#i just need ten minutes locked in a room with him. preferably with a translator but i am willing to compromise. just gimme ten minutes. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stutterfly · 4 years

Text

Failure to Communicate

This was a joint collab fic that @gukslut and I worked on, commissioned by @cypherft-v as part of our fundraising for Black Lives Matter. Thank you for contributing! Banner & moodboard by me :)

{Pairing} Park Jimin/ Reader

{Genre} Enemies to Lovers/ College AU/ comedy/ smut

{Rating} Mature - Explicit

{Word Count} 21K

{Warnings} oral, kissing, fingering, protected sex, biting, marking, other filthy shit

{Summary} You've always had a crush on Park Jimin, but the truth is that you're just one of many. He just so happens to be the TA for one of your classes, and you're determined to make your feelings known. Whether or not he takes you seriously remains to be seen.

{Prompt} Could either of you write an enemies to lover story about jimin and y/n set in college where he was her TA and got her kicked out of her major bc he didnt give her the grade she needed and was generally unhelpful? Posted on tumblr on August 17, 2020 by stutterfly and cross-posted to Ao3. I do not allow reposting, translations, or edits, to any platform, including YouTube.

Ten more minutes. You can barely see the clock from your seat against the wall. The lecture hall isn't crowded by any means; to the contrary, this Tuesday/Thursday psych class is usually pretty empty. You could have just as easily sat in the middle, but it doesn't afford you the same view. Well, it does. But not the one you prefer. It's just that positioned front and center, your staring would look more obvious. At least that's what you're telling yourself. If you stare from the corner it's less conspicuous, which is important because you do a lot of staring in this class. Park Jimin is the TA.

The man in question sits off to the side at a table of his own, typing away on his laptop. This reminds you that you haven’t been doing much other than quietly ogling from a distance. The only notes you're taking are lackluster doodles of his appearance and the occasional squiggle of your pen at the quiet sighs he lets out when he stretches his back after sitting hunched over his laptop for too long.

Jimin is absolutely breathtaking — even in an ugly plaid three-piece suit and perfectly round spectacles that would look horrid on any normal person. You're definitely not the only one who has noticed. His beautiful features and fantastic bone structure forge a man who is borderline ethereal. With soft eyes, big pouty lips, a flawless complexion, and a flirtatious demeanor he has enraptured many over the years. He's popular... like, really popular.

You begrudgingly count yourself among those love-smitten numbers. You know it’s hopeless and illogical. He could have any person he so desired at any point in time. Why would he ever choose someone like you? If you’d been paying any sort of attention to the subject matter of this class you might know that things like feelings and life’s rhetorical questions often don’t make sense.

But you’re shit at psychology. You’re more of a blunt poet at heart, and that heart is often hidden behind twisted brambles of anxiety and sharp thorns of insecurity.

You are but a speck of dirt upon his round glasses. It’s been a hopeless, silent crush for some time, but now that he’s assisting the professor in this core requirement for your academic studies, he has to acknowledge your presence. You’re a speck he has to look at before swiping you out of sight with a wave of his hand.

He's the object of just about everyone's affections, and rightfully so. He's not just gorgeous, he's charismatic, charming, and such a smooth talker. The word on campus says those pretty lips of his can do a lot of other really wonderful things too. You've been watching him chew on them for the past five minutes straight, wondering how many times his deliciously pink tongue can sweep over them before he makes them chapped.

Maybe they're chapped already. Maybe you should offer him your chapstick? Or maybe you should never talk to him at all, because you don't stand a chance. Park Jimin would chew you up and leave you bleeding out with a broken heart, and you know it. That doesn't stop you from imagining all the ways he could take you in his mouth first. You could watch those pretty lips all day long, but you’ll settle for an hour on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Looking up as if he's been paying attention all along, Jimin attempts to figure out where the professor is in the lesson. It’s obvious that he wasn't listening at all and was instead answering messages. It would be nice if he could say they were messages for class, but that's not true and Jimin is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar. He's been talking to Chungha, his current flavor of the week.

He turns toward the students as the professor dismisses the class and there you are, eager and awestruck. It takes every ounce of self control Jimin has not to roll his eyes. Another fan, he presumes. You can't handle him, but he can tell by the embarrassed way you tear your eyes from him to look anywhere else that it hasn't stopped you from thinking about it.

Trying to seem nonchalant now is a lost cause. Jimin has no shame and although you busied yourself by packing up your neglected textbooks and darting your gaze to various points in the room for a straight minute, Jimin is still staring at you when you look back at him. He smirks when your eyes meet. It's not a flirty kind of smirk, you sadly note. It's condescending in your eyes, which further solidifies your theory: Jimin is too much for you no matter how badly you want a taste of him.

"Did you take notes?" he asks, nodding toward your backpack where you've just tucked your computer and sketched up notebook.

"I- uhh..." You panic.

"You know that was all about the exam next week. You're gonna need those notes if you want to have any hope of passing it," he tells you, shoving his own computer into his bag.

"I was just.. um, I was--" you attempt to explain.

"Busy staring at me?" He smiles and you know he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s teasing oh gyou.

You balk at the blatant accusation and force a half-laugh, half-scoff from your throat. “No.”

"Yes," he corrects with a light and mellifluous laugh. "Is there pen on my face or were you hoping you could be?"

"What?" you choke, eyes watering at the idea.

Jimin shakes his head, laughing softly to himself as he remembers his surroundings. With a small clear of his throat and the subtle adjusting of his tie, he provides a suggestion for you. “Get them from Taehyung.”

"Get what?" you ask, drawing a blank on what this conversation was even about. It's the first time you've ever actually talked to him outside of your dreams and it’s proving to be a lot harder than you thought it would be.

"The notes, Y/N. Get the notes from Taehyung, you know, the ones that you didn't take today because you were daydreaming about my mouth," he tells you, heading for the door.

Taehyung, who is the only other person left in the room wiggles his fingers at you in a wave. When you turn back, Jimin is gone.

"Need the notes?" Taehyung asks, voice free of judgement.

"Please," you sigh, relieved that he'd waited.

He spins his laptop toward you, where an email is already open with the notes attachment added. "Drop your address in there," he says standing up.

"Thank you so much," you say, frantically typing your student email into the space.

"Hey, y/n?" Taehyung asks, the bristles of curiosity or concern painting his tone with a soft comfort.

"Yeah?"

"Jimin is a fool," he tells you.

"What?"

"If you were looking at me like that, I'd at least ask for your number." Tae offers a combination of large hopeful eyes and a giant goofy grin as he holds his phone out for you.

Giggling, you take it from his hand and add your number to his contacts list. He purses his lips to hide his excitement as he takes his phone back. He slides it into his pocket before hastily packing the rest of his things into his leather messenger bag.

"Thanks, Taehyung," you say, waving on your way out the door.

"Wait!" he shouts after you, half of the contents of his bag threatening to spill onto the floor as he scrambles away from the table. He adjusts his belongings and clears his throat, instantly adopting a smooth persona. "Where are you going? I'll walk you."

"My car?"

"Wanna come eat with me?" he wonders. He's confident, but it's not the same kind of arrogant confidence that Jimin oozes. He's softer. He feels more real, more attainable. He obviously knows he's a catch and he’s definitely expressed the same about you. What could be the harm in letting an attractive man stroke your ego a little bit? If you’re being honest with yourself, you can use the boost after such a pathetic display towards your crush.

"Oh, uh... yeah. I guess so," you agree, letting him lead the way out the door.

"Cool." Tae takes his glasses off and hooks them in his shirt. Pulling a snapback from his bag, he pushes his hair back and puts it on before he swings his messenger bag over his shoulder. Damn. Why did that raise his hotness like ten whole levels?

"You like hamburgers?"

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Taehyung slips into the seat next to you on Thursday, brushing against you very deliberately as he passes.

"Hello, sugar," he says, licking his lips as he spares a fleeting glance down at your chest.

"Hey, Tae," you greet him while your eyes are still locked on Jimin.

"Still on Jimin, huh?" he asks. He doesn't sound particularly disappointed, or surprised for that matter. He's just stating a fact. You're relieved he's not offended. Letting him eat you out in his backseat after dinner was probably not your best decision, although it seems like it meant about as much to him as it did to you.

"I don't know," you say with a shrug.

"It's okay. I can't blame you. I could put in a good word for you if you want. We're close," he informs you, sitting back and spreading his legs wide under the desk.

Sighing, you rest your cheek in your palm. "I've got a plan," you confess.

"Oh yeah?" he chuckles. He playfully knocks his knee against yours as if to signal for you to spill. "Do tell."

"I think I need a little extra help with this material," you tell Taehyung.

"Good luck, Y/n. I hope he can squeeze you into his busy schedule, but hey, if he can't, I'm totally down to squeeze into yours anytime."

Looking at Tae out of the corner of your eye, you smile at the grin he wears and start to laugh at the way he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"I'll keep that in mind," you joke.

"Please do."

The minutes drag on as you wait for this class to end. Doing your best to seem a little less obsessive this time, you make a point to take notes and look at the teacher more than the TA. Jimin still catches you staring at least three times. It's embarrassing, but not enough to stop you from approaching him as the room empties out.

"Hi, y/n," Jimin sings, giving you a knowing smile.

"Hi." You tuck your hair behind your ear, and smile back.

"Do you need something?" he wonders, purposefully combing his fingers through his silver hair.

Damn, do you ever.

"I was wondering if you had time to help me. I'm struggling with this material and I could really use some one-on-one guidance." Leaning over his desk you make sure he has a good view right down your shirt, not that his eyes wander from yours. While he shows restraint in his gaze you swear he briefly drags his bottom lip through his teeth before he catches himself.

"One-on-one, huh?" He sticks his tongue in his cheek, looking amused. "I bet Taehyung would give you some one-on-one guidance."

You're sure that's true, but it's not Taehyung you're after. Taehyung isn’t the TA. Taehyung isn’t getting paid to help teach a course. Of course you want to say that and in your head you rehearse the words but you can’t seem to find a way to phrase them eloquently enough. Why do you always get stupid brain around him? Your plan is quickly falling apart.

Jimin waits for your response with his eyebrows raised. You know he's two seconds away from leaving you gaping at him and walking out the door, so you do something incredibly rash and stupid.

"I like you," you blurt out.

Jimin smiles. He knows that, obviously. He also knows damn well that you're perfectly capable of looking back at your notes by yourself. You're definitely smart and dedicated enough to study on your own. He can't help teasing you anyway.

"Everyone likes me," he casually informs you as he plants his palms on the desk and leans on them.

He peeks over the edge of his glasses as he looks up at you, like some kind of otherworldly sexy librarian. If deities ever needed a librarian, Jimin wouldn’t even need a resume. His charm and seduction are so strong that you almost miss his rejection. Almost. You're stunned into silence when it hits you. Just as you're about to tuck and run, he smiles again.

"But,” he pauses to click his tongue thoughtfully, “I think I have some time on Saturday. I'll give you my number.” He rips a corner of paper out of his notebook. "Is it okay if I come to your place? Do you have a dorm or…”

"Oh. My apartment’s fine!" you flounder, trying to remember how to speak coherent sentences. Jimin. In your room. How many dreams have you had about this moment? "I mean, yeah, sure. You'll come to mine, yeah."

Jimin giggles and it sounds like pealing bells. You're lost in the beautiful sound of it until you realize that he's laughing at you. "You okay with that? We could meet somewhere else instead."

"I wouldn't mind you in my room," you sigh. Open mouth; insert foot.

He raises an eyebrow, giving you a chance to backtrack, but you're both well aware you meant every word of that.

"Okay, y/n. See you Saturday then. Call me."

"I’ll call you," you repeat, resisting the urge to slap your palm over your face. You sound like an idiot. Stupid brain strikes again.

Jimin barely notices, all too used to girls falling over themselves to get his attention. You’re no different to him, just another pretty face in a sea of women entranced by the way he walks, talks, and breathes. It’s not his fault he’s so damn pretty. He does note that you’re brave, however. Not many people come on to him so brazenly, and that’s something worth rewarding. Besides, he feels a sort of obligation to help you out. He is getting paid to help out the professor, after all.

He winks at you as he leaves, taking your breath and your sanity with him. You have Park Jimin’s phone number. Park Jimin is going to be in your apartment in two days. Maybe you didn’t bomb that as hard as you thought.

A slow clap beckons you to look back for the source and you find Taehyung looking back at you with his boxy grin. When he’s sure he’s got your attention he raises his two thumbs up in approval.

Jimin is not surprised when Chungha disappears into the clusterfuck of bodies as soon as they step into the party. They may have come here together, but their fling is on its last leg and they both know it. She wants him off her couch, doesn't appreciate the feeling of tied-down-ness that comes with your friend with benefits staying over all the time. She's ready to move on, that means he has to as well.

Jimin isn't even sure whose house this is, but he’s happy to tag along for free booze and maybe a new face to go home with. Luckily, his friends are never far, and he finds them easily. Getting absolutely hammered in the backyard makes them hard to miss. Jungkook is the only one looking particularly bored as a very drunk Taehyung hangs all over him talking about the sweetest thing he ever tasted.

"Why so glum?" Jimin asks, nudging Jungkook's shoulder with his own.

"I'm the designated driver tonight," Jungkook sighs, pushing Taehyung off of him.

Taehyung slumps to the ground, immediately entranced by the stars above him. Jungkook kicks at him gently.

"Where's your girlfriend? I haven't seen you without your tongue down her throat all week," Jungkook wonders, looking behind Jimin for the woman in question.

"Girlfriend," Jimin repeats with a snort. "Hilarious. That's not a thing. She's probably looking for her next kill."

Jungkook regards Jimin thoughtfully, his eyebrows scrunching toward each other. "If you take over DD you can have the futon."

Jungkook loves his futon. It's one of his most prized possessions. He keeps it very clean and being allowed to get anywhere near it is a privilege. Jimin is pretty sure he goes over it with a lint roller as part of his nighttime routine. It's also incredibly comfortable.

Jimin releases a breath in a tortured groan as he thinks over his options. He could get black out drunk and wake up god knows where with a terrible hangover, or he could hang out and watch his friends get black out drunk and then wake up on a futon that feels more like a cloud than a mattress, a little slice of heaven in Jungkook and Taehyung's little apartment.

"Okay," Jimin relents. "Give me the keys. I’ll stick to water for the rest of the night."

"Ah, I love you man," Jungkook praises, tossing his keys in Jimin's general direction before grabbing the newly opened can of beer out of Taehyung's hand below him. Taehyung, still staring up at the sky with a glazed smile, doesn't react. It takes Jungkook all of five seconds to pour the contents of the can straight down his throat. He follows this by smashing the can in a bicep curl with a giggle and a bashful smile.

"Do it again," an unfamiliar girly voice pleads from across the table. She tosses him another can and he repeats the action, turning away when he's finished so that he doesn't have to see her reaction. Jimin knows what's going to happen once his friend gets a few more beers in him. Jungkook is going to go apeshit. There will be no trace of this shy hunk of muscle who blushes and coils away from pretty girls. He'll be chest thumping shirtless and picking up everyone who gets close enough to touch. Half of them will probably end up thrown in the pool, if history is anything to go by, and he'll most likely have the hottest girl at the party slobbering all over him in the backseat when Jimin drives him home tonight.

Jimin's suspicions prove true an hour later when Jungkook throws Tae in the pool. Jimin runs to the edge of it in a panic. Tae was very drunk so he needs to make sure he's not just sinking like a stone. That was his first mistake, although he'd make it again to keep Taehyung safe. His second mistake was wearing these ridiculously tight ass jeans.

Any other pair and he might have been able to pry his cell phone from his pocket the second he felt JK's hands on his back. Had he worn any other pair of pants he might have been able to throw it to safety in the grass before he hit the surface of the pool. As it stands, his skin tight jeans are soaked through, Tae is slightly more sober than he was when Jimin arrived and is swimming just fine, and Jimin's phone is totally destroyed.

You should be sleeping. It's three in the morning. You should definitely not be awake right now. Lifting your phone up for the three hundredth time tonight, you're not surprised to have no new notifications. That text you sent to Jimin hours ago has gone unanswered.

You typed and erased it at least ten times, agonized over what to say, and how to say it. By the time you pressed send, the message was nothing like how it began and you noticed a second too late that you didn't even tell him who you were. Adding a second text saying 'it's y/n btw' seemed so desperate. You've been waiting for him to ask who you are for so long that you've convinced yourself he already knows and he's avoiding you on purpose. Who else would have said "i'm excited to see you tomorrow" in a text about meeting up to study? He knows it's you. He has to. The alternative possibility that he plans to see other people tomorrow too is too bothersome to accept. You really need to let this go and try to sleep.

Keys in the door stop you from dragging yourself off the couch. Your roommate will see you and accuse you of trying to run away from him to avoid something. He’s right, of course. You’ve attempted to flee from your problems in the past, against his advice. Now you know better than to try. It's much better to face things with Yoongi head on. At the very least, maybe he's got something helpful to say.

"Why're you up? You look sad." His words slur just the tiniest bit and he leans against the wall for stability as he takes off his shoes just inside the door. You see right through his attempts at nonchalance. He's tipsy.

"A boy I like isn't texting me back," you admit with a scowl. "You didn't drive, did you?"

"No, friend dropped me off. Is it Taehyung?" Yoongi asks, not pausing for an answer. "I wouldn't worry too much. He talked about you a lot tonight. He was really drunk though. You should go to bed. He'll probably text you in the morning."

You don't bother to correct Yoongi. Admitting you're harboring a huge fucking crush on the campus it-boy is the most foolish thing you could possibly do. It's embarrassing and naive and Yoongi would pity you for falling for someone so far out of your league. Maybe you should just date Taehyung and forget about Jimin. He sure seems to have forgotten about you.

When the morning comes and your only notifications are an email from Target and a text from your mom, you muster up every bit of courage you could possibly find in your body and call him. You’d rather know if he’s deliberately ignoring you now than agonize over other possibilities all day.

It doesn't even ring. His phone goes straight to voicemail. You try again, and a third time. Voicemail, voicemail. Could it be you rushed putting his number in and did it incorrectly? You dig through your backpack for the slip of paper he gave you to double check, and sure enough, it’s his number. He's ignoring you. He turned off his phone to solidify that fact in your brain.

Last night, laying awake waiting for his name to light up your phone, you felt pretty damn bad. In the daylight, with rest and a clear head, you're absolutely crushed. He was supposed to come over. You had plans. It was stupid of you to think you could earn space in his mind or time in his schedule. He played you, and it hurts.

Studying on your own proves more difficult than you imagined. With only Tae's notes to go by, you feel like you're quizzing yourself on things you already know. Turning to the textbook doesn't give you the specialized knowledge you need for the exam. You could never hope to memorize enough of it that you'd retain something pertinent.

On top of that, your heart hurts. You were so close to spending time together you could practically smell the subtle scent of his cologne. He pulled the rug right out from under you so fast, your ass is sore from falling on it so hard.

Sunday and Monday pass miserably in their slowness as you continue to nurse your tender rejected heart. You spend two days mulling over how you're going to face Jimin on Tuesday, let alone how you’re going to pass this exam when you're so disgustingly focused on figuring out why he stood you up and ignored you all weekend.

Tuesday comes too soon and you find yourself lingering outside the lecture hall for way longer than any sane person should.

That's what bothers you the most about this whole thing with Jimin. He's stolen your sense. How on earth did you let a stupid crush, on a boy you hardly know, get between you and your grades? You tell yourself no more as you suck in a deep breath and steel yourself to march right through the door. You're not going to let Park Jimin and his cruelty stand between you and your credits.

With your resolve solid and your head held high, you push yourself forward. You don't even spare a glance in his general direction as you pass, although it would be a lie to say you didn't clock him in your peripheral. Tae sits down next to you a moment later and you thank your lucky stars you have a friend here to make you look busy.

"Ready to make this exam your bitch?" he asks, making finger guns at you and clicking his tongue.

"That remains to be seen," you say, turning toward him in your seat so that Jimin is behind you. "I couldn't get anything done this weekend," you confess. "I thought I was more prepared than I am so it really just depends on what's on the exam."

"Aw fuck, you could have called me," he says, passing you his note cards. "We could have studied together."

"Oh, Tae," you sigh, pushing his hand back and refusing his offer of notes. "You should use this time for yourself. It wouldn't be fair of me to take it from you."

"We've got ten minutes." He points to the clock at the front of the lecture hall. "Quiz me. It will help us both."

Ten minutes fly by as you do your absolute best to retain any of the information in Taehyung's carefully written cards. You take one last glance at it before someone slips it from your hand and replaces it with a test. You know it's Jimin.

Only when you look up and level him with a glare does it seem to register on his face that you're angry. Realization dawns on him as you snatch the test and lean over it on your desk.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," he quietly whispers, but he's moving on already. The exam is about to begin. He doesn't have time to explain himself right now. He knows what it looks like. He led you on and stood you up without so much as a text message. He should have asked Tae to tell you what happened, but the truth is that he forgot about you entirely and he knows that is the cruelest thing he could possibly confess.

Nearly an hour later you set your pencil down and run your fingers through your hair. Did any of those answers make sense? Your only possible saving grace is bullshitting your way through the open responses. Maybe you’ll earn some partial credit at the very least.

You swallow the petty words threatening to spill from your tongue as you gather your things and approach Jimin’s desk with your test in hand. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the anxious glances he threw your way. You swore every time you looked up he was looking at you, so you’d squint like you were checking the time, like you had somewhere more important to be than taking an exam for a core requirement course.

As you slap the packet of your evident failure down on his desk, you don your best apathetic expression. You look down at him and allow a sliver of eye contact, just enough to send the message that you don’t care anymore. You try to look bored. He doesn’t deserve to see how he’s hurt you or angered you. He’s nothing to you. You’re nothing to him, but you’re not beneath him. He’s beneath you. You don’t just look at him; you look through him.

He blinks a few times and a chill runs down his spine. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words won’t form.

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you whisper with a roll of your eyes.

You make sure to straighten your shoulders and keep your chin up as you turn on your heel and leave. You bombed that exam and you know it, thanks to your stupid feelings, but at the very least you achieved the victory of shaking Park Jimin to his core. So why do you feel like you’re about to sob in the bathroom down the hall?

