. But would it even matter? Would it make a difference? Or does he already get enough consolation from the company of Alys Rivers?

Jace does not let go of your hand as you walk to the head table with the rest of the family, which is situated like a dais at the front of the hall, so that all the family members would have a full view of everything. Aemond is situated at the other end of the table with Alys, but since they are seated at the other end of the long table, as are you and Jace, they are directly in your line of sight.

The staff had distributed glasses of a deep violet wine which Jace explained is firewine, originally from Valyria. “Are you doing alright so far?” He places his hand atop yours on the table, and you hum positively in response. He does not let go, his thumb drawing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

You raise your head when Viserys addresses the hall, making the mistake of catching Aemond’s eye. You notice how tense he sits, both hands intertwined on the table, his eye trained on you. Or rather, on Jace’s hand adjoined with yours.

You shake your head slightly. He looks up at you, as if noticing the attention you are giving him. So you look away quickly, listening as Viserys makes his first toast to the hall.

“Now we drink,” Jace signals. You pick up the ornate glass and bring it to your lips, and see Aemond doing the same. He does not drop your gaze as he takes a drawn out sip, and finally lowers the glass. You catch the way his tongue flickers to taste the remnants of firewine on his lips, and you feel your cheeks flare up with warmth.

Does he know what he’s doing?

“We now invite all of you to partake in another bout of dancing, this one less stringent than the first, so there’s no need to worry. No dragon will come to smite you if you step on your partner’s toes, but my dear wife won’t hesitate to throw you out of the hall, I’m sure,” Viserys announces genially, earning some laughter from the attendees. “And shortly after, the feast will begin.”

The crowd sets into commingling. Some pairings remain together, some accept invitations from other guests. The orchestra begins to play a slower, gentler hymn. Something more intimate. Romantic.

“May I have this dance, stranger?” Jace grins at you, offering his hand.

“Well, who am I to refuse a dragon?” you quip in turn. You pass by Helaena and Luke already on the dancefloor, and Aemond and Alys…

“Hey,” Jace keeps you from finding out. He keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back, and takes your hand in the other. “Is he bothering you?”

“What?”

“Aemond,” Jace says. “I could not help but notice that my dear uncle has been practically drooling at you like some starving dog.”

“He has not,” your eyes widen at his insinuation. But he has, hasn’t he?

“Are you blind?” Jace laughs. “He’s bloody doing it right now.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find him, guiding Alys Rivers in a slow dance. And Jace is right. He may be holding her, but his focus is on you.

“You can tell that he must be so jealous right now,” Jace says. “It’s kind of funny.”

A giggle bubbles up your lips, and Jace joins you. You hold each other closer in an attempt to control your laughter. “Still,” you breathe out, finding the words. “He came here with Alys. Not me.”

Jace simply smirks at your concern. “Oh, doll. Judging by how he looks like he might commit nepoticide at any moment, I’d say you’re doing a fine job of making him pay for it.”

-----------------------

Aemond hears you laugh a few feet away, recognizing his favourite sound. It’s been too long since he last heard it. Too bad you’re sharing the moment with his Strong nephew, of all people.

The song slows to a gradual halt, but the dance is still under way. Aemond takes this as his cue to turn away from Alys, mumbling something about getting a drink.

“Wait until they’re served. You don’t just slink away searching for alcohol to drown in! This is so unlike you.” She seethes, his attitude finally getting to her.

Aemond knows this. He’s well aware that the servers will soon emerge from the corners of the hall with delicate glass flutes balanced on gold trays. He’s seen this ball play out all throughout his life.

But he is not looking for the same sweet, feeble firewine. He’d much prefer the seedier alcohol that Aegon brings around in his flask.

Alys was right. This is truly unlike him. But between the awareness of everyone scrutinizing his new appearance and seeing his nephew’s hand firmly on your waist, his only recourse is to take a book out of Aegon’s page.

And drink like a Braavosi seahorse, as they say.

You begin swaying once more, in the arms of Jace, as the music gradually rises back to a crescendo. New sets of pairings venture onto the dancefloor.

Thankfully, one of them steps in to relieve him.

“Well, if it isn’t Alys Rivers herself,” a man exclaims, then turns to Aemond. “Do you mind, sir?” He holds his hand out to Alys, standing tall like a reed, as if a stiff breeze would blow him away.

“Oh, hi.” Alys says, pleased at the attention. “Aemond, this is Harris, he’s an actor and we worked on…”

But Aemond has already stepped away, disinterested by her explanation. “By all means.”

It is clearly not the reaction Alys wanted from him, and she glares at his retreating figure. Aemond doesn’t notice, approaching his brother on the sidelines.

“Finished dancing with mommy?” Aegon sneers by way of greeting.

“Fuck off, Aegon.”

“Aw, come on.” Aegon slaps his brother on the back. “You know I'm joking. Besides, you’re doing well for your first event in a long time.”

“Well,” Aemond’s lips curl in thought. Is that how things are going? Well? I wouldn’t say so. “Hand me your flask.”

Aegon sniggers, reaching for his pocket. “Hurry while our dear mother’s not looking.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aemond takes a long drag of the liquid, the unforgiving taste biting in his mouth. It burns a little as it goes down his throat, winding up in his core as a pit of warmth.

“Well, well. Did you lose your inhibitions along with your eye, brother?” Aegon snatches the flask back, surprised but not disappointed by this turn of events.

Perhaps.

“Look at them. Smiling at each other like that.” Aemond spits out, venom lacing his tone.

“Wha -” Aegon’s head whips around, searching. Landing on you. “Oh. I see.” His amusement flares even greater. “Someone’s bloody jealous.”

“Hmm.” Why bother denying it?

“Didn’t think you had it in you to be cuckolded by a bastard.” Aegon says, dealing an effective blow.

“Give me that,” Aemond swipes the flask once more, taking a careless swig. Intrigued whispers reach him, somewhere from behind. Or to his side, it doesn’t matter. They can say whatever they want.

He hands the flask back to his snickering brother, then goes on to claim what’s his.

-----------------------

“Nephew.”

You hear his voice, plain as day. One minute he was some distance away, then he materialised right beside you.

“Mind if I step in?” Aemond asks Jace smoothly. Politely. But his eyes betray a hint of malice. You can’t help but stare at him blankly as he offers his hand to you.

Jace doesn’t respond right away, looking to you for approval. Are you fine with this? He seems to ask with furrowed brows.

“It’s okay,” you find your voice, albeit timid and unsure.

“I won’t go too far,” Jace whispers. He lets you go, letting Aemond take over in his stead. You stand in front of each other, but you don’t dare move closer. You feel arrested in his gaze, and he doesn’t say anything for a while.

Until he takes a sure step. Then he is everywhere. His familiar scent envelops you once more. Dizzying, like a long swig of firewine. You even catch a hint of it from him. His lips curl in amusement as he sees you studying him. You take notice of his eyepatch, of the scar lingering beneath.

Aemond. Enticing as ever. Ethereal and princely in his leather garb.

Why did he ever have to hide from me?

He whispers your name, and puts both hands on the small of your back, pulling you right against him. More intimate than the stance you had with Jace.

Aemond always had a pair on him.

He does seem to be unfazed, though he surely regards how flustered you’re becoming. “Hands up on my shoulders, love.” He says, and you comply.

Then he gracefully guides you through the slow dance. How can he act like everything is normal between us? Does he expect me to just -

“You look beautiful.” Aemond says, breaking you out of your thoughts. Your eyes widen at his sentiment, and your cheeks warm. “Easily the most beautiful woman in this room.”

It’s all too much, and you have to look away. “Nice of you to say that, Aemond.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure.”

You continue with the dance, too aware of your proximity. If you lean in, you’re almost certain he’ll feel your rushing heartbeat. Maybe he already does, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“Are you… are you better now?” You ask, tentatively.

Aemond’s expression hardens, and you struggle to decipher what he could possibly be thinking.

“I wish this never happened to you,” you add, and your hand strays on its own, hovering over the side of his face. But you catch yourself, and let your hand fall just as quick.

“I know,” he says, sincerely. “I do wish I never had to be away from you.”

“But you never had to,” you respond immediately. “This wouldn’t have changed how I see you.”

“It might have,” Aemond looks away this time. “You didn’t see how I was. How I still am.”

“I don’t - ”

Aemond’s head whips back to you, leaning closer. “There’s a reason why my mother made sure I wore these bloody gloves. So we don’t give people a chance to talk about their fucking Prince of the City’s latest exploits.”

You swallow, growing concerned. “I heard about those… fights. I wasn’t sure if they were true. Nobody ever said anything.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, they are. I’m not going to lie, darling. Right now, I’m not averse to slamming Jacaerys right to the ground.”

“Aemond,” you freeze, no longer swaying to the music. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Maybe he has changed. But did I ever truly know him? Did he really let me in?

He notices your expression fall, agonizes at the sight of you moving away from him, dropping your arm to your sides. So he pulls you in once more, holding you right against him. His leather coat is smooth against the featherlike fabric of your gown, cool against your growing warmth.

“Wait,” Aemond pleads. “Stay with me.” His hands slide upward, cradling your face. You have no choice but to look at him. Briefly, you wonder how he would appear without the eyepatch. Not that it matters. Not that he will reveal himself to you.

The song comes to a gradual halt in the background. The crowd begins to shuffle back to their tables. Some of them cast wary glances in your direction. Who is that girl with their beloved Aemond, they must wonder, and you begin to grow self-conscious.

“I want to kiss you right now, darling.” Aemond sighs, fanning your face with an exhale. Proving your assumption that he might be inebriated. Not just with wine, but something stronger.

I wish you would. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” His face scrunches in frustration, and it’s actually adorable.

“Not here. People are staring.” You clear your throat, trying to get a hold of yourself. But it doesn’t seem to matter to him.

“Let them stare.”

His gaze drifts down to your lips. His thumb flutters across, parting them just a little. Just as he had, that one night. Has it been that long?

Like a shock to your senses, you see a lithe figure in a silver slip gown walking in your direction. A vision with her cascading dark hair.

You jump back from Aemond, and he looks almost wounded.

“Enjoy your night, Aemond.” You turn away from him. “Alys.” You muster up a greeting, and the corner of her mouth lifts in a wry smile.

You walk through the crowd, your mind still on Aemond, unaware that he continues to watch you with longing, tuning out the dark-haired vixen holding on to his arm.

“You look flushed,” Aegon greets, standing with Helaena by the dais.

“I suppose it’s your fault Aemond’s drunk,” you respond, raising your eyebrow.

“He’s drunk?” Aegon exclaims, shrugging dramatically. “I swear I had no part in this.”

Helaena shakes her head, watching the exchange. “It’s a relief you didn’t decide to become an actor.”

“Hey,” Aegon grumbles, but he is clearly unaffected. “Aemond wanted to get drunk. I never could make him do anything no matter how hard I try.”

Smirking at you, he presses on. “If anything, sweet, I should be blaming you.”

-----------------------

You are seated back at the high table when Jace finally returns. But he is not alone, grinning conspiratorially with another raven-haired fellow, strapping and dignified in appearance.

You spot the wolf sigil pinned to his black tunic, and you automatically make an assumption.

This must be a Stark.

“I would like to introduce you to an old buddy of mine,” Jace smiles, confirming your thoughts. “This is Cregan Stark.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Cregan reaches you, drawing close. He smoothly takes your hand, and presses a kiss to the back as a gesture of courtesy. “A shame we didn’t meet sooner. I suppose I haven’t left Winterfell in far too long. Haven’t seen this one in a long time too.” He tilts his head in Jace’s direction, smiling. You can’t help but notice the sharpness of his canines, making him appear kind of wolflike, in line with his family symbol. “My sister Sara misses him way too much for my liking.”

At the mention of Sara, Jace’s cheeks visibly redden, and you make a mental note of teasing him about it later.

“What’s not to miss about Jace, really?” you say, taking a liking to the Stark boy’s demeanour. Sure, he holds himself with a steely confidence that befits someone of his status - much like Aemond - but he doesn’t come across as intimidating.

And, more importantly, he’s good friends with Jace, so he must be trustworthy.

“Right, you two, the feast is starting,” Jace playfully pulls Cregan away from you, who winks in your direction before hunkering off to his own table.

Jace sits down next to you, a smile still resting on his lips. When he catches you looking, you take the opportunity and say, “So, Sara Stark, huh?”

He smirks, easily countering with, “So, my uncle, huh?”

Your eyebrows raise, and you pick up the flute of wine set before you.

“Touché.”

-----------------------

Another one. Aemond has half a mind to break something when he spots the fucking Stark boy making advancements on you. Who does he think he is anyway? Does he not know that you are already spoken for?

True to form, his nephew Jacaerys only seems to be encouraging the whole thing. Bringing his two friends together.

Bastard is as bastard does.

Thankfully, there is a sudden trill sound, some chimes swinging, it doesn’t matter. The feast is being signalled to commence.

Everyone makes their way back to their tables, including bloody Cregan Stark.

Aemond is simply determined to go through the motions, and to make it to the remaining two hours of this ball. Two excruciating hours. Then he plans on taking you off somewhere, just you and him, having already considered the different outcomes in his head.

To Blackwater Residences, perhaps? But that would be a bit far away. You would be inclined to go with him, only if there would be an option to return to the ball should the need arise.

So he settles on simply pulling you away from the crowd, somewhere within the Valyrian Hall. He knows the ins and outs of the establishment quite well. So there would be no trouble getting around. To the gardens, to the balcony on the upper floor, to the private parlour?

Anywhere, anything.

“... so of course, I said yes! It’s a really good opportunity for me to finally venture into the film industry, you know. It’s something I've always wanted.” Alys prattles on, and Aemond tunes in, now and then, nodding or shaking his head as warranted. Keep her happy, and the night should flow by easily. If he plays his cards right, he should be with you soon enough.

Viserys commands the attention of the crowd, and hush falls over the feast.

He begins by thanking everyone in attendance, then goes on to make a toast for the entire city, for prosperity. And at the end, he expresses a tribute for perpetual unity among his family, the accident glazed over like a bad headline.

Like it never happened. And that is how people will see it, if that is the will of Viserys.

As per tradition, the rest of the family may take the opportunity to share a toast, should they wish.

Rhaenyra is next, and she expresses gratitude for the health of their sons.

Otto Hightower announces the predicted success of the next business venture between the Targaryen and Hightower empires, shepherded by his tireless consulting and liaising, of course.

Daeron makes a cheerful toast to his many friends, scattered across the hall in attendance.

And then, Lucerys stands, leaning against his good leg, one hand on the table for balance. He raises his hand high, and his usual impish smirk is in place. He looks around the hall, making sure to have everyone’s eyes on him.

“It's been quite the year, as we all know. I, for one, am simply grateful to still be standing here among you.”

Viserys looks to Rhaenrya, as if to question whether Luke will stray too far. The boy’s mother merely smiles stiffly, trusting her son to be prudent in his speech.

Luke does not miss a beat, continuing, “I would like us all to toast to my family, especially to my dear uncle, Aemond. Hopefully he has learned his lesson about challenging me to a race.” He adds the last thing lightly, and the crowd titters as a result.

“Alright, Luke, that’s enough.” Rhaenyra makes a hushed warning.

Luke mouths, wait, and finishes up the rest of his speech. “I would like to make a toast as well, to our dear friends and companions here at our table. To Daeron’s girlfriend, Viola. To Rhaena and her Corwyn. And to my good friend, y/n.”

Aemond’s hand clenches into a fist on the table at his nephew mentioning your name. He sees you regard Luke with surprise, not expecting this at all.

Luke finishes his toast, and in a deliberate move, he says, “Seeing as how my brother is quite taken with you, I won’t be surprised if you will be joining our family soon.”

Aemond suddenly rises from his seat, his weighty chair causing a grating noise to echo across the hall.

Luke sits back down with a triumphant sneer, having accomplished his desired result.

Aemond takes a deep breath, not saying anything for a few seconds. His features are stony and his figure taut, like a serpent ready to strike.

“Aemond,” Alicent says, worried.

Then Aemond raises his glass, a determined look on his face, his one beady eye scanning the hall. Not willing to be defeated.

“A tribute,” he begins, “to the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…”

He catches sight of you, sitting too far away, worriedly looking between himself and Jacaerys, who glares at him appalled. You shake your head at him.

This is all for you, my darling.

“...Strong.” Aemond calls to everyone. “Let us raise our cups, to these three Strong boys.”

The tension takes its toll, and despite Viserys’ best efforts, chaos ensues.

a/n

not Aemond getting wasted just to cope with the high of properly being with the reader after the longest time...

also - someone send Ewan back to Derby please. I'm serious.

Sound off in the comments! I would love to know what you guys think 🖤

Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyv @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon

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daisynik7 · 8 months

Note

“Into you” by Fabolous for Connie Springer- smut + fluff

(S4 connie ofc)

Into You

I think you’re truly something special, just what my dreams are really made of

Pairing: Connie Springer x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: super fluffy, kinda cheesy, college au, modern day au, lots of basketball terms (applies specifically to NCAA and NBA), explicit language, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), implied creampie

Summary: You and Connie Springer have been close since childhood, growing up as next-door neighbors and best friends. The bond the two of you share is undeniable, but you’ve never been able to admit how deep your feelings are, either to yourself or to him. You continue to support him as his friend while he pursues his career as a basketball player, trying to get drafted into the NBA. Though the journey has its ups and downs, one thing is for certain: The two of you will always have each other, forever and ever.

Author’s Notes: Hi anon! Thanks so much for requesting this song for the y2k karaoke party because it’s one of my FAVORITES! It really gives me Love & Basketball vibes, another favorite of mine that also happens to be a classic in the y2k era. This little fic is very loosely based off of that, so I hope you enjoy! Also, all the basketball/NBA tidbits are mostly from being with my boyfriend, who is a huge NBA fan, so yeah, sorry if any details are inaccurate lol. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! MDNI banner credit to @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest (Slam Dunk manga).

“You have to pinky promise, okay?” Connie sticks his tiny finger out, wiggling it in front of your face, sucking on his cherry-flavored lollipop, lips and tongue-stained red. You’re both five years old, sitting cross-legged in the front of his yard, taking a break from playing hide-and-seek.

“What am I pinky promising?” you ask, voice squeaky and curious.

“That we’ll be best friends forever and ever! No matter what!” he exclaims, beaming at you with his eyes wide, twinkling earnestly.

You only need to think for a few seconds before you’re hooking your pinky with his, committing to this promise for the rest of your lives.

~~~

Ten years later, Connie makes it on the varsity basketball team in your high school. It’s rare for a freshman to make it to varsity at Ragako; the coaches must have seen that spark in him that you and his family have witnessed since he started playing at ten-years-old. You used to shoot around with him out in his driveway, where his father set up a little hoop. Eventually, the little one got upgraded to a real one, where the height was adjusted appropriately as Connie grew. You became his practice partner, no longer able to compete with him. Instead, you passed him the ball, watching in awe as he made shot after shot, sometimes deep from the street. He’d pick you up and spin you around, the two of you cheering together, impressed by his skills.

Year after year, he only improved. The way he handled the ball, expertly dribbling it between his legs, behind his back, one-handed, without looking. Or the way his feet gracefully shuffled along the court, the distinct squeak from his shoes echoing off the walls as you watch him on the bleachers, playing three-on-three against some of his buddies at the gym. One time, his friend Jean teases you. “You know, you should stop hanging around here or else people might think you’re his groupie.”

Before you can think of a smart comeback, Connie interjects, shoving Jean hard in the arm. “Hey! Leave her alone. I want her here. I only play like this when she’s around. And she’s not a groupie. She’s my best friend.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders, leading you towards the exit while Jean sputters apologies that go ignored. “Sorry about that,” he whispers to you. “Jean is an asshole. I want you around, got it? Forever and ever.”

You smile, leaning into him. “Forever and ever.”

~~~

It’s at the championship game during senior year that you realize that you’re in love with Connie.

Scouts have already contacted him about full-ride scholarships to university, recruiting him for their team. He’s the most celebrated point-guard in your school’s history, his average points and assists per game breaking records. Ever since he joined, your school has made it in the final round each year, last year resulting in a win, this year leading to a second.

With seconds left on the shot clock, tie game, Ragako with possession, Connie makes his move. He inbounds the ball to his teammate, quickly taking position at the right wing, his sweet spot. As quickly as it leaves his hands, the ball is passed back to him. He shoots it, and as it flies out from his fingers into the air, the buzzer rings, and he makes it. The crowd goes wild; one side of the bleachers erupting into a frenzy, jumping up and down with excitement. Connie’s parents hug each other first, then surround you in their arms, elated. You don’t expect him to celebrate the win with you, not with his entire team huddling around him, splashing water on his head, cheering his name. Not with all the cheerleaders and fans gravitating toward him, eager to be in the presence of a sure-to-be star in the making. So, it surprises you when you see him maneuver his way through the crowd, heading straight towards you. He pounces on you, giving you the biggest, sweatiest hug with tears streaming down his face. It’s a split second where the surrounding noise goes blank and it’s just the two of you there, basking in each other’s warmth. Soon, his parents join you, also crying happily, and it’s in this moment that you realize this is where you want to be: with him. Forever and ever.

~~~

It's no surprise that the two of you attend the same college together. Most people will see it as you following him, but in actuality, Connie agrees to go wherever you go. Lucky for you both, your top choice is a D1 university where he’s offered a scholarship to play for their basketball team. It works out perfectly, as if it were meant to be.

He’s busy from the get-go, practicing every day until the season starts in November. You become preoccupied with classes, and naturally, the two of you travel your different paths, meeting in the middle whenever you can. When the season official starts, you attend all his home games, cheering for him from the sidelines surrounded by the other students also chanting his name. Weeknights, he’s often too tired to hang out, retreating to his dorm room to fall asleep, only to repeat his busy schedule again the next day. He grows close with his teammates, spending most of his time with them instead of you, which is to be expected. After all, you and Connie are just friends. Sure, you’re completely and madly in love with him, but he’ll never know that. So, you watch from afar as he pursues his career without you in the way. It’s the way it has to be.

By the time spring semester rolls around, you and Connie barely see each other. You’ll still text, sometimes video chat or talk on the phone. He mostly vents to you about teammates or coaches that have gotten on his nerves that day. He’ll catch you up on the other schools they’ve defeated or the ones that they’ve lost to. Your school’s record is quite good thanks to Connie, who’s only gotten better since high school. If they continue at this rate, they will win the conference tournament, meaning a trip to March Madness, the most prestigious competition in college basketball. Most importantly, it’s one step closer to the NBA.

As expected, the team does win the conference tournament. That night, the entire campus is lively with students buzzing in school spirit, ready to party the rest of the weekend. All you think about is calling Connie to congratulate him, hear his voice and tell him that you’re so proud of him. You debate with yourself for nearly fifteen minutes, staring at his name on your screen, fingers so close to dialing his number. You decide not to go through with it, certain that he’s too busy with his team, too busy with his fans. He’s not thinking about you, not when his whole world is about to change. And you can’t blame him; you’re just friends, and this is the way it has to be.

The following night, your school organizes an impromptu homecoming for the basketball team, welcoming them as they arrive on the bus, fresh from their championship win. They have a couple days of rest before they leave for the NCAA tournament, but you’re sure they’ll be busy with press and practice until then. You’re not there to greet them when they step off the bus; instead, you’re sulking in your room, buried under the covers, feeling sorry for yourself for ever falling in love with Connie Springer. It’s a sad, pathetic sight, but at least you’re alone for the weekend to do it while your roommate is out visiting her boyfriend out of town.

You’re surprised to see Connie’s name flash on your phone a few hours later. You let it ring twice before answering. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” he asks. There’s shuffling in the background, as if he’s walking outside.

“I’m in my room.”

“I’m coming over now.” He hangs up, not giving you any time to respond. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

When you open the door to let him in, he wraps his arms around you in a snug embrace. “I missed you.” He pulls off to hold you by the arms, glaring. “Why didn’t you greet me off the bus?”

“I…” you start, unsure how to respond.

“I was looking for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“I was studying in the library.” This might be the first time you’ve ever lied to him. You feel guilty and gross.

“Oh,” he says sadly, still staring at you.

“Congratulations, by the way. It was an amazing win.” You give him a weak smile, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. You don’t even know why you’re crying; Connie did nothing wrong. You’re letting your emotions get the best of you, and you can’t help but crumble in front of the only person who knows you better than you know yourself.

“I don’t care about that right now. I care about you. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Connie, I promise.”

“Don’t promise me shit like that. I know you’re upset. Tell me. Please.” His eyes search yours, desperate for an answer.

You look at his feet, fixating on his shoes, scuffed on the sides from playing. Tears start to drop from your face and on the carpet. “I just…I missed you too. I miss you, Connie. I…I love you.” The confession slips from your mouth in a sniffle, and you’re so upset with yourself for letting it slide in this crucial moment. Neither of you needs the drama of your unrequited love right now. Not you, knowing he’ll be leaving again soon, and especially not him, who has bigger and better things to focus on.

He gapes at you, stuttering, “You love me?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“Like, love love? Or love like a friend?”

You’re tempted to lie, just to make it easier. But you owe it to Connie to be honest with him. “Love love.”

His mouth is open, eyes bugging out, completely shocked by your admission. Before he can respond, you add, “I’m sorry, Connie. I shouldn’t have told you this right before the tournament, but…I don’t know. It just came out. I’m sorry.”

He stammers, “You’re sorry? This is the best fucking thing I’ve heard in my entire life.” He breaks into a smile, laughing hysterically, an even more bizarre reaction.

You cross your arms, getting impatient with his ridiculous behavior, eventually grabbing his shoulders to shake him out of his fit. “Connie, what the hell?!”

He wipes his eyes, crying from giggling, beaming at you. “I’ve been in love with since we were kids. Been dreaming of hearing you say that since we were five-years-old.” He hugs you tightly, nuzzling his nose to the top of your head. “I love you and I want to be with you. Forever and ever, right?”

You nestle into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent you missed since he’s been gone. “Forever and ever.”