Oh. Because you are. You spend at least five minutes composing yourself and washing your face before your phone buzzes with a much needed distraction.

[NEW MESSAGE] Tae: hungry?

Jimin’s leg bounces uncontrollably under his desk while he waits for the remaining students to finish their exams so he can go after you. He wracks his brain for ways to clear the nervous tension dwelling within but it’s no use. Confrontation makes him so uncomfortable. Still, he can’t have you thinking he’s a total douche. He should text you. Fuck, he should call you. And he would, if he had a working phone. The second the last student drops their exam on his desk he’s going to find you and apologize.

He knows his reputation precedes him. He knows exactly what this looks like. You probably think he blew you off to get some or just led you on entirely, but he really did mean to meet up with you. He needs to clear the air. Maybe he’s a little loose with his morals at times, but he’s never an asshole on purpose. He prides himself on being a beacon of positivity and an example on how to make people feel good even if it’s only to make them feel good. He barely knows you, but it bothers him to think that you’re out there thinking he’s a heartless jerk and that he hurt your feelings on purpose.

It’s a big campus and Jimin spends the better half of an hour searching it before he finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung. You look awfully close, and he almost feels bad interrupting you, but he owes you an explanation. It’s a mystery to him why on earth you would seek out his company when Taehyung seems all too willing to be what you need.

Taehyung notices him before you do. He shakes his head at Jimin disapprovingly. “Cold, man. So cold.”

Jimin nods, hanging his head. He’s well aware. You haven’t turned around yet and don’t intend to. If Jimin can ignore you then you can ignore him too. Besides, if you turn to face him, he might notice your watery, puffy eyes. How incredibly foolish that would be to admit that you’ve been crying about being stood up by someone you’ve barely even spoken to.

“Y/n?” Jimin’s soft voice calls to you, melodic and soothing as ever. “Can I have a minute?”

Taehyung looks between the two of you while he moves a french fry into his mouth at a snail’s pace and slowly chews as if this is free entertainment.

“No,” you answer.

“I’m sorry about Saturday,” he tells you, progressing despite your refusal to listen. He plants his hands on the table beside you and leans in to try to steal a glance at your profile, but you turn your head away.

“Jungkook pushed me in the pool right after this asshole,” he says, pointing at Taehyung. “My phone was in my pocket. It’s ruined.”

“Hey,” Taehyung interrupts, his mouth open in protest and full of half-chewed fries. “Don’t pin this on me. You could have asked any one of us to let her know what happened. You never even mentioned it. Why don’t you just admit that you forgot?” Taehyung suggests, jamming another french fry into his little paper cup of ketchup before cramming it into his mouth.

Jimin fumes for a moment, glaring at Tae before he pulls out the chair next to you and spins it around. He straddles it and rests his chin on the backrest. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I forgot. I swear I never would have done something like that to you on purpose. My phone getting ruined messed up a lot of things, but if you give me another chance, I’d love to prove that I’m not the horrible person you think I am.”

Silence. You glance over at Taehyung, willing him to speak up and either back Jimin up or get you out of this. You’re ready to forgive Jimin already and leave with him right now and it’s not lost on you how bad that looks. It’s so easy for Jimin to have you wrapped around his fingers. You wish he was ugly. You wish you never signed up for this stupid class. You wish you could feel for Tae the way you feel for Jimin so that you could just leave with him instead. You’re about ready to anyway when he finally opens his mouth again.

“I think you should take her out to eat. Eating out is the perfect way to apologize, don’t you think?” Tae’s grin is so wide it makes his eyes crinkle.

You huff out a humorless laugh. If that’s what you wanted you’d stick with the original plan and be in the backseat of Taehyung’s car again in the next twenty minutes. Against your better judgement, you turn to look at Jimin, puffy eyes and runny nose no longer hidden. He’s a little taken back by your expression. He smiles at you softly and reaches out to brush his knuckles against your cheek. You practically melt into his touch.

“Mmm, I would like something sweet.” Jimin licks his lips. “How about ice cream?”

“When?” you ask, embarrassed by the way your voice cracks and by how easily you’re giving in.

“Now?”

“Well, look at the time,” Tae says, standing with his tray and messenger bag. “I’ve got to go wash my hair but you two have fun on your date. Use protection!” he calls behind him on his way toward the exit.

You’d be irritated by his blunt suggestion if his statement didn’t swirl a storm of butterflies deep in your gut. You’re so distracted by them that you don’t realize that you’re still gaping at Jimin in disbelief.

“So?” Jimin wonders, holding out his hand.

“I don’t forgive you,” you insist while taking it into yours. Although it’s probably a lie, he doesn’t call you on it. He simply smiles and gives your hand a tiny comforting squeeze.

“My car is on the other side of campus,” you tell him once you’ve stepped outside. “Where are you parked?”

“Oh, um,” he stalls. “I thought it might be nice to walk, give us more time to talk. Is that okay?”

“Isn’t it kind of far?” you ask, assuming he's taking you to that chain ice cream shoppe a few miles off campus.

"No, this place is close. It's a secret. Not many people know about it," he says with a wink.

"You say that to everyone don't you?" You narrow your eyes at him, moving out of reach when he tries to put his arm around you.

"No," he laughs. "I've been here with other people, though. I was here with Jin last week." He smiles, leading the way toward a small alley between buildings.

You follow him easily, questioning again why you have so little self preservation when it comes to him. At the other end of the alley you can see what looks like a park. Green trees line the sidewalk up ahead, creating a canopy against the brilliant sun. The walk to this mysterious ice cream place is shaded and chilly. Jimin slips his jacket off and slings it over your shoulders when he notices you rubbing at your arms.

"Almost there," he promises. In the distance, framed by two towering oaks, is a tiny little ice cream place. It looks like a mirage, something out of a board game or a fairy tale. The closer you get, the more real it becomes. The siding is faded, the roof looks like it's in dire need of repairs, and the hand-painted sign reading The Cheery Cherry has seen better days. It's clean though, sparkling in all the places that matter.

There is a stout old man behind the window with a shining silver ice cream scoop ready and waiting in his hand. Jimin greets him by name and asks for a simple vanilla cone. You're tempted to judge him, he doesn't strike you as the vanilla type, but there must be a reason. Maybe this is the best vanilla ice cream on earth. You order the same just in case, taking your first taste as Jimin pulls a few bills from his wallet and hands them over with a shaky hand.

To your dismay the ice cream is not extraordinary; it's just plain vanilla. You could probably get the same exact type from any grocery store. You should have gone with something else. You should have at least gotten the cheery cherry cone. That might have been a flavor worth tasting. Why was he so bent on coming here for such a bland ice cream?

You suppose you should be thankful for the gesture but you still feel uneasy, like he’s playing you somehow. It almost feels like he’s doing it out of obligation rather than desire. Is he doing the bare minimum because he doesn’t feel like you’re worth more than this? Your company must be the equivalent to a plain vanilla cone. Mediocre. Unremarkable. Ordinary.

Forgettable.

Jimin turns back to you with his ice cream in one hand and change filling the other. "Is it good?"

"It's vanilla." You shrug.

"Do you want something different?" he asks, counting the money in his hand.

"No, I like vanilla."

"Figures," he teases.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you snap back at him.

"Nothing, sweetheart. I just think you're soft, sweet. Vanilla suits you."

"I am not vanilla. I do all kinds of freaky shit," you argue, realizing too late that you've over shared in your annoyance.

Jimin looks you over with a smirk, bringing his ice cream to his lips and dragging his tongue around the edge of the cone where it's dripping. "Noted," he says.

"I didn't mean-- I wasn't -- UGH," you huff, embarrassed that he's still making a fool of you from the doghouse. You need to change the subject fast. "What'syourmajor?" You rush the question past your lips and he laughs at your flustered state, waiting for you to slow down and ask him in words he can understand.

"Your major?" you repeat, slower this time.

"Oh, uh. Urban studies."

"Interesting."

"You don't know what that means, huh?" He nudges you with his elbow, falling in stride beside you. Unfortunately, you had just brought your ice cream up to your mouth and his nudging caused you to smear it across your cheek.

You look at him angrily. First he stood you up, forgot about you, then he had the nerve to show up to class today looking like a fucking angel, takes you for ice cream to make it up to you, and now he's teasing you and making you look every bit the fool you feel like you are. Tears well in your eyes when he laughs at the mess he caused.

"I'm sorry," he says through his giggling. He reaches out to gently wipe your cheek with his thumb which he promptly pops in his mouth and sucks clean after. "What's wrong?"

You swipe at your eyes, ridding them of the tears that were about to spill out as your shame bubbles over. "You make me feel stupid," you confess. "You're wasting my time."

Shoving his jacket back at him, you take off in the direction you came, throwing your stupid vanilla cone in the closest trash can and kicking yourself for not leaving with Taehyung instead. Jimin winces at the action, looking like you’ve discarded a precious keepsake rather than a plain, boring vanilla cone.

"Y/n, wait!" he calls, catching up to you with ease. He takes you by the wrist and spins you back to face him. "I don't think you're stupid at all. I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.” He sighs, softening his hold on you. “I didn’t know what to think about you when you approached me at first, you know? Girls throw themselves at me all the time.”

You grimace at his words and roll your eyes, snatching your wrist back with a scowl. Of course he thinks you were throwing yourself at him, but you’re sure that you weren’t. You were just being direct about your feelings. Do you really come across as such a desperate person? Maybe you should ask Yoongi for his opinion later.

“But I definitely didn’t mean to stand you up and I don’t mean to make you feel stupid at all. I think you're pretty smart, you’re cute and you’re actually bolder than I initially thought. I'd love to get to know you better. I know I'm not doing so great so far, but I can be better. Please, sit with me?" he asks, walking to a nearby park bench.

Reluctantly, you follow, although you make a point to drag your feet the whole way there. When you sit down beside him, he loops an arm around your waist and draws you closer, offering his ice cream up to you once your legs brush against his. You reach for it but he pulls it away.

"Hey," he jokes. "Just lick it. I didn't make you throw yours away."

You shake your head and lean forward to drag your tongue over what's left of his vanilla cone.

"Forgive me?" he asks. His toothy smile catches the sunlight and it genuinely hurts your eyes to keep looking.

"Okay. One more chance," you agree. "So, urban studies?"

He relaxes back against the bench, taking another lick before he offers the cone to you again. "Yeah, it's like community development and stuff. What about you, princess? What are you studying?"

You flush at the nickname, heat rising in your face and other places you'd rather not acknowledge. You're oblivious to the fact that you're having a similar effect on Jimin. The way you're licking his ice cream is making his pants feel a little tight.

"Teaching," you tell him, picking at the peeling paint on the bench.

"Little kids?"

"Yeah." You take another lick of his ice cream while he holds it, looking up halfway through.

Jimin's expression is unreadable, stunned almost. He shifts a little, crosses his legs, clears his throat.

"Kids are fun. I have a younger brother," he tells you.

"A lot younger?"

"No," he laughs. "But he's a total baby so it's basically the same.”

“Oh, does he get that from you?” you tease with a giggle.

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not nice.”

“I never said I was nice,” you tell him, taking another slow lick of his ice cream.

“Clearly,” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. He drags his lip through his teeth to try to hide the smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

You manage to cram so much conversation into the next twenty minutes on this park bench, learning more about the mysterious campus celebrity than you ever thought you’d know. You hope his interest wasn't feigned, because it felt so fucking good to have his attention, to have him really listen to you and ask you about your life and your family and your hopes for the future. If you're not mistaken, you might think this was real progress.

Jimin watches you walk back toward campus with a soft smile and an unfamiliar feeling brewing inside him. You've surprised him. You're not the naive infatuated little girl he took you for. If he had a phone he'd be texting you already. He'd call you tonight, and maybe tomorrow. It's alarming to him how badly he wants another ten minutes with you. He hates that you declined his offer to walk you to your next class, but damn does he ever appreciate the view.

Thursday comes quickly. After your initial ice cream date, Jimin has found himself curiously seeking your attention rather than the other way around. With his phone out of commission he was hanging around the cafeteria all day yesterday in hopes of catching you. While it’s clear you don’t trust him and you haven’t forgiven him, you seem to have softened up a bit. You spent your meals together and allowed him to walk you to your classes, all while exchanging playful jabs at each other. You might forgive him for bailing if yesterday stood alone. Today is a whole different story.

Now Jimin is staring down a stack of graded exams the professor has dropped on the table at the front of the room. Students haven’t begun to trickle in yet so when the professor takes the opportunity to excuse himself, Jimin wastes no time in flipping through the pile to get a sense of the overall success of the class. When he gets to a test marked in thick red marker with an ‘F’ his stomach drops. He knows it’s yours before he even reads the name. He was hoping maybe you’d been lying about not paying attention.

He shuffles the exam back into place and straightens the pile just as the earliest student walks in. Jimin offers her a wan smile and a tiny bow of his head as a greeting. Although his stomach is still sinking and churning, he’s already thinking about ways he might be able to make it up to you.

Jimin finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung again, where he has you distracted from your misery by folding and unfolding a cootie catcher in front of your face like you're in third grade and not your third year of college.

"Pick a color now, y/n," Tae urges, opening and closing the folded paper four times after you've indicated the triangle marked 'pink.' "Hmm," he ponders. "It says you need to relax."

"What is this, a fortune cookie? I thought these things were like truth or dare, or like... who I was gonna marry," you complain, flicking the craft from his hands.

Jimin picks the paper up off the floor and hands it back to Taehyung. "Do me," he says.

After a moment of pointing and folding, Tae announces, "It says you need to apologize. Again."

Jimin looks at you while Tae packs up his stuff. After dropping a kiss on the top of your head he leaves for his next class. The action makes Jimin furrow his brows and frown. A feeling too uncomfortably close to jealousy blooms in his chest. Why did that bother him so much? He's not ready to acknowledge the answer to that. Instead, he contradicts it by reminding himself that Tae is one of his closest friends and it's cool that the two of you are getting close too.

"Princess?" Jimin's song-like voice drifts to your ears once Tae has disappeared. You've pressed your face into your folded arms on the table and it's taking everything you have not to start crying about your failed exam again. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, laying his hand against the small of your back and beginning to rub soft circles there. "I'm sorry I didn't help you."

"I wish you were ugly," you mumble into your arms.

"What?" he laughs, leaning his face down next to yours.

You lift your head to meet his eyes. "If you were ugly this never would have happened," you insist, sitting up and shaking his hand off your back with a twist of your spine. "Just be ugly! FUCK."

Jimin smiles before screwing his face up into the most unrecognizable grimace he can manage. He holds it until you start to smile then switches to another terrible expression, with his chin tucked into his neck so that it morphs into several chins and crosses his eyes for extra emphasis on its ridiculousness. When you start to laugh he sticks out his tongue to make it worse.

Once you’re clutching your stomach and doubled over with pealing laughter, he gives you the beautiful smile you're so used to again. "Let's do something fun together," he offers. "And then after that, we'll get studying and make this right. Please let me make it up to you."

"Okay," you agree, leaning into his open arms. It only took a couple days of spending time together to remove the awkwardness you felt when he touched you. He's even held your hand a few times while you walked together after your other classes. Now, his embrace feels welcome and comforting. You still can’t tell if he’s just trying to be nice or if he actually likes doing it but you don’t mind at all.

"There's a party on Saturday, will you come with me?"

"Where?" you ask, as if you have any hope of refusing him at all. You'd go anywhere with him and you know it but you want to try to play it cool. Your tone seems more tepid than you anticipate but he doesn’t seem to call you out on it.

"Jin's," he tells you, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together.

He rubs his thumb against the back of your hand while he waits for you to pretend to decide. You relish in the motion. The tingle of butterflies erupt in your belly again like a cannon aimed at your heart, ready to sink it in an instant. Instead of falling, your heart seems to fly up to your brain and a light giggle escapes your lips.

"Okay. I'll come," you say in a euphoric brain fog, looking down at your joined hands. It's scary how good it feels to have his attention like this, but you hope it doesn’t stop.

"Why are you home?" Yoongi asks, finding you on the couch when he emerges from his bedroom. His late afternoon nap went longer than expected, leaving you believing he was out for the night. You settled in with Netflix and snacks of your own. He flops down next to you, causing you to swing your feet off the couch before they get squashed beneath his butt. He yawns and lets his head dip forward as he pulls out his phone and begins flipping through it.

"It's Friday night,” he reminds you, his tone scratchy. It makes you giggle.

"I didn't wanna go out alone and I thought you were gone. You're gonna be up all night now, you know."

"I would have stayed asleep but I've got a friend in need," he mumbles, rubbing the remainder of sleep from his eyes.

"Aww, you're so good to me." You beam, snuggling up to him and wrapping him up in a tight hug.

"Not you," he huffs with a disgusted grimace. “Ugh, that’s enough touching.”

You immediately pull back and scoff. “Wow. You’re lucky I know you know you love me.”

He rolls his eyes. "That’s debatable.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mock him in a tone of disbelief. You pop a chip into your mouth. “So why are you really up— if not to support your wonderful, beautiful, perfectly sculpted local couch potato?”

He smiles and steals the next chip from your hand before you can shove it into your mouth. “If you're good with it, my friend is gonna crash on our couch for a few days. His parents cut him off and he’s got nowhere to go. He’s almost got enough saved up to get his own place, but he could use some help in the meantime. Figured we’re doing alright and we have a couch. You cool with that?"

"Sure," you agree, trusting Yoongi's judgment. He's not gonna let some crazy person stay on your couch. "When?"

"I was just waiting for your approval but I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to you before I passed out. I'll go pick him up now, if that's good with you," he says slipping his feet into a pair of sandals and looking for his keys.

"What, he doesn't have a car?"

"Sold it to pay for his books this semester. He's got nothing. He's keeping all his clothes in another friend's closet. It's kinda sad."

"That's rough," you agree, blowing out a heavy exhale and turning your attention back to the TV.

"I'll be back in a few. Maybe take it to your room so he can have the couch?" Yoongi suggests.

"Sure, sure," you say, already sucked back into your show and forgetting entirely about Yoongi and his friend for now.

When Yoongi returns an hour later, you haven't moved. In fact, you’ve crashed… hard. Yoongi and his mystery guest enter to a chorus of your snores and the Friends theme song.

“Hey, get up,” Yoongi urges, nudging your shoulder lightly.

When you peel your eyes open to look at him, you’re utterly mystified to see the object of your affections a few feet behind him, standing awkwardly in your kitchen with a duffle slung over his shoulder.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you blink a few times to clear your vision. You want to be sure it's him before you open your mouth. He's there, in black sweats with a grey hoodie pulled up over his white baseball cap. “Jimin?”

“Oh good you know him," Yoongi says with relief coating his tone. "I’m gonna get him some blankets. Think you can take your Netflix marathon to your room?”

"Yeah, I can do that," you mumble, gathering up your mess and disappearing into your room without another word.

Alone in your room, you conjure up a hundred reasons in your anxious mind that could explain why Jimin thought he had to keep this huge secret from you. He’s got nothing? Maybe he was afraid you'd tell people. Suddenly, it makes so much sense why he's always walking everywhere.

You think back to Tuesday at the Cheery Cherry. His usually steady hands were so shaky handing over those bills he pulled from his wallet. You think of how tightly he clutched his change and even counted it out afterward. If you hadn’t been so preoccupied with your own thoughts of inadequacy, you might have been able to put it together on your own. Your stomach drops when you recall the insulting way you threw your vanilla cone in the trash. The scene replays over and over again until you’re crying into your pillow.

Guilt keeps you awake until well past midnight as you turn these unsavory ideas over and over in your head, looking at them from every possible angle and over analyzing every detail of the time you've spent together thus far. Your eyes are now wide and dry, fixed on a black spot on your ceiling that you're hoping is just a speck and not a spider. The quilt in your hands is frayed, giving your nervous hands something to pick at while you let the silence drive you mad.

The soft knock on your door at half past one is a relief. Yoongi does his best cooking at odd hours, usually bringing you a plate if you're awake. It's a surprise to find Jimin outside your door instead. He awkwardly shifts from foot to foot until he finds your eyes in the dim glow of your table lamp.

"Did I wake you?" he whispers, head leaning against your door frame.

You shake your head, looking down at your skimpy sleep shorts and the university hoodie you pulled on to open the door. “I was up.”

“Can we talk?”

“Of course,” you answer, stepping aside so he can come in. Your eyes scan the room nervously, checking for underwear on the floor and counting the half empty glasses of water on your nightstand. If you knew Jimin was going to be in your bedroom tonight, you would have cleaned up. At least you didn’t leave your vibrator out in the open. You don’t think you’d recover from the embarrassment of that.

Jimin follows you to your bed, perching on the edge once you’ve settled back against your pillows.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t,” you respond immediately. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Then why did you run away?” he asks, pulling at his hoodie strings.

“I wanted to give you space. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You didn’t tell me what you were going through and I didn’t want to…” you trail off, unsure how to articulate just why you ran away.

“You didn’t want to embarrass me? Hurt my pride?” he asks, sarcasm evident.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “You don’t owe me an explanation. We aren’t that close.”

“That’s the problem,” he whispers. “I want to explain. I want to be that close to you.” He leans towards you, resting on his hands. He looks confident despite his current situation and it worries you a little. How can he be so sure of himself when he’s crashing on your couch and apologizing to you again for the fourth time in less than a week?

The Jimin you’ve gotten to know recently seems to disappear, leaving on the smooth talking playboy in his wake. He seems too calculated to be genuine. The words he whispers don’t seem like words meant for you. He is him, after all, and money or not he’s still the greatest catch on campus. And you, much to your dismay, are still just you. Unassuming, uninteresting, unexciting you. You’re the plain vanilla cone he’d never ask for if he had the means to get the banana split.

“Why?” you skeptically ask, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Jimin bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth while he thinks. “You’re special,” he says. “You’re cute and funny and I like spending time with you. You make me feel like I can be myself with you.”

“But you don’t trust me?” you ask, obviously referring to the elephant in the room. He didn’t tell you he was essentially homeless. How much of himself can he truly be if he was keeping that from you?

“I didn’t want to scare you away, and most girls I… see, don’t get close enough to find out,” he confesses. “I can’t afford to take anyone out right now. I haven’t been able to for a while. But I’m so close to getting enough for an apartment. That’s why I took the TA job; at the end of the semester I should be ready.”