~~~

The two of you spend the night together, making love for the first time. His lips are soft against yours, and you smile into his kiss, remembering the day you pinky promised that you’ll be best friends forever and ever, no matter what. His lips were stained red with cherry-flavored candy, looking sickly sweet as he smiled at you. And as you kiss him now, he tastes just as sweet as you imagined he’d be after all these years.

You kiss him sloppy as you ride his lap, his cock buried deep in your pussy, filling you up to the brim. He moans your name into your mouth as he laps at the saliva collecting on your tongue, slurping your spit, swallowing it thickly. “Fuck,” he groans, hands gripped to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his thighs. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long, baby. So long.”

“Me too,” you whisper, starting to bounce on him, close to your climax.

“What would you think about? Tell me,” he demands, thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing it raw.

You whine from his touch, increasing your pace, resting your head on his shoulder. “You and me, just like this,” you huff, short of breath.

“Yeah? You thought about me deep inside you, huh? Fucking this sweet pussy until you come all over my cock, huh?” He thrusts up into you, grip tightening, fingers digging into your flesh. He’s close too, you can feel it.

You moan into his skin, sweat beading on your forehead, throwing your ass back against him in tandem with each pump of his cock. A few more strokes and the two of you come together, the mess spilling onto the sheets as soon as he pulls out.

He wipes you down with tissues and baby wipes you have handy on your bedside drawer. As soon as you’re both clean, he cradles you in his arms, spooning you from behind.

“I know this is going to sound super cheesy, but I truly feel like a winner now,” he says, kissing the nape of your neck.

You chuckle, squeezing his hand in yours. “Wait until you win March Madness. Then you’ll really be a champ.”

“Even if I lose, I’ll still have you. And that’s been my dream all this time.”

You shift your body to face him, gazing into his eyes. “I thought your dream was to make it into the NBA?”

He smiles, booping you on the nose. “It’s part of the dream, sure. But I wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am now if it wasn’t for you. You kept me going all these years. Knowing you were always on my side gave me the strength I needed to get here. As long as I have you, I’ll be living the dream.” He kisses you on the forehead. “I’m going to love you for the rest of our lives.”

“Forever and ever?”