“Jimin,” you start, unsure what to say. You’re still thinking about that goddamned three dollar ice cream cone you threw away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you, standing up. “I just wanted to be real with you, and thank you for agreeing to let me have the couch for a few days. I’ll let you sleep.”

“Wait!”

As you scramble over yourself to reach out, you find yourself on your knees awkwardly clutching your hand towards your chest. You’re still worried about seeming desperate but you can’t let that stop you now. Jimin turns toward you, but you’re unsure of what you wanted to say. You only know that you want to be closer to him too, that you’re not ready for him to go, that if he leaves now you’ll lie awake for the rest of the night reliving this short conversation.

“Stay,” you plead, nervously twirling the string of your hoodie around your fingers as you sit back against the pillows. “Talk to me?”

“Aren’t you tired?” he wonders.

You hold out your hand and he crosses the room to take it, standing next to your bed. You pat the space next to you and tug him toward it. “Wide awake.”

Your yawn says otherwise.

Jimin smiles, climbing over you to lay by your side on top of your blankets. He looks at you expectantly once he’s settled but it’s too much pressure for you to lead the conversation. You only know that you want to keep hearing his soothing voice. You have no idea what you wanted to say.

“You look cute,” he says, breaking the silence and touching your nose with the tip of his finger. “Sleepy and soft.”

“You look sexy,” you complain, waving his hand away. “I kinda wanna punch you for it.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “So feisty.”

“I can be boring instead,” you jokingly offer, rolling on your side to face him.

He does his best to keep his eyes trained on your face, despite the fact that all he wants to do is let them wander down. “I just want you to be you.”

That sounds fake. Again, you battle against the idea that this is all a farce, some sneaky way to get into your pants once and leave you wanting for the rest of your life. He hasn’t bared himself to you enough for you to trust him, so you pry.

“Why’d your parents cut you off, Jimin?” you ask.

He looks at you for a second, stunned at your boldness. That’s definitely not where he thought this conversation was going. He takes a moment to prepare his response and sighs.

“They have this restaurant. It’s a small place right off the coast: Jeongsik. My great grandparents started it from nothing and now my parents manage it. They want me to take over since I’m the eldest, but I want to move to the city and have my own life. I don’t want to work in their restaurant forever and my brother loves it and is perfectly capable. They love me. I know they’re just trying to teach me a lesson,” he tells you. He sounds unsure of that last bit. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that he’s got nowhere to live and he’s penny pinching for meals and they’re shunning him.

“And what is that lesson, Jimin?” you ask, trying to dig deeper before he slips back into playboy mode.

“That being a part of Jeongsik is my only option if I want to be successful. That I can’t make it without them.”

“Can you?” The question is quiet and unassuming. You only want to know how bad it really is.

He takes a deep breath and taps his fingers anxiously against the fabric of the pillow. “I can. It won’t be the same, it won’t be easy, but I can.”

After giving Jimin a moment to say more, which he doesn’t take, you push him further. With your heart on the line and this miracle of an opportunity with him in your room, you're determined to learn as much as you can. You need to get under his skin. You need to know him, so you can know if you should run.

"What's your plan then?" you question, shifting closer so you're face to face against the pillows.

Jimin smirks at your line of questioning. It seems to break him from his thoughts. “Well,” he begins. “The Village has some one bedrooms opening up at the end of the semester, and by then I’ll be ready to make a deposit and lease one. After that I’ve got one semester left until I graduate. Then I’ll move to the city and live my life how I want.”

“Won’t you miss your family?”

“They still talk to me. They’re just not paying for school. Or my car. Or my food.” His heavy sigh at the end contradicts the lightness with which he revealed all of this to you.

“I’m sorry, Jimin.” You reach for his hand, familiarity in the way it fits with yours.

“It’s okay. I have good friends, and I have…” he trails off, catching himself and looking away with an awkward huff of a laugh.

“What?” you wonder, heart fluttering at the possibility that he was about to say ‘you.’ “What else do you have?”

Jimin looks up at you, rising up on his elbow. His eyes search your face for any hint of rejection. When he finds only hope, his hand moves to cup your cheek. It’s warm, adorned with rings that contrast the temperature of his skin.

“You,” he breathes, moving closer. You watch his gaze dart down to your lips before your own eyelids flutter closed. “I was going to say you,” he confesses before he closes the space between you and lays a soft kiss against your waiting lips.

He pulls away way too fast, leaving you to panic in the aftermath. You thought you had feelings for him before, but now that he’s let you in, now that he has shown you his heart, there is nothing more to deny. You’ve fallen, hard. The realization makes you feel trapped, like a frantic dying bird in a cage. But your captor is kind and beautiful and the flavor he left on your lips is the most divine thing you’ve ever tasted.

“Then say it,” you prompt him, urging him to accept the affection you’ve been so desperate to give him.

He kisses you again in lieu of words, longer, deeper, until his tongue is dragging over yours. You fist the material of his hoodie in your hands, pulling him towards you while you turn on your back. He’s hesitant to get on top of you, afraid he might be taking it too far, but you’re insistent. You pull and he caves willingly, slotting a leg between yours and letting his hand drift from your cheek to the back of your neck.

“I like you,” he pants when he breaks away. It feels like your heart flies up out of your chest and does a lap around the room, flapping its hummingbird wings like the wild thing it is before it crashes back into its place.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” you plead. “You don’t have to pretend just because you’re here now. I’m a big girl. We can just have tonight.”

You say the words but you know if he leaves tomorrow, you’ll cry all day and probably the day after that too. The truth is, you can talk all you want about how you can do this no strings attached, but you know you can’t. Your strings are so attached to him at this point you might as well be metaphorical shibari.

“I mean it,” he whispers, full, wet lips brushing the side of your neck.

You freeze. You were expecting him to drop the charade and just fuck you or something, but in this moment he exudes tenderness and consideration.

“And because I like you, I think I should go back to the couch before we do something we aren’t ready to do.”

“Stay,” you plead. “We don’t have to do anything, just lay with me.”

He slowly nods and reaches over you to turn off the lamp, planting a soft kiss on your cheek as he settles back into place. You wiggle your form down into the covers and he smoothes the hair from your face before tracing his fingers down your arm. You lean in close enough to smell the subtle clean scent of his cologne. Is it cologne? You doubt it knowing what you know now, unless he’s borrowing it from someone else. You still find yourself enjoying it nonetheless. It’s comforting. Sleep begins to claim you just as he slips his fingers into yours and gives you a tiny squeeze.

“Goodnight y/n.”

You think you respond but you’re in that purgatory state between sleeping and being awake, so you can’t be sure. At least you’re eighty percent sure you gave him a squeeze in return.

That’s how Yoongi finds you in the morning: you tucked neatly into your comforter and Jimin laying on top of it beside you, your hands clasped together in the middle.

“UM!” Yoongi shouts from the doorway, loud enough to wake you both.

Startled, you sit up in bed and look around for the source of the shout. “Fuck! Yoon. You didn’t need to scream.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to keep this from Taehyung,” Yoongi chides, looking from you to Jimin and back. “That would be quite the moral conundrum.”

“For fuck’s sake. It was never Tae. I am not seeing Tae. We are JUST FRIENDS!” You yell the last two words and chuck your pillow at him for emphasis.

“Okay cool, then Jimin can explain to him whatever this is to him. Jimin, he wants you to call him. My phone’s on the table. I’m taking a shower.”

Yoongi disappears from the doorway and an uncomfortable silence settles over the room. In the light of day, you feel nervous and uncertain. Jimin does nothing to ease your anxiety. He just lays there quietly, unsure what to say.

“Do you want breakfast?” You try to smile and sound as chipper as possible.

He sits up finally and turns his back to you. “I should go see Taehyung.”

He moves toward the door and you feel your chest tighten. “Jimin?”

He turns to you from the hallway, and taking in your confused expression, offers you a smile. “We’re good, princess. I’ll be back tonight, then me and you: party time.” He winks before moving out of sight.

Alone once again, you start to question things. Everything. Are you imagining things or did Jimin seem cold when he left? He kissed you last night, didn’t he? Was everything you talked about too much? Does he regret kissing you? Does he regret staying the night with you without getting anything out of it? You can feel your thoughts spiraling out of control, but you can’t stop yourself from putting up the walls you so desperately wanted to keep down forever last night. It obviously didn’t mean anything to him, despite his claim that he likes you. He probably just meant that he’d like to fool around with you. Like he does with everyone else. You can’t let one night beside him make you think you’re special to him, no matter how badly you want to be.

Knowing you won’t make it through the day without driving yourself completely mad with questions and doubts, you dig your old phone and charger out of a drawer and go after Jimin. He’s leaning over the kitchen counter staring down at Yoongi’s phone when you steal his attention.

“Please take this,” you plead, thrusting the phone and charger towards him.

He looks from the device to you and blinks a few times in surprise. “What?”

“It’s a little old, but if your sim card didn’t get damaged I’m sure it will work in this. I kept putting off bringing it to be recycled.” You laugh nervously as you try to place it in his hand. “But now I’m glad I didn’t. Take it.”

“I can’t accept this, princess. It’s too much,” Jimin says, staring down at the object in your hands.

“Take it for me. If I have to go another day without being able to send you memes I’ll die.”

“Memes?” he repeats, sounding baffled.

“Memes, nudes, the weather forecast. Who cares? I wanna text you. Please take it.”

He licks his lips and smirks at your joke. Was it a joke? It’s hard to tell. He accepts it anyway. “Thank you. I’ll call you later?”

“You’d better,” you tease, offering the grandest smile you can manage before retreating with a slow saunter back to your room.

There’s that view again. He could watch your ass sway in those teeny shorts all day. It takes every last ounce of self control he possesses to pick up Yoongi’s phone and dial Tae rather than sprint back into your room and pin you to the bed. It doesn’t stop him from daydreaming about it though, even as his friend answers.

“What are we doing?” Jimin stands in the sprawling living room of Taehyung and Jungkook’s shared apartment. Both are from wealthy families that are all too ready to give their sons everything that matches the silver spoons in their mouths. They’ve been blessed with a bachelor pad that looks more like a college movie set than anything normal one would find around campus.

“Pick up a controller,” Tae tells Jimin, completely absorbed in the race on their oversized flat screen TV.

Jungkook hasn’t even acknowledged Jimin’s presence yet. Focused doesn’t even begin to describe the way his eyes bore into the television. He doesn’t break from his trance until he wins. Only then does he sit back with a smug grin, dropping the controller in his lap and just barely resisting the urge to gloat.

Taehyung drops his controller too, turning to give Jungkook a congratulatory fist bump. “Take his place,” he says to Jimin.

Jungkook has already vacated his place on the hallowed futon and moved to the row of cup noodles sitting on the counter. The first cup is half empty before Jimin even sits down.

“I suck at these games, Tae,” Jimin grumbles.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be good. It’s a ploy to get you relaxed enough to talk about y/n.” Taehyung smiles, knowing Jimin can’t refuse now that he’s cornered.

“What about her?” He feigns nonchalance, as if he didn’t just spend last night catching feelings along with your lips between his own.

Taehyung scoffs, half bewildered, half disgusted. “Come on, Jimin. She’s amazing. You like her.”

“I barely know her,” Jimin replies. It’s a lie he can taste like copper on his tongue. He knows your favorite food, where you grew up, what you study, and he’s already programmed your birthday into his borrowed phone so he won’t forget.

Taehyung clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Okay then. If you don’t give a fuck, I’m gonna shoot my shot. She’s funny, and nice, and her pussy is so bomb it makes me wanna get married, so if you’re not gonna do something about that then I will.”

Jungkook cackles from the kitchen. “Did you fuck Jimin’s girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” Jimin grumbles, staring daggers at Jungkook, just as Taehyung says that he did not.

Jungkook takes his armload of cup noodles into his bedroom.

“I know you like her,” Tae prods. “She’s not some materialistic bitch who’s gonna leave you if you can’t afford lavish dates every other day. She’s a good, genuine person. She just wants your time and your attention. Maybe your heart. She doesn’t care about the other stuff.”

“Yeah? So I can bring her back to this futon after I buy her dinner from the dollar menu?” Jimin’s nose starts to tingle, months worth of frustrations finally reaching a breaking point. “I can’t get in a relationship right now and you know she’s not a fuckbuddy kind of girl.

“Right, because I didn’t eat her out in my car for fun last week.” He’d date you in a heartbeat if you wanted him. But he knows it’s Jimin you want and he’s more than happy to push the two of you together to see you both happy. He values friendship above all things.

“If that’s all you want from her, fine. But I think you and I both know it’s not and she’s too good for you to string along. If you’re just gonna break her heart, do it now before she falls any harder for you.”

“Why, so you can swoop in and be the good guy again? So you can get her off in your backseat?” The words are venom dripping from his mouth.

“Bro.”

Jimin softens. Tae is his dearest friend. He knows he only has his best interests at heart.

“I’m sorry.” He pauses and sighs. “We talked about Jeongsik last night. She knows my parents cut me off.”

Taehyung grimaces. “How’d that go?”

“Now she knows I’m not good enough but it didn’t seem to deter her at all.”

“‘Cause you are good enough and now she can see your true worth as a person, which is a thousand times better than the fake worth of money.”

Jimin seems to consider this for a moment but then expresses the concern gnawing at his insides. “What if she really is just another person who wants to idolize me? I’m really into her, but I need it to be more than that.”

“Jimin—”

“What if she’s after the meaningless title of being Park Jimin’s girl... like every other girl that has pursued me lately?” The words make him cringe. He’s humble and kind, not one to throw bouquets at himself, but those thoughts are intrusive and hard to ignore.

“Tch. Do you know her at all? Do you really think that matters to her?”

“No,” Jimin sighs. “But what if?”

“She admires you. You like her. Stop making it so complicated and let go of those ifs. You’ll never know if you don’t try and I want to see you try because you deserve to be happy,” Tae insists, starting a new game. “Now pick up that controller. I wanna kick your ass.”

You’ve spent the better part of your Saturday afternoon picking out your outfit for tonight. Yoongi only teased you twice before helping you select something a little bit more slutty than you’d normally pull out for a date. You’re going to a party after all, not some Sunday brunch with your friends.

When it’s almost time for you to meet up with Jimin you find yourself growing increasingly nervous. You run your hand over your thigh and down your calf, testing for any stubble you might have missed in your meticulous hour-long shaving session. On your way back up you tug on your skirt, eyeing it as though your gaze can simply increase its length. When was the last time you wore this dress?

You adjust and fuss over the way your tits fit inside the garment and puff air out of your cheeks. Yoongi squints at you from across the room. Your door is wide open after all.

“Stop worrying so much.” He sighs and clicks his tongue, crossing the room until he can see you in perfect clarity. “You look great.”

“I feel stupid. I should change. Jimin’s gonna think I’m weird if I wear this.” You try to turn and run back to your closet.

Yoongi plants his hands on your shoulders and spins you back to face the full-length mirror hanging over your door. “Look at yourself. Jimin’s gonna think you’re the hottest one at the party. Look at that makeup game.” He gestures to your face. “Wooo! So strong! Wow!”

Your lips twitch into a smile. Yoongi can be so sweet when he’s not busy pretending like he isn’t the softest man on earth.

“What if he doesn’t actually want me?” you ask, strings of doubt still plucking at your insecurity.

“He does,” he says with all the comfort you need in this moment. “I can tell with these kinds of things, you know.”

“That your like, weird sage sense you’re always telling me about? Reading the horoscopes doesn’t make you a fortune teller.”

He laughs. “Don’t be jealous of my power. Have I been wrong before?”

He hasn’t been, at least not with the advice he’s given you.

You exhale a huge breath and cock your head to inspect your appearance one more time. “What if you’re wrong?”

He hums a soft sound before planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Then he’s an idiot.”

A knock saves him from the overbearing hug you’re about to give him. He practically sprints towards the door. “That must be him! Pull your skirt up a little, would you? You’re not a nun and it’s gonna ride up anyway.” He pauses with his hand on the deadbolt and drops his tone to a rather loud, strained whisper. “Wait. What underwear are you wearing?”

Your eyes widen and your brows furrow as you angrily march over to your strappy heels and begin to put them on. “Why does it matter?” you whisper back.

“Are they the beige ones?”

“No!” Your hushed tone threatens to break into a shriek. “You know those are my period panties.”

“Please tell me they’re not the green ones.”

“Yoongi!” You get frustrated and lift your skirt just enough to show off a bit of the black lace adorning your buttcheeks as you lift your foot onto the nearby stool to finish setting the strap in place. “Satisfied?”

He breathes a sigh of relief and nods. “Good. Those are good.”

He opens the door faster than you can register the action. Jimin catches the flash of lace and more skin than he’s meant to see as you swing your leg down off the stool and adjust your dress. Heat flushes your face as you meet Jimin’s gaze. His eyes are wide and he licks his lips before nervously clearing his throat. He nonchalantly drops his hands and holds them together in front of his pelvis.

“You-You look good,” he stammers, completely stunned by your appearance.

“Thanks,” you reply with a shy smile. Park Jimin gets flustered? Who’d have thought?

He thought you were beautiful before but he’s never seen you like this. You’re completely decked out and drop dead gorgeous. He’s almost worried he’ll feel inadequate standing next to you tonight but it doesn’t stop him from wanting you by his side, hanging on his arm. He wants everyone to know that he’s there with you.

The pair of you stand there looking at one another and Yoongi slowly turns from Jimin to you, then back to Jimin.

“Have everything?” Yoongi prods, trying to get you to move so he can get on with his evening of relaxation and lazing about.

That seems to break you from your stupor and you nod and walk forward to hook your arm around Jimin’s. Before you get too far Yoongi calls to you and tests your reflexes by tossing your keys. You’ll need those if Yoongi is dead to the world asleep by the time you get home, which is quite possible. You’re not the most dextrous person but Jimin catches them and smiles at you. When you try to take them from his fingertip he moves his hand away and you swipe at the air. He offers to keep them in his pocket and you gratefully oblige. You pull your phone from its confines against your breast and check on the status of your uber with one hand while slipping your other into Jimin’s.

Jin’s party is already in full swing by the time you arrive. It looks like something out of a movie. There are glowsticks, red solo cups, a buffet table of snacks, and loud music by the large inground pool. People inside and outside of this big ass frat house are grinding up on each other, dancing, and spilling their drinks on one another. It’s a little overwhelming honestly. You’ve never been much of a party person and this is a monster-sized one.

Jimin takes your hand in his and gives you a reassuring smile. “You want a drink, princess?”

“Yeah.” You grin and breathe a sigh of relief, feeling your insides melt at the sound of his voice. You know whatever happens tonight you’ll be okay with him by your side.

Jimin keeps you close all night, drinking and dancing and stealing the occasional quick kiss. It's pretty clear to everyone who's paying attention that there's something going on between you. You came with Jimin, you're there with Jimin, you're leaving with Jimin. Either Jungkook wasn't paying attention, or he just plain doesn't care. The moment Jimin leaves you alone to run to the bathroom, Jungkook steps up behind you in the chair you’re sitting on.

"Hey, y/n!" He smiles, all teeth and sleepy eyes. You can smell the whiskey on his breath when you turn to face him. "You look so pretty tonight."

"Thanks, Kook." You know he's one of Jimin and Tae’s closest friends. If you just hang with him until Jimin gets back, you'll be able to avoid the advances of all the weird guys here you aren't familiar with. "I like your boots," you tell him, looking down.

He follows your gaze to his feet. "Me too, I hope no one barfs on them tonight," he laughs, lifting his face back up to yours. The words are slightly slurred but you’re still able to decipher them.

His eyes definitely linger on your cleavage on their way back up. By the looks of it, he's on the short list of people who might end up barfing on those shoes. He holds his liquor well, but if you had to guess you'd say he's had more than he should have at this point in the night.

"So, I was talking to Taehyung recently," he starts with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The rest of his sentence seems to get lost in translation on the way to his mouth.

"And?" You smile at him and realize he’s probably too drunk to have anything of worth to say but you wait anyway.

"He told me something." Jungkook smiles so big his nose crinkles and he giggles like it’s the biggest secret in the universe.

You puzzle for a moment over what could have him so giddy before remembering that Taehyung is intimately familiar with your o-face. You'd gotten so close with him over the last two weeks that the details of your first time hanging out had completely slipped your mind. Jungkook is definitely about to say something crass.

"What did he tell you?" you ask, fearing you already know the answer.

Jungkook leans in closer so he can whisper in your ear. An amused giggle spills from his lips like he can’t contain the punchline to a joke only he knows. Somehow he gets his tone under control and finally speaks. "He told me your pussy tastes like heaven and what a coincidence," he pauses, "I haven't had dessert."

Jimin finds his way back to you just as you've moved to elbow Jungkook off your chair. Unfortunately, the alcohol in your system has your brain a little fuzzy and you misjudge the distance and location. You end up elbowing Jungkook right in the dick. Hard.

A circle clears around you as Jungkook doubles over in pain. Jimin steps up next to you, looking down at his friend and trying to piece together what might have led to you inflicting bodily harm.

Jungkook goes from bending over, to squatting, to laying on his side on the floor. He rolls onto his back still clutching the jewels despite the audience of people who have stopped to observe.

“I’m gonna throw up,” he squeaks out.

“Watch the boots,” you remind him as Jimin leans down to help him up and leads him towards something he can barf in. Through the crowd of people, you can see him just barely make it to a trash can in the kitchen. Gross.

Jimin gives Jungkook a pat on the back as he retches and reaches over him to grab a handful of jello shots off the counter. He returns with the rainbow of little cups clutched in each hand. The crowd seems to go back to their business of dancing and talking amongst one another, the random altercation just a fleeting moment in the night.

"What'd he do?" Jimin asks, holding his hand out to you so that you can make your selection.

"He came on to me." You shrug, picking a blue cup and popping the lid off.

"That's it? You elbowed him in the balls for hitting on you?" Jimin raises his eyebrows in shock and laughs.

"Well, it was kind of an accident. But," you pause to bring the plastic shot glass up to your lips, "he insinuated that he wanted to go down on me." You dip your tongue into the Jello and swirl it around the perimeter of its plastic casing.

Jimin watches you gather all the Jello up onto your tongue with rapt attention. He's growing so hard watching your tongue work like that. It’s driving him insane. He wants to feel it on him instead. He’s also now acutely aware of how badly he wants to swirl his tongue around your cunt, just like that.

"That makes two of us," he confesses with an enamored sigh. His hands are still full of Jello shots but that doesn’t stop him from holding your face between them.

He fiercely smashes his mouth to yours and you cave to the welcome intrusion of his tongue. It presses against yours, curling around it as he sucks the blue raspberry flavor from your mouth. You drop the empty cup to the floor and reach for his belt instead, pulling him against you until you can feel him pressed up against your stomach, hard and needy. He grinds his pelvis against you to be sure you can feel him.

“You feel that baby?” he asks, his tone low and sultry.

You grind back with a muffled hum. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re practically dry-humping each other next to the crowd of other sweaty, writhing couples. While Jimin likes how this feels, he’d like to regain the use of his hands. Jello shots be damned.

He pulls away for a second and looks around, depositing all but one of the unopened cups into the hands of the next person that walks by before he squeezes the chosen red one out on his tongue. He leans back in and presses his mouth to yours again. You can still taste artificial strawberry on his tongue. You're not even sure he swallowed before you started trying to lick his tonsils but you don't care. You want him now. You need him.

His thoughts are much the same as his free hand wanders down your back, dipping lower for just a second to feel the curve of your ass and squeeze. When you gasp he takes a step back and looks at you through hazy lust-drunk eyes. His lips are red from the gelatinous treat. You’d love to try and suck the color right out of them.

"Princess," he pants, his hands grabbing at your hips.

"Jimin," you breathe back, pulling him closer again. "Come home with me." It's not really an invitation. He'd be coming back with you anyway since he's currently living on your couch, but this has a different meaning and you both know it. It’s a plea for him to take you to bed.

You make out on the front lawn while you wait for the uber. You make out in the back of the uber on your way home. You make out on the way up the stairs and you leave a heart shaped love bite on his neck while he uses your keys to open the door. You make out pressed against the kitchen counter, and in the hallway.

Yoongi watches the pair of you act like he’s invisible as you stumble your way around the apartment. He has a spoonful of Fruit Loops half-lifted to his gaping mouth and finally takes his bite when you’ve made it to your room. Thank god you closed the door.

Jimin isn't as shy this time about laying his weight over you once you’ve dropped down onto your bed. You’re warm and he seeks the heat of your body as your hands explore the taught muscles of his chest. They dance around his belt, slipping up over the curve of his perfectly round ass so you can squeeze and pull him against you, inviting him to grind his solid cock into you. Your movements get slower and more focused when you unbutton his shirt. He tugs it off his shoulders and throws it to the floor before helping you pull that tiny excuse of a dress over your head.

You're thanking your lucky stars you had the foresight to put on a matching set, despite how foolishly hopeful it felt at the time. The way Jimin is drinking you in wrapped in nothing but a little bit of black lace is making your head spin, or maybe that's the alcohol.

He sits back on his heels beside you, trailing his fingertips from your throat to the valley between your breasts. He skims over your belly button then side sweeps over your hip and down your thigh, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

"Wanna take those heels off, princess?" he asks, scooting toward them on his knees.

"I can do it," you insist, planning on making a show of dropping what's left of your modesty. You aren't counting on the way the room turns when you stand up too fast. Luckily, Jimin's reflexes are quick and his hands on your hips steady you before you can actually fall. Standing up is also doing something terrible to your stomach. It rolls and clenches and your anxiety skyrockets.

Parties aren't really your thing, and while Jimin might be drunk he is damn good at controlling it. On the contrary, it's becoming increasingly apparent that you are completely hammered.

"You okay?" Jimin asks, concern dripping from his tone. He stands up and turns you both so you can sit on the edge of your bed.

"I think... I'm drunk," you confess, unable to explain why you suddenly feel like crying.

"I think you're right, baby," he agrees, squatting down to unbuckle the ankle straps on your heels. "Let's get you some water."

Your stomach flips again and time slows as you feel the contents of the evening rise in the back of your throat. Panicking, you look to Jimin with wide eyes and a hand flying up to your mouth. He spins around looking for anything to catch what's surely coming and upends your little trash can. Candy wrappers and old class notes fall to the floor. He thrusts the can under your face just as a rainbow of Jello shots and reappears.

"I'm so sorry," you cry between heaves, tears streaking your make-up down your face.

"Shhh," Jimin soothes, gathering your hair away from your face. When he's sure you've finished, he disappears from the bedroom with the offending trash can and you're left with your horrible, alcohol twisted thoughts.

He's going to think you're pathetic and disgusting. Why on earth did you think you could drink that much?

Jimin returns with a glass of water before you can get much further into your self-deprecation.

"You're never gonna fuck me now," you blabber, your filter lost. Your thoughts are a jumble of sadness and muddled lust.

Jimin laughs. "Well, I'm definitely not gonna fuck you like this. I didn't realize you were this drunk," he softly says. It's a caring statement, not even a little bit condescending.

You should be grateful that he wants you sober for sex, but it only makes you cry harder because you really just want him so badly and you're absolutely certain you've ruined your chances beyond repair. So, you do the only thing that makes sense right now and cry harder.

Jimin wraps his arms around you and leans close to your ear. "I want to, you know. I want to lay you down and touch you all over." He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck. "I want to taste you, feel you. I want to be inside you so badly, but not like this."

"Please," you whine.

"Sober up first, okay?" he coaxes. "Can I help you get some pajamas? Brush your teeth?"

"Okay," you sniffle.

Jimin smooths his hand up your back, tracing the black lace band of your bra with the tip of his finger. “Do you want to take this off?”

You nod, reaching behind you to unfasten the clasp while Jimin reaches down to the floor for the button down shirt he discarded. He averts his eyes while you shed your bra, then holds his shirt open for you. You slip into it but don’t bother to button it up before walking to your door. He helps you get to the bathroom but you insist on doing it yourself so you can clean up and assess just how fucked up you really look right now.

When you close the door behind you, he makes sure to quietly apologize to Yoongi, who is still scrubbing the trash bin Jimin brought out earlier. Yoongi reaches into the cabinet for the bottle of Advil and gestures to a glass of water already on the counter.

Jimin waits for you to open the door and when you finally do he's relieved that you haven't fallen asleep. You've washed the makeup from your tear-streaked face and brushed your teeth. You've even pulled your hair back so it's no longer in the way. You look at him through a hazy apologetic lens as he offers you Advil and water. The last thing you want to do is ingest anything but if it will help you in the morning, you'll try it for his sake.

The journey from the bathroom back into your room is a blur. All you can think about is crawling back into bed and sleeping this awful feeling away. You struggle with the covers for a moment until Jimin helps you slide underneath them.

"I'm sorry. Don't hate me," you plead in a weak voice.

"Why are you sorry? I don't hate you," he assures you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He's shirtless. He could have been naked pounding your pussy stupid if you didn't overdo it on the drinks. You hate yourself a little bit for botching this chance, but if he could just put his arms around you again maybe you’d feel okay, like you didn’t blow it.

"Will you hold me?" you ask.

“Of course,” he replies softly.

The light in the room disappears and the mattress sinks behind you. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and his fingers twine with yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers when you squeeze his hand.

The heat of his breath brushes against your neck but you don’t close your eyes. You’re too dizzy. Instead you focus on the soothing rhythm of his breathing until the weight of your eyelids wins out against the nausea and sleep finally claims you.

Your ringtone wakes you late, when the sun in your room is far too bright to be any time before ten. The sound is grating and irritating and you pull your pillow over your head to block it out. Jimin reaches for the phone, you can feel his weight shift and the heat of his skin when he hovers over you.

"Hello?" His voice is gruff and coarse with sleep.

Peeking out from beneath the pillow, you look over to him. His eyes are still closed and your phone is laying on his bare chest, speaker on and screen lit up.

"Gimme your bae," Jungkook's voice calls through the phone.

"She's sleeping," Jimin tells him. Looking in your direction, he meets your eyes and smiles.

You vaguely remember him making you drink more water last night, giving you Advil, and tucking you in. It's a very pleasant surprise to find that you aren’t horribly hungover.

"Wake her up," Jungkook whines. "Bro. She hit me so hard."

Jimin laughs. "You deserved it."

"I know," Jungkook agrees. "That's why I'm calling. Can I talk to her please?"

"You're on speaker."

"Hi, y/n. I got your number from Tae."

"Hi Kook," you croak.

"I'm sorry I was a douche last night. I get stupid when I drink whiskey."

"I accept your apology. Don’t do it again. How's your dick?" you ask, scooting closer to Jimin and laying your cheek on his chest. He wraps his arm around you and kisses the top of your head. The gesture makes you feel warm all over. He likes you.

"It hurts but I'll live. Sorry. For real. Do you guys wanna go eat later?" he asks you both.

Jimin answers this time. "Maybe. We have stuff to do first. I'll text you." He hangs up before Jungkook can say more.

“What stuff are we doing, hmm?” you question with a giggle, trying to play coy.

“Depends how you’re feeling, princess,” Jimin replies, leaning over you again to deposit your phone on your nightstand. He lingers above you, prompting the cautious exploration of your fingers on his chest.

Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the awful taste in your mouth. In fact, you feel gross all over. Not exactly the way you want to experience sex with Jimin for the first time.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you tell him, wiggling out from under his body. “You must think I am the worst, most unattractive human.”

“No,” Jimin says with a giggle. “I think you’re sexy and sweet. I really like you y/n.”

“Nobody likes me.” You scoff at him in disbelief.

“It’s rude to call people nobodies, don’t you think? Especially when they’ve just confessed their feelings,” Jimin teases, sitting up beside you.

“Well, let me at least brush my teeth,” you tell him, holding his shirt closed around you while you rise from the bed. You step around the clean trash can that’s been placed at the side of your bed thanks to Yoongi, noting that there is also a neat row of condoms on your nightstand and a note that reads ‘be done by 5 i wanna watch Dragonball Z after work.’

You laugh and quickly take care of your morning bathroom routine in record time so you can make use of Yoongi’s gift.

When you come back to your room, Jimin is watching you. His lips are drawn down in a pout, his eyes are half closed, and his chest, still bare, rises and falls heavily with each breath he takes as he rakes his eyes over your bare legs and up. His shirt hangs open on your body, leaving a strip of skin visible from your throat to your panties. He licks his lips when your fingers drag a slow line up that strip.

Parting the soft fabric further, you let it fall from your shoulders and pool around your feet. Jimin sits up for a better view and you wait for embarrassment to strike. It never happens. Instead, his gaze emboldens you. He looks wrecked already and he hasn't even touched you yet.

“So beautiful,” he whispers.

His assurance pulls you forward, one foot in front of the other until you’re close enough to touch and his hands are on your hips as you climb over him. He leans back under you as you push forward, connecting your lips with a force that borders on overeager. You can feel him smile against your lips and self-consciously, you will yourself to calm down. You have all day, there’s no need to rush.

When your kisses become soft and patient Jimin decides to take the initiative. He has to have you. He wants to be inside you. He sits up and sinks his hands into the flesh of your ass and begins to pull you down so he can grind up against your clothed cunt. When you moan his eyes roll back for a second and he buries his face into your neck to muffle the sound of his own. His tongue works in circles against you, giving you a taste of what’s to come before sucking a spot that has you burying your hand in his hair and grinding yourself down on him with need. He licks a hot stripe to your ear so he can whisper in it. In an instant he’s flipping you around on your back and grinding his pelvis against yours, allowing the dark desire to consume him.

“You like that, princess? You like feeling my cock on that sweet pussy of yours?”

“Yeah,” you whine, circling your legs around his hips. You can’t manage much more than that breathy reply, he is intoxicating and already you are drunk on his fumes.

“I hear it’s the sweetest. Made me so fucking jealous to hear Tae talk about you like that. You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

“God did Tae just go around telling everyone?” you pause when the friction rubs against your clit just right. “Oh fuck,” you moan, imaging the pillowy soft press of his lips on your more intimate areas.

He chuckles in response. “No,” he assures you. “Just Jungkook and me. Don’t worry,” he says, persuading you with a careful roll of his hips that has his shaft parting your folds despite the layers of clothing between you. “He won’t talk about it anymore, and you’ll forget all about it by the time we’re done here. I’m gonna eat your sweet little cunt until mine are the only lips you remember.”

“Please,” you whimper, drawing him into a needy kiss.

His fingers dip into the band of your panties and he teases and tugs at them until you’re squirming and begging him to take them off. His lips trail wet kisses down to your breasts and he pauses to take your nipple into his mouth as he carefully works your last remaining piece of clothing down your legs.

Nudging your legs apart again, he settles between them, ghosting the pads of his fingers up the inside of your thigh as he drags your nipple gently with his teeth. He switches to repeat the action on the other side and cautiously slips a finger between your folds, parting them and testing your wetness. Much to his delight, he already finds you soaked.

“Jimin,” you breathe out. “Please.”

“Be patient for me, princess. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He sits back on his knees between your thighs and uses his thumbs to smear your arousal over your lips. He groans something deep and tortured when he spreads them open.

“Y/n, holy fuck,” he whispers. “You’re perfect. So perfect.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his praise. It feels like some kind of worship the way he looks down at your cunt, watching his fingers disappear inside you. His satisfied hum is like a hymn to the divine way your hot, slick walls squeeze him, a prayer to the mere idea of having that wet heat wrapped around his needy cock.

“Tae didn’t tell me you were so tight,” Jimin admits, looking up at you under his eyelashes.

“He only used his mouth,” you tell him, throwing your arm over your eyes. “I’ll never forget his lips if you keep talking about him.”

That seems to spark a fire in Jimin. His eyes grow dark and wild. He wants to ruin you. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh and begins sucking marks into the soft flesh while his fingers continue to pump inside of you. He slowly works his way down, making sure the red spots he leaves behind are sufficient enough to last for days. He makes sure you’ll have the reminder of his face between your legs every time you look down.

“Jimin don’t tease,” you beg, bucking your hips up to seek the warmth of his breath.

“I’m not teasing,” he chides. “I am savoring.” He curls his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit, making your legs jolt. “Trust the process.”

“Jimin--,” you start again, but you’re cut off by the first touch of his lips. It’s barely there, just the ghost of a kiss on your mound. It’s immediately followed by the flat of his tongue, pressing down as he moves it lower, slipping his fingers out as he descends. His tongue parts your folds instead, circling your dripping hole and then dipping inside it.

“Mmmmm,” he hums. “Fuck, you’re sweet.” He spreads you with his thumbs again and goes back for more, lapping at your wet cunt, swirling around your clit, sucking your folds into his lips. But it’s not just the action, it’s the drive behind it. He’s insatiable, moaning at the taste, bucking his hips into the mattress when you whine for him.

Your fingers tangle through his silver hair, twisting and pulling as he devotes himself to your undoing. He moves with you when you grind up against his jaw, stealing a glance up at your face. Jimin feels his cock twitch at the sight of you; breasts heaving, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut. He’s leaking so much precum he can feel it soaking through his boxer-briefs. He’s almost afraid he’s going to lose it and cum in his pants.

“You gonna cum for me, princess?” he asks, lifting his face to push his fingers back inside. He pumps them hard, curling and searching for that elusive spot while he presses soft kisses to your clit. He alternates between flicking his tongue and rubbing against it with his lips, pausing every few seconds to whisper encouragements with warm breath puffed over your swollen bud.

“Come on, baby. Do it for me. Cum for me, princess. Let me taste it.”

“Please Jimin. Pleeeeease. I need you to suck it. Suck it harder,” you beg. “Right there. There! Don’t stop! Please! I’m so close.”

Jimin keeps steady for you despite your trembling thighs. He pounds your g-spot while he sucks as hard as you can take. Your mind goes totally blank, consumed by an orgasm so powerful you can see fireworks bursting behind your eyelids. Heat spreads from your core down your legs, up your spine.

“I’m cu— cumming— Jimiiiiin!” you cry, legs trapping his head like a vice. Your fingers leave his hair in favor of squeezing at your breasts as you ride out your orgasm. You buck your hips when he doesn’t let up after you’ve come down from your high.

“Take your pants off,” you pant, shoving at his head.

He finally pops off with a grin, his chin and lips covered in your slick.

“What if I’m not finished down here?” he teases, dipping his head back down to lick a stripe up your slit. Your whole body jumps when he touches your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Oh?” he feigns shock. “Sensitive?” he smugly asks, going back for one more taste.

“I wanna suck your cock,” you tell him, lazily pulling your legs up and turning your body away from him. You keep your eyes on him as you turn just enough to hang your head off the edge of the bed.

“Are you for real right now?” he asks, standing slowly. The tent in his pants is obscene.

“Please, Jimin. Just a little bit?”

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he sighs, tugging the zipper down on his jeans and letting them and his underwear fall to his ankles. He kicks them off and steps in front of you, smiling down at your upside down face, a little dumbfounded to have you wanting and willing to have him like this.

Your mouth waters at the sight of the swollen mauve tip standing at attention. He’s rock hard and so thick you’re not sure you can take him in your mouth, or your cunt for that matter. You’re glad he warmed you up with his fingers because you’re already clenching tight at the thought of that thick cock splitting you in two.

He reaches for the row of condoms as you take him in your hand and give him a few pumps. Just as he rips off one of the packets, you guide him towards the entrance of your mouth. You swirl your tongue against the tip and he drops everything, focusing on the way you tease him instead.

He inhales sharply. “Fuck. Who’s the tease now?”

You run your tongue along his shaft and smile when you get to the tip, giving it a quick kiss. “I’m savoring. What happened to trusting the process?”

He drags his lip through his teeth and clenches his jaw as you put his patience to the test but lucky for him you’re kind. He doesn’t have to wait long. You close your lips around him a moment later, reaching around his hips to guide him deeper, controlling the depth of his thrusts until he learns your limits and leans over you. With his hands on your breasts he rolls his hips. He can feel the tip of his cock bumping the back of your throat. He moans when you gag around him.

“That’s it, princess. Suck it. Just like that,” he praises.

Jimin is careful with his pace, and tender with his touch when he twists your nipples. He thinks he’s in control. He thinks he can take this just fine, despite the fact that your mouth feels fucking incredible. It’s when he watches you part your thighs and slip your hand between them to finger yourself while he fucks your mouth that he realizes he’s got none of the control he was so certain of. His balls tighten and he pulls out quickly and squeezes them, pinching at the tip of his cock and leaving you gasping for the breath you couldn’t catch with him in your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I need a second,” he huffs, eyes closed, standing perfectly still. He breathes slowly and deeply. If you could peek into his brain you’re sure you’d see any number of boring things trying to distract him from the image of you fucking yourself with your fingers while you sucked his cock. It’s futile. He’s certain he’ll see it in his dreams.

“Did I do something wrong?” you wonder, shuffling around so that you’re laying back on your pillows.

Jimin ignores your question. He knows you’re well aware he almost came in your mouth. “I need to be inside you like, now,” he says, picking up the condom again.

You watch him tear it open and roll it on with his one knee pressed into the mattress and his other foot on the floor.

"Come on then," you coax, opening your legs for him to crawl between.

He pushes two fingers inside you on his way up, dragging them out slowly and smearing your wetness around your pussy before he lines his cock up and sinks in to the hilt in one smooth press.

You gasp as he fills you, feeling the stretch of his girth, and he hushes your whimpering and brushes his nose against yours. "I'm sorry baby," he soothes. "I'll go slow." He seals the promise with a kiss before hiking your legs up high around his waist and wrapping his arms around you.

He lies still like this, waiting for the green light while he kisses you breathless. He moves to your neck when you break away to inhale, sucking more little bruises in the skin there. "Tell me when."

"Move," you moan. "Move. Fuck me."

Jimin pulls out slowly, leaving just the tip inside. He pushes back in just as slow, repeating the action several times until it looks like you're about to cry.

You need it so badly. It feels cruel to have him rocking so gently inside you when all you want is to be ruined by him. "Harder," you plead.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't make me beg," you whine.

"What if I want you to beg?" he jokes, dropping his hips against you. It's almost hard enough to satisfy you.

"Then I'll beg."

Jimin groans, dropping his head to your shoulder as he sets a brutal pace. He pounds into you, forcing the air from your lungs with his powerful thrusts, rolling his hips like his life depends on it. "You're so fucking good for me, princess. So tight. Feels so fucking good."

"Go faster," you tell him, grabbing a handful of his ass.

Shifting higher on his knees, he picks up the pace. Sweat beads on his forehead and over his lip. It beads in the dip of his cupid's bow and you lick it away before raking his bottom lip through your teeth.

“You feel my fat cock baby?" he asks. You moan in response pulling your legs higher so he can fuck you even deeper. "You like the way I fill you, don't you? Want me to fuck you full of my cum? Take it," he grunts. "You take it so fucking well. You gonna cum for me again, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts.

Jimin pulls out when you start to clench, not quite edging you but stealing the pleasure you were high on nonetheless. You whine at the loss of him, walls fluttering wildly around nothing.

"Can we try something?" he asks, lifting your legs and putting them to the side.

"What did you have in mind?" you wonder. You reach for his cock but he's already moving, nudging at your hips until you turn.

"Up on your knees for me, princess," he instructs. He kneels behind you once you're in position and smooths his hand up your spine, guiding you gently down onto your elbows. “Is this okay?”

“It’s good,” you assure him, wiggling your hips a little to get him moving again.

He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, dragging it through your folds and rubbing it against your clit. Finally, he pushes back inside you, coaxing a fresh wave of arousal with the stretch of his girth. It’s deeper like this and impossibly you feel even more full than you did before.

“Oh, Jimin,” you sigh, dropping your face into your folded arms. “Jimin.”

“Good?” He folds himself over you, pressing his chest to your back and sliding his hands from your hips to your breasts.

You thrust yourself back into him as you answer. “Perfect. You?”

It takes him by surprise but he follows your lead. He drives himself into your cunt while massaging your breasts and kissing your back. “Fuck, y/n…” he moans, letting his teeth drag over your shoulder before he bites down.

You hiss at the sting and he soothes it with his tongue and puckered lips.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous taking my cock like this. Feel how deep I am. You’re squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“Jimin? Jimin, I need—,” you gasp out between thrusts.