“Forever and ever.”

~~~

In an upset, your school loses in the Final Four. It’s the furthest they’ve gotten in university history, and a large part of that is due to Connie and his extraordinary performance as their point guard. His efforts do not go unnoticed; his coaches and many prospective agents have contacted him, encouraging him to apply for the NBA draft.

June of the same year, Connie Springer is drafted tenth in the first round and you’re sitting right beside him with his parents, cheering for him. Just as you have throughout all these years, and just as you will for the rest of your lives. Forever and ever.

#connie springer #connie springer smut #connie springer x reader #connie springer x you #connie springer x y/n #Connie springer fluff #connie smut #connie x reader #Connie x you #aot smut #aot fluff #attack on titan fluff #attack on titan smut #y2k karaoke party #milestone event

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darlingofdots · 5 months

Text

Formal vs Informal Address in German Temeraire Translations: a report

So I have picked up my German copies of the Temeraire books for the first time in over a decade for reasons unrelated to this post but I immediately got distracted by the matter of formal address in German and how translators have to make a very specific and important choice when translating from English. German (like French and many other languages) has two forms of direct address in the 2nd person, an informal one for friends, family, children etc., and a formal address for strangers, teachers, colleagues, professional contacts. It is famously a Whole Thing when you switch from formal to informal with somebody: usually the person with a 'higher' position in the relationship has to explicitly offer it and it can be a big deal! A common instance might be when you've worked at a new job for a while and your colleagues tell you to use informal to indicate they consider you Part Of The Team, or your girlfriend's parents do it when you've been dating a while and they signal that you're part of the family now. In translation, this can be a really tricky choice! For instance, I have not watched Elementary in German but I would say Sherlock and Joan would absolutely start out addressing each other formally (Sherlock calls her "Watson" most of the time), but by the end of the show there is no way they would not have switched. Obviously English-language media does not have an explicit conversation about this and the closest analogue would be switching to first names when they've only ever used last names before, but you can't rely on that and translators end up having to make choices about characterisation and relationships based on like, vibes. With all that said!

In the Temeraire series, there's a lot of formal address around, such as among officers; I knew Laurence would be addressing his cadets formally because even though they are like, 9 years old, they are his officers and deserve to be treated with that respect. I only have books 1-5 in German but I'd be willing to bet that this doesn't change even Emily's been with him for nigh on ten years, and the same goes for Temeraire. Also Laurence uses formal address with both his parents, in case you were wondering.

What I was not sure about was a) how other people address dragons and how dragons address each other and b) the finer interpersonal relationships among aviators. Jane addresses Iskierka formally but Temeraire informally; the dragons of the formation are formal with each other but Temeraire, Lily, and Maximus are not, and Temeraire quite happily scolds Iskierka like a misbehaving child. I would LOVE to find a bit of, say, Laurence talking to Lily or Berkley to Temeraire!

Among the aviators, Laurence and Jane are informal with each other once they've slept together, but I just saw that Laurence is also informal with Harcourt but not with Chenery, which is interesting but I suppose makes sense if you go by the dragons' relationships too. What really fascinates me is that at the end of Victory of Eagles, Laurence and Granby are still formal, which makes sense because until five minutes ago Laurence was his superior officer, but if I were the translator for this series I'd have them switch to informal with the beginning of book six but unfortunately I do not have that on hand so I can't check.

Now for the main event: Tharkay uses formal address with Laurence when he leaves to fetch more ferals at the beginning of book 4, and I thought he switched for the infamous "Laurence, what are you doing" which would have been exactly the right moment if you'd asked me, but in fact there is one random informal when they're out rescuing Granby in London (loose quotation: "that is [Woolvey's] problem and for those who would weep for him, even if they are close to your [informal] heart")? And then he goes right back to formal all the way to "Laurence, what are you [informal] doing" and finally switches properly, at which point Laurence follows his example. At first I thought that was weird and I am not sure if it was done on purpose, but on second thought I kind of like that he tries it out first when speaking of something personal (Laurence's concern for Edith) but isn't sure of it yet and retreats back to familiar territory until he realises that he needs to shock Laurence out of his war crime depression.

It's interesting to me that Tharkay was the one to take that step. Traditionally, like I said, it would be on the person in a position of authority to offer or, like with Granby, Laurence could have just switched once Granby was confirmed in rank to indicate that he wants to be friends now that he doesn't give orders anymore. Of course it makes perfect sense that Tharkay would not care one bit about rank, and he's not really an officer anyway and he certainly does not consider Laurence to have authority over him. I love that the translator (Marianne Schmidt) recognised that moment on campaign for what I think it is: not so much a turning point in their relationship but one that cements a degree of intimacy that Laurence doesn't have with anyone else. They would not have had access to book 6, I think, when they were working on book 5, so it very much is a deliberate choice based on their interactions up to this point. I made a list recently about people that Will Laurence calls by their first name (former first lieutenants, Catherine Harcourt, 1 FWB, and Tharkay) and now I feel like I need to make another list of people German!Will Laurence uses informal address with!

#dottie rambles #temeraire #i should be working on my actual dissertation and here I am instead #this will be interesting to like. 3 people.

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here4kpopfics · 2 years

Text

Leave The Door Open 2 | JJK

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Pairing: neighbor!Jungkook x (f)reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, humor

AU: fwb to lovers

Wordcount: 27,942 I'm so sorry

Summary: Loosely based off this request. The aftermath of hooking up with your neighbor is not what you expected it to be.

Warnings: Language. Possessiveness. A little bit of a creep vibe from Jungkook if I’m honest. They’re both dumb. Slut shaming (not in a sexy way & she slaps him in response). It’s implied that both Jungkook and reader are bi or pan. I don’t make the rules.

Smut warnings: Explicit sex. Protected sex. Unprotected sex (Wrap it folks). Pet names (Sparkles and baby are used an OBSCENE amount). Edging. Whole lot of heavy petting. Oral (f receiving). Fingering. Squirting. Light choking/breath play. Masturbation. Use of sex toys. Anal and anal play. Double Penetration. Spanking. a lot of Biting. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Technically cum eating. Creampie. I’m sure there’s more. I’m tired.

Rating: M / 18+

AN: This wasn’t meant to happen. Part 1 was just an open ended one off where you can decide what happens next. But @btsgotjams27 loves to taunt me in my DMs, sending me this gif and then a few days later posting the boxer prompt. and I immediately started writing. It was only going to be 6k max. But I've basically quadrupled it. This is a lot. I’m so sorry. Read More right at the beginning so you know it’s smutty. Thank you to the owner of my love and affection @here2bbtstrash for beta-reading this madness that is essentially a continuation of their request. Banner and Divider made by the beautiful @classicseffects

and as usual, please leave feedback. Either with a reblog or send me an ask. It’s greatly appreciated. 💜

“I lost my match because of you,” he pants, falling over next to you after tossing the used condom in the trash next to the bed. It was slowly getting full from the amount of stamina you both had when it came to being with one another.

“What? What match?” You’re confused. Like you missed a whole conversation. Did he really fuck you senseless this time? To the point you don’t remember whole conversations?

“My boxing match. Or, not mine, it was the guy I train. That’s why I was gone for three days. He had a match. And the coach believes that the boxer shouldn’t have sex for a few weeks before a match.” He rolls over, grabbing your thigh to pull you closer while casually putting you on your side and tugging you to align your hips with his. “I like to follow the same rules as the boxer so I have a similar mindset of what he’s going through in the ring. I was doing really well until you flung yourself at me two days before.”

“First of all, I did not fling myself at you. More like I grabbed that annoying towel and you flung onto me.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not,” his hand wraps around your torso to grab a breast, giving it a harsh squeeze, and you whimper softly at the pain.

“Okay, maybe I did a little flinging, but you went with it,” you murmur in defeat. “So that’s on you for having no self control. Sorry your boxer lost a match due to a one night stand. That should really be on him though. Maybe he was having sex too, ever think about that?” You quip, moving his hand off your breast and onto the bed.

“Also, didn’t you have a girl over last weekend? I can hear everything because of that stupid wall. That did not sound like you were not nutting.”

“Porn, Sparkles. It was porn. I don’t bring girls home.”

“Oh…” You put off the not bringing girls home part of that sentence because you’re currently in his bed and in his apartment. So what the hell does that even mean? “Wait. If you’re jerking off from porn, that still counts. So I’m not to blame!”

“I don’t let myself come.” He says it so simply, lips against your temple, and yet just those five words light a fire in you.

“I bring myself right to the edge.” His fingers lightly trail across your stomach.

“Where I can feel myself about to explode.” Then down your side.

“And just when I’m about to get there…” Across your hip and over your lower stomach, getting dangerously close to where you need him again.

“I stop.” And so do his fingers. “I close the website. Breathe. And move on.” He pulls his hand away, resting it on his own hip so he’s not touching you.

He’s not touching you with his hands, but he absolutely is with everything else. You feel his warm chest against your back, his breathing on your neck, and his growing erection against your ass. It takes so much resistance not to roll your hips back.

“So you edge yourself,” is all you can breathe out. He just hums, bringing his lips down to your ear, breath rigid and hot.

“It’s not that hard once you learn.” He licks behind the shell of your ear, giving the smallest nibble. “Do you wanna learn, baby? Wanna learn how to bring yourself to the edge of euphoria and be the one to rip it away from yourself?”

You don’t. You don’t want to be the cause of denying your own orgasm. But his voice is so low and against your ear and you have no self control with this man. So you nod, leaning back into him as he twists your head back to kiss you.

Two weeks later:

You wake up to the blinding sun in your eyes. Who the hell opened the curtains? You know who. Squinting, you roll over, ready to smack the man responsible for blinding you in your sleep, but instead are met with just pillows. You open your eyes a little bit more to confirm he wasn’t there. Once confirmed, you roll on your back, stretching your limbs every which way, groaning louder than necessary.

You stop when the bathroom door opens and out walks him. Your neighbor with the midnight karaoke habit. The man you have now technically slept with about six times but have had at least three or four rounds each time with in total. You can’t remember. Every time it goes one of two ways. Either he shows up at your door randomly and shoves you back inside, or you’re in your apartment, enjoying your alone time. And then his angelic voice sounds through your shared wall, calling you over like he was a siren and you were his victim.

Last night he tortuously edged you, very reminiscent of the night he returned from his three day trip when he taught you how to edge yourself. This time, however, he edged you three times in a row over the course of an hour and denied you from release the rest of the night, meaning you two weren’t done yet.

He’s not wearing anything. Just a towel. Another fucking towel. He grins ear to ear at the sight of you completely naked, tangled in his sheets, on his bed, in his apartment. A very unusual sight for him since he never brings sexual partners home. But this specific view is one he wants to see again and again. He sits on the bed next to your sprawled out form, placing a hand on your thigh closer to your knee and massaging it with his fingertips.

“How are you feeling?”

“Mmmm…sore. But good. You?” You smile, groaning softly at the feeling of his hand on your thigh. He moves it upward, still massaging and you subconsciously open your legs for him to get better access to the sore muscle.

“Yeah, I’m good. There’s another match in two weeks, so I have to go back to abstinence starting tomorrow, which wouldn’t be a problem, usually. But now…” he trails off, hand creeping higher up your thigh until his knuckles are ghosting over your center, fingers still digging into your thigh. “Now, it feels like a real challenge.”

“Yeah?” You smile, watching him lose focus as his eyes are locked on his new favorite spot. How are you already wet? Or is it from before? You lift your hips up just enough that a knuckle rubs against your clit and you shudder, enjoying his reaction. His expression drops and he looks up at you like you just betrayed him. You smirk.

“Why tomorrow? Why not just start today? I should go so you don’t get distracted. Can’t be the cause of your guy losing another matc- OW.” A light but direct slap against your sensitive bundle of nerves jolts you to lift yourself up on your forearms. “What the fuck?!”

He ignores you, throwing the towel off his waist, crawling over you and crashing his mouth against yours. You moan into the assault on your lips while his tattooed hand reaches down between you both and roughly covers your sex. He gives you all of two seconds to process anything before two fingers are shoved as far in as they can go and curling to hit your most sensitive spot.

The guttural moan you let out is almost a growl as you fall back onto the bed, throwing your head into the pillows, hands frantically grabbing onto anything. They finally land on his shoulder, nails digging into his flesh, leaving scratch marks that you know will last for days. Hopefully he doesn’t mind.

He doesn’t. It just makes him more rough with you. He adds a third finger, mouth moving down to bite your jaw and then your neck. Grunting with each thrust of his fingers.

“Fuck, do you have any fucking idea what you do to me, baby? How am I supposed to be away from this… ” The hand not currently abusing your center tightly grips your hip, “for two fucking weeks? Just three days was enough to make me go insane.”

You’re whimpering, on the verge of tears when he pulls his fingers out and sits up. He lifts your hips up to his face, resting your thighs on his shoulders, so just your upper back and head are touching the bed. He wraps his arms around your hips to keep you steady and attaches his mouth to your glistening mess of a pussy.

You scream. “Jungkook! What the hell?!” Your hand reaches out for his hair but he’s too far away. You go to drop your hand in defeat when suddenly one of his is interlacing with it. He brings it up to your stomach so he can keep his hold on you as his tongue laps at your essence, sucking on your clit and folds in intervals. Licking small circles around your rim every so often just to tease you.

“Please. Right there. Jungkook, right there. Don’t stop. I’m going to- please let me.” You’re crying, a complete mess and unable to control anything. Before he can either give you permission or deny you pleasure yet again, you feel a sharp snap inside of you and you’re screaming his name and bucking your hips everywhere. Your vision goes blurry and then dark and you can feel his grip on you tighten, hand still wrapped around yours as you come down from your high.

It’s not until you fully come down that you realize you’re laying flat on your back again and he’s on top of you, placing soft kisses across your face and neck, kissing away any tears you have left. You squeeze his hand and open your eyes slowly, a few remaining runaway tears stopped by Jungkook’s soft lips.

“You’re okay, baby. It was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.” He whispers so softly against your cheek, you feel like you’re melting. You shake your head.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. What happened?”

This time he’s the one squeezing your hand as he grins proudly.

“You squirted.”

Your eyes widen. “I did what now?”

He just nods. “It was a lot too. Must’ve been from the edging earlier. It was hot.” He kisses you while you’re still speechless and you can hear him softly groaning as he slowly ruts against the mattress.

“You’re hard.” You mumble in between kisses. He just smiles against your lips and nods.

“How can I not be when the hottest girl just squirted all over my face? Wanna ruin you so badly but don’t want you to overdo it.” He moves down your body, kissing across your breasts, stopping at your pert nipple and teasing it with his tongue, moving on to the other one when he feels like he’s done enough.

“Jungkook?” He hums in response, lips wrapped around your hardened bud, causing you to moan and grab at his hair. You’re out of breath again. “Please ruin me.” His head snaps up to face you.

“You sure? I don’t want you passing out on me again.”

“If you’re not going to touch me for another two weeks, you better get to fucking work. Plus think about the bragging rights of being able to fuck a girl literally senseless?”

“Don't tempt me, baby.”

“Ah, but that’s what I do. It’s what I live for.”

“Did you just quote The Little Mermaid?” He tilts his head to the side and you laugh.

“And if I did? Still gonna fuck me or nah?”

He really growls this time, reaching over for the box of condoms and grabbing the last one. “Okay, baby. But we’ll go slow.”

He quickly rolls the condom on, using your essence to give himself a few pumps before lining himself up to you and eases himself in. He leans back over you, capturing your lips with his, and slowly rolls his hips, swallowing your moans. He keeps to his word, a slow pace, but every thrust feels deeper than before and the fire in you is building just as intensely as if he was pounding into you relentlessly.

“I’m not gonna last long, baby.” He presses his forehead to yours, noses pushed against one another and lips barely grazing. “Tell me you're close.”

“‘M close.” He sighs in relief, giving a few more thrusts, slightly faster than the previous.

“Come with me, baby. Now.”

And as if he has some weird control over your body, your orgasm takes over your body in waves. You can feel him twitching inside you as you clench down almost in a specific rhythm that neither of you can recall.

Faces still pressed together, you’re both panting against one another, trying to steady your breathing and not completely black out. He gives you one last kiss on the cheek before pulling out of you and removing the condom, tossing it in the bin from earlier. He gets up and heads to the bathroom and grabs a warm washcloth, carefully cleaning between your legs, kissing your knee to distract you from the sensitive touches.

Whispers of “You did so good, baby.” and “My girl did such a great job.” are repeated as he finishes up, curling up behind you as you drift back to sleep.

You wake up a few hours later. It feels like the next day, but somehow it’s not. Jungkook had to begin training his boxer later tonight and would be busy for a few days, so he had you come over last night to spend a vast majority of the time he had making you fall apart over and over. And once again, he’s not there when you wake up.

You crawl out of his bed, grabbing his t-shirt and throwing it on as you head to the bathroom. He left a brand new toothbrush next to his, a post-it note attached saying ‘yours💜’, which is very reminiscent to the disposable toothbrush he left after the second time you two had sex with a note saying ‘all I have for now’. You smile, but your heart drops a little. The disposable one was just that. Disposable. Something to throw away after one or two uses. But this is a real toothbrush, something you replace after a few months, often with the same one because it’s what you like. It’s what you’re used to. You’re committed to it.

You finish up in the bathroom, leaving the bedroom, and find Jungkook in the kitchen. You sneak in and lean against the island while his back is to you.

“Whatcha makin’?” You laugh watching him jump in his place, spinning around with the spatula raised in his hand like a weapon.

“Don’t you know not to sneak up on a guy in his kitchen?”

“No. I was never raised properly, I guess.” You snicker as he relaxes, sending you an adorable glare that you’re sure he doesn’t intend on being adorable.

“Gonna have to teach you some manners, Sparkles.” He clicks his tongue at you, turning back to the stove. “And I’m making the sexy and nice girl in my bed brunch since I fucked her into sleeping until past noon.”

You slowly nod, smiling. “Oh she sounds hot. I’ll go see if she’s still there. Maybe we could have a threesome. Wonder if she’d be down to DP. I have a strap-on. Bet she’d be into that.”

You ramble off, walking around the island to lean against the counter, brushing your fingers up and down his tattooed arm, following the different patterns. “Which do you want? Her cunt or her ass? I’m fine with either.”

“You’re a menace to my sanity, Sparkles, I swear.” His body stiffens right back up as he closes his eyes. You grin the widest grin, poking his side.

“You’re imagining it aren’t you? Me and you and some hot girl taking it from both of us? You, on your back as her ass is riding your cock and she’s facing me as I pound into her tight cunt. Kissing her and feeling her up on top of you?” A quiet groan rumbles through his chest and he has to take a deep breath before letting out a long sigh.

“No. I’m imagining stuffing a vibrator deep inside your pussy while I fuck your ass until you learn to obey me and stop talking nonsense.” As turned on as that makes you, you pout, resting your chin on his arm.

“You don’t wanna share a girl? What about a guy? Are you into guys? That could be fun.”

“No. Well, yes but, no. I don’t want to share you.”

That same feeling of your heart plummeting happens again. You immediately step back, trying not to look as uncomfortable as you suddenly feel. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to map out all of your stuff. You’re pretty sure it’s all in the bedroom.

“Hey. As much as I appreciate the brunch. It smells amazing, by the way. I have to go. I have a bunch of jobs to apply for in case I don’t do well in my interview tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay, at least take it to go. Wait! You have an interview already?”

“Uh, sure yeah. Thank you. And yeah! It seems promising. Hopefully I don’t fuck it up too badly.” You laugh a bit awkwardly. If he notices it, he says nothing. You quickly retreat from the kitchen, back to his bedroom to get your stuff. You change back into your shirt but don’t bother with the lingerie set from the night before. It’s literally a few steps to your apartment. You cautiously exit the bedroom, your anxiety rising when his voice suddenly appears by you.

“Hey, tomorrow after the interview, we should hang out. I’ll have time before work. Either here, your place, or somewhere in the world.”

Panic. Fear. Anxiety. Oh god. Do you lie? Or be honest? Which is worse?

“Uh, I actually have plans tomorrow after the interview. I made them a few days ago.”

“Oh. Okay…”

Fuck.

“It’s uh…actually a date.” You pause, looking down at the floor. “Yeah, I have a date. His name’s Hyunjin. I met him the day before, well… “ you gesture between the both of you, “this happened…and then I ran into him a few days ago and he asked me out and I said yes.”

“So why don’t you cancel?” He’s clenching his jaw. His body language is that of a tough boxer but his expression is that of a hurt puppy.

“Because that’s rude…?” You slowly look up. He looks almost heartbroken? But at the same time like he’s ready to fight anyone that gets in his way.

“Just tell him you're seeing someone else.” He shrugs and your brows furrow in confusion.

“But I’m not seeing anyone else…?” He stares at you, dumbfounded. “Wasn’t this…just…sex? We haven’t even gotten to the conversation of dating or even tried to get to really know each other outside of bed?” Your voice is starting to raise and you're stumbling over your words. He just stares you down.

“I thought I was making it pretty obvious.” He mumbles. Hurt puppy eyes again. Fuck.

“Well obviously not.” You scoff, crossing your arms, lingerie still in hand. It’s dead silent. You’re stubborn. You’re not canceling this date. Hyunjin is super sweet and you both clicked immediately. You’re wracking your brain, trying to figure out ways to solve this without ending whatever this was with him. Then he softly whispers, voice laced with a hint of venom.

“Are you going to fuck him?” He’s glaring down at you and you look taken aback.

“I…I don’t know. I don’t plan on it. It depends on how the date goes. Why? Do you want to meet him so you can see if he’s good enough to fuck me?” You don’t intend for the hostility in your voice to grow stronger, but Jungkook’s being an ass right now.

“No, I’m pretty sure any dick is good enough for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your face grows scalding hot and you're livid.

“Exactly what I said. You’d probably think any dick is good enough to fuck, as long as it’s offered, right?” The venom in his words penetrates straight through your heart and pumps through your veins, instantly making you feel disgusting everywhere. Your eyes well up with angry tears and you can barely breathe.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You hiccup, a sob threatening to break free. “It’s one fucking date. We barely know each other, Jungkook. I am allowed, as a grown woman, to date whomever I fucking want. And I am sure as fucking hell allowed to fuck whoever I want and you have absolutely no right to judge me for it.”

Fuck, the tears are coming. Have to get out now.

You turn away from him, heading for the door when he grabs your wrist.

“I’m sorry. I just. I meant it. I don’t want to share you.” You can’t stop yourself before your free hand reaches up and slaps across his face as hard as you can.

“YOU DON’T OWN ME, Jungkook!” You smack his hand off your wrist and smack his arm for good measure. ”You can’t share something that isn’t yours in the first place! I’m not a piece of fucking property. I’m not some fucking sex object for you. I’m a human being with fucking feelings and fears. So don’t you fucking dare say that kind of shit to me ever again.”

You give him one last look. He’s avoiding your eyes and unsure what to do next. You shake your head, letting out a scoff. “Fucking ridiculous. Good luck at your match in two weeks, Jungkook. I’m sure you won’t find it difficult not to have sex when I’m not around.” You spit your final words at him before bolting out the door, slamming it to get your point across, and going into your apartment.

And that’s when you lose it. You drop against the door and that horrific sob that was in your chest finally breaks out. You heave, your chest unsure what to do first, breathe in or breathe out. You’re panicking. Tears run down your face and you stay like that for twenty minutes.

Jungkook can hear it all. He sits against the wall shared with yours and just silently listens, a few stray tears leaving his eyes. If you had just canceled the date, he wouldn’t have said such horrible things. Fuck. Why did he have to say such things? He didn’t mean any of it. God, he needs to tell you he didn’t mean any of it. But by the time he gets up and is about to head out, your cries are gone. Fuck.

You spent the rest of the day curled up in bed. Getting up only to shower the smell of him off of you and to make a quick snack. But that was it. You stayed in bed until the next morning when you had to get ready and put on your shining personality for your job interview.

You put on your favorite most professional looking outfit, styled your hair, took your time to make sure your makeup was flawless. You went all out. You were getting this damn job. You can’t afford another few days without pay or else you won’t be able to pay rent. And then you would be kicked out. Not that you currently mind, since then you wouldn’t have to see your annoying neighbor.

You step out the door, heading straight to the elevator, and look down at your shoes. They’re what you call your “fancy time shoes” and are only to be worn when needed to be fancy or professional, or both. You’re too busy in your own head that you don’t notice another door opening and closing, nor the sound of footsteps following you, growing closer.

The elevator door dings and opens, and you step straight in, doing a 180 to face the buttons. And that’s when you see him entering the elevator as well. Your heart stops, but your face doesn’t show it. Instead, you step as close to the opposite side of him as possible and keep your gaze straight ahead.

“Hey…” he mumbles politely. You just hum in response. “On your way to the interview?” You nod, eyes refusing to wander. He tries again. “Y/n, I didn’t mean it like that, yesterday…”

“Then how did you mean it?” You snap, finally looking at him. “When you called me a slut, Jungkook. How did you mean to call me one?”

“No. I didn't. None of it. I didn’t mean any of it.” He sighs, fidgeting with his gym bag and you roll your eyes and turn back to staring straight ahead. It’s silent the rest of the way down and as you both exit the building, turning to go opposite directions. That’s when he decides to turn around as you walk away.

“Good luck, Sparkles! You got this!” You lower your head avoiding any gazes of any people around, too embarrassed to check and walk faster. You have the faintest of smiles, but you have to convince yourself not to cry or else you’d ruin your makeup.

The interview actually went well. It’s a family owned record store not that far away from your apartment. The pay is almost double and the hours are a little more than your previous job. It’s perfect. The owner, Namjoon, was very excited to have someone want to come work in a record shop and practically hired you on the spot. He asked you to come back in a few days for a (paid) trial run and to meet the rest of the staff to see if everyone would get along. You excitedly said yes and were on cloud nine the whole way home.

At least you were until you got off the elevator and saw the two doors next to one another. And remembered why you were coming home in the first place. You rush into your apartment before any chance of running into Jungkook happens again and get ready for your date.

Hyunjin texts you around 5:45 that he’s outside. You’re wearing a flowy dress, lightweight cardigan on top, some simple flats, and a small crossbody purse. You quickly head downstairs, praying not to run into Jungkook.

The date is nice. It’s dinner at a reasonably priced but slightly upscale restaurant. And then a walk along the river. Maybe some ice cream after. It’s safe, a safe date. You and Hyunjin are able to hold a conversation without any awkwardness and he’s so sweet, so kind, and so very attractive. Almost annoyingly attractive. He’s so pretty, like his face was sculpted by the gods. He’s perfect. But he’s not who you’re thinking about. He doesn’t have that adorable freckle under his lip. Or that scar on his left cheek. He’s against tattoos and says facial piercings are weird.

The dinner is delicious. You both make quiet jokes about the fancy names restaurants like this would give the most simplistic dishes. You share a bottle of the cheapest wine and eat all of the never ending bread. He tries to pay for both of you, but you insist on splitting it. You wonder what a date with Jungkook would be like.

The walk along the River is also pleasant. Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate to hold your hand and you let him, purely because you admire his confidence. You continue the walk for a while, listening to him talk about his painting. And you’re interested, you really are. But it’s nothing to you. You’re growing bored and you feel guilty about it. You wonder what you would be doing with Jungkook right now if you did end up canceling the date. You hate this. You hate what you’re feeling. You hate that you’re thinking about another man while holding hands with this beautiful creature of a man next to you. Hate that when he gives you a kiss goodbye after you tell him you have something to do in the morning, all you can think about is Jungkook’s lips against yours and how soft they felt.

Which is how you find yourself back in your apartment building, in front of the door that isn’t yours. You stare at the number nailed to it for what seems like eons until you finally decide to just do it. What’s the worst that can happen? He calls you a whore next? Who cares? That’s not even what you’re mad about. Your first two knocks are light and hesitant. But the third and fourth knocks are determined. It takes a minute before he finally opens the door, leaving you to both stare at each other, unsure of who should speak first.

“…Hey.” You meekly let out. You clutch onto the strap of your purse.

“Hey…” He’s just as meek. Both of you are feeling like shit about yesterday. “What happened to your date?” You shake your head, looking down at your shoes.

“I wasn’t into it. Ended it early…” You glance up quickly to see his pout turn into shock, smugness, and back to pout in the span of two seconds. “Can we…can we talk?”

He watches you fidget in place for a moment before finally opening the door wider and stepping to the side. You cautiously enter, head still down and arms still clutching the strap. You literally saw him this morning, but it feels like it’s been forever.

“How’d the interview go?” He needs to end the silence, he hates it.