“What, princess? What do you need?” he questions, releasing a breast to play with your clit instead. “Want me to pull your hair? Want me to fill you with my cum?”

“I wanna ride you.”

“Oh, fuck.” Jimin pulls back immediately.

He lays down beside you and grabs at your waist, guiding you over his cock and holding on tight as you drop your weight and take him completely. Swiveling your hips, you set a pace slow and steady. Jimin’s thumbs rubs soft circles into your skin as you move.

“Go faster,” he urges, unable to keep his hips from rising to meet yours.

You shake your head ‘no’ and continue with your slow rolling pace.

“Please, y/n. Ride it like you wanna cum with me.”

Smirking devilishly, you slow down even more and lean over him with your hands on either side of his head.

He looks down, watching your breasts sway and the way his cock disappears over and over.

“Fuck, y/n. PLEASE,” he whines, roughly grabbing your hips and pounding up into you.

Your startled laugh quickly turns into desperate cries of his name. His cock hits your g-spot directly. It feels so good you don’t even think you need him to touch your clit to make you cum. But he does. He pinches your bud between his fingers while he slams into you, growling and moaning and begging you to cum with him.

“I’m close,” he grunts, licking his fingers and rubbing furiously at your clit.

“Me too,” you whine. “I’m gonna—”

You don’t have time to finish the thought as he takes you over the edge with him. He slams his head back against the pillows as he pumps his hips and cums to the wild pulsing of your orgasm. Your cunt milks every last drop from him and you cry his name, clutching his wrists and letting your head fall back so you can wail your pleasure at the ceiling.

Jimin gasps, picking up his head to look down at how your pussy spreads open around him. Your slick cum coats the condom and his mouth waters, remembering the sweet tang of your taste. You’ve barely stopped grinding on him when he sits up to push you down on your back.

Pulling out, he kneels beside the bed and pulls you to the edge by your legs so he can gently lick you clean. He exhales a hot and heavy breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before standing up to peel the loaded condom off his softening cock.

“That was… wow,” you pant, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as you try to regain your breath.

He’s already back at your side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you towards his chest.

“Yeah,” he agrees while softly combing his fingers through your hair. He’s tired.

You smile against his sweaty chest and plant a soft salty kiss against him. Through the corner of your eye you see the row of untouched condoms on your nightstand. “We’ve got a lot left. Wanna go again?”

He hums a deep throaty sound and laughs when your hand falls to his limp cock. “I want to, but I need a bit to recharge. I can make you cum again while we wait. Do you want that, baby?”

“I always want that. But you don’t have to.”

The groan in his throat sounds croaky as he leans in to kiss your forehead. “I want to.”

He reaches down to wedge his fingers between your thighs and your whole body jumps at the sensitive sensation. How dare your body betray you in this moment?

“Seems like you might need time to recharge too,” he teases while nuzzling against the top of your head and squeezing you in a warm embrace against him. “I’m okay with just laying here and holding you.”

“Yeah?” You smile and cross your leg over his to get more comfortable. “Mmm. You can always help me study for the next test while you’re here.”

Laughter bubbles from his throat. “Are you trying to seduce me for answers to the exam? You know I don’t grade them, right.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, barely containing your giggles as you look up at him. “I don’t think I need to seduce anyone for answers. My head feels a little clearer now.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” he prods while playfully ghosting his fingers down your side.

“Because I know I can be distracted outside of class now instead. I mean, if you wanna keep doing this,” you explain while nervously drumming your fingertips on his chest. “I know I’m not anything special, but—”

Jimin lifts your chin and pulls you into a deep kiss. “You are,” he whispers when he pulls away.

You lick your lips and blink a few times. “I was gonna say you make me feel like I am the most special vanilla ice cream cone on the planet.”

His shy, warm smile fills your stomach with butterflies even as he makes his joke. “Want me to lick you up?”

“And so much more.”

It’s a weighted confession. You sit up to look at him so he knows this. He purses his lips and casts his away. He was avoiding this conversation.

“I don’t know how much more I can give you. I want to be what you deserve, but things are so hard right now. I don’t know that I can be someone who’s good enough for you. You deserve to be showered in gifts and taken on dates. You deserve to be given flowers every day. I don’t even have a car to take you somewhere for a vacation. I’m not sure I can be what you want.”

“Just be yourself,” you state plainly, cupping your hand around his jaw. “That’s what I want. So far I like the person I see. I like you, the real you.”

“I like you too,” he blurts, eyes snapping back to meet yours. “But I can’t afford—”

You press a finger to his lips. “I don’t need expensive dates or fancy gifts. I don’t need you to take care of me— well, last night was the exception and you didn’t need money for that. I just want you to be with me. Talk with me. Spend time with me. Maybe have lots of sex? I don’t know, we can figure out the rest later.” You laugh, embarrassed by your own boldness.

“You see everything that I am and you still want me.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re amazing. Now I know for sure you’re too good for me. But,” he pauses and slips his hands into yours, “I want to keep seeing you. I like talking to you and the more time I spend with you, the more certain I feel about the choices I’ve made. No one’s ever made me feel so free. I want to hold onto that feeling. I want to hold onto you.”

You tell yourself not to cry as you straddle his waist and hover above his lips. “I’m yours then. Are you mine?”

He catches your lips between his and buries his hands in your hair. “I’m yours.”

#smutcentralnet #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin x reader

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hooniee · 3 years

Text

— ꒰‧⁺paris run away *ೃ༄

↷ heeseung x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷genre: fluff | comdey ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ warnings: not proofread | none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ synopsis: (y/n) just graduates from high school and feel incomplete but doesn’t know what’s missing. a trip to paris might be able to fix that ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ author note: this is @enhypenwriters event of the month! strangers to lovers <3 i think this was my favorite to write out of the three pieces but i feel like it’s lacking some flare :( i think it still turned out okay though. i hope you enjoy <3 ⋯ ♡ᵎ

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

you should have listened to sunoo when he said that it wasn't a good plan to travel to a foreign country on impulse.

you wouldn’t say you’ve ever been the most courageous person in your life. determined to break that trend, you planned this super out of the blue trip without much thought.

yeah. maybe this was a bit TOO courageous.

you didn't comprehend what compelled you yet here you were, arriving at paris charles de gaulle airport.

you stared at the large windows of the airport, viewing the plane that you had just left.

the gate for the concluding passengers had been locked by the flight stewardesses.

one of the stewardesses obtained eye contact with you, before shooting a smile and lightly bowing her head.

you absentmindedly returned the gesture, mind elsewhere.

bustling throughout the airport were people hurrying to their connecting flight or slumping into their lover's arms

people carried two or more suitcases with various bags strapped on their bodies, nothing on you besides a petite sling purse and one small carry on suitcase.

as weaved your way through the mass of stressed travelers, you briefly thought to yourself

how the hell did you get here?

2 days earlier

clusters of kids outfitted in blue gowns and caps could be recognized a mile away.

the graduation from high school to university.

your friend minji encloses her arm around your shoulder, your arm resting on her waist.

minji’s mom was stood in front of the both of you, gesturing wildly as she tried to take the ‘perfect graduation photo’ as she had put it

"okay pose! get a little closer, perfect. 1, 2, 3" your friend's mom counts.

the camera shudders which creates a beaming light to flash, eyes faintly twitching.

shrieks could be heard throughout the campus as girls queued up to take their final photographs with the popular guys.

minji's mom draws back the camera and we check the picture.

"it's cute," minji exclaims, peering at it a bit more closer. you nod your head in approval.

you would miss minji, one of the friends you could constantly count on in math class when you neglected to do your homework from binging korean dramas.

"i'll send you the picture later (y/n)! don't forget about me alright? you have my socials and you can always talk to me," minji grasps your hands

you smile, feeling sad at the departure of your best friend, "of course minji, don't forget me either"

"i could never," she brings you into a secure hug.

"sweet pea perfume," you say and she chuckles. sweat pea was minji's preferred perfume and you would miss that aroma.

"i have to go now, but i'll see you around okay?" minji says.

you could notice tears well up in her eyes and she fans her eyes to prevent the tears.

"don't cry ji, i'll start crying," you joked. "i live near here and you can always visit me! my door will always be open."

she smiled, "the same goes for you." her mother shouts her name before she has to go.

"alright, see you around," you wave to her as she leaves.

on the opposite side of the garden, your mom signals to you with your bouquet of red roses in hand.

"are you ready honey?" she asks you and you smile, nodding your head.

the car ride was in pleasant quietness, light radio music fluttering in. you had taken off your cap and laid it in the car seat next to you accompanying with your bouquet.

you had glimpsed outside to see your campus still arranged with your classmates, beaming and posing for additional pictures.

you bitterly smiled.

for the first time, graduation didn't appear like one of those liberating scenes of a movie,

1 day ago

you sprawled on his bed, staring straight up. a fan in your hand, fanning the perspiration that threatened to come.

your eyes match the fan's speed directly above your neighbor and best friend, sunoo's, bed.

his air conditioner was broken. with the avail of those elementary paper fans and the only fan stationed in the house, you were able to find comfort

you questioned if he ever got frightened of it dropping on him when he slept.

sunoo occupies the bathroom that's joined to his room, applying some light powder.

your mind strays, more thoughts simmering in the back of your brain. you sigh for the 10th time and sunoo being exasperated, allows out a loud groan.

it draws you out of your daze and you snap your head towards him."

"what is with you? what is on your mind sunshine?" he shuts his cushion, flinging himself on the bed.

"are you ever scared of the fan falling on you?" you felt the bed dip

"no, it's been like that for years, and don't change the subject. what's wrong?" sunoo retorted

"what makes you say that? i'm fine, " you answer

"uh-huh," sunoo rolls his eyes

it's the blatant eye-roll rather than the hushed one, he implied business

"you've been sighing for the past ten minutes, spill," sunoo says

of course, sunoo could recognize your distress. what sort of best friend would he be if he couldn't distinguish your emotions?

you huff, " okay then"

"i don't know why but i just feel stuck? i just graduated high school and nothing feels different, i mean it doesn't have to, but what do i do now? maybe i just watched too many movies"

sunoo tsked, " (y/n). sweetie, i graduated last year and i'm still stuck here. i do nothing besides go out or stay in my room. no in-between."

"but you have something sunoo. you have a bunch of your friends, you're an instagram star and i don't know, it's just different, "

it was accurate, sunoo was extremely popular. he had a bunch of friends and acquaintances from being the vice president.

sunoo inflated up on social media for his content from makeup to dance practices, a versatile instagram star.

you conceal your face with your hands before emitting a loud groan.

sunoo remarks, "i don't know how i can help you (y/n)? maybe you should try to rest a bit"

"easy for you to say, you, who isn’t dealing with a mid-life crisis, " you whine.

"this isn't a mid-life crisis, this is a post-graduation crisis which is totally normal. how about going out of town? obviously not to paris or whatever but maybe, what was her name again? minjoo's town!" sunoo suggested.

"obviously not to paris"

"not to paris"

"to paris"

"paris"

what about paris? paris was considerably away from your town and had a ring on the tip of your tongue.

you had sprung up, grasping sunoo by the shoulder and shaking him, "you're a genius sunoo! paris is a genius idea."

sunoo's eyes widen and he shakes his head while attempting to pry your hands off of him.

"no, you have to think rationally-"

you released sunoo from your hold which let him stabilize his spinning head.

"and i am! i need something new. being in this town for my whole life makes me realize, maybe i just need a spontaneous trip. "

your words scarcely blur together, adrenaline rushing through your blood as you understood this could jolt you out of your post-graduation slump.

"but-"

"no buts! pass me my laptop,"

present-day

you are currently disliking your choice, anxiety rushing through your veins, but it's too overdue to have other opinions.

you had landed in france and this was a life-altering moment; a chance of a lifetime.

peering nearby, you squint at the tiny english translations of the signs. you pull out your phone.

you open up the camera to see if zooming in would improve it for your eyes. as if on cue, your stomach rumbles vaguely making you startled.

you panicked as the pocket that was previously supplied with snacks became loaded with empty wrappers.

maybe if you would be lost in this wonderful city, you might as well try some of their famous pastries.

your muscles had retracted, the result of finally getting some movement after being restrained in a metal machine that was adjacent to the fiery sun.

you stumbled across this petite bakery and enter, sparingly bowing your head.

the owner was an older lady with her greying hair that designed it to resemble ashy highlights, pulled into a loose bun.

"que puis-je vous offrir?" she smiles.

"i'm sorry, i don't speak french?" you admit, embarrassed

as much as you assumed duolingo and rosetta stone could benefit you on a flight to paris, the only thing you could accomplish to say without messing up is "bonjour"

"that's fine mademoiselle! what can i offer you?" the lady shifts to englsih

you let out a sigh of relief, appreciative for blundering into this bakery.

"may i have your most popular pastry to go and a water bottle?" you smile, fishing out some euros.

you had looked down to the currency that you had exchanged before embarking on the plane.

"of course mademoiselle!" she says, reaching behind the counter and with her gloved hand, seizing a chocolate croissant.

"that will be 4.12 euros!" she rings you up in the cashier.

"is this the right amount? i'm not very good at counting euros," you revealed your hand where the money was.

she nodded her head and took the money, printing your receipt out. before giving you your receipt, she interviews you with a question that you weren't confident in answering"

"if you don't mind me asking, why are you here in france? not to sound rude! but i'm just curious"

you softly smile, sensing the kindness illuminating from her tone of voice. she wasn't rude at all and she was asking a simple question, but your brain struggled to obtain an answer.

"well, i would say i'm here to explore? i just finished high school and life felt incomplete. my best friend jokingly said "go to paris" and so I booked a ticket."

you look back up at her to see her delicate gaze. the rustling of the paper bag stopped the moment of silence

"that's amazing mademoiselle! france is the city for that. you must visit the notre-dam cathedral while you're here, it's beautiful. and maybe even find some love?"

she winks at you and you engage with a small giggle.

just like the show "emily in paris," you could merely fantasize about living a life like hers but it was an altered universe. she was an employed woman and you; a fresh graduate from high school.

"maybe! but i'm not looking forward to dating right now"

it wasn't a lie nor the truth. you would love to date someone right now but dating someone from a foreign country with a language barrier? not the most desirable idea. the owner laughs, handing you your pastry and water bottle.

"thank you for dropping by here mademoiselle! please enjoy your time in france,"

"merci beaucoup" you stumbled out, providing a small wave out.

the airport seemed to be more crowded than before. slowly opening the wrapping, you take a bite of the chocolate croissant and let out an audible gasp.

unquestionably, one of the greatest pastries you have tried in your life.

you promptly pull out your phone, snapping a picture for your instagram story. it was an adorable picture with the bakery in the background with the chocolate croissant in hand.

with "just landed" as your caption, you posted it to your close friends story. almost a second later, sunoo request to video call you.

you were welcomed by a piercing shriek into the phone.

"YAH I WAS JUST GREETED BY YOUR PARENTS WHO SAID YOU WERE AT A SLEEPOVER FOR A COUPLE DAYS? SLEEPOVER MY FOOT? YOU'RE IN PARIS-"

sunoo screeches over the phone and you timidly grimace, turning down the volume as people begin to stare.

"sunoo, i'm currently in a public airport with no earbuds plugged in, can you please STOP screaming?" you whispered audibly to him.

"OH, I FORG- sorry," sunoo sheepishly responds.

"my parents would never let me go this far so i just had to lie that i was going to a sleepover at minji's house which is out of town. plus i'm only going to be here for two days," you consult him.

"you saw me buy the tickets sunoo. why are you scolding me now? shouldn't you have tried to stop me while i was in the middle of buying the tickets?" you added.

"well now i want you to come back, who am i supposed to hang out with for the next 2 days?"

though it was dark in the setting sunoo was in, you could practically see his pouting face.

"you could hang out with jake? or sunghoon? aren't they both your friends?"

jake and sunghoon went to the same school as sunoo and you're buddies with them. you've known each other since middle school but jake and sunghoon were always closer to each other just like you and sunoo.

"jake and sunghoon hyung are busy on a vacation together in the bahamas"

you stifled a laugh in, "good luck being alone for the next two days."

"not funny (y/n)! besides that point, what if you get caught?"

"don't worry, i won't get caught because you're the only one who knows about this .as long as you don't rat me out sunoo," you scowl at him.

"i won't, i won't, i promise but you have to buy me something? deal?”

you roll your eyes, "deal mr. sunoo-shi, i have to go now. i need to try to find my hotel"

"be safe, love you!"

"i will! love you too"

you sulk after the call ends. without your best friend on your side, you felt a little feeble and lost but it's not time to be pondering like that.

paris awaits and you couldn't linger at the airport the whole day.

first challenge

getting to your hotel was a struggling. wandering around a city with no basis of the language besides "hello" and "thank you so much", didn't do enough for you.

first, you had to find a taxi that could converse in english. most people had turned you down as you couldn't speak french.

thankfully, it was a fortunate day and you met this kind lady who had coffee-colored curly locks, gentle chocolate eyes, and light freckles scattered around her face.

"do you speak english?" you crisscrossed your fingers, your legs close to giving out after scrambling for taxi drivers

"yeah, i do mademoiselle! would you like to hop in?" she extended a friendly smile and you had never felt bricks lift off your chest faster.

she opened the back of the taxi and you scouted in, permitting your purse to lay on your lap.

the women examined both directions of the road, looking out for passing cars and entered the driver's seat.

"where are you heading mademoiselle?"

you swiftly pull out your phone to your notes, "hotel le walt paris?"

you corked your eyebrow, making sure it was the right name before she nodded her head.

"a very famous hotel huh? right near the eiffel tower. i recommend that you wait till it gets dark and sit on the balcony to see the eiffel tower with lights. it's beautiful"

you smiled at the kind words of the lady, "i will surely try that! thank you miss..?"

"elena! elena is fine and you mademoiselle?"

"i'm (y/n)"

"it's nice to meet you"

"likewise"

the entire ride, you felt at some peace finally conversing with someone who understood english,

after a 30 minute drive, you had arrived at your destination.

feeling a sad departure from this mellow woman, who turned out to be 19 seeking to make some pocket money in the summer, she was one of the first people that you had grown connected with throughout this ride.

"elena, though it was a short time, thank you for keeping company"

you present her with a warm smile as she unlocks the door for you. you exit the taxi, clasping at your phone.

"here, give me your phone."

you softly planted it in elena's hand. you were perplexed about why she showed you your home screen until you realized you had a password.

you enter your password, giving it back to her. she did a bit of clicking and you could see her hands typing something in before returning the phone back to you.

"that's my instagram, stay in contact with me alright?"

you felt the sides of your lips curve into a slight smile. you dragged her into a soft hug.

"thank you elena"

she visibly hesitant before easing into the hug. she softly rubbed your back.

"i have to go, i might get fired if i stay here too long"

you bided her a fare-well. thirty minutes was an extended time to get a know a person.

and that was the first friend you met in france.

second challenge

checking into your hotel wasn't as difficult. most people could speak english and besides the uncanny looks that you received from the clerk, check-in was pretty smooth.

"here you are mademoiselle" the bellman lowers your suitcase in front of your hotel door.

"merci beaucoup," you smile and he returns the gesture before leaving you.

you look down in your hand where you are grasping the card tightly. you scan the card against the door meter and it flickers twice.

red, green

the door clicks before you push on it and reveal your hotel room.

at first glance, your mouth dropped.

the hotel room seemed better than it did on the online photographs which was a rare possibility.

though it was a small room, it was renovated beautifully.

overhead the king-sized bed, there was an extensive painting of the eiffel tower. a blue chair that held a place directly by the bed along with a little wooden table.

the hotel was fine but you definitely weren't

"(y/n) shut down in,"

"3"

"2"

"1"

before thinking, you throw yourself on the bed having the jet-lag kicking in. the bag offers a 'thump' sound as it connects with the ground.

'ouch that hurt'

you fish through your pocket, pulling out your phone. it was hardly twelve pm and you were already fatigued.

what was your strategy? you were in france for two days and you don't have a plan to do anything.

first things first, you needed to sort out this jet-lag.

1) taking a shower

showers are always a great way to awaken and could shake you from this daze. you endured a scream as your water turned to be ice cold. someone must be utilizing the hot water. that shower unmistakably woke you up

2) skincare

after getting out of the shower, skincare was the secondary way to wake up. cleansing with toner, dropping essence into the skin, and implementing a nice coat of moisturizer to lock-in.

3) fueling with food

food can beat anybody out of slumber if they're fueled with enthusiasm but you didn't have any food on you? that indicates it's time to go out and explore france.

unfastening up your suitcase, you drabble on what you can wear.

reconciling with a simple pair of denim shorts and a light pink tank top, you catch a fast mirror selfie.

being content with the ultimate product, you smile to yourself.

"phone, key, wallet," you whispered, securing the thoughts of having everything.

everything was arranged to go and it was time to tour paris.

third challenge

cruising through paris would be by notably the toughest challenge while you were here.

you had your phone to navigate solely with wifi and you couldn't be that favorable to be able to meet people who could speak english all the time.

you had entered a small restaurant, where you worked to communicate with people in defective french but they moderately understood what you wanted.

after that fiasco trying to order a chicken frricassee, you were able to appreciate your time there along with sending a picture to sunoo who reacted with,

"can that be the souvenir you bring back to me TT?"

you chuckled at the message, knowing typical sunoo, and finished up eating.

eating wasn't the one exclusive thing available in france. there were various activities but you were too afraid to venture any future for the hotel. getting lost too was easy.

that being said, eating after eating all you could do was roam around the city. it was around 2pm and you could spot a diverse crowd of people.

you could see kids. in uniforms that just got out of school or a cute couple that was experiencing their date.

you slightly squint and cover your eyes as the sun is at its highest point.

yes, paris was lovely and you would prefer to travel more but but you didn’ toriginally have a plan

for a couple of hours, you completed wandering around the area where your hotel is. you wished at moments like this that you would have jungwon, sunoo's friend, with you to help navigate you.

jungwon was also a friend you guys met in middle school but he went to your school. very mature for his age and great at preparation.

before you knew it, the sun had died down and it was time to retreat to the hotel.

'ah right! elena told me to look out at the eiffel tower as it gets darker'

you softly tread back to your hotel, observing the blisters at the back of your foot.

you could clearly sense the entire day of walking take a toll on your body.

you scan your key card and fling your bag to the floor as soon as you get inside. you open up your suitcase to change into suitable sleeping clothes.

you briskly cleansed your face and tied your hair back.

you had approached the balcony, guessing how to cautiously open the glass door.

you gradually shift the handle to the right and the door made a scanty creek. you gingerly put more stress on it, opening the balcony wide.

a distinct gasp could be heard from you.

subsequently taking a step onto your balcony, the frail breeze made you quiver in the long black tee that adorned your top half and the sweatpants that settled on your waist.

the balcony was small, barely able to move besides staying still.

you had peered to your right, glancing at the eiffel tower.

elena was correct. the eiffel tower was breath-taking at night. for the first time when landing in france, you could feel in harmony. below you was a crowded street.

it was only 8 pm yet you could feel your eyes droop as opposed to the bouncy pair of kids that ran through the moobs of people.

the radiant yellowish glow of the eiffel tower was able to save you from dozing off. you softly hum 'fly me to the moon,'

'fly me to the moon,' didn't have significance, it felt appropriate in the second.

you hadn't regarded it but a figure had gently peeked out of the other balcony, attentively listening to the silky melody that you were humming.

"nice song"

a voice interrupts and your humming had come to a halt, eyes widened.

you had turned to the origin of the voice and discovered the culprit

the balcony alongside you.

"thank you"

you glanced over, granting him a slight smile before he returns it.

"new to paris?"

he questioned, now you guys facing each other.

"yeah, just arrived this morning, and you?"

you asked before he softly smiles.

"not really, i've been here multiple times but the feeling is something i'll get used too."

you hum as a response

"how did you know to speak english to me? do i really act like a foriegner?"

you were growing more drowsy but this stranger was fascinating. who else could say they met someone and talked to them from a balcony romance?

"english song, random guess"

you nodded your head, not certain if he could see you but that was all you could muster up.

there grows stillness beside the bustling street below until the stranger breaks it.

"i know this sounds weird but since you're new here, would you like to go out with me tomorrow to travel the city?"

that question felt like ice water was just splashed onto your face. the proposal startled you.

the stranger didn't appear like a bad person. been to paris varied times, can acknowledge good music and good at conversation.

as much as this stranger flatter you, how could you trust him?

"as much as i would love to, how do i know that you're not trying to kidnap me, even worse, kill me?"

he stifles a laugh.

"hey knock it off, this is a very serious question, balcony boy"

you snicker, desiring to know the answer than anticipated.

"i promise you that i won't try to kidnap OR kill you. i'm just offering and you can even pat me down before we go out together."

this was by far one of the most peculiar offers you had received but this was THE stranger offer you came to france seeking.

you know sunoo would not advocate for numerous reasons and you can hear his voice already

"number one, dangerous"

"number two, dangerous!"

"number three, DANGEROUS!"

but sunoo isn't here right now. you chose to grab the opportunity. france had provided you luck today.

"alright then"

a moment of silence goes by before you hear him clearing his throat.

"you're serious right?"

he glances at you and your eyes lock. though you can't see that well due to the absence of light, you nod.

the eiffel tower gave you enough light that you could make our curious eyes, tall nose, fair skin that radiated in the soft lighting, and full lips that were curved into a smile

"i'll see you at the lobby at eight,"

next morning

to say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. you agreed to a stranger who claimed to know paris like the back of his palm. you met him off your balcony and now you were agreeing to go a date with him?

"you must be out of your mind!" sunoo exclaimed through the phone.

"well yes i must have been at 8 pm last night when fatigue was hitting the hardest but how can i say no now?"

"i don't know maybe, I DON'T KNOW YOU STRANGER DANGER?" sunoo shouts

and like you foretold last night, sunoo was not a big supporter of this idea. over the course of fifteen minutes, you had been continuously scolded by him.

you cringe, " sunoo, i promise that i'll be fine. i just need you to help me pick out an outfit"

sunoo rolls his eyes, "what are your options?"

though sunoo wasn't supportive of this, he couldn't let you go on a date without style.

you held up two choices; a blue floral dress that settled to your mid-thigh and a pink tennis skirt with a white cami shirt.

"well do we like this guy or do we like LIKE this guy?" sunoo questioned.

"what- well i literally met him last night? so i don't even like him, we're just going out for this one day since he offered"

"uh-huh, then the blue floral dress, it's hot there right?" sunoo says

"super hot," you groan.

you glance at the time, 7:00 am.

"i have to start getting ready sunoo, i'll update you later alright?" you smile

"alright, try not to get killed but have fun too! love you"

"love you too," you say back before hanging up.

you quickly hop in the shower and make sure to not take too long.

doing skincare, putting on the outfit, and spraying a little bit of perfume, you are ready to head out the door.

one last check to make sure you have all the things.

7:58 am

you quickly head down to see several people in the lobby.

a bellman, a pair of teenage girls who seemed like they were dragged here, a couple around the mid-40s trying to check-in, and a teenage boy that rested on one of the lobby seats.

it was evident who the balcony boy was but you just called out to be safe.

"balcony boy," you say.

the teenage boy that was seated turns around before flashing you a smile.

"miss singer,"

you airly chuckle at the nickname.

observing him in person was a lot different. you could see his long body proportion, bright eyes, sharp jawline, with fair skin that complimented his rich brown hair.

a distinct experience from seeing him on the balcony.

"i'm (y/n)! and you?" you ask

"i'm lee heeseung"

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theycallmebecca · 4 years

Text

Drabble: The Ass-sistant

When I claimed this anon prompt for @the-ce-horniest-book-club I had other story ideas in mind... but after my little adventure yesterday afternoon, I was inspired in a totally different direction. So part of this is what actually happened to me... and the other part is just made up. I’ll let you figure out which part 😉

[Edit] Silly me forgot to tell you what my prompt was! It was an anon prompt for “Is this a bad time to mention that I prefer to sleep naked?”

Title: The Ass-sistant

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

When you cancelled your date with Chris, you hadn’t expected him to show up. The two of you had only been dating for a couple weeks.

But there he was, standing on the other side of your front door with a grocery bag in both hands and a backpack thrown over one shoulder.

“Damn,” he muttered as he took in your appearance from the brace on your ankle up to the bandages covering your palms. “You really messed yourself up good, didn’t you?”

“I’ll be ok,” you assured him. You hurt like hell, but you’d hurt your ankle before and had recovered fine. Granted, you’d never rolled your ankle and landed on asphalt. This time you had, and you had the road rash and cuts on your hands and knees to prove it.

It was that accident, which had occurred when you’d been walking down the long driveway of your apartment complex to get your mail, that had caused you to cancel your date with Chris. You’d been honest with him on your reason and, clearly, he’d come to help.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked after you led him into your apartment

“Not yet, I was going to order in,” you replied.

“No need, I brought dinner,” he told you. “Sit down and get your ankle up. I’ll bring dinner to you.”

You watched from the couch as he made himself familiar with your kitchen.

It wasn’t until a familiar scent reached your nose that you realized he’d gone to your favorite restaurant and picked up your favorite meal. That had been the original plan for the evening, but he hadn’t asked you what you wanted. Obviously, he had remembered the fact from an earlier conversation.

“Tray table?” He asked.

“In the closet by the front door,” you replied.

From where you sat, you saw him walk down the hall and open the closet. It wasn’t exactly a Monica Geller secret closet of shame situation, but it wasn’t super organized either. You held your breath as you watched him dig around, but it only took him a couple seconds to unearth the two hand-me-down tray tables. Then he closed the door to the closet without a word.

Five minutes later, you sat with your ankle resting on a pillow with your favorite dinner on a tray table while Chris sat in a matching armchair eating his own dinner.

“Thank you for this,” you said to him. “I didn’t want to cancel, but I couldn’t see any way around it since I can barely walk.”

“I hated the idea of you here by yourself,” he admitted. “And I’ve been there. Getting hurt is the worst.”

You both chuckled at that.

“I, uh, brought stuff over to stay the night,” he said, meeting your eye. “Not to do that but in case you didn’t want to be home alone tonight.”

You didn’t answer right away, partly because you had just taken a bite of your dinner but also because you needed a moment to think. You had been toying with the idea of inviting Chris in after dinner for that reason, but that plan had gone south with your injuries.

You had spent the last couple hours hobbling around your apartment and it would be nice to have some help. It also meant you got to spend time with Chris and that made you happy.

“I’d love for you to stay,” you told him and then took it a step farther. “You can stay with me in my room or on the couch, wherever you’re the most comfortable.”

“I’ll do whatever helps you sleep better,” he said seriously, but you could see something in his eye that revealed his true feelings. He wanted to sleep in your bed with you. “That’s the most important part.”

“We’ll decide later then,” you replied with a smile.

Once you finished eating, Chris got an ice pack out of the freezer for you to ice your ankle while he did the dishes. He went above and beyond your expectations when he not only took care of the dishes the two of you had used for dinner, but took care of the dishes in the sink, too. And wiped down your kitchen counters.

“Are you really here or am I just having a really good dream?” You asked him as he came to collect the ice pack.

Instead of answering, he leaned over the back of the couch and kissed you on the mouth. Leaning into the kiss, you brought a hand up to rest on his jaw and forgot about everything. Until your ankle moved.

“Fuccccccck,” you cried out, pulling away from him.

“Fuck, damn it,” Chris echoed. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my fault,” you said through gritted teeth. Looking up, you met his eyes and gave him a small smile. “I liked the kiss.”

A worried smile crossed Chris’s face and he sighed before he carried the ice pack back to the kitchen. Then he shut off the light in there and made his way back to the armchair.

“No,” you said before he sat down. “Sit with me, there’s enough room.” Then, because you could see the hesitation in his eyes, added, “you won’t hurt me, I promise.”

He studied you for a second before he sat down next to you on the couch. Given that you were sitting sideways on the couch with your ankle resting on a pillow, it was a bit tight, but the two of you made it work. He even pulled you back a little, so you were resting against him.

It took you two a good ten minutes to pick a movie to watch, before he suggested that the two of you just watch your favorite movie.

By the time the movie ended, it was time for another ice session and pain reliever. Not to mention a potty break.

You could feel Chris’s eyes on your back as you limped down the hall to the bathroom. You knew he wanted to offer his assistance, but there were some things a girl had to do by herself.

When you came out of the bathroom, he had the ice pack ready for you as well as a small snack and pain reliever. While you rested, he double checked the doors and windows, making things were locked up for the night.

You could feel the stress radiating from him twenty minutes later when he followed you to your bedroom. Your anxiety over everything was high enough, you didn’t need his added to it.

“Do you need help changing?” He asked.

Finding your opening to lightening the mood, you tipped your head to the side and said, “Is this a bad time to mention that I prefer to sleep naked?”

He blinked in a stunned silence for a second before you started to laugh, and he followed your lead.

“In all seriousness,” you said, looking at him. “I’m happy you’re here with me tonight and that I’m not by myself. And you’ve been an absolute gem, I just need you to relax because you’re going to get me worked up again and then I’ll cry and -” You stopped talking as the anxiety from earlier started to build in your chest.

Then Chris was there. He wrapped his arms around you and held onto you as he whispered quietly, reminding you to breath. With his helped, you managed to pull yourself together.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him.

“Anytime,” he replied seriously. “I’ll go change in the bathroom and let you do whatever in here. Call if you need me.”

A short time later, you lay in bed next to Chris, trying to get comfortable, but not finding a comfortable position. It wasn’t your ankle cause the issue, however, but the muscles in your butt. After taking the brunt of your fall earlier in the day, those muscles had been ignored thanks to other immediate and demanding issues. And now they were making themselves known.

“Are you ok?” Chris asked. “Do you need me to go to the couch?”

“No, stay,” you said through gritted teeth. He had positioned himself as far to one side of the bed as he could without falling off, just to make sure you had enough room.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. There was a hint of worry, but he had taken your words about anxiety to heart.

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed as you closed your eyes unable to look at him. “The muscles in my butt are screaming at me.”

When he didn’t respond, you opened your eyes and regretted it immediately when you saw the amused smirk on Chris’s face.

“It’s not funny!” You exclaimed. “It hurts.”

“I’m sure it’s a... pain in the ass,” Chris snickered.

Groaning, you rolled into your stomach in hopes that position would work better. It didn’t.

“Would you like me to help?” He asked attempting serious while amusement was still laced in his tone.

“Like what, rub my ass?” You asked, turning your head to look at him.

“It might work,” he replied. “I assume you need something deep and therapeutic rather than just a groping.”

“Definitely deep and therapeutic,” you agreed but then offered. “You can save the groping for another time.”

“If you want me massaging your ass to stay just that, you’ll need to keep those other comments to yourself,” Chris stated as he pushed the blankets off both of you.

“Those sounds too,” he added when his first, deep press into your butt made you moan.

“I’ll try,” you replied as he continued to work.

After twenty minutes of getting familiar with your butt over your pajama shorts, Chris removed his hands and asked, “How are you feeling now?”

“Much better,” you replied, sleepily. “When my hands get better, I’ll give you a massage, too.”

“It’s a date,” he said with a laugh. “Get some sleep.”

“You need to sleep, too,” you told him, looking at him. “I’m ok, Chris, just sore. I promise.”

He held your eye for a second, but eventually nodded. “I’ll sleep,” he promised.

And he did. When you woke up the next morning, still sore psychically, he was fast asleep next to you, which made your heart fill with happiness.

#theycallmebecca #theycallmebeccawrites #chris evans #the ce horniest book club #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fiction #becca writes drabbles #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #reader insert

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Malaise. Yan Fugo x Reader [Implied x Giorno]

word count: 6.3k warnings: implied sexual relations, angst later on notes: i wouldn’t say there’s super heavy yandereness going on here, but given the context i figured yandere would play out a bit differently. it’s more like slight yandere if anything ...

Interacting with someone so close to your own age shouldn’t be this miserable. Bucciarati is far easier to converse with, it’s not even a close competition. He’s a pleasant conversationalist, humoring your ideas and offering valuable input. If you had it your way, you’d only be speaking to him and not… this bratty teenager who turned his nose up whenever you were around. As if your mere existence is the highest insult to his own. You’ll never forget how he looked from you to Bucciarati with a quirked eyebrow when you were introduced, the awkward encounter forever burned into your mind.

You blow a strand of hair out of your face, nose scrunching up at the current dilemma. Bucciarati had asked, more like softly nudged you, to get along better with Fugo. You’ve been trying, ever since he introduced you two that fateful day. In the back of your head, you wonder if the same task was assigned to Fugo in private. Though seeing as he’s remaining nose deep into his book, sitting as far as humanly possible from you on this couch, you doubt it. The phrase “avoid like the plague”, doesn’t even scratch the surface of Fugo’s attitude towards you. He’d sooner embrace the Bubonic Plague than you, should prior encounters be recalled.

“Was there something you needed?”

Speak of the devil. He must’ve seen fit to grace your presence with his most sacred articulation, filling the tense air with some much-needed conversation. The words aren’t malicious on a surface level, seemingly a reasonable inquiry considering you’ve been staring at him for a solid ten minutes. It’s how his voice is strained, knuckles whitening as he grips the book tighter, which gives him away. Fugo’s too easy to read at times, the same can’t be said when it comes to dealing with him. This might be the most difficult task Bucciarati ever assigned to you.

“Need isn’t the word I’d use,” you decide to ignore the not-so-subtle irritation on his features, pushing your strained luck as far as it can go. Linguistics aside, you put your cards on the table. “But, I was hoping to get to know you better.”

With the ball now on his side of the court, all you can do is wait, for whatever rebuttal Fugo decides to dish out. When Bucciarati isn’t around, Fugo’s preference is to act like you’re no more than a fly on the wall. Buzzing around his head and making it impossible to focus on anything that he does in his rare downtime. Honestly, he can’t comprehend why Bucciarati felt so desperate as to pluck you from whatever hole he found you in. You don’t even hold a candle to his own intellect, taking a naive, happy-go-lucky approach to life. Sure you’re a Stand user, and while it’s not a useless Stand, Fugo couldn’t picture you making the choices necessary in a fight to stay alive. The fact you haven’t been reduced to a bloodstain on the pavement is the only thing he finds impressive about you so far.

His eyebrow twitches at your pesky insistence, face settling into a grimace. “Am I right in assuming that if I don’t humor this pitiful attempt, you’ll continue to stare at me and disrupt my otherwise peaceful evening?”

You place a finger to your cheek, considering the proposition, before nodding your head. “It looks like you’ve got a better understanding of things than I expected.”

Fugo lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. So be it. He’ll wait until you fall asleep to finish his book, mentally noting the page number and setting it by his side. The act of surrender takes you off guard. You were fully anticipating a snarky one-liner, or for him to disregard you in some other way. Instead, he looks at you with disinterest, arms crossed over his weird swiss cheese shirt. You learned never to mention your inner critiques of his fashion sense, as it once earned a plate of parmesan being narrowly dodged at Libecco. Scary stuff.

“Now that I have your undivided attention,” Fugo winces at this like he heard nails on a chalkboard, “What do you like to do? Y’know, hobbies and stuff.”

It’s as good a start as any. Finding out a person’s interests unravels the essence of who they are, what they believe is worth their time and effort. Fugo gives your question an unexpected amount of thought, probably sensing you’ll call him out for a lackluster answer. Which you would, of course. For all his stubbornness, he’s gotten good at reading you. Maybe you should try shaking things up a bit to rattle him, keep him on the edge of his seat…

“Honestly, you couldn’t pick something more original…? I don’t know. I read, and I can appreciate a good movie.”

You let out a hum of acknowledgment, considering his words. A very safe, Fugo-like answer. It didn’t take a seasoned detective to assume Fugo liked to read, but the movie detail is a new bit of information that you will take full advantage of. He strikes you as the type to be snobby about his tastes in movies. Most likely only watching them if they’re popular with critics and saying the general population has no appreciation for the fine arts, too busy consuming braindead action flicks instead of true cinema. Not that you have any intention of voicing this conclusion to him, seeing as you’re trying to worm your way into a friendship.

Fugo snaps his fingers in front of your face, bringing you back into unfortunate reality. Maybe that statement earlier this morning about you zoning out too much holds some merit. Before he can berate you as he’s taken an apparent liking to, you speak up. “That’s good and all, but I need specifics.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“With pleasure,” you lean forward, waving your hands enthusiastically to emphasize your point. You get the sense that Fugo regrets asking for clarification, but neither of you are willing to back down now. “How about this. If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, which would you pick?”

“Is this some kind of job interview?” Fugo murmurs to himself, massaging his temples. You shrug your shoulders and offer a bright smile, and he knows sarcasm isn’t gonna cut it. “It’d need to be something interesting… maybe The Silence of the Lambs.”

He somewhat defied your expectations, not listing some obscure black and white flick filmed on a Blackberry. Maybe you jumped the gun on your initial assessment of Fugo Pannacotta, and he isn’t as grandiloquent after all. This confrontation is going better than you ever anticipated, and you almost feel guilty for selling him too short.

That is, until he sees fit to present an unnecessary addition to his previous statement. “Was that bit of English too much for you?”

So much for that. Once an asshole, always as an asshole. Shakespeare may have said something similar, but your reimagining is far more of a pinnacle in literary achievement. You deflate back into the couch, huffing at his indignant comment. Well, might as well burst his bubble now. It may be the only bubble Fugo has that you’re capable of the aforementioned bursting, so you’re going to savor every second of it. The entire reason you’ve never mentioned this facet of yourself is that you never viewed it as imperative. Bucciarati knew, you knew, that’s all that mattered. Until Fugo decided to dig under your skin and rub salt on the wound in one fell swoop. Figures he’d do that.

“Fugo.”

“[First].”

“You know English is my first language, right?” Your voice is more of a deadpan than anything, tilting your head to the side as if it is the most logical conclusion. The hypothetical cogs in Fugo’s head begin turning. There was that time you stumbled over a Naples exclusive dish, sfogliatella, Bucciarati kindly offering the proper pronunciation after you stumbled on it. Or how you have the slightest of accents, sometimes referencing pop culture that goes beyond him. He always wondered why muttering “cazzimma” to you only earned a light reprimanding from Bucciarati, and never offended you as more common insults would. He just thought you were some type of misfortune idiot. Whoops.

Not willing to throw in the towel yet, Fugo takes a posture of defense. This is a hill he’s willing to die on, you have to be playing some kind of cheap trick. “I don’t buy it.”

“Should I start reciting the entire Star-Spangled Banner by heart, or talk about how much I love fast food and baseball? Did you think my Stand would be a bald eagle that shot out apple pie? If that’s the case, you’re fresh outta luck. I’m living in Naples for a reason.” you respond in fluent English, flexing your hypothetical muscles. Fugo recalls his English classes from years prior to roughly translate some of your words, scowling at the realization you’ve proven him wrong. By god do you wish you had your phone with you to snap a picture, print it out, frame it in every room of this apartment, make it your lock screen, and send it to Bucciarati.

You’ll settle for drinking in the moment instead, Fugo muttering curses underneath his breath. Much to your surprise, from this moment forward, Fugo earned just an ounce of respect for you. Not that it says a lot, seeing as the cup of [First] respect was drier than the Sahara desert until recent times.

It’s still a step in the right direction.

ii.

Neither of you says a word.

Coming down from your individual highs, you feel how your hair sticks to the sides of your perspiring face. Your bare chest heaving with every labored breath, Fugo in a similar state of disarray next to you. Now that it’s all said and done, you’re unable to look at him out of embarrassment. Instead, you seek solace in staring at your ceiling, thoughts scrambling to rationalize the previous events.

It all started innocent enough. The two of you had been growing closer, becoming more comfortable in each other's presence. Even Narancia, who could be notoriously poor at picking up on subtleties, could sense your connection and even pointed it out. Until Fugo told him to knock it off (in far more vulgar language), saving you the shame of saying it yourself. You felt content with the state of things with Fugo, after months of getting him to come out of his shell with you. His words were still pointed, but not full of ill will. Even when three more additions were brought to your little group, Fugo remained the person you prefer the most. It might be wishful thinking, but you think he feels the same towards you.