“It was good. I think I got it. It’s that record shop a few blocks away. The owner’s having me come in in a few days to meet the staff. If they like me, I’ll get the job.” You softly smile, stealing a moment to glance up at him.

“Of course they’ll like you. It’s hard not to…” You try to stop your eyes from widening, bringing them back down to the ground.

“Y/n, I really am fucking sorry for what I said yesterday. I overreacted. You’re not a slut, and even if you were going to be sleeping around, it’s none of my fucking business. You’re right. We don’t know each other. But in the time we have known each other, I’ve only wanted to know you more.” He pauses. “I like you, y/n.”

You sigh, shaking your head and tugging at your purse’s strap “How though?” It’s barely a whisper. “How can you even know you like me from barely knowing me?”

“Because I just do.”

“But how, Jungkook? I need to understand how. Because I’m not like those idiots that believe in love at first sight. It’s not real. It can’t be.” Why are you on the verge of tears? Why does this matter so much? Why are you so scared of his answer?

He steps closer to you, reaching up to lightly cup your face and lifting it to make you look at him.

“Well, I am one of those idiots and believe in fate and love at first sight and all the bullshit that you don’t. And fuck, Sparkles, the second I saw you in your towel looking dumbfounded, it was like something clicked in my brain and all I could think was: Fuck. There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. So please.” He brings his face closer to yours. “Please understand what I’m saying when I say I really want to get to know you better, I really want to prove that this could be something if you just try.”

You don’t know how to respond. He’s not serious. This isn’t real. You shake your head, lowering it again to rest your forehead against his chest.

“I need time…I just, I need time, Jungkook. It’s too much too fast.” He places a kiss on the crown of your head, whispering okay a few times. He pulls you into a full hug and you finally allow the tears to fall once you’re fully embraced in his arms.

You silently cry in his arms for a minute or two until you finally pull back. He cups your face again, wiping the tears away. He’s smiling and he’s so pretty. Everything about him is beautiful. His body, his hands, his face, his laugh, his big bunny teeth, his angry face when he eats, his everything. But right now all you can focus on are his lips. And you’re reminded of your boring kiss with Hyunjin. So you get on your toes, placing your lips onto his.

You feel his lips curve into a smile as he gently returns the kiss. But that takes a turn when your head tilts to meet with his lips better. Suddenly, you’re being backed up against a wall and he’s deepening the kiss, parting your mouth with his tongue and swallowing your moan.

Your hands tangle in his hair. His hands drop to your hips, holding them in place against his. You give a teasing roll of your hips and he pushes you further into the wall, mouth open against yours, nose squished against yours.

“I can’t. I want to, so bad. But I can't.” He pants against your lips, moving to leave smaller kisses across your face.

“No, it’s okay. I should get going.” You both nod but neither of you move as he continues making sure every inch of your face has received at least one kiss. “Jungkook, I should go.”

“I know.” He whispers, but he sounds slightly annoyed at the thought of letting you go. His thumbs rub small circles on your hips.

“I can’t leave if you’re pinning me against the wall.”

“I know.”

“Yeah? Then you gotta move.”

“I am moving.” He is. But it’s just to start kissing your neck.

“Jungkook…” You whine, but it’s stern enough that he finally stops, sighing against your skin and pulling away from you, his grip on your hips disappearing. You both laugh, out of breath, making your way back to his front door. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

He looks delirious with the smile he has painted on his face right now. “Mhmm.”

You both say goodbye and before he can lean in to kiss you again, you leave and shut the door. You go back to your apartment with a smile on your face. That’s how it should feel to kiss someone is all you can think as you get ready for bed. Maybe there’s something there, but is it enough? is the last thought you have as you fall asleep.

You give it five days. Five days of just letting things die down, feelings sit where they need to sit and be analyzed over and over. You had politely texted Hyunjin the morning after the date saying you had a great time but didn’t see it going anywhere, but would love to see it through as a friendship. He was actually happy, because he wasn’t feeling it either.

The fourth day, you went back to the record shop for your trial run and to meet the rest of the staff. It’s a very small group of employees. Aside from Namjoon, you meet Jimin, Jeongyeon, and Felix. You all get along really well, Namjoon closing up early and taking you all out to get barbeque and soju.

After about an hour and two bottles of soju each, Jeongyeon says she needs to pee and drags you with her. Once inside the bathroom, she faces you, leaning against the counter, a big grin on a gorgeous face.

“Okay. I’m beyond thrilled to finally have another girl in the store, but we need to set some ground rules.”

You blink slowly. “Sorry, what?”

“Ground rules. Sister rules. Girl code. Whatever you want. First of all, I know it’s inevitable that our periods are going to sync up. So let me know when yours is so I can be prepared. I hate unpredictable periods happening.” You snort, the soju going to your head a little bit more than usual.

“You know what, I agree. I rarely get mine since I have an IUD, but still a good rule. Okay. Rule one. Period checks. What else?”

“Nice! Rule two! And I don’t like this one, but it is necessary.” Her joyful expression drops and her tone turns serious. “If at any point any of those men out there or outside of the store say or do anything to make you uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll fight them. I doubt they will but you know, you never know.”

You nod, fully understanding and even appreciating the offer to fight in your honor. She actually looks like she can knock someone out if she was angry enough, it’s kind of hot. You’re about to respond when she switches back to her happy expression.

“But let’s not dwell on that because it won’t happen. I know the guys way too well. Jimin is a flirt but can’t make a move to save his life. I would know, we’ve been flirting back and forth for like a year and still nothing.” She huffs, looking at her acrylics. “Felix wouldn’t hurt a fly. And the boss man is happily married and his husband is way too handsome to cheat on.”

“Well then.” You laugh. “That’s a lot to take in. But okay, understood. Anything else?” A huge grin appears across her face.

“Yes. I want to know everything about my new best friend.”

You both leave the bathroom a moment later, heading back to the table laughing. You spend the rest of the night with Jeongyeon whispering back and forth, often breaking out into fits of giggles over nothing. You watched her flirt with Jimin, who could only flirt back for so long before he had to direct his attention elsewhere. It was cute, even when Jeongyeon was talking to someone else, he had his eyes on her as if she was talking to him.

By the end of night, Namjoon tells you you’re officially hired, and you head to a bar for celebratory drinks with Jeongyeon, Jimin, and Felix. Jeongyeon makes it her personal secret mission to get Felix a ‘friend for the night’ as she called it. Eventually, you and Jimin get roped into it, finding a guy named Chris and a girl you think is named Yuna. But you’re not sure because Jeongyeon and Felix have been feeding you shot after shot and now you’re feeling a bit more than tipsy.

Felix, Chris, and Yuna all seemed to be getting along perfectly together, dancing as a trio on the dancefloor, and you, Jimin, and Jeongyeon take silent bets on how this is going to end. A few moments later, Jimin is talking to a girl, who pulls him to the dancefloor, much to the displeasure of Jeongyeon. She turns back to you at the bar with an adorable pout.

“Do you have anyone, y/n?”

“Uh…” How do you even begin to explain whatever is happening with Jungkook? “No? But, yes? We’re figuring it out.”

She tilts her head to the side. “So like an on-again off-again? Friends with benefits? What?”

“No no no,” shaking your head, you play with the drink in your hand. You take a deep breath.

“More like…we had intense sex one night, didn’t talk for three days, and then even more intense sex on and off for the next two weeks. And then a huge fight that resulted in him saying he likes me even though we really only interact with each other when we have sex and have never spoken to one another before having sex.” Your face scrunches as you think, taking in another breath. “Well, except when I showed up at his door in just my towel. That was the first time. The second time, he was in front of my door with just a towel which is what lead to the first intense sex. Then he went out of town and came back three days later, we had more sex. He basically called me a slut last week because I had a date the next day and refused to cancel. Then he apologized and now we’re taking it day by day, but I haven’t spoken to him in five days and it’s kind of driving me crazy? Like how can I miss this guy I don’t know? He’s my neighbor, by the way.”

Jeongyeon just stares at you, mouth agape. “...I’m sorry…that’s a lot to process. But let me focus on what’s the most important. What building is this where everyone is walking around in just towels and having crazy sex and do they have any vacancies?”

You laugh, but tears sting your eyes.

“Okay, no but listen. Do you like him back?”

“...I don’t know…that’s the problem. I don’t know him. I just know how he is in bed.” Jeongyeon rubs your back as you slump over the bar, hiding your head in your arms. The alcohol is kicking in fully.

“Then talk to him, sweetheart. Get to know him. Get a notepad and treat it like an advanced speed date or something. This is just me going off how you’re reacting and talking about him. But, I think you like him.”

You groan into your arms, lifting your head just enough to look at her. “How about I’ll talk to him when you get that girl off Jimin and make a move? A real one.”

Her eyebrows raise as high as they can go. “Bet?” You just nod, completely unaware that Jeongyeon is not one to back down from a bet and also super pissed at the girl Jimin’s dancing with right now.

“Okay. Deal. Are you gonna be okay over here alone?” You nod, sitting back up straight for a moment to prove you were okay.

“Okay. Operation: Get Our Men is a go!” You high five each other and she skips off to the dancefloor, shoving the girl dancing with Jimin away and convincing him to dance with her instead. You cackle at the scene of her getting her man and Felix heading out the front door with Chris and Yuna.

You take another shot, and pull out your phone, finding the number given to you some time between round two and four the second night you spent together. You suck in a deep breath before finally hitting the call button, tucking your head back onto your arms on the bar again. He answers after the third ring.

“...Y/n? It’s one in the morning…”

“Fuck, is it? I…sorry. I lost track of hours, I guess…’m havin fun.” you mumble into the phone.

“You sound like it…what are you doing?”

“I got the job, Kookieeee. So now we’re celebrating. But Felix left with two people. And I think Jeongyeon is making moves on Jimin. But now I’m alone and I don’t want to talk to anyone else…” You groan, the alcohol finally reaching your brain. “...just want to talk to you…”

“Where are you, baby? I’ll come get you.”

“Nooo, it’s okay. I walk.”

“Not at one in the morning and absolutely not alone, y/n. Where are you?”

You humph. “I don’t know…hold on.” All Jungkook can hear on the other end is you shouting for someone’s attention, some scuffling, and a deep voice finally speaking.

“Hello? Listen, she’s not totally wasted, but I’m going to cut her off now and just give her water. We’re at Serendipity. I’ll text you the address from her phone.”

“Okay. Thanks, man. I know where that is, actually. Can you put her back on the phone?”

It takes a few seconds, but he finally hears your voice again. “Kookieee,” you squeak.

“Sparkles, I’m on the way. Drink the water the bartender is giving you and stay exactly where you are, okay?”

“Mmmm…okay.”

“Promise me you’ll stay where you are, baby.”

You smile. “I like your voice on the phone. It’s sexy. Call me baby again.”

He chuckles as he gets in the car. “I’ll call you baby as long as you want me to, y/n. I’ll be there soon.”

“Mmmm. Kay.” You hang up the phone without saying goodbye. You look for Jeongyeon who’s currently making out with Jimin while dancing. You figure you don’t need to update them on your whereabouts. You down the glass of water the friendly bartender gave you as he brings you another.

About 20 minutes later, you feel hands on your shoulders and you lift your head, ready to yell at the perv who dares to touch a drunk woman, until you lock eyes with Jungkook. You couldn’t even hide your smile if you tried.

“Hi, baby. Let’s get you home, yeah?” He smiles, moving your arm around his neck, and one of his slides around your waist to help you stand up. You’re really not that drunk anymore, but you secretly enjoy him taking care of you.

“Wait wait, I need to pay first.” You twist around in his embrace, but he squeezes you closer.

“No you don’t, Sparkles. I already paid. Let’s go. I’ll make you some instant ramen.”

You want to argue, but your stomach grumbles at the idea of noodles. “The spicy kind?”

“I’ll get you whatever you want, y/n. Anything in the world.” He kisses your temple as he guides you out of the bar and into his car.

You go in and out of sleep on the car ride home, holding onto Jungkook’s hand as the drive was making you dizzy. When you wake up, it's to the view of Jungkook's side profile as he’s leaning over you from outside the car and removing your seatbelt. You hum, smiling as he finds you waking up.

“Hi, Sparkles. Do you think you can make it up, or do you need me to carry you? What do you wanna do?”

You snicker. “Want and need are two very different things,” you mumble, gaze falling on his lips again. “I think I can walk, though…”

“Okay. Let’s go.” He gives you another smile, quickly pecking your lips and then pulling you out of the car before you can react. Once you’re standing up straight, he locks the car before grabbing your hand in his. “Come on, noodles await you.” Your stomach grumbles at the mention of noodles and you immediately follow. You can think about the kiss later.

You stumble into your apartment, kicking off your shoes and throwing your purse on the floor in the corner after taking your phone out. Jungkook follows behind to lock the door and turn the lights on.

“Okay, go sit down and I’ll get to work on the noodles. You still have some, right? Or should I go get some from my place?”

You scoff mumbling “What do you even take me for?” and open a cupboard in the kitchen filled to the brim with various instant noodles. “I may not have been taught to not scare a man in his kitchen, but I sure as hell know to always have noodles.” You both smile at the joke, but then you recall what happened after you scared him in his kitchen, turning away from him with a frown.

“Always good to be prepared, y/n. Which one do you want?” You grab the one you want, allowing him to choose his own and he gets to work.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom to fumble into a big shirt, pajama shorts, and some fuzzy socks. Quickly removing your makeup and washing your face, sobering slowly as you go. When you return, he’s pouring it into the bowls and grabbing you both some water from your fridge. He brings the food to the couch where you’re sitting with a notepad and a pen.

“What’s that?” He asks, setting the bowls down and handing you the water.

“We’re gonna speed date.” You state it so matter of factly while opening the bottle and taking a gulp. “I have a list on my phone of different speed dating questions. I’m going to write my answer down and you’re going to say yours. Then we’ll see how much we have in common and whether we’re meant to be or if we’re doomed from the start.” You explain, picking up your bowl and inhaling your food as fast as possible. As much as you ate at dinner, you were starving again thanks to the alcohol.

“At 2:30 in the morning?” He’s settled down on the couch with you, both of you facing one another.

“The past few times we hung out…or…would you call it hanging out or just hooking up? Whatever, it’s usually around this time, anyway. So why not? We’ll speed round it. It’ll be fun, come on.”

He watches you continue to inhale your food, wondering if this was simply just the alcohol talking or if you were actually considering giving this a chance. While he’d like to think you weren’t avoiding him for five days, he still didn’t understand why you didn’t reach out to him until now. But then again, he didn’t either. He’s been busy at the gym, which he has to be at again in less than six hours. His coach is going to kill him if he’s tired. He should leave. He should get up and go next door, down as much water as possible to combat the sodium, and pass out so he could get some rest.

“Okay. We’ll answer a few questions. But then we gotta get you to sleep, baby.” He sets both bowls down once you’re finished and lifts your feet to settle them on his lap so he can massage them.

“Ask away.” You want to pull your feet away, but it feels too good. You worked eight hours and then walked around town going to the barbeque and then the club. Your feet were exhausted.

“Okay. Question one. Whiskey or beer?”

You quickly scribble down your answer and on the count of three he simply responds “Beer” as you turn yours over to show whiskey.

“Beer, really? You like drinking piss water?” You scrunch up your face.

“Hey, it’s good after a while. You have to work up to the taste.”

“Nah, if I’m drinking, I wanna actually enjoy it. Liquor or bust. Maybe a cider or a really good seltzer. But seltzers are just as weird as beer.” You both laugh as you scratch out your answer. “Okay! Next! Hmmm… ‘Are you a possessive person?’ Well I think we know that answer for you already. I’m not. Or at least, I don’t think I am. I’ve never had a person to be possessive over. Okay, let’s see…What is your idea of a good date? I like that one.” You return to scribbling your answer. He just leans back, his hand moving up from massaging your feet to your calves. He waits until you’re done writing to respond.

“Anything with food. I love food. I crave it all the time, especially when I used to prepare for a match. It kills me when I can’t eat too much.” He laughs, remembering his trainer going off on him for having tteokbokki the night before a match. He still won, but his trainer was fuming. “What about you, Sparkles?”

He turns his head to look at you and you’re grinning ear to ear as you flip over the notepad that reads Night market going from food stall to food stall and eating one or two things from each one. Ice cream after and then cuddles.

He can feel his heart tighten reading your words, the smallest amount of hope pumping into it. “Okay, perfect. I know what our first date is.” He teases with a smile, your giant grin fades a little, but not too much. You just nod and lift your phone back up to go through the questions.

“Okay, we’ll speed round this part so we can go to bed. Are you a morning bird or night owl?”

You both respond with Night.

“Are you a book or a movie person?”

You both respond Movie.

“Do you want to change your past or see the future?”

You respond with changing the past, he responds with seeing the future.

This goes back and forth for another five to ten minutes before you’re yawning going through the list. He leans forward, grabbing your phone and the abandoned notepad and pen from you and placing it next to the bowls.

“I think we’re done tonight, y/n. We can do this another time, okay? I need to get you to sleep.”

You frown. “But it’s tied…One more? Please?” He sighs, nodding.

“Okay, but I pick.” You let him scroll through the website until he finally lands on one. “Who is your 3am friend?” He asks with a subtle smug look on his face. You roll your eyes as he counts down from 3 and you both respond with the word “You.”

“Well I guess we have a winner.” He whispers, plopping your phone on your stomach and standing up to pick you up bridal style. You don’t fight him on it, both too tired to care and also overthinking what just happened. He lays you down in your bed and tucks the blanket around you. Just as he’s about to walk out, you grab his wrist.

“Where are you going?” You whisper so softly. He turns back to you, leaning down so he can whisper back.

“I’m going to clean up and then go back to my place. Go to sleep. I’ll lock the door on the way out.” You look up at him with sad eyes and a pout.

“You’re not gonna stay?” Your words are meek, scared of being heard by anyone else, including Jungkook.

“No, baby. I gotta work in the morning so I gotta sleep in my bed.” He places a kiss on your forehead. ”Also, who knows what’ll happen if I share the bed with you again.” You both snicker. “Can I call you after?” His question is filled with so much hope. You just nod and smile.

“Okay.” You reach up for his face. “Kiss,” you mumble softly. He repeats the word back and you whine, trying to grab his beautiful face and pull him down to you. He laughs, leaning in and giving you one long soft kiss before pulling away, saying goodbye again and kissing the hand that was reaching for him. He walks out your bedroom door and sleep immediately overtakes you.

You wake up the next morning to a bottle of water and two migraine pills next to it. There’s a post-it note attached to the bottle that reads Drink Me along with a cute doodle of what you think is you drinking the water and giving a thumbs up. Your face heats up at the adorable image and you smile, doing as the cute cartoon version of you says and drinking the water.

You give it a few minutes of moving to stand up by laying in bed first, slowly sitting up with your legs dangling off the bed before finally getting out of bed and standing up straight. You don’t know if this actually works, but your friend in college had you do it after getting blackout drunk one night as to avoid a headache or throwing up from the sudden feeling of being upright. You’re not going to stop doing it to figure it out.

You text Jeongyeon, Jimin, and Felix saying you had a friend pick you up and hope they all got home safely. You grab the post-it note and head to the kitchen to put it on your fridge. You take a picture of it and send it to Jungkook.

You: no one’s ever drawn me before. It’s cute. Thank you for last night. 💜

You carry on with your day of lounging around. It’s a nice Saturday and Namjoon wasn’t having you start until Monday morning. Jungkook cleaned all the dishes from yesterday, even putting them away. He moved your shoes that you kicked off to their designated space and hung your purse on the hook by the door. Everything looked good. So you figured an all day lounge was in store.

You watched a new Kdrama, immediately falling in love with both main characters. And squeaking every time something cheesy happens, which was often. It’s not until 3PM you receive a text from your pretty neighbor.

🎤Attractive Pajama Man🎤(3:02pm): ofc, bby. Your beauty deserves to be drawn over and over.

🎤Attractive Pajama Man🎤(3:03pm): Are you home?

You(3:02pm): Yes, sir. It’s an all day lounge with a new Kdrama.

🎤Attractive Pajama Man🎤(3:05pm): tempting. But the all day lounge is done. Get ready to go out. Nothing fancy. I’ll pick you up at 5. 💜

You(3:06pm): what if I say no?

🎤Attractive Pajama Man🎤(3:06pm): I’ll pick you up at 5, Sparkles.

You humph, turning off the TV. You humph while you plug in your phone, and you humph as you go to your closet to pick out what to wear before showering and make yourself look less hungover.

At exactly five o’clock there’s a knock on your door and you’re grumbling, trying to create the perfect loose tuck with your shirt into your skirt like the instagram models do. You open the door to the cute boy with the lip ring and tattoos and for a moment, you forget about the stupid shirt. He’s in combat boots, way too tight black skinny jeans, a simple white shirt, and a giant denim shirt.

“You’re not one of those people that are always punctual are you? Because you’re going to regret liking me if so.” You turn around, heading back to your room, Jungkook in tow like the night prior. He enters your room where you’re standing in front of the mirror still trying to figure out the perfect loose tuck. He laughs to himself, moving to stand in front of you batting your hands away to tuck it properly.

“No. I’m only punctual for the things or people that matter.” He dips his hands into your skirt, pulling the tank top up almost all the way, letting it billow over the skirt’s waistline, then does gentle tucks in specific areas until it’s literally perfect. You gawk at him.

“How’d you do that? How many girls’ shirts have you tucked in? Where’d you learn that magic?”

He laughs, booping your nose. You immediately pull your face back. He just smirks at you. “I’ll teach you another time. We gotta go. Ready?”

You huff at him, pouting. “When you say 5, to my brain, that means 5:15. So no, no I am not ready.” You turn from him, slipping a cardigan on and heading into the bathroom to fix your hair.

“Okay. So from now on I’ll ask you to be ready fifteen minutes before my actual intended time.” He speaks a little louder, lowering his voice as you reenter your room to the view of him sitting on your bed.

“There we go. Now you’ve got it. My brain is a scattered mess. You have to learn the correct manipulation tactics to get me to be a normal human being. I already explained that to Namjoon at the record shop. He thinks it’s weird.” You give him a thumbs up, putting a necklace on and grabbing your shoes. “Okay. Now I’m ready. I think.” You walk away from him on your bed and find your phone, wallet, and keys strewn across your counter in the kitchen next to the purse you emptied out earlier. You stuff everything in there, put your shoes on, stand up and declare yourself ready.

You weren’t paying attention to him watching you from the doorway to your bedroom as you chaotically roamed around your apartment to gather all your things. It isn’t until you finally stop at the door that he finally approaches you.

“So, where are we going anyway?”

He stands in front of you, smiling down at you in awe.

“I will tell you on one condition.” You raise an eyebrow, trying desperately to ignore his sudden proximity and the way it affects your body. “One kiss and you get an answer.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “One kiss? Just one?” He nods. “Fine.”

You stand up on your tippy toes and go to press your lips against his quickly. But you should’ve known better. One of his hands finds your waist while the other one gently cradles the back of your head to deepen the kiss. You whimper, your own hands clutching his denim shirt. The hand on your waist disappears and you half expect it to land somewhere else on your body when you hear your door unlock and open behind you. You feel his smile in the kiss as he pulls away.

“Yesterday, or rather this morning, you mentioned the night market as your perfect date. I am here to provide said perfect date.” You’re so frazzled by the kiss and the mention of a perfect date, and just a date in general, that you barely notice him ushering you out the door and waiting for you to lock it. It’s not until you’re in the elevator that you finally speak.

“I never agreed to a date.” You try to sound as uninterested as possible, but he can tell you’re at least a little excited by the twitching corners of your lips threatening to tug upwards.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Let’s try that again. Hey, y/n. Would you like to go on a date with me to the night market? I haven’t eaten since last night, so I can eat everything they have to offer there with you.”

You roll your eyes, laughing, but freeze a second later. “You haven’t eaten since our speed date?” You gape at him as you walk out of the elevator.

“Nope. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t overdoing it. I have to workout with Tae tomorrow so I don't want to be bloated. I’m fine, Sparkles. It’s not that big of a deal.” He wraps your hand in his as you walk out the front door. You mumble something about it being a big deal to you, before running back what he just said.

“Who’s Tae?” You ask as you turn to head to the parking garage. He just yoinks you back, insisting on walking instead.

“Taehyung is the guy I’m training. The one who lost the match because of you.”

“Not because of me, but okay. And he’s the one fighting next week?”

“Yup. That’s him, alright.”

“Can I come to the game?”

“Not if you call it a game, Sparkles.”

“‘Match. Whatever, who cares? It’s the same thing.”

“Absolutely not the same thing. But…” His hand squeezes yours as he stops walking, and he pulls you backwards so you end up in front of him. “As much as I’d like you there, I think you’d be a real…” The hand not in yours moves some hair out of your face, before he leans forward to kiss the sweet spot between your ear and your cheek, turning you into a puddle. “…distraction for me.”

You have to close your eyes to bring yourself out of his annoyingly good trance to be able to reopen your eyes and glare at him.

“First of all, it sounds like you have concentration problems. I’m not to blame. Second, aren’t you supposed to be not like this,” you gesture up and down at him, “for one more week? Don’t start something you can’t finish.” You give his hand a squeeze and start pulling to keep walking, but it just ends up with him behind you, pressing your connected hands between your back and his stomach as he kisses your temple.

“Oh, baby. Just because I won’t be finishing, doesn’t mean you can’t. This is going to be hell for both of us but in very different ways.”

Your face scrunches in confusion. “What’s that mean?”

“You’ll see later. But for now, we eat.” He grins, getting back into a normal walking position with you, and you walk the rest of the way there in silence. Or at least you think in silence, your brain is going haywire with ways in which it’ll be hell for both of you.

The night market is packed. You wander up and down the food vendors, making plans of which ones to go to and what to get from each one. The whole time, Jungkook has an arm around your waist, keeping you as close as possible in the crowd of people.

You decide one person goes to one tent while the other is at the one adjacent. Then just keep repeating the cycle until both of your arms are full. Then one of you sits down with everything, and the other gets the last of the stuff, including drinks.

You two execute the plan flawlessly, even finding a lone table to lay out all the food. You organize the food in the order you agreed upon while Jungkook grabs the rest of the food and drinks. Once he returns, he sits down next to you, and you both get down to it, splitting each item while asking questions about one another. Favorite colors, favorite seasons, where you grew up, quick run downs on family trees. You make it about half way through the food before you finally get the courage to ask what you’ve been wondering for almost a week.

“So why don’t you fight anymore and just train?” You grab a piece of Korean fried chicken strips, tapping some of the red dust off before dipping it in the sauce. So far this was the clear winner.

He hesitates before mumbling, “I got injured.” He hands you a wet wipe after seeing you struggle with the red dust sticking to your fingers and barely coming off on the napkin. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“How so?” He sighs, playing with the straw from his drink.

“I had a big match, I was winning. But at the last second, he just hit me in a specific way that knocked me out cold. I had a concussion and couldn’t compete for two and a half months. The doctors wanted me out longer but I’m stupid and stubborn and said I was fine. So I got another match. Five minutes in, I feel disoriented and get hit again and my head crashes to the ground and I wind up with another concussion. This one was more severe, forcing me to retire nine or so years too early.”

He looks broken. Like he was forced to have to be pulled away from his dreams. You want to hug him, make him feel better. But you’re unsure how to go about it. Usually it’s been him making you feel good. When you lost your job. When you were feeling sore. When you were drunk. He takes care of you and you suddenly feel guilty, like you’ve been taking advantage of him.

You don’t know what to do. So you do the only thing you can think of right now. You hand him a fry and give him a supportive smile. “But you’re okay now right? Like no more concussions? And you’re at least still in the business, just as a trainer instead.”

He grabs the fry with his teeth, barely grazing over your fingers with his lips and nods while chewing.

“I still have some symptoms. It’s not terrible, but it can get overwhelming at times. I still train the same. Stick to the same diet. Live and breathe like I’m about to have the biggest match of my life. I’m just not allowed to fight again…”

You watch his hands playing with the hem of his shirt as he trails off his last sentence. Just fucking do it, y/n. Stop being so scared. Your brain is screaming at you until you reach out for one of his hands, intertwining them and settling it in your lap, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand.

“Well at least you still get to be there in some capacity, right? You may not get to live out your dream, but you get to help Taehyung live his, and make sure he doesn’t get hurt. I think that’s almost better, honestly.” Being supportive and uplifting was never your strong suit. After working in retail for so long, you’ve become quite cynical and closed off from the world. But the way he squeezes your hand, and the smile that forms on his lips as he lets out a shaky breath, makes you believe you must’ve said something right for once.

“That makes sense. I got hurt so I could help him.” He nods in agreement with himself. “Yeah. I like that. Makes the pain feel worth it.” He picks up the last fry and repeats your earlier action to you. You quietly eat the fry, feeling your face heat up and smile.

“Is that why you’re so hellbent on sticking to the routine and training Taehyung is going through? Because it’s what you went through?” He lets go of your hand to start organizing the trash and what’s being brought back to the apartment for later.

“Yep. You enter a certain mindset when you deprive yourself of the things you crave. Food, proper sleep, games, sex…” He glances to the top of your chest when you look away, admiring the perfect cut of your shirt showing off just the right amount of cleavage for him. He wipes his hands with a wet wipe you pull from your purse. “You become so hyper-focused on getting to the end so you can have those things more. You become more disciplined and have a higher level of endurance after a while.”