Tonight had been like all the ones that came before. The two of you sitting on the couch, talking about pointless endeavors. Mista and Narancia were out at the time, leaving you all on your lonesome. For such a sizable couch, you didn’t realize how close Fugo was sitting next to you. Your thighs practically touching, occasionally brushing over one another. To combat the summer heat and mediocre air conditioning in your apartment, you were wearing short shorts and a tank top. Seeing as everyone else could walk around shirtless at their discretion, no one ever made a point to call you out on the less than modest choice. Even if they felt the itching, you’d shut them up without a second thought.

Fugo found himself focusing less on the words coming out of your mouth, and more on your glossy lips. He could smell your strawberry chapstick, the choice so tempting he found it offensive. Mixed with the chocolate gelato that you stole from Mista’s “hidden” stash, Fugo was bewitched on a level that shouldn’t be possible. Your skin, slightly glistening from the summer heat, eyes full of passion as you explained why you hated pretentious movies. At a certain point, you must’ve noticed how Fugo stopped responding to your impassioned rant. All he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you, to feel every inch of your body.

So he did.

It was far from suave, an amateurish clashing of teeth and tongue. You let out a surprised noise at the unexpected events but melted into it. While the kiss didn’t go as smoothly as he pictured in his head, you seemed to savor every second of it. He still remembers how eagerly you responded to his every desperate touch, how you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him even closer. The scent of your floral perfume and the sweet noises that left your lips almost made him drool, prompting him to go even further. Fugo’s brain almost shut down when you lowly whispered into his ear to come to your room, bodies soon falling onto your bed in a heated embrace.

You feel sore, but it’s not so bad.

Fugo’s the first to speak up after some painstaking thought, breaking the silence that’s resonated ever since he climbed off of you. “Are you… are you okay?”

It’s so unlike him to be this unsure, not knowing what to do or say. His heart still pounds in his chest, cheeks flushed and lips bruised. Suppressed emotions came crashing down over him like a tidal wave, drowning him before he could make sense of it all. You didn’t push him away or seem offended by his advances as he’d feared you’d be. Instead, you accepted all of him. Allowing him to carry out his pent-up yearning for you, in a state of bliss by how you called his name out.

Shameful as it may be, Fugo had envisioned this scenario in his head numerous times. He’d always hated himself for it, thinking he’s no better than a common pervert for the way he thought of you. All the ways he pictured you, in all the lascivious situations, only to see you bright and early for breakfast the next day. When you smiled and told him good morning, all he could do is look away in disgrace. Not that you ever knew about this, or that you ever needed to find out.

You let out a carefree, light giggle at his serious inquiry. Fugo’s eyebrows scrunch together into a scowl at your sudden laughter, finally working up the courage to look at you again. Any frustration melts away like winter snow in the spring at how breathtaking you look, your skin iridescent and eyes softening. They aren’t softening just for anyone, it’s for him and him alone. Does he deserve to be the one you look at with all this adoration? And should he even bother with the self-deprecating thoughts, when losing himself with you is so much better?

“S-sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just,” you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, the skin underneath your eyes tightening from the wide smile. “I never took you for the sappy, pillow talk type.”

Fugo’s nostrils flare, huffing without any malice at your teasing. He doesn’t have the slightest idea of what he’s doing, improvising as he goes. Everything that happened, every shared touched you shared, felt so surreal. Cheesy as it may sound, it was like a dream come true. What is there to say after a passionate encounter like that? He’s still rushing to get his bearings, hating the sensation of being this out of control. How you make his stomach erupt into a swarm of butterflies with every action, from the simple fluttering of your eyelashes to the cute way your nose scrunches up when you’re concentrating on a task. Fugo knows what this could be, in the back of his head. A quiet, hard to push down voice tells him what he’s been dreading to hear. That he’s a fool, deep in the throes of love.

It takes a few minutes for you to calm yourself down. Fugo’s observant, much to your chagrin, having picked up on your nervous tick of laughing when you’re unsure of what to do. It’d make sense, seeing how you just slept with your teammate who frequently called you an idiot a few months ago. You prop yourself up, bedsheets covering your bare chest. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He looks away, despising how your revealed skin makes his face flush a bright red. Even without looking at you, he can picture the knowing smile on your angelic face at his embarrassment. It’s the same smile you have when Narancia tells a particularly funny joke, when Mista goes on a silly tangent about his latest concerns, when Bucciarati says you’ve done a good job, or when Abbacchio chooses to sit down next to you when everyone else is being too annoying. Most importantly, it’s how you always look at Fugo, even when he didn’t think he deserved it.

You poke his cheek, murmuring his name. Fugo’s violet hues flicker back to you at the unprecedented action, perplexed countenance betraying his inner thoughts. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking like this. That the occupation you two are involved in is too dangerous to sustain a relationship, and that death is a possibility every day. It’s too late for him to nip these feelings in the bud -- that opportunity passed long ago, as he let it -- but he can’t allow it go past the point it already has.

Fugo lets out an inaudible gasp when you make yourself comfortable against his bare chest. Here he is, being torn on the inside between desire and duty, and you’re snuggling up without a care in the world. It’s the stark contrast that separates you, the same one that has him so hopelessly enamored. You have no intentions on making this easy for him, do you? He knows the answer when he sees your eyelids closing, threatening to fall asleep.

All is comfortably quiet until he hears your muffled voice speak up. “You didn’t push me away.”

“Huh?”

Fugo’s own response isn't the schooled, thought-out string of words you’ve come to expect. It’s a kneejerk reaction to a confusing observation, that he’s having trouble rationalizing in his head. While never the most forthcoming with his emotions, he was essentially ravishing you like a man possessed a few minutes prior. You can’t be that dense, can you? Scratch that, the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Even if not many got to see that side of you, there are still insecurities that weigh heavily on your heart. In the same way he struggles with self-worth, you fight a similar battle. The thought tugs on his heart, lips set into a deep frown. Everyone’s got something to deal with.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Fugo responds in a harsher tone than he intended. When he feels you tense against his chest, he curses himself, intentionally softening his next set of words. “But, uh, do you really want me to stay? The others might be back soon.”

You let out a hum of acknowledgment at his concerns, promptly waving them off. It’s not like Narancia and Mista are capable of sneaking into your shared residence, it’s ridiculously loud when they come home. “Just a few more minutes.”

He expected an answer like that and still has trouble relaxing. Truth be told, Fugo would prefer to lay here with you forever. To see what you look like when you sleep, to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest in sync with his own, to kiss your forehead and whisper goodnight. In an ideal world, that’s how it would be. Reality is a lot less forgiving, and there’s too much on the line. Being this close to someone else is vulnerable, painfully so. To hurt and be hurt, the opportunity now having the room to manifest. He knows all this, and he still can’t bring himself to mention the full force of his anxieties. Would you hate him? Think he was using you and then ditching you?

Fugo decides to be selfish, more so than usual. While there’s no way to push down all of these emotions, looking at you puts him at ease. His fingers ghost over an area on your neck he learned was sensitive, almost smiling when you lean into the touch. The way he feels with you is addicting. From your quick wit that matches his own, never being afraid to challenge his positions, it’s like he found his match. While he’s always found you begrudgingly cute, even when he was colder to you, it’s evolved into something greater. More serious and heartfelt. It’s horrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“Does this mean we’re dating?” you ask what’s been troubling you, hearing how Fugo’s heartbeat ramps up in speed. It’s a rational conclusion, seeing how comfortable you two are with one another. You don’t know if what you feel is love, not just yet, but you want to give whatever this is a shot. Fugo’s hesitation says all you need to know, though you wish it isn’t like this.

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.” Fugo answers honestly, the words so quiet you struggle to pick them up. It’d be a lie to say you’re not disappointed, though you don’t want to push him into anything he’s not ready for. Fugo has his own emotions to work through, and the last thing you need to do is jump into a relationship and ruin everything. So you lift yourself up, looking him deep in the eyes, Fugo blinking at the abrupt movement.

“Then I’ll wait.”

He doesn’t notice how close to crying he’s been this entire time. The world through his view goes blurry, a lump forming in the back of his throat. Fugo takes deep breaths to steady himself, and instead of berating him, you wipe away his tears with the pad of your thumb. Whispering reassurances into his ear, combing through his tousled hair with your fingers. Fugo wipes at his eyes furiously, cursing himself for breaking down in front of you of all people. He’s overwhelmed with gratitude when you decide not to comment on it further, to save him the embarrassment. Your words echo within his head like a holy mantra, a promise that he’ll hold onto.

If there were ever a reality where you looked down at him with disdainful eyes, he’d hate himself.

iii.

Wandering aimlessly isn’t the worst part.

No, that’d be letting himself off too easy. It’s not the sleepless nights, tossing and turning while his stomach churns, or even the tear-stained pillowcases. When walking around Naples, all he can do is submerge himself to the shadows. There’s shame in the act of hiding, and it’s all he’s come to know. Seeing the light of day feels too good for someone like him, someone who had been abandoned by everyone he cared about and was too cowardly to prevent it. It’s a suitable punishment to wallow in his own self-pity and loneliness, cursing his entire existence for the mistakes that haunt him every day.

It’s always a mistake to come to this café. This is your favorite café, and on days like this, all he can do is watch from afar. There are times he stares at the spot you frequent for hours, waiting to see if you decide to stop by that day or not. In a way, it’s almost better when you don’t. He doesn’t get a taste of what he’s missing out on, a forbidden fruit that he’s too ashamed to reach for. Most of the time you come here alone, with your favorite pastry and coffee, scrolling on your phone or laptop before leaving. He’s seen you meet with Mista a few times, even Trish once, but it’s mostly Giorno who accompanies you.

Today you’re on your lonesome, speaking to someone over the phone and then hanging it up with a smile. Fugo can’t help but wonder, who is it that makes you smile like that? As he sits from afar, drowning in his anguish, it’s what plagues him the most. That used to be the smile he saw on a daily basis, the one that made him fall head over heels in love. Now he’s too afraid to approach you, in fear of what you may say, or do. Even what you wouldn’t do would hurt. Would you look at him in pity, or curse him for his cowardly actions? Condemn him for not joining you on that boat, or ignore him all together?

Is it possible… that you’ve simply forgotten all about him? It has been almost two years since the worst day of his life. While he’s caught up in the past, you’ve moved into a brighter future. He doesn’t know how he feels anymore. Surely you deserve any happiness you can get after all the suffering you went through, but the thought of you being happy without him stings. It digs talons into Fugo’s heart, ripping it out of his chest. One of these days, he tells himself, he’ll work up the strength to speak to you. Even if it’s but a moment.

Though some part of him knows he’ll never be able to face you. Not anymore.

It’s early in the afternoon. Chatter from other patrons reverberates off the tastefully decorated walls, in a restaurant that Fugo’s been to numerous times. This particular visit is different than the ones years ago. Instead of the bustling atmosphere he’d grown used to, there are only two people at the table. Where laughter and lighthearted conversations before work used to occur, there’s nothing but silence save for some polite discussion. Fugo’s throat feels persistently dry, no matter how much water he gulps down.

Giorno sits across from him, legs folded and nursing a glass of iced tea the waiter brought seconds prior. Maintaining eye contact with the revered Don of Passione is no simple task. It’s a daunting experience, regardless of Giorno’s insistence on no formalities being necessary when interacting with one another. Fugo holds immense respect for him, otherwise, he wouldn’t be willingly sitting here right now. Still, his mouth is set in a straight line, leg bouncing underneath the table. Respect isn’t enough to snuff out the uncomfortable memories that appear up in this room, suffocating him from the inside out.

“Is there a reason I’m here?” The words come out more forcefully than he intended, Fugo’s eyes darting around his familiar surroundings, looking for something he won’t find. Someone he won’t find. He’s grateful to Giorno for his benevolence, as speaking this way to someone who’s technically his boss isn’t advisable. Someone as sharp as Fugo knows this better than most, but he also knows Giorno. While not understanding him entirely, his actions make logical sense in the grand scheme of things.

Being in Giorno’s position means being busy. Every second of the day has to be taken advantage of, whether it be discussing with other mafioso about recent happenings or plans, making multiple phone calls, and plenty of other headache-inducing tasks. So it doesn’t make much sense to Fugo why Giorno called him this morning, asking to meet him in person for lunch. While the two aren’t on bad terms, he doesn’t feel deserving of the specially allotted time. And in his gut, he feels there’s a hidden justification for the meeting that he’s yet to uncover. A few unpleasant theories come to mind, but they only serve to unnerve Fugo further, so he stuffs them down.

“I wasn’t sure of the best way to deal with Purple Haze. Your Stand… you’re already aware of the potential consequences it could’ve posed, so I won’t rehash it more than necessary,” Giorno begins to offer his insight into the matter, finally revealing the true reason Fugo was called out here today. “There were a variety of methods that could’ve been used, with varying degrees of success, but I took a gamble. Ultimately, she didn’t want you to suffer anymore.”

Fugo feels his heart drop, jaw slackening despite his best efforts. “Who… who do you mean?”

At this, Giorno quirks an eyebrow up. As if to wordlessly say, you know who.

“It might not be my place to delve into your past,” Giorno continues with a serious air, contrasted by his closed-mouth smile. Fugo never knows for certain what Giorno’s plotting behind that smile, and a part of him wants to remain oblivious. “But for you to overcome it, and in turn gain total control over Purple Haze, it must be addressed.”

He can guess where this is going, and he doesn’t like it. Giorno gives him a moment to consider the words, briefly glancing at his buzzing phone and then returning his attention back to Fugo. It’s a subtle change in body language, how Giorno’s shoulders stiffen just slightly as if he’s anticipating something. Fugo loosens the tie around his neck, the pair returning to tense silence. While the Don made valiant attempts in loosening him up, it only served to make Fugo more suspicious. All of his fears are confirmed when he overhears two voices from the room over, one of them sending his heart racing.

That’s… that you and Mista speaking to one another. He knows your voice better than he knows any other sound on the planet, even if it’s been years since he’s heard it up this close. Fugo still dreams of you, the way you used to stumble over certain Neapolitan lingo, or how wonderful it sounded when you graced his ears with a laugh. Now, he’s unsure of what to feel when hearing the muffled conversation between you and Mista. The sound grows closer, and with it, his dread. After rejoining Passione at Giorno’s behest, Fugo knew this reunion couldn’t be avoided. Nothing could prepare him for it.

There’s a telltale gasp when you turn the corner, spotting the back of someone you haven’t seen since you were a teenager. Someone who you used to hold in high esteem, who practically fell off the face of the earth after betraying the old boss. While Mista had hastily given you the details on the car ride over, it still felt too surreal, like a cruel joke. There’s a lot that weighs down on your heart, like stones wrapped around your ankles, dragging you into the depths. The details Giorno gave you about Fugo’s whereabouts were purposefully vague, most likely in consideration of your past feelings.

“Fugo…?”

You’re by his side before he can even process it, bending down and wrapping his stiff shoulders into a warm embrace. He doesn’t reciprocate it or stop you, his thoughts not capable of rationalizing what’s going on. Fugo can’t bring himself to look up at your countenance, in fear of what he’ll see staring back at him. That you’re even hugging him means you must pity him, viewing him as a scared little boy who was too weak to do what was necessary. It’s the only explanation that makes sense to him, and why he can’t return your affections. While it’s no longer his place to desire anything from you, not after all his shortcomings, he silently prays. That there may be some part of you that still cares for him, in the same way he has loved you from afar.

“I’m so glad you’ve come back.” you sniffle, emotions swirling and enveloping you. You lift your hand, using your finger to swipe away forming tears. That’s when Fugo sees it. It doesn’t hit him at first as one would expect. No, it’s a prickling sensation that starts from his chest and spreads throughout his body like a virus. His body feels ice cold, like a corpse clinging onto shreds of life, consumed from the inside out by sorrow. Nausea comes in waves, tempting him to flee from this heart-wrenching scene and never look back. Your hand falls back to your side, and Fugo’s eyes follow it with precision, unable to look away.

There’s a rose gold band on your ring finger.

Of course. Looking at you here, it makes sense why this would happen. Your body has filled out, beauty like that of an angel. The ability to draw people in and befriend them like a glowing aura has always been your strong suit, it was warm enough to thaw the ice around Fugo’s heart. It’d be a fool’s prayer to beg God to keep you for himself, and still, he had tried. Now that leaves the burning question, who? Who was the person that erased himself from your mind, taking the place that was carved out specifically for him? He looks at your beaming face, searching for answers he won’t find outright.

Your perfume is the same as it was before. Light and floral, but mixed with a hint of something new. Of someone new. It sickens him, the scent dizzying as it taunts him. Where has he smelled this before? It’s on the tip of his tongue, fizzling out before coming into fruition. The words you speak next are drowned out by Fugo’s throbbing head, too absorbed with dark thoughts to process them. He needs to know. He has to know. Fugo looks over your shoulder to Mista in search of answers, the gunslinger holding an uncharacteristically grim expression. They hold eye contact, Fugo staring at him with potent intensity.

Give me a hint. Anything, please.

Not everyone gives Mista the credit he deserves for being observant. Fugo must’ve looked like he’d seen a ghost, Mista swallowing at the pale complexion and vacant eyes. Believing that his intentions weren’t clear enough, Fugo almost looks away. Before he gets the opportunity, Mista offers a slight inclination of the head. Fugo closes his eyes, all his strength going into holding himself together. Picking up the shards of glass that maintain his emotions, hands growing bloody in the process. It’s a subtle movement, though there’s no denying in what direction it went, as much as Fugo wished otherwise.

Towards Giorno.

You move towards your seat, realizing Fugo must be going through a lot of emotions of his own. The last thing you need to do is suffocate him when it’s clear he’s processing the unfolding events. “I don’t know the last time you came here, but they recently added more desserts. I’m partial to the zeppole… it’s so light and fluffy.”

Mista walks over, taking a seat next to the befuddled Fugo, and speaking up to ease the uncomfortable silence that resonates in the room. “I’m starving, haven’t had anything to eat all day. Let’s get the waiter over here.”

While he flags down a passing employee, Fugo’s eyes follow your form. The table is different than how it used to be. Abbacchio would be sipping on wine, no matter the time of day. Bucciarati wouldn’t always be sitting down for long, seeing as he had lots of work to do, but he always made time for a good meal. Narancia loved conversing with you, seeing as you had lots of knowledge of the English music he was so partial to. You always sat next to Fugo, who’d lightly reprimand Narancia for being more passionate about rap than his studies, or telling Mista to knock it off with the unappetizing conversations he loved to start.

Now, you take the chair next to Giorno, who had pulled it out in kind when you walked over.

You said you’d wait for him, and Fugo fooled himself into believing that statement would last a lifetime. He always had regrets about not joining his team on the boat that day, too many to count. A new one has sprouted up like a weed, strangling his heart. If he had joined you, would it have been him you’d have married? Would it be him that you’d look at with that dazzling expression instead, the one that he had grown used to seeing? Now that he knows the full extent of the truth, Fugo wonders how he could have ever been so blind. Even Giorno -- who often smiled just for show -- had unmistakably lightened up as soon as you entered the room.

This… This is Fugo’s despair.

The rest of lunch goes as smoothly as it can. He forces himself to speak when spoken to, Mista kindly filling the room with conversation to prevent any awkwardness. This can’t end fast enough. He needs to get out of here, to excuse him before he does something truly stupid. A serpent whispers temptations of evil into his ear, and he doesn’t want to tune them out. Not anymore. Now isn’t the time to pull any idiotic stunts, so he remains still as a statue. When all is said and done, Fugo can’t get up from the table to dismiss himself any faster. He pays the necessary respects to his Don, swiftly offering his goodbyes. With his back turned, he hears your voice call out to him in the darkness.

“I’ll see you later, right?” you ask in between bites of your dessert, the words meaning more for him than you. He doesn’t know. He’s not certain of anything anymore, even after making up his mind on returning to Passione. The situation has taken a turn for the worst, in a way he couldn’t stomach any longer. So for now, he’ll offer up an unconvincing response, not capable of looking back at you.

At the reminder of all his failures.

“... Of course.”

#fugo panacotta #fugo x reader #fugo panacotta x reader #yandere fugo panacotta #yandere fugo #giorno x reader #giorno #yandere fugo x reader #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #yandere jojo's bizzare adventure #yandere #Jojo Part 5 #my stuff #not sfw

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lacheri · 3 years

Note

hi bae <3 happy 200 ! this is for the event,,

your Meyers-Briggs personality type + zodiac sign(s): infp-t & scorpio

your chosen aot s/o: eren ! lmao do you see my obsession

your preferred pronouns : she/her

choose a theme/trope: modern au! fluff // home & cozy vibes <3

anything you’d else you’d like to mention: love language is physical touch + quality time ,, i'll let you have fun w the rest hehe

hi lia! tysm for submitting I had sm fun writing this, hope u like it babe <3 also bringing out the ole emo tunes for you, don't mind me

Ten of Cups: this card represents ultimate happiness and fulfillment. the couple watch as their children play, hands to the sky, almost in a thank you to the universe. these two share a harmonic, ever lasting love, a good sign for a long-term relationship when this card shows up for you in a reading. tens in the tarot represent a completion of a cycle. you've kissed your frogs and you've found your prince.

iloveyoumorethanyouwilleverknow - nevershoutnever. "Nothing feels like home like you, babe."

Sounds of unfamiliar voices stirred you awake, your eyes blurrily focussing on the tv on the wall in front of you. The lack of sunlight from your apartment windows startled you, how long had you been asleep? You shifted slightly, the tingles of sleep leaving your limbs, and you felt immense warmth against your right side, cold spots becoming intrusive as you moved away to an upright position on your couch.

“Hey sleepy,” Eren cooed, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“What time is it?” you mumbled, rubbing the traces of sleep from your eyes.

“Almost nine, you pretty much died,” he chuckled, kissing your neck softly. “You hungry, baby? I can cook us dinner.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pass out on you,” you pouted, looking down at him now with half lidded eyes. “You didn’t eat?”

“You know when a puppy or kitten falls asleep on you, and you can’t move because you’re afraid to wake it up?” Eren teased, circling his arms around your middle.

“Awe, Eren, you could’ve woken me up,” you yawned, resting your head atop of his, feeling his hair brush against your cheek.