His hand finds its way back to your lap, landing in your thigh where you subconsciously part them slightly so he can slit his fingers between them in your skirt. “But when you finally do get to enjoy those things again, you really appreciate it more.” He grips your flesh a little harder, causing you to whimper, gripping the table.

“We should leave, baby.” The smug look on his face is all you need to know tonight is nowhere near done. So you just nod and get up, helping him throw the trash away and grab the condensed box of things you didn’t finish. He stops at one of the vendors with ice cream and grabs two cones for you both before heading out, hand in hand.

He watches you intently as you lick up the cone, making sure no drops get on your hand or on the ground for that matter. It’s a small cone so you swirl your tongue around and around until you feel it’s safe and it won’t drip. You look up at him after realizing neither of you had spoken and you were already halfway home.

You are stupid enough to not realize what you were doing would’ve had such a great effect on him. His hand is tight around yours, eyes dark with lust, and his chest is rising faster than before. You glance down and you bet he’s regretting the choice of skinny jeans now as his erection is painfully obvious.

He grabs the cone, throws it in a nearby trash can. You cry out a complaint and he ignores you, practically bolts back to the apartment, dragging you with him.

Once back to your apartment and in the elevator, his hands find your hips and drag you back flush against him. He moves your hair out of the way of your neck so he can bite you as if he was a vampire. You cry, almost losing your balance, but he wraps a hand around your throat to keep you in place while he harshly sucks bruises on your neck. The doors open to your floor and he guides you out, one hand still on your hip, while the other stays firmly around your throat.

“Unlock your door, Sparkles.” He whispers in your ear as your shaking hands go for your purse to retrieve your keys. He licks a long stripe up your neck, leaving a small bite on your ear to hurry you up.

“Fuck, it’s not opening.” You’re a whimpering mess, hands shaking trying to get the stupid key in the door. His hand leaves your hip to find yours, flipping it over so the keys lay flat in your hand. He picks out the key to your apartment door and it places it between your index finger and thumb.

“Wrong key, baby. Now hurry up before I make you scream my name in this hallway.” His hand finds your hip again, but slides past it to sneak past your skirt’s waistline, fingers hovering over your clothed center.

The moment the door unlocks and your key is pulled out of the lock, Jungkook lets go of your throat and removes his other hand from your skirt as he pushes you inside, shutting your door and pressing you against the wall like he did earlier. He doesn’t kiss you and both hands are on either side of you. Foreheads pressed together, both panting. He’s waiting for you to make the first move. You swallow, making him wait just a moment longer before you’re wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down to you, crashing his lips to yours.

The groans he makes into the kiss are far beyond desperate and needy, his hands moving back to your body, roaming every inch he can touch. He rocks his hips into yours, pulling his lips away from yours when you gasp.

“You said you had a strap… Where’s your other toys?”

“What?” He pushes you further against the wall, wrapping a hand around your thigh to wrap it around his waist to bring him closer to you.

“Last week, y/n. You said you had a strap. No one owns just a strap. Where’s the rest of it?” You close your eyes, putting yourself in your room to try to remember what the box of toys not only looks like, but its location. The sound of his shoes being kicked off and tossed into the corner brings you back.

“In my closet. Why?” You feel like you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you. You can’t think properly, you just want to be consumed by him but run away in fear at the same time. Whatever control he has over you is overwhelming.

You open your eyes again and the smile you’re met with is sinister. “Just because I can’t fuck you, doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you, baby. Get them out and get on your bed. I’m going to use your shower before I lose it.” He gives you one more deep kiss before he pulls off you, heading straight for your bathroom. You’re frozen in place and not a second later his voice booms from inside.

“And you better be fucking naked.”

What the fuck did I get myself into? is all you can think as you kick your shoes off and restrain yourself from running to your closet to get the box from the top corner shelf. It once held your favorite pair of knee high boots but now contains various sex toys you’ve collected from random midnight horny impulses. You place it on the bed and step back to start removing your clothing. Then you catch sight of the box. Why does it look weird like that? You move it again, trying to make it more appealing. You do this for what feels like half an hour but is only two minutes before you hear the shower turn off.

You panic, shoving your skirt and underwear off in one go, removing your cardigan and tank top as you climb on the bed. Your hands are behind you, reaching for your bra clasp as the door opens and he steps out in another fucking towel. Your hands forget about your bra for a moment, dropping to your side as you glare at the stupid piece of cloth. He tilts his head to the side, partially confused but mostly amused.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Your glare stays on the towel. “I need to make it a rule that you can’t wear towels around me anymore… It makes me angry.”

He laughs loudly, heading back into the bathroom for a moment. He returns without the towel, but instead in his underwear. You pout again.

“That’s worse.”

“It’s not about me tonight, baby.” He grins, crawling onto the bed on all fours, leaning in to kiss you quickly. “Only you. Now let me see those toys and take this off.” He hooks a finger around your bra strap and snaps it back to your skin. You wince as he sits back to grab the box while you remove your bra. You’ve been naked with him so many times in the last few weeks but for some reason you feel more vulnerable than usual. You want to put on a giant shirt just to have some comfort.

He’s digging through your box of goodies. He pulls out a butt plug and looks at you with a sparkle in his eye.

“You buy this before or after I put my thumb in you?”

“…After.” Embarrassment creeps across your face, but you figure honesty is really your only option at this point. He nods, putting it back in, murmuring “next time” and rummaging around some more. He pulls out a dildo that has a weird curve where the base should be, almost like a handle.

“And this one?” This one makes you smile.

“That’s my strap.”

“...How is that a strap? Where’s the base to put in the harness?” You shake your head, grabbing it from him.

“It’s a strapless dildo. This part, ” Your fingers run over the smaller end of the toy. “This part goes in me so that while I’m fucking whomever, I’m technically being fucked too. And this is where you put the bullet vibrator for added fun.” You flip it over, pointing out the hole filled with a little metal bullet.” You look proud of this toy. Like you have good memories with it. Which means you’ve used it on other people.

“Who’d you use it on?” He tries to sound neutral, but you’re well aware he’s getting jealous of someone he’s never met.

“My friend in college. He was still exploring his sexuality and his kinks and he mentioned wanting to be fucked. I said I had this. He asked politely, I said sure. He baked me brownies after. It was nice. He still says it’s one of his favorite fucks. Top three for sure.”

“You fucked a guy for brownies?”

“No. I fucked a guy out of the kindness of my horny heart. And got brownies as a reward. There’s a difference.”

“You fucked a guy for brownies.” He’s smiling, still holding the strap and you grab it from him, smacking his arm with it.

“Shut up. One day, you’ll let me fuck you and you’ll be baking me brownies as a thank you. Just wait and see.”

“So there’s gonna be a ‘one day’?”

“Ugh.” You toss the toy to the side rubbing your face with his hands. He smiles, knowing he’s got you. He goes back to your box of goodies and finds something of interest and pulls it out. Your eyes widen.

“And…what’s this one?” He loves the way you’re suddenly nervous, glaring at the toy as if that will make it vanish out of your hands. It’s clearly a good one.

“That’s…my rabbit.” He inspects it closely.

“Doesn’t look like the other rabbits, though.”

“No…it uh…thrusts? And it gets wider…like the girth expands.” You wrap your torso around a pillow and dig your face into it, both giving yourself some cover from your sudden vulnerability, and also hiding your face from the man who has the most wicked smile. You can hear him turning it on and feel the wetness pooling between your legs, no doubt leaking onto your sheets. You should’ve put some towels down. There’s going to be a lot of laundry later.

“When did you last charge it?” He asks, watching the shaft thrust back and forth while the head expands and compresses in perfect rhythm.

“Four days ago,” you mumble your response into your pillow, wishing to not be here anymore or for him to hurry up and do whatever terrible thing he’s thinking of doing. He turns it off.

“Four days ago? Baby…when’s the last time you got yourself off?” You stay silent. “Baby…” He gently tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling your face out of the pillow. “Baby, you have to answer me. When did you last let yourself come?”

“The morning after we talked. The morning after my interview and my date with Hyunjin.” His grip tightens at the mention of another man’s name and you wince at the feeling.

“What were you thinking of to get yourself off so early in the day, baby?” You shut your eyes, too embarrassed.

“I had a dream. It felt too real when I woke up…so I took care of it.” He gently lays you down, allowing you to keep the pillow in your clutches as he hovers over you.

“What’d you dream about, baby? Or who’d you dream about?” His fingers unravel from your hair, keeping it all out of your face. You squeeze your eyes shut even tighter, hating how small you feel with him. Like he’s the big bad wolf and one wrong word, and he’ll consume you whole. “Baby, answer me.”

“You.” It’s the smallest whisper. Jungkook’s not even sure if he heard you answer him or if you just whimpered again, so he asks you to repeat yourself and you feel yourself crumble, finally opening your eyes to meet his.

“You. It was you and me and we were having sex.”

His forehead drops to yours, breathing out through his nose.

“Fuck, baby. You’re going to kill me.” His mouth finds yours and you both become a mess of moans and whimpers. He pulls off of you, sitting beside you, pulling the pillow away from your body and holding the rabbit like an offering. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me how you get off to the thought of me fucking you, Sparkles. Show me.” He turns it back on, trailing it up and down your stomach. You shake your head, hands wrapping around his wrist.

“No. Too embarrassing.”

“Too embarrassing? You literally just proudly admitted to fucking a guy for brownies. No, baby. You’re wrong. There’s nothing embarrassing about getting off in front of me. It’s the hottest fucking thing on the planet.”

“I didn’t fuck him for brow- Ah!” He silences your defense by tugging your hand off his wrist and running the pulsing tip of the rabbit up your soaked folds, stopping at your clit. Your back arches and you reach down for the toy. “Stop stop stop stop, please.” He pulls it away from you once he’s gathered enough of your essence on it and turns it back off. He admires the wetness dripping down the shaft of it and brings the toy to his mouth, closing his lips around it to suck off your juices.

He leans back down, kissing you so you can taste yourself on his lips. “There’s no such thing as embarrassment with us, baby. Now, please show me how you fuck yourself when you think about me? Please?” He gives you another kiss and you whine into it, eventually nodding.

You take the vibrator from him, closing your eyes as you run the tip up and down like Jungkook did a moment ago, but leaving the toy off. Once you feel it’s fully coated with your arousal, you slowly ease it in, inch by inch, until you feel that familiar fullness. You find the power button with your fingers and turn it on to the slowest setting. The toy starts moving inside you and you whimper, overwhelmed immediately by the rhythm of the thrusts matched with the girth widening as well as the two little nubs vibrating against your clit.

You massage one of your breasts with one hand while the other keeps the toy pressed in you, only pulling it out when it gets to be too much. Once you calm down, you press it back in, rolling your hips in perfect timing with the toy.

You’re a moaning mess and Jungkook can only watch in awe. He’s fighting every desire to rip the toy away from you and put himself in, fucking you deliriously into the next year. He wants to make you come over and over and over again. He wants to fuck you without a condom so he can feel closer to you and come inside you. He also wants to leave the toy in and add himself in with it, really stretch you out and have the toy vibrating against his own cock until you’re both overstimulated. But he can only sit, watch, and resist touching himself.

You’re writhing on the bed, trying not to make a sound and your eyes are still shut tight. Jungkook shakes his head, leaning over to cover his hand over yours on the toy, slowly fucking it into you as you relinquish control.

“Don’t tell me you do this quietly, baby. Let me hear you, please.” He kisses your forehead. “Open your eyes and let me see you lose control, baby. I need it.”

Your eyes squint open but threaten to shut again when he shoves the toy in as deep as it can go, the clit stimulators pressed against your clit, making you screech.

“Jungkook. Move it, please. It’s too much pressure. Please.” He shakes his head.

“Are you going to keep your eyes open and on me?” You nod, desperate for him to move it. You’re so close. “Are you going to let me hear you and not suppress any more of those beautiful sounds I love so much?” You nod again, on the verge of tears.

“Please. I’m going to come. Please, Kookie. I need it.”

“There’s that nickname, I was wondering when you’d say it again. Does my baby wanna come?”

“Yes please.” Your voice is strained, both hands gripping the arm he’s using for support next to your head as he fucks you with your favorite toy.

“Okay okay. One more question. Are you mine, baby?” You nod, not thinking about the question, just assuming saying yes will get you what you need, and what you need is release. “Hmmm. I don’t think you understood the question, Sparkles. Who do you belong to?” You nod again. “You wanna come?” Another nod and he’s picking up the pace, watching your breathing, counting down until he thinks you're about to come. Just as you’re at the edge, he pulls the toy out all the way. You scream at the denial of your orgasm, twisting your head to bite the arm you’ve been clutching.

“I don’t think you should come until you answer me correctly, baby.” He leans down, growling in your ear. “Try again, y/n. Will you be mine? Only mine? No dates with other people, no sex with other people, just you and me. Will you be mine?” The tone of his voice is dangerous, possessive. But you don’t care. You release your bite on his arm, it’s going to leave a mark tomorrow, and you lock eyes with him.

“Yes. Yours. I’m yours. I’ll be yours. PLEASE!” You shout through the tears. You’re about to beg for more when simultaneously, Jungkook crashes his lips into yours and slams the toy back into you, pumping it at a rapid pace.

“Come for me, baby. Come all over this toy like it’s my cock. Cream it for me, please,” he grunts against your mouth and you’re finally allowed to let go. You wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck, pulling yourself up to him, keeping your lips locked as you cry a moan into his mouth. He lets you ride out the orgasm, turning the toy off but continuing to pump slowly.

He stops only when he feels you shudder against him, pulling the toy out and removing his lips from yours. You whimper until the cream covered toy is suddenly brought between you both. Keeping his eyes on yours, he taps the side facing you against your lips. You hesitate, too tired to understand until he licks up the side of the toy facing him and your eyes widen, suddenly understanding. You tentatively stick out your tongue, following suit and licking up your own orgasm from your favorite toy with him until there’s nothing left. He tosses the toy aside and quickly captures your lips again, tongues dancing together perfectly.

He leans you back down on the bed, one hand cupping your face, the other holding himself up by your waist. Your hand slides down his chest and rakes across his abs, scratching at his underwear’s waistband, fingers running over the tip of his cock peeking out. He’s so unfathomably hard if the giant bulge and the precum stain isn’t enough. He hisses, the hand on your face quickly reaching down for your traitorous hand, grasping your wrist.

“No, baby. I can’t. One more week. One more week and we can enjoy each other for as long as we want, okay?”

You nod, trying not to close your eyes. “But you’re so hard. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Like hellfire, baby. But it’s okay. I’m gonna calm it down. You go to sleep, okay?” He moves your damp hair off your face and you nod again.

“Are you staying?”

“Do you want me to?” Another nod from you, followed by you clutching his arm again and kissing where you bit, eyes falling shut.

“Please?”

The grin on his face is something you’d kill to have seen if you weren’t so exhausted. You feel another kiss on your lips.

“Okay. I’ll stay. I’ll be right back, go to sleep.”

“No, I’ll wait…” You trail off, turning onto your side and clutching the pillow to your face, getting more comfortable, and he chuckles.

“Okay. Wait for me.” He gets up and heads into the bathroom again, disposing of his underwear. He turns your shower on again and to the coldest it can go before stepping in.

Fuck that’s fucking cold.

He gently grabs his aching erection that’s threatening to explode and runs his hand up and down, frustratingly slow.

I don’t think I can make it a fucking week if she stays. I almost lost it so many times…

His thumb drags over his tip while his other hand has a tight grasp on his balls, massaging them.

She’s so fucking perfect. She didn’t mean it when she said she was mine. She only said it so I’d let her come, but- fuck I’m so close.

He continues teasing himself, gentle and teasing at the tip but hard and forceful at the base until he can feel the familiar tipping point. He lets out a deep groan, letting off the tip but forming a ring around the bottom of his shaft, cutting off his orgasm he’s so desperate to unload.

He rests his head against the shower wall, counting his breathing until he can feel his heart rate return to a normal pace. He leaves the shower, drying himself off, when he realizes he doesn’t have an extra pair of underwear or pajama pants. He could easily go next door, but the thought of putting his soaked underwear back on makes him cringe. He wraps the towel from earlier back around himself, heading out of your room to find his keys.

He sneaks over to his apartment, changes into some new underwear, loose fit joggers, matching hoodie, and a big shirt that he secretly hopes you’ll steal and wear. He brushes his teeth and grabs two blankets from his bed, an extra pair of underwear for just in case, his headphones, and his phone charger on his way back out, locking his door and reentering yours. He slips back into your room where you’re peacefully asleep. He somehow skillfully removes the blankets from underneath you. He has to give you a few kisses and help you into one of your own big shirts when you wake up just to get you back to sleep after he slides one of his blankets underneath you, the other on top.

He throws your bedding into the washer, grabs the vibrator and the toy cleaner that was in the box, cleaning it in the bathroom and leaving it on the counter to dry. He finally returns to you, curling up beside you and pulling you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you sleepily tuck your head into the crook of his neck and wrap an arm around his torso.

He can’t sleep, too wired from watching you fall apart for him, and also edging himself gave him an adrenaline boost he wishes he could get rid of. So instead, he puts his headphones on and watches whatever he can find on Netflix, gently massaging your scalp at the same time. Once the washer is done, he sneaks out from under you to quickly move the bedding to the dryer and returns in record time. This time, he curls up with you, keeping his arms safely wrapped around you as he finally drifts off to sleep.

You wake up the next morning immediately feeling like you’re in a different bed. These aren’t your blankets. You open your eyes and sit up quickly. This is your room, but these aren’t your blankets. You’ve seen these blankets before though, they’re Jungkook’s. Why are Jungkook’s blankets on my bed? You scan your room, eyes landing on the neatly folded bedding set that you know to be yours stacked nicely on a chair. He washed my bedding? You’re confused as you get out of bed, realizing you’re not even fully naked anymore.

You check the bathroom and see your little box of toys on the counter, the one you used last night already cleaned and put away. You grab the box and put it back in your closet before returning to the bathroom for a much needed shower and brushing of your teeth and tongue. You can still taste yourself and you’d rather not anymore.

Once you’re clean and your breath minty fresh, you return to your room towelless and grab a pair of underwear as well as the closest shirt you can find. When did I get this shirt? runs through your mind as you put it on. You dry your hair as best you can and head out to find the man that made you see stars last night.

He’s in the kitchen cooking. And this scene seems all too familiar. You bury the memory as far back as you can as you enter the kitchen.

“Hey,” you mumble loud enough that he doesn’t jump in shock like last time. No, stop thinking about it.

He turns around and his mouth drops. You’re wearing his shirt. He took it off and just wore his hoodie in the middle of the night when it got too hot. And now you’re wearing it. The neckline drapes over a shoulder and it stops just beneath your ass and it looks so fucking good on you.

“Good morning. Or technically afternoon, baby.” He’s grinning as you wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest.

“Thank you for cleaning up two days in a row. You don’t have to, you know.” He kisses the crown of your head and smiles.

“No, I don’t have to. But does it make you happy or any less stressed?” You nod, resting your chin on one of his pecs, looking up at him. “Then I’m glad to do it.” You grin back at him.

“Whatcha makin’?” You look around his giant frame to see various brunch foods, making your mouth drool. He steps away from you, going through your cabinets until he finds a plate, and serves up what you consider the perfect brunch.

“Trying this again. Since last time it had a bad ending. Brunch for you.” He sets the plate down on the island counter before casually lifting you up to sit on the counter as well. You start munching on the food, ignoring the needy hands rubbing up and down your thighs or the lips on your shoulder. You look around for his plate but see nothing.

“Wait. Where’s yours?” You're genuinely confused. Who makes brunch for one person? He just shrugs, his kisses leading back up your neck.

“Already had it after I went running.” His hands slide farther up your thighs this time, landing on your hips and playing with your underwear. “But I wouldn’t mind seconds.” He gently bites your neck, lifting your hips to drag the underwear off and pulling you closer to the edge. His lips meet yours for a very hungry kiss for just a moment before he’s dropping to his knees, pushing your knees apart.

“What are you doing?” You gasp, one hand flying to grab his hair while the other braces behind you to keep yourself up.

“Brunch,” he murmurs, tossing the underwear on the counter. He kisses up your thigh so slowly that you have enough time to contemplate yelling at him. The phrase ‘hurry up’ is on the tip of your tongue when he gives up on teasing and attaches his mouth to your cunt.

You throw your head back, hand on his head, pushing him as close to you as you can.

“Fuck, Kookie. Right fucking there, please. Fingers too.” He happily obliges, thrilled you're asking for more from him. He sucks on your clit, bringing two fingers to rub up and down your entrance before pressing them in, earning a deep moan from within you. He gives you half a second before he’s pumping them in and out of you, lapping up any juices that you produce.

He’s working hard and fast but every time you feel yourself getting close, he brings it down to a slow pace and it’s not like you can lie to him about it. He’s got your body figured out perfectly.

Fingers still working their magic, he spreads your legs farther and pulls you closer, giving you no choice but to lay back on the counter to give him more access. He kisses your rim, deeply pressing the tip of his tongue against it a few times and you’re crying.

“Jungkook. Please. I can- I can’t. Stop teasing me, I can't take it.” You feel yourself getting overwhelmed again as he removes his fingers drenched in arousal from you, teasing your rim with one finger. He whispers relax and you do just that, crying out a moan as he presses his index finger in slowly and surprisingly easily.

“Can I do another, baby? Or is that too much?”

You nod your head against the counter.

“Another,” is all you can squeak out.

“How did I go this long without you in my life? Fuck.” He grins, biting on your thigh briefly. He lines his middle finger up underneath his index finger after coating it with more of your arousal. He ever so slowly enters both fingers in your resisting hole and you want to cry from both pain and pleasure, crying fuck that’s good over and over until he’s passed both knuckles.

He allows you a moment to recover from the sensation until his fingers curl, hooking in you as he reattaches his mouth to you. His fingers fuck your ass, his tongue your pussy. It’s the perfect combo as you cry out, begging to come, suddenly feeling a bit more confident when he bites down around your clit.

“Feels so fucking good, Kookie. Fuck, I love when you play with my ass. Don’t fucking stop.” You roll your hips against his face, moaning as an arm reaches around your lower half to hold it down. His tongue works wonders on you and you’re losing your mind again. His mouth pulls away for barely a moment.

“Come for me, baby. Feed me your cum.” And then his mouth reattaches, working harder than before. Your orgasm hits you like an unsuspected tsunami and you try bucking your hips, but his hold on you is tight. You cry out, unaware of whatever is coming out of your mouth. Switching between thank you, fuck yes, and his personal favorite you’re so fucking good as you ride out the rest of your high.

He slowly removes his fingers after cleaning you up with his tongue, loving the sound of your whimpers, and stands up. He used to think the final bell alerting that he won a match was his favorite sound in the world, but he thinks maybe the sounds you make for him are his new favorite. The view of you being a ruined mess below him might also be pretty high on the list of favorite views.

He puts your underwear back on, lifting your hips to help. He grabs both of your hands, intertwining them with his, and helps you sit back up. “Hi,” he whispers softly when you look at him.

“You need to start warning me before you touch me like that. I think my brain is melting.” You bring one of your joined hands to the side of your head and wince at the throb inside. He lets out a soft laugh, leaning forward to kiss your temple.

“I'm sorry baby. But also, you’re welcome? Or thank you?” You grumble out a hum, resting your forehead on his shoulder. Your vision allows you to look straight down where you can see that he’s once again hard.

“How aren’t you dying from not orgasming?” You trail a finger around his waist.

“Oh I'm pretty sure I am. But until then,” he grabs your finger, giving it a kiss. “Finish your food. I’m going to get rid of this situation.” He lets go of you and starts walking back to your bathroom when one question stops him in his tracks.

“Can I see?”

He turns to you, slightly tenser than before.

“No.”

“Why not?” You’re pouting now which is just making him harder.

“Because I can’t focus with you around, baby. I’ll end up coming.”

“But I wanna see how you stop yourself when you so clearly need to come…” He shakes his head, making his way back to the bathroom.

“Another time, baby.” He shouts, turning the shower on.

“Hey! Are you going to pay my water bill for all the showers you’re taking?” You shout from the kitchen, returning back to eating your delicious meal.

“If that’s what you want, I will.” He responds, voice somewhat strained.

You continue eating in silence. You can hear the faintest of grunts from the bathroom, but not enough to be sure if it’s him or your imagination.

He returns ten minutes later in his fresh pair of underwear and back in his joggers and hoodie. You’re curled up on the couch scrolling through your various streaming services trying to find something interesting. He sits next to you, taking the remote from you and turning the tv off for a moment.

“Since we’re all about communication now, we need to discuss what happened last night.” He tries to sound calm and like it wasn’t a big deal, but you remember last night. You remember him asking you to be his and you saying yes over and over.

“Okay…” You can only look at him for a moment before your eyes have to find a random object in the house. There’s a piece of mail on your coffee table that looks nice and interesting.

“You didn’t mean it when I asked you to be mine.”

Mail is no longer interesting, your eyes snap to his.

“No, Jungkook. Not…not like that. I admit you’re right that there’s something here. I’m not going to deny that. I just…I don’t know. I’m not there yet? Relationships are a weird concept for me, it just takes longer for me to adjust. I’m sorry.” You expect him to get upset again, to yell and say something horrible. But he just nods.

“It’s okay. We’ll go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.” He pauses, figuring out his next words. You can tell he looks nervous, like he’s on the verge of panicking.

“And I hope you don’t think when I said mine I meant like as my property or as my sex toy. I didn’t. I would never think of you like that and I just really feel horrible about last time and-”

He didn’t even register you getting closer to him so it took him by complete surprise when your lips were cutting off his apology. You wrap your fingers in the hair around the nape of his neck, bringing his lips closer for just a moment before pulling back with a smile.

“I get it. You’re possessive. I’m okay with that…to an extent. Just not in the context of you calling me a slut. Which, by the way. You can be all possessive and call me a slut and degrade me all you want in bed, if you’re into that. But if you ever imply anything like that to me again outside of sex? You’re going to have problems.”

“Understood. I’m so sorry again-” your lips cut him off again.

“Shut up. We’re past that. It’s done.” One more kiss. “There was some truth to my answer last night. I’m not going to go on any more dates and I’m not going to sleep with anyone else. I don’t know what that makes us, but can it be enough for right now? Until I figure this out?” He smiles and nods, leaning in for another kiss. You pull back.

“Nuh-uh, mister. You’re going to kiss me into another orgasm and I need a rest. No more touching. You have no control.”

“I have no control? Which one of us lost control that started all of this?” He quips back, but he’s still smiling, giving the remote back to you and pulling you closer to him.

“Mmmm. You. You could’ve let me get drunk and sad and dance around my apartment. But no, you had to come over in that stupid towel.”

He snickers, watching you land on a show you find comfort and nostalgia in, not even bothering to explain it to him or ask if he’s cool with it. You toss the remote onto the coffee table, grabbing the blanket from the other end of the couch and tucking yourself further into Jungkook’s side.

You both fall asleep for god knows how long. You wake up to an obnoxious ringtone somewhere in your house and you angrily get up to find it, leaving Jungkook passed out on the couch. You find the evil noise maker in your room, not even bothering to check if it’s your phone.

“What?”

“...Hello?”

“Yes, hello. What? Why are you calling?”

“Uh…is Jungkook there?”

You freeze, bringing the phone out to look at the caller ID.

🥊Taehyung.

“Shit, I’m so so sorry. His ringtone is obnoxious and it just made me irrationally angry. Uhm, let…let me go wake him up.”

“Oh. Okay…Who are you, by the way?”

“Y/n…my name’s y/n. Jungkook and I are…friends…I guess? Hold on.”

You mute the mic and rush out of your room and shake the sleeping man on your couch. He groans, lazily swatting you away, turning away from you.

“No you don’t.” You grumble, crawling on top of him. “Jungkook, it's Taehyung. Wake the fuck up.”

He just groans again.

“Fine. I’m not sorry, by the way.” You reach behind you and palm him, giving a small squeeze. His eyes shoot wide open, and he sits straight up, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other tearing your hand away from his junk.

“What the fuck?” He looks livid, but you just smile sweetly.

“You have the worst ringtone in existence and I answered it and it’s Taehyung and he probably hates me now. Here you go.” You pass the phone to him, tapping to unmute. He holds his glare on you, fingers digging into your side.

“Hey, Tae. What’s up?” You move to get off him, but he just holds you tighter. You wince and his grip lessens as you uncurl each of his fingers, forcing him to let you get up and head to your kitchen to get some water, allowing him at least a little privacy.

You try to tune out his words but there’s some stuff you just catch, like the “yeah, her” after explaining who you were. And then laugh and groan that’s followed by “no I haven’t. It’s hard though.” And finally the “oh shit, I forgot!” which is immediately followed by him jumping off the couch and hanging up with Taehyung. You leave the kitchen and he’s spinning in circles looking for all his stuff.

“What happened?” You ask, holding two glasses of water. He stops spinning to look at you and groans.

“I’m an idiot and the coach is going to kill me for forgetting. But I forgot the match is a whole fucking week long thing so I have to fly out tonight and I won’t be back until Sunday morning if I’m lucky.”

“Oh…that’s okay.” You look down at the two waters and you don’t even realize you’re pouting until he’s in front of you, cupping your face.

“Hey. Don’t pout. I’ll be back next week. And I won’t be restraining myself anymore or busy training Tae. Which means more dates and more chances to completely ruin you.” You raise an eyebrow at him through your squished face in his palms.

“Are you sure I’m not just a sex object to you?” You watch his expression fall into one about to panic and shake your head. “Kookie, I’m kidding. You’re in the middle of abstaining, so all you can think about right now is sex. It makes sense. I’ll gladly be your sex object next week.”

“You’re not my sex obj-“

“You’ll text me, yeah? Doesn’t have to be constant. Just, like, when you land or get to the hotel. I don’t know. Just so, like, if you die, I’ll know where to tell the investigators to start looking for the murderer.”

He grins something like a jester, full of mischief. “Baby…are you saying you’re going to miss me?” His large hands grab the two waters from you, placing them on the table next to you.

“No…” Your eyes dart between his. There’s a certain sparkle mixed into the gorgeous dark brown that you’re just now noticing and want to get lost in. You want to see them in the sunlight. “Okay, maybe.”

His tattooed hand grabs yours, intertwining your fingers before bringing them up to his lips and giving the back of your hand a kiss. Tucking your hand between his pecs, he lowers his head to level with yours for better eye contact.

“I promise to text you at the bare minimum of three times a day.”

“You don’t have to do three a da-”

“Three times a day. In return for at least one from you.”

You nod in agreement, mumbling out okay. He breaks your hands apart, offering you his pinky and you wrap your own pinky around his, thumbs from both hands meeting up to press against one another.

“There. Now it’s legal. At least one a day, baby. Okay?”

“Okay. You act like I’m going to ghost you…”

“No, you won’t ghost me. I know where you live. But what I fear is you getting in that pretty big brain of yours and overthinking every single moment.” Your mouth drops open in offense and you glare at him.

“Rude.” He’s right though, but he doesn’t need to know that. He just laughs, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“I gotta go pack and then head to the gym before getting on my flight. You’ll be good for me, yeah?”

You nod and he gives you one final kiss before leaving your apartment. You can hear his front door open and close and him running around the place trying to pack as fast as possible. Sitting back down on the couch, you hate yourself because you’re actually moping over a guy. Moping? You? Over a guy? Since when?

Monday was easy to forget about Jungkook being away for a week. It was your first official day at the record shop and you were with Namjoon and Jimin. It wasn’t a very difficult job to learn. You got the hang of it pretty fast, so that by the time the two guys left and were replaced by Jeongyeon and Felix, you felt like working there was second nature. The moment Jeongyeon saw you, she squealed, pulling you to the back room and locking the door.

“Who took you home? Was it neighbor man? What happened all weekend? Tell me everything!”

You laugh, filling her in on him picking you up from the bar, the speed date, the real date. You skimmed over him helping you masturbate and eating you out on the kitchen counter. You told her about the match and the week apart and her eyes glimmered that same look of mischief Jungkook’s had the day prior.

“Gonna send him something spicy?”

You stare at her.

“Not like a full nude, because you obviously aren’t there yet. But like, sexy lingerie or something just to tease him with.”

“Nooooo. No no. I don’t do those types of photos.”

“Why the hell not?! You’ve got the curves. And you’ve got a man who literally can’t get off until Sunday. How much fun would it be to tease him?” You shake your head.

“No. I…I can’t do that.” You sigh, shrugging your shoulders. “Anyway. What happened with you and Jimin?”

Her face reddens and she shrinks in on herself.

“We made out…”

“I saw that at the bar. What else?”

“He didn’t want to do anything while we were drunk. Which I appreciate. But fuck, I wish for once he’d just do what he wanted. I’m dying over here.” You both laugh, stopping immediately when the door handle jiggles. You unlock it and Felix pokes his head past the door, sending a look to Jeongyeon.

“Soooo. You gonna come work or am I soloing it tonight?”

“Not sure. What happened Friday night? Did you solo it there too or was it a threesome?” She clips back and you gasp.

“Oh I forgot about that! What the hell happened after you left with them, Felix?!”

You both watch as Felix’s entire face turns red. It almost looks like he’s sweating too.

“Just hurry up.” He snaps at Jeongyeon as he turns away and stomps off.

“Oh yeah. He absolutely had a threesome. I’m so proud.” Jeongyeon cackles, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. She turns back to you.

“Okay. Go home. Put on something sexy. Send neighbor man something risqué and drive him crazy. You got this.”

You groan as she drags you out of the back room. You grab your stuff and make the split second decision to go to the mall instead of your apartment. You’re just going to look at the lingerie.

You come home with three new sets. You hate Jeongyeon and her enabling ways and you loathe the sales associates for their selling skills. You leave the bag on the counter and leave it be until you feel confident enough to look at your impulse purchases.

You spend the rest of the evening on the couch, Netflix in the background with a homemade margarita in hand, looking over the texts Jungkook sent throughout the day.

🎤Jungkook🎤(1:28pm): Landed this morning. Our hotel is cool. So’s the view.

🎤Jungkook🎤(1:31pm): *sent two photos*

The first is the hotel room. It looks pretty big and the bed looks like a king size bed, which looks way more comfortable than your bed. The second photo is of the view, a wide view of the entire city. He must be pretty high up to be able to see that far away. You try figuring out where he is based on the photo alone, but stop yourself, feeling like if you find out, you might end up actually going to the hotel to be with him. Stop thinking things like that. You don’t need to be around him all the time.

🎤Jungkook🎤(6:42pm): Trained all day. Feel like dying.

🎤Jungkook🎤(6:43pm): Tae doesn’t hate you btw. He hates my ringtone too.

🎤Jungkook🎤(6:43pm): I think it’s fire. You’re both crazy.

🎤Jungkook🎤(6:50pm): We’re getting dinner and then I’m passing out. I’ll text you tomorrow.

🎤Jungkook🎤(8:31pm): I miss you baby 🥺

You laugh at his sporadic updates, trying not to acknowledge the fluttering you feel inside at the last message. Instead, you stick to your promise of at least one a day.

You(8:59pm): First day at the record shop was fun. There were no issues and I think I’ve got the hang of it already. Went to the mall. Bought some stuff you might enjoy. Idk. 👙

You press send and set your phone down to finish off the margarita and settle in on the couch, hugging one of the blankets from Jungkook’s apartment that he left on your bed close to you. Your phone buzzes a minute later. Grabbing it, you see Jungkook trying to facetime you. You smirk, putting the phone back down and ignoring the call. You promised at least one a day and you are a bare minimum kind of girl. He can wait.

He calls two more times before sending a slew of texts.

🎤Jungkook🎤(9:04pm): Answer the call, y/n.

🎤Jungkook🎤(9:04pm): You can’t do that.

🎤Jungkook🎤(9:05pm): You can’t say you bought something, send that emoji, and then not answer.

🎤Jungkook🎤(9:06pm): Sparkles answer the phone.

🎤Jungkook🎤(9:10pm): Baby?

You leave each message on read, giggling the entire time. You do feel bad, but it’s very little compared to how much you love teasing him. You figure he’ll get rewarded for his suffering tomorrow. You’re too comfy now and have no desire to be on the phone this late.

Next day is pretty much copy and paste, Except this time you open with Jeongyeon and Felix. It’s a little more chaotic. Mainly because of Jeongyeon’s chaotic energy and trying to get you and Felix to fully open up to her. Felix still won’t talk about what he did with Chris and Yuna and you can see how much it’s killing her not to know.

Jungkook sent brief updates on stuff happening today. More training for Taehyung. Interviews and press related things that sounded like hell. And his last text was a picture of dinner that looked quite sad since Taehyung was on a strict diet, therefore Jungkook was too.

That night, you break out one of the sets from yesterday. You put on the one you felt most confident in. A black lacy bra with a lace hemline going around to the back. There’s an extra piece of a lace strap pulling down from either shoulder to the bottom middle of the bra to really make your breasts stand out. The underwear is of the same detail and fabric, but there’s no back, just two straps that connect across your upper thighs. You move the full standing mirror to be in front of your bed and take, you assume, hundreds of photos.

You finally land on two. One really emphasizing on your “divine breasts” as you both jokingly called them what feels like a lifetime ago. And the other with your back turned to the camera, ass resting on your feet as you point your camera at the mirror. You can just make out a cheeky smile on your face and you have a feeling that if he’s able to look at anything other than your ass, it’ll be that smile that tortures him.

Jungkook finally walks into his hotel room, exhausted from the day. The fight isn’t until Saturday, but there’s already so much press around Taehyung’s match. He’s exhausted. He’s hungry. He wants you in this stupid giant bed. Not even for sex, though he’s never going to deny wanting that. He just wants you near him. You feel comfortable and safe. Like if he had his arms around you, all his stress would dissolve immediately.

He tosses his stuff on the table by the window and falls back onto the bed. He should shower, brush his teeth, wash his face, everything else, but he just wants to sleep. He’s on the edge of falling asleep when his phone dings a specific notification sound. He shoots up, grabbing the phone. It’s you. He knows it’s you, he made your text tone a specific sound so he’d know to never ignore it.

His lock screen greets him with a notification.

✨Baby (10:54PM): *sent two images* Sorry about yesterday. We did promise I would send at least one a day and I’m a bare minimum kind of girl. 🍑

He can barely make out what they are from the tiny notification. But when he opens the message, he nearly drops his phone. No no no no. Fuuuuuuuck. Why? His other hand flies to his crotch to immediately put pressure against his stirring erection. You better fucking answer this time.

You don’t. He calls three more times. Nothing. On the last call he lets it go to voicemail, laying down, removing himself from his pants and briefs, and putting the phone on speaker next to his head.

“Baby, why won’t you answer the phone? Don’t you know how much torture this is? You send me those photos, yet deprive me of hearing your voice? Make me imagine what you’d sound like coming around my fingers while wearing that?” He groans, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock while the other stokes the head, edging himself the same way he did in your shower.

“You’re going to be in so much fucking trouble when I see you on Sunday, baby. And you better be fucking wearing that and have all your toys ready to be used and your vibrators charged. Everything, baby. I’m going to fucking ruin that pussy and your ass, I swear. You’ll only want my cock after I’m done with you.”

He’s not even sure what he’s saying anymore, too focused on bringing himself to the tipping point. He performs the same makeshift cock ring trick he’s done so many times now and stops himself from coming, crying out a groan towards the phone.

“You better be fucking ready.” He grunts as he hangs up the phone.

You’re changed back into your pajamas when you finally check your phone, having left it on silent and in a different room knowing full well he’d call again. You weren’t expecting a voicemail. And you surely weren’t expecting that kind of voicemail. The temptation to call him back was too strong. Instead you popped in your airpods, brought out the vibrator he fucked you with, and spent the rest of the night getting off to him edging himself and his threats that you’re positive are anything but empty.

Wednesday you decide not to tease him. Instead you send him two texts. One talking about your day and the other of you, Jeongyeon and Felix at work. You noted that Jeongyeon was the one that suggested the speed dating idea. He asked you to thank her.

Thursday, it suddenly hits you that you haven’t seen him since Sunday and you’re actually sad about it. You genuinely miss him and you’re not sure what to do about it. Yesterday, Jeongyeon and Jimin had suggested going to wherever the match was and surprising him, confessing your affection like a KDrama. Felix said that was too much and you should wait until he’s back. It’s not until a guy comes into the store, very openly flirting with you, mistaking your customer service personality for flirting back, that you use the term you’ve always feared when Jungkook asked you out.

“Oh. Sorry, I have a boyfriend…he’s a boxer.” Partially true, partially false. But this guy doesn’t need to know that. Once the guy leaves, Jeongyeon is on top of you, squealing.

“BOYFRIEND?!” She yells obnoxiously and you’re smiling, still in disbelief you actually said the word out loud. “Girl, there is no fucking way you don’t fly out to that match tomorrow and tell him. You’ll chicken out Sunday and you know it.” She’s not wrong.

“But… I don’t know where it is. He didn’t tell me. Not to mention he didn’t want me there.”

“That was a lie and you know it, y/n. You don’t work tomorrow. GO. Operation: Get our men is still in effect.”

When you get home, you read over the various texts from Jungkook. They’re short and it’s very clear he’s busy. There’s no funny quips. No photos. Just the bare minimum of three texts and that’s it.

You throw on the second outfit you bought. This one is a little less risqué. Mesh instead of lace and more straps. You sit on the bed normally, leaning back on one hand, taking a single photo, sending it off with three words you didn’t expect to say to him any time soon.

I miss you. 💜

Once again, he calls and you don’t answer. Not to be a tease this time, you just don’t want to talk about what you just sent. That conversation you suddenly crave having is not one to do on the phone. You need to see him and it can’t be Sunday. It has to be as soon as possible. After three calls, he stops. Doesn’t send any texts after either.

You go on Instagram and see if you can find any information about the match. It’s in a city that’s about a 2 hour flight away. You find Taehyung’s instagram and he’s dumb enough to have his DM’s open.

Y/n: Hey. This is a bit awkward. I’m y/n. I’m Jungkook’s “friend”? The girl he’s seeing? Idk how to label it to be honest. Please don’t tell him about me sending this. I was hoping to surprise him tomorrow night or before the game? Unless you guys are really busy or against that idea. I’m a bit lost. I just miss him?

Christ alive, y/n. Twice in an hour!? What are you going to say next? That you love him?

Twenty minutes later you get a response.

TaeV: Ah, yeah! The girl that answers other people’s phones and yells at them.

Y/n: Again. I am so sorry. I had just woken up to that god awful ringtone and I couldn’t murder a sleeping man.

TaeV: No worries, love. He told me. I want to murder him every time that ringtone goes off as well. It’s horrid.

TaeV: As for visiting. You are more than welcome to come.

You spend the rest of the night planning things out with Taehyung. The hotel, the flight information, getting a hold of a ticket for the match. Ways to make sure Jungkook doesn’t see you or know about you being there until the right moment. Everything. You apologize again for being rude to him on the phone and say thank you more times than you can count.

You barely sleep. Too busy packing a bag. You know it’s excessive to bring checked luggage on such a short trip. But there is no way you were going through security with a box full of toys in your carry on. You neatly fold the last lingerie set you bought and tuck it in a corner. This suitcase looks ridiculous. Lingerie, two normal outfits, and sex toys.

The flight out is a little after midday and you don’t land until the evening, where you’re picked up by a private driver who brings you to the hotel Taehyung and Jungkook are staying at. You quietly wait in the lobby until Taehyung exits the elevator, greeting you with a boxy grin full of mischief.

“There’s the girl I’ve been waiting to finally meet!” He wraps both arms around you and hugs you tightly. He’s nowhere near as muscular as Jungkook but somehow is just as strong.

“Nice to finally meet you, too!” You offer a smile but it’s a little weary, anxiety of the plan failing painted across your face.

“Don’t worry. He fell asleep while watching the discovery channel. He’s very bored. Come on. You’re staying in one of the private suites. So you need a fancy key to use on the elevator.”

He starts walking over to reception, and you stumble over yourself following behind.

“Suite? I can’t afford a suite, Taehyung. I can barely afford the janitor’s closet here. I thought I was staying somewhere else?” He ignores you as he finishes checking you in under a false name, grabbing two keycards from the receptionist. He turns back to you to usher you towards the elevator.

“First of all, call me Tae. Second, why do you think you got dropped off here? Of course you’re staying here. I’ll text you when we leave in the morning and that’s how he avoids seeing you until later. Also, it’s my treat.” He grins, grabbing your suitcase and pulling it into the elevator. He scans the keycard against a black box above the long list of floors. One of the higher numbers lights up, indicating that’s where you’re headed.

“Tae, you really don’t have to-”

“He really likes you, you know?” He interrupts, fidgeting with the cards. “Like…he really likes you. Borderline loves you, maybe. His words, not mine. I’m sure he told you about the concussions? Did he tell you who gave him the career ending one?” You shake your head and he grimaces.

“Me. I…I didn’t mean to? I wasn’t even aiming for his skull. It was a huge fluke and next thing I know he’s down on the ground almost unconscious. I visited him in the hospital to apologize and we kind of became friends from then on? After he retired, I convinced him he could still train, and I was dropped by my trainer because I lost all my matches after the one with Jungkook. So he became mine. And I’ve been winning because of him.”

You stay silent. The elevator doors open and he grabs your suitcase, walking you to one of the suites and tapping the same keycard against another black box on the door, unlocking it. You quietly follow inside.

The room is huge. Or rather, the rooms are huge. There’s a kitchen, a small main room, a bedroom, and a full bathroom. He parks your suitcase in the bedroom and finds you still in the main room, sitting on the arm of the couch, looking around. He takes a deep breath.

“Like I said. He really likes you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him fully smile in the time I’ve known him. So if you make him this happy, then you’re worth the entire world, and it’d be a crime to not help you two be together.”

You want to cry; you feel the tears right there at the edge. There’s a sniffle, but it’s not from you. You look up at him and he’s openly crying in front of you. You quickly get up and pull him into a tight hug. His arms wrap around your shoulders and he continues to cry.

“Please don’t break his heart.” He stammers out and that’s all that needs to be said for you to shed a few tears as well.

“I won’t. I promise.” You whisper as you both pull away, wiping your own tears off your face.

Once you both compose yourselves again, he hands you both keycards.

“Why two?”

He raises one eyebrow at you, winking. “Why do you think? I assume you’re going to get freaky, hence the suite. I’m saving everyone from hearing you both screaming. Feel free to use the room service and the spa services. All on me.”

Your mouth drops and he laughs. “Have a great night, Sparkles. I’ll text you when we leave tomorrow on how to get in and such.” He doesn’t wait for a response, just skips out the door, finally allowing you to explore the suite.

The bathroom is bigger than your kitchen. A walk in shower, a jacuzzi tub, two sinks and an insanely large mirror. The kitchen is slightly smaller but has all the fixings of a kitchen. You won’t be using it anyway. The bed is the same as the one in Jungkook’s photo. A king sized bed with the softest looking bedding.

You order dinner through the room service, making a mental note of the price to pay Taehyung back, and watch TV in the main area. Jungkook texted you his three promised texts throughout the day, not really saying much. You wanted to just go down to his hotel room and knock on his door, but you knew you couldn’t. Instead, you got ready for bed, crawled in under the covers, and pressed Call.

“Baby?”

“Hi…”

“Hey.” You hear a small chuckle, making you smile. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just a long day today. Hoping this counts as my one text.”

“Oh it counts.” Another laugh. You let out a smaller laugh, ending in a sigh. “Why do you sound so sad, baby?” You shrug, as if he can see you and cower further under the covers.

“I’m not sad. I’m happy, I promise. I just miss you. I didn’t want to wait until Sunday to talk to you…to hear your voice…” There’s a long pause followed by a sigh on the other end.

“Baby. Do you have an idea what that’s doing to my heart right now? If you miss me, why haven’t you answered a single call? Why only one text a day?”

“I don’t want to talk about it over the phone…”

“Then FaceTime me.”

“That’s still over the phone. I…I’m trying to wait. It’s a serious conversation and serious conversations should be in person. I just called because I wanted to hear your voice and say I miss you, okay?” You sound slightly irritated, but you hope it doesn’t come off that way. Tears are also falling again but that’s unimportant.

“Okay. Fine. We can talk the second I land, okay?” You hum in agreement. “Is there anything else, baby?”

“No…”

“As much as I want to stay on the phone with you, I have to be up early to train with Tae before the fight. So I’m going to have to go, okay?”

“Okay. Goodnight, Kookie.” You can hear his cheesy grin over the phone.

“Goodnight, Sparkles.” You both hang up and sleep quickly overtakes you.

You sleep in just a little later than planned, though it doesn’t matter much since the match isn’t until 7pm.

You spend the entire day getting ready for tonight, giving yourself a spa day to ensure every inch of your skin is soft, muscles relaxed, and mind cleared. Taehyung finally texts you around 4pm that they’re at the venue. You give yourself the preplanned one hour to get dressed into your tightest ripped skinny jeans, a bra that does fantastic things for you, a tight, form fitting shirt, and some combat boots. Jungkook did text you already saying he was heading over to the venue. You had responded with a good luck gif and a bunch of hearts and ordered an Uber.

You get dropped off at the back of the venue, a man already waiting for you. He ushers you inside and leads you to a training room that is mostly empty, save for a training mat, a few chairs, and some workout equipment you couldn’t name if you tried. Jungkook is holding his hands up, counting in a rhythm as Taehyung punches along with the rhythm. You’re honestly a bit clueless as to what’s happening, too focused on the tattooed man that has his back to you. Taehyung glances at you briefly, causing him to miss a punch. Jungkook lets out a groan of frustration, walking further away from you to grab his water. Taehyung just smiles at you and winks. This man is a flirt, you guess, a dangerous one at that.

“You can’t miss a punch like that, Tae! Come on, let’s do it again.” He shakes out his hands, head down as he walks back to where they were previously. Taehyung stares at him before shaking his head.

“Nah. I’m actually feeling pretty good about tonight. I’m going to get ready. Besides, you have a guest.” His boxy grin returns as Jungkook lifts his head up to follow his friend’s line of sight, landing directly on you. “See ya, buddy. Remember 6:30.” He pats the dumbfounded boy on the shoulder and walks past you, whispering “Get him, Sparkles.” You suppress the laugh behind your smile and nod as he leaves you both alone, closing the door on his way out.

Jungkook is still frozen, so you take it upon yourself to approach him slowly.

“Surprise?” You cautiously raise your hands up like jazz hands.

“I’ll fuckin’ say. I thought I said I didn’t want you to come.”

That hurt. “Oh…I didn’t think…I thought…Tae said…”

“Tae said? You’re friends with Tae? Since when?”

“Uhh…Thursday night? I asked him about surprising you…he said you’d be excited. But you’re clearly not…”

“I am…fuck, I am, baby. But…I meant it when I said you’d be a distraction. Especially in that.” He gestures to your outfit.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” You pout, spinning around so he’d get a full view of every curve on you. “I thought it was cute. I don’t really know what one wears to a boxing match and this was so last minute, I didn’t have time to look it up-”

Two hands are on your face, a pair of lips pressed against yours to shut you up. You smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, running your fingers through his hair, tugging when his hands leave your face, dropping straight to your thighs as he lifts you up without breaking the kiss. He moves quickly, bringing you to the closest wall and pinning you there, tongue sliding along your lips as you open up to him and allow him to devour you.

“There is absolutely nothing fucking wrong with your outfit, baby.”

His voice has dropped an octave and his words rumble through his chest and against your neck as he bites down.

“What’s wrong is that I have to focus on helping Tae win.” He rolls his hips into you, licking across your neck, tilting your head back as he breathes against the center of your throat. “Now all I can think about is ripping this perfect outfit off of you and pounding into you so hard that you can’t walk for a fucking week.” His hands roughly slide up your thighs, violently gripping the meat of your ass in your jeans. You mewl, pulling his hair back to pull his mouth off of you.

“Wait wait wait. You have to wait.”

The voice he makes reminds you of a predator about to rip apart its prey.

“No. No more waiting.”

He tightens his hold on you, bringing you to the training mat and laying you down, hovering over you, keeping himself up with hands on either side of your head.

“I need you. I need to be in you. Now, baby. Say I can. Please.” He’s begging against your lips as he staggers his thrusts against your pelvis. You shake your head.

“No no no, Kookie. Stop. We need to talk first.”

“Please.” He’s desperate and frustrated.

“No.” You harden your voice and his hips freeze. He moves to get off you, but you just hold him in place.

“I didn’t say move. I said wait.” You breathe out a laugh at the look of horny confusion on his face. “Let me say what I flew out here to say and then we can go from there, okay?” He tentatively nods and you take a deep breath, eyes darting between his.

“Jungkook. You are insane. You sing karaoke in the middle of the night on weekdays and walk around in annoying towels, taunting me. You have literally the worst ringtone in the universe. And you like to torture yourself by not coming. You’re possessive. You prefer beer over whiskey. And you’d rather see the future than revisit the past. But you eat just as much as I do and don’t judge me for it. You prefer night over day. Movies over books. You let me make Little Mermaid puns before sex. And most importantly, for some weird reason, you like me.” You both laugh. He wants to interrupt, but he lets you continue.

“The other day, a customer flirted with me.” You see his jaw clench, but ignore it. “It was super awkward. But when he asked me out, wanna know what I said?”

“Better have been to fuck off,” he huffs.

“Better. I told him I had a boyfriend. And that he was a boxer. He didn’t need to know that you used to be, because frankly that’s not his business. But in that split moment of telling that guy that, Jungkook…it finally hit me. I don’t just miss you, I like you. Borderline love you, maybe.” His eyes meet yours and narrow at that last sentence, a smile still plastered on his face.

“You talked to Tae, didn’t you?”

“Besides the point.” You wave a hand. “The point is, Jungkook. If you’re still down for it, and judging from what’s going on down below, you are, I think I’d like to give this relationship thing a try. I want to call you mine, and I'll be yours for real…” You cradle his face in your hands, waiting for an answer. He’s silent for just a moment, but it feels longer.

“My baby? My Sparkles? My y/n?” He’s grinning ear to ear, you can feel it under your palms. You nod your head, bringing his face closer to yours.

“My Kookie. My Attractive Pajama Man. My Jungkook.” You whisper before your lips meet his.

And it’s right back to where you left off. His hips are right back rutting against you while your hands leave his face, reaching under the waistband of his shorts to grab his swollen cock. You’re only able to give two strokes before a guttural groan escapes his lips.

“No, I can’t. Not yet. After the match. After the match, I'm all yours, baby.” You let go of him and sigh.

“Show me, then.”

“What?”

“Show me how you edge yourself. How you did it when you left me the voicemail. I want to see.”

“No, baby. I can’t if you’re here.”

“You did it in my apartment. Twice, I think. Maybe more than I know?”

“It’s different.” He grumbles and you pout, quickly moving to flip you both over. You scoot back so you’re sitting closer to his knees.

“Show me.” You cross your arms, looking up at the clock on the wall. “You have 10 minutes before Tae comes back in here. Show me.” He actually whines at your demand, cautiously pulling his painful erection out, and begins going through the same motions he’s done before.

“I don’t think I can do it, baby. I’m going to come.”

“Don’t. Tell me when you’re just about there. When you can feel the sharp burning pain inside you, desperate to explode. When your breath is so shallow, you’re not even sure it’s there anymore. When your vision starts to go fuzzy and your hearing goes in and out. Tell me.” Your speech is very reminiscent of the speech he gave you on your second night together all those weeks ago.

“I’m th-there. I’m there.” His eyes are shut, his teeth ripping into his bottom lip. It’s so fucking hot.

“Stop it, Jungkook. Don’t come. Stop yourself right now.” You’re trying to sound dominant. But you gave up on that possibility with him a long time ago, though maybe now that you were together, he’d be up to trying a few things.

You watch his hands work on autopilot as one wraps around the base and the other roughly squeezes his balls. The deep groan he lets out is carnal as he arches his back and you watch his grip tighten for a second before he collapses back down. Just a smear of precum leaking from his tip.

“Jesus fucking christ, Kookie.” You’re panting as if you’re the one who was just denied an orgasm.

“I’m never doing that again.” He grumbles, slowly tucking himself back into his shorts.

“What? Edging in front of me?”

“No. Going two weeks without fucking you. That was fucking torture. You’re heading straight to my hotel room when this is done, understand?” You shake your head, getting up to find your purse that you tossed aside when he picked you up. He slowly gets up, watching your every move.

“Nope. You’ll be coming to my hotel room when this is done. Understand?” You mimic as you hand him the other keycard Taehyung gave you.

“And Kookie?” You wait for him to look up from the keycard. “I brought the toys.” You grin as his mouth drops, eyes dark and full of lust. “But don’t think about coming to my room if Tae loses.” You pop open the door and walk out, leaving him behind, and heading in what you hope is the right direction to where your seat should be.

If someone asked you what happened during the match that you were in the second row for, you wouldn’t be able to tell them a damn thing. You don’t remember the score, or if that’s even a thing in boxing. You don’t even remember if Taehyung got knocked down at any point. What you do know is his trainer was so focused on making sure he won, that he didn’t even spare you a quick glance. And you loved it. You loved watching him in his element. He was confident, powerful, and so sexy.

The bell rang, signifying the winner, and you finally looked at the ring to see Taehyung’s arm being lifted and a belt being handed to him. You stood up, cheering for him for the first time tonight. A moment later, your eyes finally locked with Jungkook’s and the unspoken conversation there made you book it from the venue immediately.

It took 20 minutes to get back to the hotel. Two to get inside the lobby, go up the elevator, and enter the suite. You quickly bring out the box, setting it on the foot of the bed and removing the butt plug Jungkook had admired, and head straight for the bathroom. You clean up, take off your makeup, and prepare your tight hole before inserting the buttplug.

You change into the last set you bought. A wired basque with so many straps, you didn’t even know where to begin with putting it on. There are no cups for your breasts, just about six straps of varying sizes that somehow not only keep the girls up, but make them look absolutely fantastic. It came with a matching thong and thigh-high tights to clip the garter clips to. You bought some black heels to complete the look, knowing full well you’d take them off within 2 minutes.

You turn off most of the lights, leaving just the bathroom one on so when you take a picture in front of the mirror by the closet, the photo is dark and the only light is what’s reflecting off the little metal clasps on your many straps. You send the photo to Jungkook, knowing full well he’s in one of many post-match interviews and simply add the word Hurry and hit send.

After sitting around in the main area, all lights back on, you hear a beep at the door.

Finally and Oh fuck are the only two thoughts crossing your mind. You stand up, clenching around the toy currently in your backside and lean against the back of the couch as he enters the suite. He had to dress moderately professional for the post-match interviews and he hated it. He kicks off his shoes as he looks around the room like a kid in a candy store looking for a specific candy, that specific candy being you.

His eyes land on your body first, your breasts to be more specific. His eyes roam over every inch of your body at least three times, taking it all in. The black, the straps in all the right places, the tights, you. His eyes flit up to yours and he reaches for his belt.

“Tell me the underwear isn’t attached.” You smirk and shake your head.

“It’s not.” His eyes don’t leave your body for a second as he removes his belt, dropping it on the floor, doing the same with his shirt.

“Good. You’re keeping that on while I fuck you. Get the fuck in that bedroom and on that bed.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Fuck, don’t say that.”

“Sorry, sir,” you quip back, turning away from him to head into the room. His eyes take in your backside, landing on the little bit of color peeking between your cheeks as you crawl on the bed.

“What’s that?” You hum questioningly as you start turning to face him, but he grabs your hips, forcing you to still as he manhandles you. He shoves your legs apart, keeping your ass in the air, opening yourself up to him. He runs two fingers across the toy.

“When did you do this?” He presses down on it, making you moan.

“As soon as I got back from the match. So you didn’t have to prep me. So I’d be ready for you the second you walked in.” You pant in between sentences as he had started rubbing those two fingers against your clothed slit, getting your thong nice and soaked.

“Fuck, my baby did all this for me?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, moving the small piece of fabric to the side and shoving his tongue between your folds. You mewl, resisting the urge to pull yourself away from him, and instead pushing back closer to him. He trails his tongue down, flicking your clit with the tip, grinning as you buck your hips. He pulls away from you, once again taking in the view of you. Ass up, plugged up, body strapped down. It’s perfect, a dream come true.

“Mmm, thank you for all of this, baby.” He smooths his hands over your cheeks before slapping them one by one a few times, massaging the mark he leaves after each slap. “Baby, is the plug just for fun, or can I stuff you with my cock?”

“For whatever you want, Kookie. It’s your hole now.” You whine out, dragging the box closer to you, rummaging in it and holding out the new bottle of lube to him.

“Y/n, I told you, you’re not a sex object to-”

“Your pussy. Your hole. My cock. My balls. That’s what a relationship is, now fuck me, Jungkook.” You’re desperate and horny and your voice shows it as you shove the lube back at him.

“Are you sure, y/n? I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.” You sigh out a groan of frustration, turning to cautiously sit in front of him.

“Jungkook. Look at me. You still don’t know me sexually that well. If I wasn’t into it, I wouldn’t have let you thumb me the first time we had sex. Look at the box of fucking toys. I like sex, Jungkook. I like being manhandled, I like being choked, I like being degraded, but I also enjoy praise.” You list the things you’re into while momentarily laying back to remove your thong, flinging it aside and sitting back up.

“I like when you fuck me so deep I could feel you in my stomach. I like when you play with my ass. I like when you let me lick you clean after you come in the condom. Hell, that shit you did with my toy where we both licked it clean? Didn’t know I was into that until I did it.”

Your hands fidget with his jeans, unbuckling them and pulling them down with his underwear, allowing his very swollen and very red cock to spring out to greet you.

“I like your cock. I like your cum. I like your body. I like you.” You lean forward to kiss the tip of his cock without laying a finger on him. “I like you enough to let you do literally whatever you want with me whenever you want and however you want. Because, Jungkook, I fucking love how I feel with you. It’s new and exciting and terrifying and euphoric and so if you want to fuck my ass, fucking fuck my ass already.” You huff, putting the lube in his hand.

“You should’ve done that speech as your confession.” His smug grin is shortly followed by a low hiss as you lightly smack his cock. “Okay, sorry. Where are the condoms?”

You shrug. “In the box. But you don’t have to. I mean. I’m clean and I have an IUD…” He nods as you trail off.

“Okay. How about this? Butt stuff is condom, pussy time is condomless? Just for a little safety and being sanitary is good.”

You laugh. “Okay. But never call it pussy time ever again.”

“Noted, baby.” He lifts your chin and leans down to give you a chaste kiss, but you bring his lips back to yours before he can get away and deepen the kiss. You pull him with you as you lay back. Feeling his cock against your stomach. His lips leave yours to trail kisses down your throat, across your collarbones, and across the straps holding your breasts in place. He plays with the straps, moving them around and to the side, until he gets both breasts free. He doesn’t touch them, not yet at least.

He sits up on his knees, one hand playing with different ways to tug on the straps of your harness while the other reaches for the box, finding the rabbit he fucked you with before.

“Have you used this since, baby?” You nod and his eyes widen slightly. “When?”

“When you left the voicemail.” He nods half-mindedly, running the tip up your center, gathering your arousal.

“You got off to the sound of my voice?” You whimper out a yes and he teasingly enters you with just the tip. “I affect you that much, baby?” He already knows your answer, he can see it glistening on the toy. He doesn’t wait for it either as he eases the toy all the way in, giving you a second before turning it on.

You almost scream, back arching off the bed and scrambling for something to grab, landing on one of the straps now around your breast.

“Fuck, Kookie. Fuck me, please. Need to feel you.”

“You will, baby. But I remember someone mentioning being into DP.” His eyes flit up to yours, darting back and forth between them, waiting for an objection. You throw your head back and groan, working your hips against the toy, since he wasn’t moving it.

“Can you get back on your knees, baby?” The way he asks is so gentle, you can’t help but oblige as he aids to keep the toy in while you move. You gather up the pillows, ready to brace against them as he leaves the toy running, gathering up what’s needed.

He teasingly pulls the plug out, saving your moans to memory and rolling the condom on. He squeezes the lube onto your hole, spreading it around and slipping his fingers past the ring of muscles to make sure you were really stretched for him. After being able to slip in three fingers without too much effort, he adds just a little more lube, sliding it across himself as well as he lines up to you.

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much, right, y/n?”

“I will.”

He nods, turning the vibrator off for a moment as he slowly begins to push past the ring. Your head drops at the incredible stretch he gives and your front half slips down into your pillow pile.

“No. Get back up, Sparkles.” Wrapping his fingers around the straps closer to your shoulder blades, and pulling you back up. He smiles as you obey, finding a better way to plant your hands to keep you up.

Once you’re situated better, he picks up the pace a bit, rocking his hips back and forth, pressing a little bit further each time. It hurts, but the pleasure of the stretch far outweighs the pain, especially with the feeling of the vibrator still inside your pussy.

“Baby, I’m going to let you know right now, that I am absolutely not going to last that long with you this tight.” His voice is hoarse, as he finally bottoms out in you. You groan, looking longingly at the pillows you want to hold onto.

“That’s fine. Just please fucking move.”

He whispers okay a few times before reaching down and turning the vibrator back on, letting the thrusts begin for a second and watching you for a negative reaction first. When you say nothing except a line of various curses and whines, he resumes his own thrusts into you.

The feeling is like no other. Both holes are filled literally to the brim, stretched perfectly. Both moving inside you at different paces, making you unable to focus on literally anything else. You can’t even hear the groans coming from the man causing all this pleasure. The ears on the rabbit toy flutter perfectly against your clit and you’re already so close to losing it.

“Kookie, fuck. I’m not…I’m not going to make it, much longer. I need to…I need to…please.”

Your begging causes his hips to stutter, sending him deeper into your hole and you can’t take it anymore, crying out his name as you fall apart, clenching around both him and the toy. You don’t even notice him simultaneously pulling you up with the straps to be flush against his back, pushing himself in further. His other hand on the toy, pumping it further in and out of you.

“Look down, baby. Look down now.”

You do as he says, watching his hand fuck the toy into you while his hips remain steady. The feeling in this position is a whole other world and you let it take over you, crying out again at a vaguely familiar sharp sensation inside of you. It’s not until your vision threatens to go dark that you realize what’s happening. He brings the toy about halfway out, tilting it up, and pumping it right there for a few seconds until you feel the sharp sensation snap. You fight against the blurry vision as you watch the toy being removed and you squirting all over the bed, screaming.

You fight against the urge to pass out in his arms. Instead, you lean back to rest your head on his shoulder, facing his neck. Your hand goes for the hand holding the toy, guiding it back inside.

“One more. Come with me, Kookie. Please. I can do it. One more.”

He tilts your head up to him so he can lock his lips to yours. “Fucking perfect. You’re perfect. Are you sure, baby?” You nod, bringing his other hand up to your throat, and he follows your silent instruction, wrapping it around your throat and applying pressure.

The third orgasm comes without a warning, but the walls clenching around him being the only indicator it was about to happen.

“FUCK” is the only word in his language as he lets go out of your throat, sending you both forward. You have to brace yourself quickly as he slams his hips into yours once more and lets out the most grating and jagged groan you’ve ever heard him make. He grips your hips against his and even through the condom, you can feel he’s still coming. You manage to reach underneath yourself to turn off the vibrator, but leave it inside.

After what feels like the longest fifteen seconds of his life, his grip on you lessens and he rolls to the side, pulling out of you completely, making you wince. But you ignore it, pulling the vibrator out right after and forcing yourself to sit up and face the man laying next you, toy still in hand.

“You okay?” You run your hand across his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding away. He just nods, trying to catch his breath. “You feel done?” He gives it a second, finally shaking his head. You grin wickedly. “Great, open your mouth.” He obliges without considering what was about to happen, not expecting you to ease the toy in his mouth.

“Suck, Kookie. Clean it up.” You whisper it so sweetly, but there’s a darkness in your eyes that tells him if he doesn’t, there will be consequences. But it didn’t matter, who was he to deny tasting you? He relaxes his throat as you slide the toy as far back as he’ll allow, sucking along the way, until it’s cleaned up from your juices.

Fuck, that’s hot.

“My turn,” you smirk, tossing the toy aside and carefully removing the condom. There’s so much cum, you unfortunately lose some to the bedding. But the rest you lick up enthusiastically, missing the taste of him. He hisses at every pass of your tongue and you can feel his cock start stirring, waking back up for you. “Welcome back, friend. You’re not done yet.” You kiss the tip and start wrapping your lips around it when you feel your body being tugged upwards.

“You’re not talking to my dick, baby.” A soft murmur as he pulls you onto your side against his back.

“Why not? He’s been neglected for so long. He deserves some love.”

“No. Me. I deserve the love.” An arm snakes around your waist, holding you close.

“Mmmm…no. You did this to him. You deserve nothing.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, twisting your head to kiss you. You leave it that way. Just kissing. But you’re aware he’s got two weeks of pent up desire in him and what just happened was maybe only good enough for a few days’ worth. So you roll your hips back, and sure enough, there he is, ready to go. The arm around your waist moves to your hip, stopping you.

“You just came three times and squirted. You need rest.” You shake your head, lifting your leg to rest over his. You reach down, grabbing his rehardened member and guiding it towards your entrance.

“You mean you only wanted to fuck my ass? Nothing else? You don’t want to feel me, Kookie?”

“One of us is dying tonight, baby. You from overdoing it, or me from you fucking taunting me.” He sighs by your ear. “I want to come in you. Mark you inside as my own. Make you fucking mine.” His hand slides from your hip, down to your messy center, tracing patterns over your clit.

You moan into the pillow. “I’m already yours, Kookie.”

“Then let me make it official, baby. Say I can come inside and I’ll fuck you again right now.” Your hand, still wrapped around his cock, slowly strokes the head.

“Come in me, Kookie. Mark me as yours. I don’t want anyone else.”

His voice is husky in your ear.

“Put me in, baby.” And you do. You slide him in and he fits so perfectly. You both groan at the feeling of each other without the condom.

“God, you’re so fucking warm. And still so fucking tight. How are you so tight?”

His hips snap roughly against yours, a burst of energy flowing through him as he lifts your leg higher for better access.

“Your pussy was fucking made for me, baby. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of it.”

“Good,” is the only word you can get out, earning a breathy laugh from him against your ear. He moves your hair out of the way, biting down on your neck and vigorously sucking, leaving bruises and marking you repeatedly.

“My fucking baby. So fucking gorgeous and perfect and mine.” Your mewls are silenced when a hand comes up from underneath the pillows to shove his fingers inside your mouth, prying your jaw open after a second. “Say it, baby. Say who you belong to.”

“You.”

“Say it fucking again. Louder. Tell the hotel who owns this pussy.”

“You, Jungkook. You own this pussy. You own me, my heart, everything. You.” You cry out as he raises you both so he can slam into you at an unrelenting pace, hand leaving your mouth to wrap back around your throat.

“Come with me right fucking now, baby.”

And you do, screaming his name as he clutches your body against his to stop you from shaking too much. A second later, you feel him twitch inside you, your walls being coated in white while his teeth mark your shoulder.

You both come down from your high, neither moving, his semi-erect dick keeping his cum inside of you. He lowers your leg back down, lets go of your throat, and leaves soft kisses over the bruises he just made.

“You okay, baby?” You hum and nod in response, eyes closing.

“Good. We can continue after a rest, okay? Sleep for now, y/n.” You shake your head, forcing yourself to get up after slowly pulling him out of you. He’s confused, but you ignore any questions he asks, heading straight for the bathroom.

When you return, you crawl back into the position you were in previously. When he asks if you’re okay again, you mumble about not wanting a UTI.

“Right. Forgot about that. Sorry, baby.” You hum your response, clutching the arm that’s underneath you. He smiles at the view before getting more comfortable next to you, softly singing in your ear.

Can I just stay here? Spend the rest of my days here?

You snort. “No. Don’t,” you whine. He just grins some more and carries on.

'Cause you make me feel like I've been locked out of heaven for too long, for too long.

You don’t respond. Just let him carry on badly serenading you with Bruno Mars lyrics as you fall asleep.

Thank you for reading if you did. It’d mean the world if you reblogged or let me know what you think. 💜

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0x1lovebot · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭; jake got that dawg in him fr😳

1.4k words. [1,415]

[not proofread.]

warnings; mentions of alcohol (hyung line only), mentions of sex, violence, mentions of blood (nothing crazy I mentioned it like once I think), language, baekhyun saying wild and foul things about y/n, angry jake.

a/n; i literally lost my mind and my sleep over writing this!! but I let my best friend read it and she said it was good so I guess it was worth it😭 also SHOUT OUT TO @yenqa FOR THE PUSH OF MOTIVATION I NEEDED TO FINISH THIS!! YEN UR THE BEST 🫶🏾🫶🏾

the txt frat had been known to throw some wild parties but none of them were as packed or chaotic as this one. so many people were there that the party spilled into the back and front yard. people drank and danced and laughed, too consumed by the atmosphere to focus on anything else. it would’ve been a shock if anyone could even focus on their thoughts over the rap music that shook the whole property.

the only exception to this chaos was the living room.

the living room of the frat house was quiet beside the music in the background. a bunch of people had crowded around the ping pong table set up in the corner of the room, to watch the round of beer pong that seemed to go on for hours. both teams were neck in neck, each with one cup left on each side.

it was jake’s turn now. he picked up his last ping pong ball and kissed it for good luck, hoping that it would hit its intended target. everyone in the room tensed when jake released the ball, watching as it soared across the table.

“come on. come on.” jake mumbled.

the ball circled the rim of the cup once, then twice, before falling in.

everyone around the table cheered. jake and sunghoon had just won their 5th round of beer pong in a row. heeseung sighed in defeat before downing the last cup of beer.

“FUCK YEAH! THAT’S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!” sunghoon shouted as he and jake high-fived each other. “I TOLD YOU! MY BOY’S A BEER PONG GENIUS!”

jake smiled and shrugged. “it’s just physics man. shit was light work.”

“you guys hear that?!?” sunghoon called to jay and heeseung. “jake said playing y’all was light work.”

“then I guess he wouldn’t mind playing again. for money this time.” heeseung said as he pulled out his wallet.

the crowd let out a loud “ooooh” at the offer.

“as much as i would love to run your pockets,” jake grinned. “i think I’m gonna go get some air.”

the crowd booed at jake, wanting to see him win another round of beer pong.

"come on man! one more round!" sunghoon pleaded. "it’s easy money."

jake's face broke into a grin as he shook his head. "nah man, winning is getting kind of boring." jake sighed. "plus it's not fair to the losers."

heeseung and jay booed at jake. "what? you afraid we might actually smoke you this time?" jay slurred.

jake rolled his eyes. "oh yeah, I'm so terrified." he taunted.

sunghoon laughed and clapped jake on the back. “don’t get into too much trouble out there.” he said.

“no promises.” jake winked and made his way through the crowd, trying to find his way out of the living room.

maybe it was because of the music blasting or the alcohol in his system was finally catching up with him but jake really started to feel the buzz. everything seemed out of focus as he stumbled through the house. he didn’t mind it though, it was rare that he got to let loose like this.

one second he was in what looked like the kitchen the next he was in a different room at the other side of the house. he somehow ended up in the main hallway though he wasn’t entirely sure how he got there. the music was even louder now causing jake to grimace. he felt like sound waves were splitting his skull in half.

‘maybe it’s quieter upstairs.’ he thought.

jake gripped the railing of the stairs in the middle of the hallway and slowly made his way up the stairs.

he felt a little relief when he reached the top of the steps. the music was in fact quieter upstairs. now jake could only really feel the base of the music under his feet. he took a deep breath hoping to clear the fog from his brain, but all it did was make him feel dizzy.

“ok maybe I overdid it with the hennessy.” he groaned to himself.

jake thought that maybe some cold water would help him out a bit so he set out to find a bathroom.

he walked down the hallway knocking on every door he came across, hoping that one of them would be the bathroom. he must’ve been doing this forever and still couldn’t find one. all he did find were couples doing less than decent things in rooms that didn’t belong to them.

with one more room left to check in the hallway jake decided that if that room wasn’t the bathroom he would just jump into the pool in the backyard of the house.

jake knocked on the door and pushed it open. to his dismay, the room was just another bedroom, but the people in it caught his attention. the lights in the room were dim but jake could make out the familiar face of y/n’s boyfriend baekhyun. he was half naked under a girl that jake recognized from around campus. a girl that wasn’t y/n. baekhyun looked at jake with a smug glint in his eyes before focusing on the girl he was with.

jake could feel the anger bubbling inside him but he knew better than to engage. if he did he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing something stupid.

jake turned on his heel and raced down the stairs and out of the house as quickly as possible. he made it out of the door and just stood on the front lawn with his hands clenched tightly into fists. his mind is going a mile a minute.

‘what the hell is wrong with him?’ he thought.

‘how could he do this to y/n?’

jake’s blood boiled at the thought of how y/n would feel when she found out. she didn’t deserve this. she deserves to be with someone who cared about her, not some asshole that cheated on her at frat parties.

“hey jake, do me a favor and keep this between us!” baekhyun slurred as he stumbled out of the front door. his button-up shirt was wide open and hanging off of his shoulders.

jake snapped his head towards baekhyun and turned to face him.

“you want me? to do you a favor?” jake asked in disgust. “after what you just did in there? after what u just did to y/n? u must have lost your fucking mind.” he spat.

baekhyun rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“aw look at you, defending her honor. it’s cute but i know you just want to get me out of the way so you can get in her pants. am I right?” baekhyun taunted.

jake clenched his jaw and took a step closer to baekhyun. “what the fuck did you just say?”

a crowd had started to form around the two of them, watching intently to see what would happen next.

“oh come on it’s no secret that you’re into her. i’ve seen the way you look at her. but it’s cool, i’m sure she’ll let you hit if you ask nicely.” he smirked. “she’s the biggest slu-”

jake’s fist collided with baekhyun’s jaw causing him to stagger backward in pain.

“oh it’s on.” baekhyun growled before tackling jake to the ground and punching him in the face.

the crowd started chanting “fight! fight! fight!” as the two boys tussled with each other.

jake pushed him off and punched baekhyun in the nose, hard. he felt the warmth of blood on his fist but he didn’t care enough to stop.

jake punched him again.

and again.

and again. even when the sound of sirens fell on his ears, jake didn’t let up.

“AYE! BREAK IT UP!” a police officer called from the street. jake ignored it and punched baekhyun again. it wasn’t until the officer pulled him off and wrestled him to the ground that jake finally stopped beating on baekhyun.

“alright shows over! everyone clear out!” the officer called to the crowd as he wrapped handcuffs around jake’s wrists. another police officer pulled baekhyun up off the ground and the two of them were led toward the police cruiser.

as jake was pushed into the back seat of the car all he could focus on were the handcuffs digging into his wrists and the ache in his right hand. only now did he realize that he probably should’ve just stayed in that damn living room.

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

Text

Secrecy

TW: Public sex. Language. Smut. Degrading Language.

SUMMARY: Your relationship with Rafe leads you at risk of expulsion for your recent need to claim one another in the middle of the day.

WORD COUNT: 750

*REQUESTED*

Anonymous asked:

hii can you maybe do something where reader and rafe, both kooks, go to boarding school together and they’re dating or secretly hooking up and they (almost) get caught by one of the teachers or someone from the school idk

Secrecy

“God, you feel so fucking good…” He breathed, pulling the grip around your waist even tighter as you would use the steps beneath him in support as leverage to continue the rise and fall made over his cock. The rush of being claimed in public and the way he was willing to please you at any time or place without anything more than a flirtatious glance across, ironic enough, chemistry class, and he was undressed and bouncing you in these passionate lifts. Your fingers ate into the fabric of his blazer as his head buried into your chest, your palms coming to his cheeks.

“You’re so hot…”

“Yeah? Why? Because anyone could see us?” He nodded.

“Because your dad would kill both of us if he knew how much of a whore his little girl is for my cock…”

“I am, Rafe…oh, God, I want it all the time…”

“Yeah?”

“Then take it…it’s yours, baby, it always is…” He explained, your motions quickening before the sound of steps echoed on the base of the steps to where you were only concealed by the curve of a banister and the positioning leaving you more distant than visible.

“Is someone up there?” As Rafe moved to slow his motions, not wanting to get you in trouble, despite his words stating the opposite, you would try his ability to remain silent as you rolled your hips and he bit into your neck. When a small moan left his lips, you clasped your hand around his mouth.

“Stay quiet.”

He nodded, eyes screwing shut as your rise and fall climbed in speed and depth before your lips came to his ear.

“I want you to make me come when she’s close…While I’m so fucking close, Rafe…” He pulled at your uniform, desperate to kiss the skin beneath, but well aware it would be a means for discovery at the sound of torn fabric. Instead, he would option for the skin available, which consisted of a few loose buttons and a short skirt as a courtesy of the school’s dress code.

“I love riding you, Rafe…you’re so big-” Your hands wrapped together behind his neck as he groaned into your chest, the vibrations almost tickling you as you giggled.

“I am giving you ten seconds to get back to class before I call the principal.” Rafe stilled his hips, eyes wide.

“You have ten seconds baby…” You explained as he looked towards the bottom of the steps, kept by the crescent style of the staircase as you brought his focus back to you.

“Eyes to me baby, watch me come for you…”

“Jesus christ, baby…” He moaned, your thighs tightening around him as your mouth came open in the familiar ‘o’ as his had came to a wrap at the back of your neck, pulling you closer towards him, foreheads joined for peace and proximity.

“I’m close baby…I’m so close…” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“Five seconds!” The teacher called from behind you both as you trembled over him, that orgasm tearing through you at the same moment he would curse your name into your own skin.

The sudden echo of steps climbing the steps would be the sound at your backs while you and Rafe ran up the stairs, looking back with laughter and managing to hide in a nearby supply closet, breathless for every single reason. Fear. Arousal. Need. Satisfaction.

“I think she’s gone…” You spoke while opening the door to find your share teacher having traveled across the corridor and into another wing of the boarding school as his hands came to your hips.

“Good…now I can have you all to myself.” You were turned to face him, his body familiarizing with your own once again, as you allowed yourselves to be gluttons to your passions once more. And as always, parting as strangers, as nobody could understand how the principal's daughter would ever give someone as scandalous and dangerous as Rafe Cameron the time of day. Especially someone as prim and proper as you..If only they knew…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae

#rafecameron x reader #rafecameronfanfiction #rafe cameron #rafecameron #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obxsmut

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morgansunflower · 1 year

Text

I'm So Sorry, Y/N

Bruce Wayne X Wife! Reader

Batmom! Reader

Warnings:suggestive content, showering, explicit language, injury, and heavy angst.

Words:1564

Arthur's notes! Third P. O.V.. Loosely based on young justice season 3, episode 1-3 and episode 22. Oh and Wally's alive!

Grayson fakes his death, he leaves Gotham to investigate a meta-human trafficking lab across the globe but he disappears. Meanwhile Bruce desperately searches for his son but he needs her. Even after he broke her heart he's hoping she'll forgive him. Or he might go insane.

"Bruce?... Are you ok?" his wife asked over the phone, in the most saddening voice his heart heavies deeper knowing he hurt her.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing his true love was going to hate him "it's.. Grayson..." Bruce felt he failed his son, his family.

She felt someone took their hands to her throat as she felt she was suffocating ".. I'm listening"

"wait five minutes"

Bruce raised to his feet from the Café chair, walking down the alleyway. He had to be sure he wasn't to be detected before he gave her details. He went into the abandoned factory. Rather than a normal factory, Bruce made the communication from both receiver and caller, undetectable or traceable. Can never be too careful.

"I've been unable to contact him, I contacted the team he's been working with however they haven't been able to pinpoint his location, he's been M. I. A. for 3 weeks.. I found out a week ago. I have been trying to find him and.. "

"where are you.."

Bruce sends her his location. The parents worked tirelessly to find their son. They went to Moscow, the last location known of their son. Y/N and Bruce found much disturbing evidence one inside the building. The pods for children that had meta-human gene's were destroyed. They knew Nightwing must've destroyed them. They found a suspicious black goo among the broken pod, which was only found in Markovia. The tar entirely covered the victim in the pod enhancing the person's gene's. Nightwing must've been abducted here but where was he now? Batman found compelling evidence piling against Markovia residents disappearing and that with the tar connection. He hacked into his son's files. BANG!! Glass breaks from Gunfire. Bruce tackles his wife to the ground. He looked for any bullet wounds on her as she checked him. He took her behind the wall far, from where the bullet was shot.

"you're not leaving me" she demanded

"you're staying here!" he snapped, he couldn't jeopardize her getting hurt, she was already here. He shouldn't have called her..

He shoots his grappling gun onto where the broken window laid from the bullet. He bends his knees looking for the bastard. He sees a helicopter with a rope ladder. He zooms in with his spy eye contact, to see Deadshot. He grunted, there on the right trail. Though they know their on to them. He can't waist time on a wild goose chase, he has to find Robin.. His son.

-"Deadshot?..." his wife asked over the intercom

"affirmative, we need to lay low for the night"

They went to the safe house Bruce had in Moscow. It was a old hotel long abandoned. With his finger scanned and code typed both Y/N and Bruce went inside. She walked to take a shower not saying a single word. Her heart couldn't calm down. Bruce's mind could not calm down. He was scared if they moved too quickly Grayson would be killed to hide their evidence.

"Bruce..." his fist grip tightly ready for a fight, no one was going to take him "Bruce" He didn't know what they were planning on doing to him. Would he be used for ransom? One wrong move and they may.... What were they going to do to him? Would he be too late, again? "my love..." he lifts his head to see her with only a towel wrapped around her chest stopping below her waist. "are you ok.."

He couldn't bring himself to lie to her and he couldn't admit how truly scared he is. He didn't utter a word, he couldn't even look at her. He missed her so much it was breaking him apart. She was right there and he couldn't hold her. He walked passed her to go take a shower himself. She wanted to stop him and let him hold her close. She laid in the bed laying against the pillows. Her heart was in turmoil. She can't stop hearing Grayson screaming in pain. She was scared they would be merciless to him. Crying in pain. Terrified he won't make it out. She lost Jay but he was alive now, even some days he lied to them saying how little they meant to him. She feared what would happen to Grayson. Sometimes she forgot he is grown and out of the nest. Bruce stepped out from the shower, he is exhausted from his heart aching. He slipped on his boxers and walked into the room. Y/N laid with her body nearly shaking as water seeped through her tightly closed eyelids. She knew Bruce was right behind her. He froze his heart crying out to her own, what should he do? This was his fault. He should lay on the couth. He stepped to walk away--

"pl-please stay" she begged brokenly.

Bruce's heart leaped, he did exactly as she asked him. He laid beside her. He reaches taking her hand to comfort her.

"you have every right to hate me, to blame me" Bruce said, his guilt covering his heart to hatred for himself. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" Bruce touches her cheek "forgive me, Y/N"

Her heart couldn't take it. She wraps her arms around him burying his face in his neck. Bruce held her close scolding himself for the swelling that came to his eyes.

"Bruce, you were trying to protect him. You love him, I don't doubt that. I love you that's not ever going to change. We will f-find him" she began to cry from her own words "and we will bring him home"

They knew this operation was bigger than both of them. Nothing was going to get in their way. That early morning Y/N contacted Wally, Artemis, and Conner. She knew they could help best and that it would be best for her son to see, his friends. Wally and Artemis wore their formal attire for Markov's pre-coronation reception to intend to investigate possible suspects for the king and queen who were murdered. Knowing it could very well be connected to the crimes against the meta-human's. Once done they would accompany Batman and H/N, who were searching for their son. They were going to get their son, and then end the meta-human trafficking once and for all. In the underground lab they saw, Helga Jace touching the pod where Grayson stayed. She had a smile, that made Y/N's skin crawl.

"get the hell away from my son!!" Y/N shouted to her

"intruders!" she shouted

Bruce knocked out the guard. Vertigo came forth with his power sending Bruce and Y/N to their knees. As he stopped his bone crushing painful vertigo. Batman remained still, the blonde villain laughed in a mocked manner

"the great Batman--" Quickly Bruce threw three batarangs one to Vertigo's effect headset, one to the pod that held his little boy and one to the lab system.

Y/N runs catching Grayson as he fell into her arms. Bruce turned seeing Baron Bedlam. She tore off the electrodes attached to him.

"Batman, H/N so nice of you to join us" he made his skin turn to stone

Bruce threw his batarangs to Baron, they explode but did nothing to harm him.

"shit"

"it's gonna be OK son" Y/N muttered to her son

Barbara was sobbing as she could see everything Y/N could. Y/N laid Grayson gently down as Helga approached with her gun in hand. Y/N quickly turned with her leg in air, hitting her jaw. Helga fell to the ground, Y/N kicked the gun across the floor. Conner, Wally and Artemis came just in time. Superboy speeded to punch Baron repeatedly. Kid-flash ran to bring a stretcher and medical supplies. Artemis used her crossbow to shoot at Baron with explosive arrows. Wally returned helping Mrs Wayne bandage her son.

"there he is!" Gregor Markov announced as he came with guards loyal to him

"Baron Bedlam you are under arrest for the murder of King Viktor, and Queen Ilona!!" the captain announced

"lies!!" Baron announced

"it's too late uncle, these hero's have shown me the evidence. You will never be crowned King under Markovia" Gregor coldly said

Conner put Baron in a head lock and with the inhibitor collar they were able to take him into custody. Bruce and Y/N quickly took Grayson home. In the Bat-cave. Grayson's fever became higher as, his body shakes on the stretcher. His Dad held his body from thrashing as his mom took the cold cloth to wipe away his sweat. Grayson thrashed his head the pain was causing tears to fall.

"hold him steady so he doesn't hurt himself, we need to strap him down" Bruce said

Alfred brought ice to place around his grandson to bring his temperature down. Y/N continues to wipe away the sweat avoiding the nasal breathing tube. Her hands shake from exhaustion that she fought. Bruce touched her arms gently but also firmly.

"I can't leave my little boy"

Grayson weakly opens his eyes seeing Y/N laying in Bruce's arms as he held her securely with his own eyes closed. Grayson feels safe with their presence after the torture he went through. His eyes flash a bright blue as now he could hear Barbara crying in his room in the Manor.

#Bruce Wayne X Wife! Reader #Angst #forgiveness #Brokenhearted #batfamily #Whump! Nightwing #dick grayson #Wally West is alive #wally x artemis #Artemis crock #Injury #Helga Jace #Vertigo #Markovia #Heartbroken #Dickbabs

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phoeebsbuffay · 2 years

Text

Imagine this is the modern world where the Siths are a criminal organization and the Jedis are a group of diplomats that zeal for the peace. Somehow you, an anonymous being who has nothing to do with neither parts, end up involved in it…

Warnings: based on Little Mix’s “They Just Don’t Know You”.

Warnings 2: drama, explicit smut, violence, adult language. Not recommended for minors or people who have some sensibility with these themes.

Warnings 3: Y/C = your choice. Y/c= your (college) course.

Recommendations: Rihanna’s “Rehab”; “Don’t Blame Me, “I Did Something Bad” by Taylor Swift if you want to feel the drama. Also “Get Up And Fight” by Muse.

***

You are graduating at the University of Y/C after five years of long emotional distress for studying Y/c. You cannot believe you even managed to go this far after countless nights spent weeping because you considered giving it up. A recollection of this particular moment comes to surface as you think about it.

Anakin, your childhood best friend, came with his sister Ahsoka to visit you. It was Friday night and they wanted to drag you to this party at the upper side of the region Y/C.

Seeing you didn’t respond his messages, he was growing concerned about you for usually your answers never took more than five seconds. He told Ahsoka he’d break through your household if necessary.

So here they were. Ahsoka had a crush on your brother—with whom you shared a house—- since they were the same age and had similar tastes for everything, so she was distracted by his attention all the while Anakin went upstairs. He was dismayed to find you crying over your computer. And you were startled to find him there.

“What’s wrong, Y/Nickname?”

“What are you doing here, Ani?”

You both said it at the same time. Anakin then came to embrace you and you found how comfortable was his embrace, his scent so familiar to you, his muscles well build. You instantly stopped sobbing.

“I was worried about you. You didn’t answer me for a whole day.”

“Imprudent as always, right?” You chuckled, but you liked how reckless he was with you. He was always breaking the rules of his diplomatic studies for you. And he knew how well you appreciated it. Obi-Wan, his mentor, would say you two have an inexplicable bond. “I was just overwhelmed with this uni. I feel like giving up.”

“Don’t give up, Y/nickname. You are the brightest of the human beings I’ve known.” He smiled when you chuckled and he placed a loose lock behind your ear. “I mean it. I truly do.”

You threw your arms around his neck. You’ve never felt so attached to someone as him and Anakin knew it, because he felt it too. But he was afraid to risk your friendship, unsure in fact about the depths of your fondness to him—even if Ahsoka often told him that you loved him, he was just too dumb to see.

“Thank you, Ani. I don’t know who I would be without you.”

He held you tight and he swore to have sensed you swooning in his arms.

“Don’t be silly. You’d still be the great person you are now.”

“You are flattering me, but I am thankful nonetheless.”

With this memory in mind, you soon get your phone and write him about the day of your festivity. But you are surprised when he answers you that he will not be able to come.

You sigh heavily, but instead of folding your arms and letting it upset you, you decide to go to his place and surprise him—like he did to you when you were at your worst crisis. You tie your long hair in a ponytail, dress a top and pants before putting your shoes and leave.

You are all by yourself, with your brother moving out to leave with Ahsoka. What an unusual pair, you are amused by it, although not entirely surprised since H/N is very similar to Ahsoka in many ways.

You eventually get to Anakin’s apartment, but when the doorman is letting you inside, he warns you:

“Uh, excuse me, miss Y/N. Mr Skywalker is not living here anymore. He’s moved out.”

You are paled. You haven’t seen him in the last six months because you two were occupied with your finals, and you knew how difficult were the Jedi trials. But this… to never be notified he’s moved out? You swallow your tears.

Something’s wrong.

“Is he…” you clear your throat, remembering that he might have moved in with Padmé, the girlfriend you do not sympathize. "Did he move in with the diplomat girl?"

The doorman gives you the kind of look that doesn't really do well to you, one that has multiple meanings--none that looks positive to you.

"So you haven't heard what happened?"

You put a hand in your chest. It is worst than I thought, I know.

"Just tell me, Alfred. Please."

He hesitates, but eventually he aquiesces to your request, a task you can tell he is not doing willingly.

"He was, uh... I don't know how to say it. You know about the Sith, right? He joined them."

"T-The criminal organization? That political mafia?"

You pale further--as if it can be possible--when he nods in confirmation. There is concern in Alfred's demeanor when your mind goes blank and you past out.

***

Once you regain your conscience, you swallow your tears and ask Alfred to be told the truth. He does so, albeit reluctantly. You soon know that Anakin and Padmé broke up, and it all appears to a nasty ending with Clovis, her ex, involved.

To worse the story, Major Palpatine, whose allegiance to the Sith is relatively known—it was judged as rumor by you—, said the Jedis have manipulated Padmé and Clovis because she was a distraction to Anakin. He, who was but a puppet to the diplomacy orchestrated by the Jedis to forge a false purpose of peace, ended up seeing he’s been manipulated all the time and broke relations with Obi-Wan and others.

Obi-Wan, whom you loved as father. Oh Ani, why?

You choke your tears. You have no time for your suffering. Anakin has been through a hell all the while you’ve been studying for your finals. You’ve never hated yourself like this before.

“I know what I am going to do.” You check the time: it’s three o’clock in the afternoon.

“Madame, please don’t get yourself involved in this. You have a bright future ahead.”

“No. I don’t care.” You shake, but you are not letting go of him. You did once, you won’t do it again. “I will rescue him, Alfred. Whatever it takes.”

***

You get to the dangerous area all by yourself. You decide to bring only an old phone with you, which is on the pocket of your jeans. The rest of your important docs, you left at your home.

There is a crucifix pending in your neck. You hold it against your lips, wishing for luck. For protection. For whatever there is out there that would keep you alive.

It’s a dangerous neighborhood, one which nobody would willingly go. The comparison that region has earned a famous saying which is: “not even Scorcese’s gangstas would dare to go: for if they did, they’d never make it alive.”

You know you’ve been followed even if the sidewalk and the streets are empty. Abandoned houses give a ghost impression, but you know dead men can tell tales as they often do. Somewhere within those houses there are innocents made hostages of the danger that specters around the neighborhood never giving them peace.

Your body shakes all the way you cross this empty road, feeling misguided, anxious, nervous. You cannot believe your Anakin would do that. Worse, that you led him follow that path! Didn’t he inspire you to study y/c? So you two would make a team?

Your memory is interrupted and your tears never come to your eyes because you freeze. You feel the gun against your back and someone removing your phone.

“Hold on there, missy. Whatcha doin’ here, all by yourself? Everyone knows this ain’t a neighborhood for people.”

You turn around to see a guy wearing a strange hood that hides the man’s features. But you can tell he has a lot of tattoos over his skin.

“Has the cat eaten your tongue? Yo’ mustn’t get lost.” He snorts at you. Now he points his gun to your chest. Your whole body shakes. “Has the Jedi sent you? Have the cops sent you?!”

Your body is shaking. You hate yourself again for the lack of self control. You begin to sweat cold, and you suspect.

“N-N-No. No one sent me.” You wish you could stop stammering. “I came to see… I came to see him.”

You hear a laughter. Your heart races loud, nearly racing against your chest. You fear for your life, your eyes begin to blurry.

“Him? Him who? Who is him?” The man seems to have fun at the cost of your emotional distress. It begins to feel a torture for you, and it may be. “Tell me, bitch!”

“He.. he…”, you don’t remember feeling so exposed and so small. “Anakin. Anakin Skywalker is his name.”

Another burst of laughters. The sound of it makes you startled. Should I fear the worst?

“I’m afraid we don’t know any Skywalker.” You begin to tremble cold. “You came all this way for a man who doesn’t exist. Ain’t life an irony? On your knees, miss. Unfortunately for you, I ain’t letting you go. No one walks in here and leaves free.”

You burst into violent tears and your captor has little patience to what he sees as drama. He pushes you to the floor. You are crying all the tears you choked and your body shakes violently. You are collapsing.

The man with tons of tattoos pulls the trigger as he puts the gun against your head.

“1…”

You think of all the merry times you’ve been with Anakin. Even when he started dating Padmé, which resulted in him seeing less you frequently than he used to, he still had time for you.

“Hey Y/nickname. Are you awake?” He once called you in the middle of the night. You were sleeping but never left the phone on the silent tune. So you picked up and said:

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Look at the window.”

You did so. From the window of your bedroom, you saw Anakin holding his phone, under the tree that there was at your yard. You were quickly awake.

“What the hell are you doing there, Skywalker?” You giggled, holding the phone against your ear.

“I missed you, Y/nickname. So I came to see you. Do I need a reason to be with you?”

You hold onto these small pieces of memories that flash right before your eyes.

“2…”, you hear the man counting in such a slow motion to purposely torture you psychologically, as if you are a toy to his amusement.

When he is about to say the following number, you put your hands around your face, still sobbing, when you hear the sound of a bullet. You scream. But to your perplexity you are not the victim of the shooting: you are alive, whilst you see that your captor is dead.

When you look up, you see a man in dark robes running to you. It’s Anakin. His hood drops from the moment he does so. You are so shocked by staying close to death that you have no time to question how he managed to kill that gangster from such a long distance.

“Y/nickname!” He kneels by your side, holding you against him. Anakin is perplexed by how bold you are for going after him, specially putting yourself under such circumstances. Worse, you almost got yourself killed. What for? For me? I don’t deserve it. “Y/nickname. Are you well? Are you all right?”

You cling onto him so desperately that Anakin feels your despair, your angst. You are cold and you are under such a stressful state that he fears for you.

He gently looses your hair from your messy ponytail, wiping away the cold sweat that drops from your forehead. His eyes are glued in you, waiting anxiously for your answer. You are holding onto him, head buried in his neck.

“I was scared.” You sob again after the shock goes away. “I was so scared. I thought I would lose you, Ani.”

He rocks you against him. It’s just the two of you in an empty street. His bodyguards having removed the tattooed man’s body are nowhere to be seen.

“You are not losing me.” He strokes your hair, trying to sooth your fears. “I thought I had lost you. All I did…was for you, Y/N.”

You reluctantly part the embrace to look at him. You notice his hair is shorter, there are no more curls that once made your heart swoon; his usual scar remains there, but something about his blue eyes give you chills. His features seem to have hardened in this time and you reluctantly raise your hands to cup his cheeks.

You see Anakin is tense, waiting for your reaction. Your answer is about to surprise him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed.”

Anakin leans into your touch, his eyes puddling with tears at the sight of your distress. You think this is your fault when it wasn’t. He can also tell how much you love him. Oh, if only you knew how precious you are to him.

“This isn’t about you. You never did anything wrong.” He placed his hands around your waist, drawing you close. You are relieved to see he remains the same, despite his new association. “You are an angel too pure for this world, Y/nickname. I hate how you are involved in this. Getting almost yourself killed for what?”

You don’t think. You are too tired to suppress the feelings inside you. You don’t even care if he’s with Padmé or not. You just… vomit these next words.

“For you. I would die for you, Anakin.” You sob again. “I would do anything for you, to keep you safe.”

“As I would do the same for you.” He rests his forehead against yours. “As I did. To provide you security, a better life. I love you, Y/nickname.”

“I love you too.”

You close your eyes. In the midst of chaos, you find peace.

***

You are in his room. The kiss is slow and passionate as he presses you against the wall, a hand around your waist and another playing with your hair all the while yours rest over his shoulders.

He tastes better than you’d imagined. You don’t care about Sith or Jedi. You want him and you finally have him. He remains the same to you even if for anyone he’s now attending by a different surname, Lord Vader.

You don’t think about it when removing his heavy black overcoat, letting it slip to the floor. There is a secretive smile playing in both of your lips as you realize where this is going to take you, even though you both take your time.

“I love you so much”, he whispers against your lips, parting the kiss so he can leave traces of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jawline, your cheek—pausing to bite your earlobe softly before going to your neck. He is aware of how your body reacts to him, and a sly smirk crosses over his lips when seeing your shivers. “So damn much, Y/N.”

His hands run up and down your back, resting in your belly before moving higher to cup your cheeks, making you look at him in his eyes.

“I love you, Ani. I have always loved you.” You whisper, fearful of any wind to take these words away. He smiles at how precious you voice them. “Always.”

He takes teach hand of yours to kiss.

“I am yours. For all eternity. No harm will ever befall on us.” His eyes still search for approval in yours, and his smile is warm when he does. He sees love in such a deep connection in the color that paints your irises that his own heart skips a beat.

“As I am yours, my darling.” You don’t care about politics, you don’t care about your life as long as he is there with you. Whatever comes next you can deal with.

You press your lips against him, kissing Anakin with a slow ache that begins to burn from your head to your toes, lingering right in the between of your legs.

Anakin senses it somehow. As he bites softly your bottom lip, he begins to work to remove your blouse. You blush when feeling his stare devours your flesh. It makes you wet.

He plays with your hair before using his hands to remove your bra. You feel the blush deepen as you see his own body reacting to the lust your skin evokes: his erection becomes evident and you feel wetter. It burns you so badly, but you are patient.

And so is he. Anakin then places his hands around your hips, unbuttoning the black pants you are wearing this day. He purposes goes on his knees, and his fingers very softly play with the laces of your panties.

“You tease me, love.” You protest at long last.

Anakin laughs quietly, eyeing you with lust, desire and want. It only makes your juices start to drip. His hands run high over your thighs before removing your underwear.

“Hmm. Are you needy, love?”

“Yes.” You whimper, before mischievously adding: “Yes, Lord Vader.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. When seeing you better, noticing the mess your hair is, your hardening nipples and how you rub your leg over the other to appease the unbearable pain there is right in your womanhood, he smirks.

“Not so innocent, are you?”

He plants soft kisses in your thighs, giving gentle bites. He likes to torture you, to make you beg. And you are about to.

“Never when you make me this naughty.”

He is kissing your inner thigh when these words reach his ears. Anakin chuckles, raising his eyes to meet yours.

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

As he smirks coyly at you, you blush in turn.

“Long enough, uh? Fuck, I took too much a time to know.” He gently rests his hand there, playing with your pubic hair before sliding one finger into it. You moan louder than you expect, which earns him an evil smirk, but it also makes his manhood far more rigid underneath his pants. He is aroused by you. “So wet for me, Y/nickname? My goodness and this is only the start.”

You close your eyes and you smile. It’s better than in your wildest dreams. You remember the times you touched yourself thinking about him, the countless moments you felt like a teenage bursting in hormones for desiring your friend who was in a relationship and never had eyes for you. Until now. It’s so much better.

But you want more.

“Ani!” You whimper loudly.

“Yes, love?” He feigns innocence, cynical voice reaching your ears with tease. Anakin is attentive to you. Like he always did. Somehow he always knew you wanted him, both in body and soul. He slides a second finger and begins to increase the stimulation. “Is it good?”

“Better than in my wildest dreams.” You moan louder. “More, please!”

He chuckles. But as he parts your legs gently, his eyes look for yours one more time. Anakin is enamored by your beauty, by how the few lights in his room seem to reinforce your delicacy, your handsomeness. What is even better is how easy he bends you to the darkness there is in your chest, how easily you give in to him.

And when you are about to burst, he wants to ruin you… it is when he replaces his fingers by his mouth. Anakin lifts your legs lightly, adjusting to insert his tongue right there, his face already wet by the juices that drop right into his mouth.

You are going wild. Almost as if you are climbing the walls. You wrap your fingers around his locks as you fuck his mouth. You haven’t been this well looked after for a while. And before you know, your legs begin to get heavy: you search for support in the wall and next thing you know, you raise your left leg, pressing his head against you as you completely reach your climax.

You are still dropping right there, barely feeling your legs at all as you push him to the floor. Anakin smirks at the beast he releases from the cage. You are on top of him, kissing his lips fervently—and having a taste of yourself in the process.

As you try to remove his shirt, he turns the tables to his favor and you are now under his touch again. His mouth now engulfs each nipple, hands touching and massaging as he places one knee right in between your legs, feeling you completely wet.

“Oh Anakin!” You cry out. “Oh my! I… oh God!”

Yet, you want to please him too. There is an uncontrollable urge in you, a fire that is about to burst.

You are already a mess when you make sure to be on top of him again. This time you are quick in your doings: scratching his skin, you leave bruises in his neck and in his chest as you go down below.

The sight of you removing his pants, completely bare and wild under his gaze makes him harder—if possible. He is on his elbows, watching as you release his erection and finally tends his needs.

“Oh my God!” Anakin’s mind goes blank before your moves around the tip of his cock, doing circular moves with your finger. There is something sensual in your doings, an indecent glance that you shoot at him that makes him wet, and you feel the precum dripping to your hand. “You are fucking mine, Y/N. I cannot… and will not…” he says in short breath, rolling his eyes as you continuously tease him. “…share you.”

And then… when he is thinking it cannot go any better, it does. When you take him by your mouth, it’s Anakin’s turn to go wild. And it’s a better view than you could have dreamed of.

***

He makes love to you tenderly and slowly. He holds your legs as he’s wrapped between them, buckling his hips so he penetrates you better.

You arch your back, your hands pursuing the ownership of his body once your fingers dig into his skin, drawing him closer to you.

“I love you.” You confess, eyes closed as you feel pleasure washing over you. “Oh Ani!”

“I love you too.” He whispers hotly against your ear, smirking when seeing you shiver again. Anakin enjoys the power he has over you. When he wraps around one hand around your neck and there he holds it kindly, he sees your nipples going harder. You enjoy me dominating you, don’t cha, Y/N? “So damn much.”

He likes to make you whimper and he does so. The moment where your bodies intertwine is the very one your moves are synchronize. Your walls right around his cock and the next thing you know you are crying out his name.

Nothing, however, feels better than feeling his warm seed in you; than feeling his cum. You’ve never been this naughty and the reward makes you feel so good.

He collapses at your side. The bed is comfortable, king size, larger than the one he had in his Jedi quarters. But you don’t pay much attention to these details. What you do notice is his concern for you comfort when he pulls blankets over you, drawing you closer to his chest as he cuddles you.

“So what will be of us?” You cannot help yourself. You know this is a perfect moment to enjoy his presence, but it’s been a month since you entered in this journey with him. Despite the initial traumatic immersion in this universe, you find yourself not minding at all—often following him like the puppy dog you are.

He turns his blue eye at you. Anakin knows you have the tendency to overthink, the insecurities that cast a shadow over you, the nightmares that day gave you. He also knows how blindly loyal you are to him, and again that day showed him that.

When he caresses your face, Anakin seems to read your concern for him, your devotion, your love that is on the same measure he feels for you. One is the part of the other; without each, there is nothing.

He presses a kiss over your forehead.

“Leave the business to me, darling. The rest is the rest. You are safe now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You admit that being his girlfriend has earned you lots of privileges and, even when you got back at your work, those who dislike you think twice before messing with lady Vader. However, it does have a bittersweet taste in your tongue. “But you know how I feel about Palpatine.”

Anakin sighs, seeing where you are coming from. His eyes linger at your sleepy face, at how you cling onto him as if the fear of losing him is stuck with your body.

Not even Padmé loved me like you do.

“I do. I don’t like him either, but…” Anakin hesitates. “He is still needed to opposite the Jedis when the next Parliament opens. Looks like they are growing as a political party.”

You slowly adjust yourself to see him better. Anakin’s eyes move from the ceiling to you. He side smirks when seeing how you are always interested in what he has to say.

“I hate all of this.” You tell him, unwilling to stay distant from the warmth of his body. But you contemplate his nudity with a new risen desire that makes him chuckle. “I wish we could be left in peace.”

“Oh we are soon.” You identify something different in his eyes. “Trust in me, honey. I know what to do.”

***

His next plans take a long while to happen. All the while he orchestrated a coup d’état firstly against Palpatine and secondly against the whole country, thus exercising a surprising domination over Parliament, you are surprised by a sudden appearance of Obi-Wan, his former mentor and the very paternal figure for your lover.

“Ben!” You greet him warmly, pretending there is no awkwardness as you two meet. “Long time no see.”

Whilst he smiles at you, his warmth dies in his eyes, greeting you with an unusual sadness that somehow surprises you.

“Miss Y/N… It’s been years since I last saw you. In the midst of the chaos that prevails in our country, it is good to see you are adapting well to circumstances.”

Is he being sarcastic? Because you cannot tell, you don’t respond. Your hesitation soothes his manners.

“I’m sorry if I came out stronger than I intended to. But I am genuinely happy for your success as a y/occupation.”

You soften too.

“I appreciate it, Master Kenobi. I…” You hesitate then you decide to go straight to the point. “He is good, sir. There is still good in him I can assure you.”

The older man looks at you kindly.

“You are a good woman, Y/N. You’ve always had been. To be honest with you, I didn’t think you’d make it by his side but seeing you have…” His pained look sensibilizes you. “Don’t let him lose his way, Y/N.”

You hesitate.

“You are putting a weight upon my shoulders, Master Kenobi.” You tell him, gently. “It may crush me.”

“But you must try.” He asks you. “Please.”

You know you might incur in a deep regret, but the poor old man needs some reassurance which you cannot refuse.

“I will see what I can do.”

He smiles weakly at you. Perhaps not everything is lost, he thought.

***

But it is not going to be easy. Anakin does not react well to Obi-Wan’s sagacity in coming after you. The two of you are now living together in a nice apartment located in the upper part of the city Y/C.

He walks from one side to another as you take a seat at the bed. There’s something alluring to you, seeing him in his dark overcoat. It turns you on.

“My love, whilst you are entirely reasoned in criticizing the Jedi Institution, which sadly has not remained uncorrupted, you may acknowledge that Obi-Wan Kenobi is not like the rest of them.”

You try to argue all the while you brush your long locks. Leaving bed in your night gown, you turn at him.

“Just be careful tomorrow and remember what I told you.”

Your lord Vader looks down at you like the man you once knew, the friend who brought you into laughters, the lover who conquered your heart.

“You are right.” He shows some hesitation. “However I think it’s for the best if you come with me. I have a bad feeling about leaving you alone.”

You’d disagree, but for some strange reason it’s what you feel too: like something bad is about to happen. You try not to think about it as you massage his shoulders when he takes a seat at the edge of the bed.

“Why are you distressed, my love? Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” He gives you a somber look. “I’m concerned. There are many things going on in my head right now. Fuck, I wish things were simpler sometimes.” Anakin takes a look at you, lifting a hand to stroke your face before he says. “I wish I had not involved you in this.”

You give him a smile, pulling you against his chest as he holds you close. You play with his hair, ruffling it gently, his scent ever so familiar to you.

“I am here with you. We are on this together.” You make a pause as if you analyze your thoughts but, besides that traumatic meeting with the gangster who almost got you killed, you have no regrets whatsoever. “I am not like Padmé. I am not leaving you to your own.”

Anakin raises his eyes and there is some mischief twinkling in these blue irises at your words.

“So you’ve heard about it.”

You scoff.

“Yes, I did. Of course, otherwise we wouldn’t be together.” You smirk at him.

Anakin chuckles.

“I suppose you are right to think so. But I don’t blame her. This life ain’t for anyone.”

He looks up at you like a puppy devoted to its owner.

“You are the one I really want, Y/nickname.”

You slide to his lap, sitting over him comfortably and smirking to yourself when sensing his erection as you do.

“For your own safety, Anakin Skywalker, I pray it’s true.”

He laughs quietly before carrying you to bed. As he swaps positions, you are now found under his body. You never felt so wet before as you are now with his eyes devouring you. It makes you feel wanted. It makes you feel good.

“There is only you, I swear. Only you.”

And he leans to kiss you passionately at long last.

***

Although lord Vader does spare the Jedis in his next orchestrated moves, the fight does carry on. It starts from inside to outside. Palpatine’s attempts to kidnap you fail considerably—because Obi-Wan gets involved and keeps you safe.

In a surprising twist of events that you don’t see it coming, Lord Vader and Obi-Wan Kenobi are working together to destroy Palpatine. The result of it is his eventual death and the catapult of an inner destruction of the Sith.

You soon find out that this has been the plan all along.

“What?! You guys didn’t even tell me?!” You are not ashamed in yelling at them both before the rest of Jedis. “This last year I was almost killed, I was completely… Ugh!”

You are such a cute little thing when angry, which makes the scene of your tantrums quite amusing. However, Anakin does take you seriously, though, so when the two of you have a moment alone he tells you:

“I’m sorry, my little love. But they had to believe, the Jedis and the Siths, that I was utterly disappointed with the former. It was the only opportunity. Not even the Jedis knew about it, just Obi-Wan.”

He takes your hands and kisses each before planting more in your face.

“I couldn’t risk telling you the mission as it is because I feared you might fall in the wrong hands and the possibility of losing you was too much to bear. Since you risked everything to be with me, I’d not let go of you. But I had to be careful. I’m sorry.”

You shoot him a hurtful look at him, but you can’t stay too long mad at him. In the end, you comprehend his motivations and in truth you are relieved he’s never been that man whose grip for power turned him mad.

“Well?” Anakin looks anxious before your silence and refusal to look at him. “Will you please forgive me?”

You pout at him and the sight makes him smile. He lifts your chin and as your eyes interlock in a long gaze, you soften eventuality and give him a kiss.

“I love you, you stupid fool.”

Anakin laughs. The sound of his laughter warms your heart. He rests his forehead against yours and you stay like this for a long while.

“I love you too, my heart.”

***

Epilogue.

The song they play when you get your diploma is “They Just Don’t Know You”, by a girl band you like named “Little Mix”.

“Her choice for a song is very unusual”, Obi-Wan muses it thoughtfully, his hand stroking his chin as he watches you stand from your friends the moment you are called to get your diploma.

Anakin is whistling and clapping loud. He is so proud of you.

“What do you mean by that, Master? You are not overthinking again, are you?”

“I’m just saying…”

“He is overthinking”, Ahsoka meddles. “When is he not? Besides, the song is cute and completely relatable with what she went through. Everytime someone thought Anakin was a bad boy, probably did so by pitying Y/N for her poor choice of a boyfriend.”

Anakin shoots a glare to his younger sister all the while Obi-Wan is struggling not to laugh.

“Will you please stop being inconvenient, Snips? Besides”, he adds with a smug smile, “we are engaged. So choose your words better next time.”

Nonetheless, once the ceremony ends, he is there for you.

“I am so proud of you, princess.” His smile is so warm that melts you inside. “I am so happy to see you’ve accomplished this after years struggling. I told you that you could do it, didn’t I?”

You lean to kiss his lips before hugging him tight. You might be emotional. After all the mess you and him went through together, everything is now at peace and your life is finally getting a decent direction.

“You did”, you tell him happily. “What would my life be without you?”

And just like that, the world around you is fixed—and ignored, because you only have eyes for your husband-to-be and he can read you so well that his heart melts too.

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