“Would you wake a puppy up? You looked so cute all snuggled up on me,” he breathed into the warmth of your skin, creating ticklish vibrations as he spoke. “Besides, that documentary you put on was pretty cool.”

You made a face, eyebrows crinkled, “I can’t believe I missed it, I was waiting all week to watch it with you.”

“‘S okay, we can watch it again later. Just as long as you don’t fall asleep on me again,” he moved his chin to your shoulder, gazing up at you with his soft jade eyes. “Are you hungry though? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” you hummed, placing a quick peck to his forehead, attempting to break his embrace and get on your feet, but Eren’s arms were locked in. “Eren, how are we supposed to get up and eat if you’re trapping me?”

“But I haven’t gotten enough of you yet,” Eren’s bottom lip protruded out, his eyes widened as he pulled his best puppy dog eyes.

“You’re such a brat,” you poked fun of his clingy state, bringing your fingers to trace his hairline.

“I love you!” he groaned, nuzzling his face into your shoulder to hide as if to hide from your words. “Five more minutes, just wanna’ hold you.”

“Didn’t just say you couldn’t move because I’m the puppy who fell asleep on you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Seems to me to be very much the point,” you laughed, kissing his exposed temple as he brought his face back up, the same pout now accompanied with a furrowed brow. “Looks like the tables are turned, babe.”

His expression fell, his mouth hanging open in wonderment as his eyes sparkled in the tv’s flashing lights, “I’m the puppy now?”

“A mut, but I guess you’re pretty cute, so maybe I’ll keep you,” you hummed out playfully as Eren broke out into a toothy grin.

“I’ll take it,” Eren batted his long eyelashes at you, leaning up to meet your lips in a kiss. As his pout brushed against your ready mouth, the loud grumble of Eren’s stomach broke the tension, causing both of you to laugh.

“Okay, let’s get some food,” you pecked his mouth, and Eren finally surrendered his hold as you stood.

He followed right after you, trailing behind as you navigated to the kitchen. Pulling open drawers of your pantry, searching endlessly in your fridge and freezer, you sighed. You really needed to go grocery shopping, all you had in your home were ingredients and spices. You could feel Eren’s eyes follow along in your path, a frown on his face as he came to a similar realization.

“We can go to the grocery store tomorrow, babe. We can just order something, I’ll pay,” he whipped his phone out, already typing in your address into an unknown app. “What are we feeling?”

His back was facing you, and you broke the distance by circling your arms around his muscular torso, your forehead resting between his shoulder blades, “Hm, I don’t know. Why don’t you pick? I’ll pick a place next time.”

“You always say that, and I always end up picking,” he threw you a smirk over his shoulder, his heart thumping in his chest as he gazed at you. “You want me to read your mind or something?”

“Yeah that’d be pretty nice,” you murmured, tracing small circles with your fingers above his navel. “You always know what I want anyways.”

“True,” his attention was back to his phone. “Okay, it’s ordered, should be here in a half an hour.”

His right hand left his device, resting over yours, gently breaking your hold. You whined in protest, but he quieted you by turning around, bringing his free arm to push the center of your back to his chest. You stayed like this a few moments, enjoying the warmth exuding from your boyfriend, lingering comforts of your nap had you snuggling against his sternum. Your breathing fell into the rhythm of his heart, your ear pressed against his breast. His hand trailed up and down your clothed spine, almost daring you to fall asleep standing up.

“Eren,” you whined after a few minutes. “You’re gonna’ put me back to sleep.”

“Can’t help it, you’re so cute after you wake up, just wanna’ touch and cuddle you,” his lips moved to your exposed forehead, placing delicate kisses. “You want to try watching that documentary when the food gets here?”

“What if I fall asleep again?” the point of your chin rested against the center of his chest, your eyes locking as a soft smile graced his handsome features.

“I can try to keep you up,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing a giggle to slip through your teeth.

“We won’t be watching it all then!”

“Guess you should stop being so cute then,” Eren brushed his nose against yours. “C’mon, I’ll make us some coffee and grab some blankets. We’re having a movie night, baby.”

At least you had made it halfway through this time, you thought before you had drifted off. Paired with the steaming mugs and the fullness of your bellies, neither of you stood a chance. You sprawled out on the length of the couch, Eren spooning you, squished against the cushions as his arms kept you taut against his chest. The light snores and steady breathing filled the living room like a melody as the two of you slept, the tv’s hum of that documentary long forgotten.

#lacheri's 200 follower event #BYE THIS WAS SO SICKENING TO WRITE #DATE NIGHT WITH BOYFRIEND EREN HAS ME FEELING SOME TYPE OF WAY #hope u like it lia <3

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teawithkpop · 5 years

Text

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 2

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 9.7k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, anal play (male receiving), praise kink, degradation, mentions of cross dressing, brief orgasm denial, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of birth control, dirty talk, pet play, cum play (kinda?), voyeurism, group sex, anal sex, pheww I think that’s it

this one is,,, twice as long as pt 1 eye-

anyways thank you for all the love for physcom! I’ll do my best to make this series ruin everyone’s lives hehehe the best it can be! ^^ <3

-------

“...What are you two doing?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit-

Emergency sirens are all you can hear in your brain and sheer panic floods your veins, leaving you frozen with fear. You know you shut the door, you had to have shut it, right? Why the fuck wouldn’t you have shut the door?

Surely this is the end. You’ll be exposed and all the reasons that you gave Taehyung not to do the thing you just did come flooding back to you now, echoing in your head like ghosts and mocking you in your own voice. Contract terminated… stigmatized… left with nothing... shadow of disgrace...

“What does it look like?” Taehyung answers without hesitation, drawing you back into the present moment. One of his eyebrows lifts minutely, as if he’s only mildly irritated by the witness to your transgression. If he’s nervous, you can’t tell.

Jimin’s eyes narrow suspiciously at Taehyung’s sarcasm. “It looks like you were-”

“Our lovely PhysCom was just helping me get off.” Tae interrupts him, his tone implying the obvious.

It’s then that you realize, Jimin only saw what you two were doing, not the reason behind it, or what you were feeling... this lie might actually work.

“Then why were you just kissing her? Why wasn’t she touching you, or something?” Jimin is not so easily fooled, and he peers around to confirm that neither yours nor Tae’s genitals are exposed.

Taehyung gives a shrug. "Kissing is my new kink." His eyes sparkle with the private joke, and he sends you a wink. “See you later, jagiya.” With that, he ruffles his hair back into place and heads out of the room, leaving you alone with a skeptical Jimin.

You're a little ticked that he left you to glue all the pieces of your cover story back into place, but you turn to Jimin regardless. "Sorry about that. Master Kim has been… experimenting,” you supply, trying to fill in any holes in the story, but sounding uncertain even to your own ears.

"I don't like that he calls you that." Jimin says, a frown on his lips as he stares after the direction Tae went.

You furrow your brows. "What?"

"Jagiya.” His gaze shifts back to you. “You know what that means, right?"

It’s rare for the boys use a word or phrase in their native language that you don’t understand. You don’t speak Korean, but the chip in your brain does. It’s hooked up to an audio-translation app in your ComGear, and automatically translates what you hear, so your brain perceives it in your native tongue.

Conversely, the chip also tracks your thoughts, so as you go to speak, it overrides the synapses in your Temporal Lobe and Korean comes out of your mouth instead. Such a device is considered standard among newly licensed PhysComs.

It didn’t used to be that way, and often PhysComs that were hired from foreign countries had no way to speak to their clients except through body language and learned commands. But the industry quickly realized that full communication is key to avoiding issues with consent, not to mention it's much more convenient, and so the best PhysCom networks provide their employees with proper translation equipment. Though there are still some smaller networks that can’t afford the technology and therefore, they usually only hire trainees who speak the same language as their potential clients.

On occasion, there will still be a word which has no exact equivalent in your language, such as hyung or jagiya, so the app doesn’t attempt to translate it. But usually you can pick up the gist of it through context, and Namjoon has been very helpful in providing you with articulate definitions before. You still remember the funny look on his face when you asked him about jagiya - the term of endearment Tae calls you.

"It's used between lovers, isn't it?” You ask, recalling Namjoon’s definition to be an approximation of darling or sweetheart. “Technically, I am his lover."

Jimin’s frown creases his brow. "Yeah, but you're a lover for all of us,” he says, a pout forming on his lips. “He shouldn't get to act like you're just his."

Normally you would tease him for sounding jealous, but his concern in this case is… founded, and another pang of guilt hits your gut. You don't know if you'll even be able to eat the dinner you made at this rate.

You try to change the subject. "Anyway, how can I help you, Master Park?"

"Oh, right.” His concern seems to melt away to embarrassment, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I sent you a message this morning. I don't know if you got it… then I messaged you about ten minutes ago, asking if we could… have a quick session."

Right. You haven’t looked at your ComGear since the incident with Taehyung, and you feel even guiltier. First you were lying to your client, and now you’ve accidentally ghosted him. Thankfully Jimin doesn’t hold a grudge, especially not with you. All he needs is a little personal attention and validation, and he’ll be purring.

Time to get back to work.

"Sorry, master.” You assume your persona and saunter over to him, running your hand up his arm. “I was so excited to hear from you, I forgot to reply,” you chuckle, your fingers dancing up his neck and combing through the hair at his nape. He visibly relaxes under your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you card through his silky locks.

“It’s okay…” he mumbles, shyly avoiding your gaze. Honestly, Jimin can be too cute for his own good. He and Taehyung are the same age, but they're like opposites in a way. They both exude the same level of charm, but one is effortlessly seductive while the other is effortlessly endearing. You have witnessed those roles reverse in them before, but no matter which way you look at it, they’re still two of the sexiest people on the planet.

“I did get your message this morning, master. Quite a scandalous outfit…" You click your tongue and raise a well groomed eyebrow at him. Jimin loves to be teased, and chastisement really puts him over the edge. “Why did a good boy like you send me such a naughty picture, hm?”

He looks away, a blush rising to his cheeks. "I was wondering if… if you could…"

You don’t try to finish his sentence for him, and lift one polished fingernail beneath his chin, coaxing him to look at you. "Yes?"

"If you could make me wear it?"

Oh. Another surprise. Jimin is a hell of a flirt on stage, and anyone would think he’s dominant in the bedroom, even just judging from how often he sticks out his tongue while dancing, or how he thrusts his hips to the encouraging screams of thousands. But that’s on the stage, when he’s in his element. By himself, in private, it’s a much different story. Jimin’s not exactly sure what he wants from you.

You had read up about all this in his file, and you’ve been working with Jimin to help him explore his sexuality in a way that’s comfortable for him. You’ve tried a myriad of things so far, and recently, he’s been enjoying more submissive pleasures. During your most recent session, he even asked you to penetrate him.

You had complied of course, but the experience seems to have inspired him to go further, to a kink you didn’t even know he had. Cross-dressing and the usual praise-filled humiliation? Oh, this will be fun.

“Chim?” Your tone is scandalized as you use the name he prefers when being submissive, and his cheeks turn scarlet. “You want to be dressed up in that outfit?”

He nods, turning his face to nuzzle his cheek into your hand. “Is... is that okay?”

Your heart melts, and you smile at him, brushing your thumb along his soft cheek. “Of course it’s okay, baby.”

He grins, his eyes turning to crescents, and you suddenly feel compelled to give him the entire world if he so desires.

You click your tongue once more and ruffle his hair affectionately. “We’ll have to order it first, okay? Then we can dress you up, Chim.”

“Okay,” he says, and you swear his smile could light up the night sky. “Until then… could you, uh… play with my butt again?”

You chuckle and nod. “Yes, I most definitely can. We still have some time before dinner.” You grab your ComGear, take his hand, and lead him out of the room, being sure to shut the door this time. “Come along, baby.”

As the two of you head off to his room, you’re almost able to forget the situation with Taehyung. That is, until you open your ComGear to pull up the picture of Jimin’s outfit and see all the missed messages from him.

I’m really sorry. My feelings got away from me. Please don’t ignore me, jagiya. I don’t want to lose you. Jagiya? I’m coming upstairs.

Shit. Feelings? A sinking feeling claws at your heart and you have to wonder just how serious Taehyung is about you. How deep do these feelings of his go?

“Everything okay?” Jimin’s voice clears your mind and you slide your ComGear back into its holster. His eyes are full of concern at your probably tense expression, and you have to push the guilt away again.

“Everything’s fine.” You aren’t sure that’s true, but maybe if you say it enough, it’ll manifest. Regardless, you don’t have time to worry about Taehyung right now. Your client needs you.

“Come on, baby boy. Let’s go make you feel good.”

-------

Jimin’s room always smells good, like fresh linen. You aren’t sure how that’s possible, when 80 percent of the time, the place is a mess. But you aren’t complaining. He keeps his bed made neatly, and that’s all that matters for your job.

"Take off your pants for me, Chim." Your voice is gentle as you start the scene and lock the door behind the both of you. Jimin wastes no time in following your orders, and strips his lower half down to his underwear. He’s about to take off his top too, but you stop him. “You should leave that on. It’s cute.”

He looks down at the oversized shirt, the long sleeves covering most of his hands, and the rest of the soft blue fabric hangs loosely around his torso. He smiles shyly and gets onto the bed, assuming position and laying on his back as he had for your previous sessions.

"What a good boy. Oh, look how hard you are already,” you purr, undoing the belt of your robe and slipping it off, leaving your body bare save for your utility belt. It feels good to put aside your worries and focus on work for a while.

Before you begin, you change a setting on your ComGear to let the other boys know you’re currently in a session. If you’re busy and they want to fuck, they have the option of joining in - if your current client allows it - scheduling you for directly after, or fucking one of the secondary PhysComs their company employs and keeps on call.

You’re their Primary Physcom. The secondaries are alternate fuck toys for when you’re unavailable, if you get sick, on your days off, while you’re sleeping, etc. For as long as you’ve worked for Bangtan, not once have they called a secondary PhysCom.

It does boost your pride a bit, but to be fair, you’re the only one who knows them so well.

Sure, they could go call another PhysCom to play with if they get super horny at three in the morning, but the secondaries are practically strangers to them. They’ve all expressed that they’d much rather wait, if it means they can get their hands on you instead of some random substitute, which is just the way you like it.

You’re their girl, and you know, better than anyone, how they like to fuck. Besides, if anything, them having to wait for you builds up the anticipation and makes them even hornier. In a way, you view their favoritism as job security. It’s only practical to stay in their good graces and develop trust and build connections with them.

You see the lust and excitement glittering in Jimin’s eyes as you climb onto the bed, facing him and sitting beside his legs. Your hand runs up along his inner thigh to tease him, and the bulge in his underwear grows a little more prominent.

“Now then. Have you been thinking about our last session, Chim?” You make your voice calm and soothing as your fingers skim up and down his thighs, giving an occasional squeeze to his soft skin. God, his thighs are thick… perfect for riding.

He nods. “Yes.”

You flick the thought away. He didn’t ask you to ride his thighs. Your fantasies are not relevant. “Good. And how do you feel about it? Did you like it when I played with your pretty little hole?” Your nails graze over his length, and he bites his lower lip. You like to do regular check-ins with your clients, in case they want to experiment, or something isn’t working for them. But with Jimin, everything so far has been an experiment, so you’ve been checking in more frequently. In a way, you’re kind of like a sexual therapist to all of them.

“Yes. I loved it,” he replies, gripping the sheets below him to avoid moving too much. “It felt so good.”

You hum in delight, happy that you two seem to have found a path to follow to pursue his pleasure. “Excellent. And if something doesn’t feel good, what do we say?”

“Calico.” Jimin murmurs, one sleeved hand coming up to cover his face. God, he’s a natural. His shyness is going to kill you. You set up safe words with all your clients, just in case. It shows your professionalism. You even have one, though you’ve never had to use it.

“Good boy. Always tell me how you’re feeling, okay?” You can feel his cock twitch at the praise, and you love being able to make him so happy.

He nods, a blush already rising to his cheeks. “Please touch me.”

How can you deny such a request? You hook your fingers in the waistband of his (no doubt very expensive) boxer briefs, peeling the fabric down his legs and off his body, to be discarded at the foot of the bed.

“Oh my…” You shift positions, spreading his legs apart and perching yourself between them. “What a pretty little cock. Look at that.” You would make a show of it even if it wasn’t pretty, but fuck, in this case, the praise is well deserved. Jimin’s cock is smooth and pink and perfect, just like his lips. Frankly, you think putting your mouth on either one would be just as pleasurable. The only fib about his cock would be the ‘little’ part - Jimin sports a fair five or six inches - but it’s all a part of the fantasy, for his benefit.

You hum to yourself as you snap on a pair of plastic gloves, as much for safety reasons as for his pleasure. Even though you all get checked frequently for any sort of sexual diseases and infections, you’re still having sex with multiple men every single day, and there are certain precautions one should take.

Hygiene is one of the many intricacies of your job and you follow your hygienic routine religiously. For anal and vaginal sex, PhysComs have various cleansers that can be inserted nightly to prevent anything nasty from taking root overnight. For Oral sex, there are specialized mouth washes that can be swallowed if needed.

But hands are a little trickier. Nails and cuticles aren’t as easily to clean thoroughly, and can trap all sorts of bacteria, so with something like fingering your clients, it’s safest to use a barrier to significantly decrease the risk of infection or contamination.

Now fully protected, your fingertips start to trace over his beautiful cock, skimming along his inner thighs, and teasing his precious little hole, building up his anticipation. He gives a small whimper, looking away as you tease him just enough to make his hips buck up into your capable hands.

Eventually, you take his length and slowly pump it in your hand, catching his gaze whenever he looks to you. “Does Chim want to be filled up? You want me to play with your ass?”

He nods emphatically, still hiding his face.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes! Please p-play with my ass.” His face is positively scarlet, and you smile with satisfaction.

You let go of him, and reach beneath his bed to pull out his little chest of treasures. Anal beads, plugs, vibrators, nearly everything can be found inside. You think he might have even added to the collection since last time.

You select a small ribbed plug with a jewel decorating the base and grab the lube from your belt. You spread a generous amount over his hole, gently massaging it in. As you carefully push your forefinger past his puckered rim, he moans. You slide your finger gently in and out, stroking his silken walls, and he writhes beneath your touch, already overcome with pleasure.

“Are you ready, baby?”

He nods again, then remembers to speak. “Yes. I’m ready.”

You ease the tip of the plug past his rim, and soon the whole thing is nestled comfortably inside him. He lets out a whine, his thighs clenching as you slowly work the toy in and out of his hole. “Good boy… such a pretty cock.” You pet his thigh soothingly, then start to squeeze his cock, pumping it slowly in time with the plug.

It doesn’t take long before Jimin is moaning and squirming, his length rock hard and leaking precum. His moans get whinier, his breath more shallow, and you can tell he’s on the edge.

With a kiss to his hardened dick, you ease the plug out of his ass and cease all contact. Orgasm denial is something he’d brought up last time, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to test the waters. "I think such a good boy can hold his cum in until dinner…"

"No! Please! I-I can't." He covers his face with both hands, writhing desperately for some friction to his aching cock, his pink hole puckering cutely at the sudden emptiness.

So freaking cute.

"Oh? You want to cum now?" You chuckle, teasing the toy around his rim. "But then how will you fuck me along with the others at dinner if your little cock is all sad and empty?" You trace your fingernail up along his length, barely touching him.

He whimpers in reply, his member twitching in pleasure.

"Can you cum again for me tonight, baby boy? Promise me. Otherwise this little cock is going to stay hard." You grip him by the base of his shaft, tortuously brushing your forefinger over the leaking head of his cock.

"I promise I can! I'll cum for you at dinner, I-I swear it…"

You grin. You don’t expect to hold it to him, but you know it’s the looming threat of punishment that’s what’s most effective here. "I have your word, baby boy."

Your hand pumps his length to completion while you grab the toy and fuck it back inside of him, and he cries out in ecstasy, quickly cumming in spurts all over your hand, a few drops landing on his shirt while his body trembles from his climax.

"Good boy,” you coo, milking him through his high.

-------

It doesn’t take you long to clean Jimin up, as well as cleaning the toy for next time, and then you pack everything away. He’s still breathless by the time you’re finished, laying on the bed as he recovers from his orgasm.

You’re about to get up and grab your robe from the floor when Jimin finds his voice.

"Why were you really kissing Taehyung?"

Your stomach sinks at the question. You’d been hoping he’d forgotten - as you were trying to do - about your little bend of will earlier. How the hell are you supposed to answer that? Honesty. Always go for honesty.

Well, as honest as you can be without losing your job. "He commanded me."

"Is that all it takes?" Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up and he props up eagerly onto his elbows. "Kiss me, too."

You curse the flutter in your stomach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You know for a fact that it's a bad idea, and out of the question, but damn if Park Jimin doesn't have the most luscious lips you've ever seen. The temptation is there, for sure...

"Just a little kiss?” He clasps his hands together, his eyes pleading. “It's only fair. You were practically making out with him."

Well, shit. Now what? Technically, not kissing clients is only a self-imposed rule on your part, plenty of PhysComs divulge in the act. You chose to restrict it for your own sanity. But, what now? Do you lie to yourself and stick to the book, even when you've already broken a cardinal rule? Or do you… see what's beyond the confines of its cover?

Fuck. You need to stop talking yourself into these things.

But to be fair, nothing bad happened last time, apart from Jimin walking in on you. You glance at the door, which is shut tight and locked, as is standard during a session. No risk of being interrupted.

Jimin’s eyes dart down to your lips as he chews on his own, waiting for your decision. Seeing his teeth tug at the plump pink skin has your heart skipping a beat despite your best effort to deny his effect on you.

Fuck it. Park Jimin is begging to kiss you.

"Okay, fine. One - very small - kiss." You pinch your fingers together to demonstrate.

“Yes!” He smiles brightly, and suddenly it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea after all. He sits up fully, scooting closer to you.

Why is your heart beating so goddamn fast? Why are you nervous about this? "But, look, you can't tell anyone, okay? I’m making an exception since this isn't really in my job description."

He nods eagerly and seems happy to agree to any stipulations. “Just this once, I promise. It’ll be our secret.”

That makes it sound even more condemning somehow, but you don’t have time to second guess it as he cups your cheek and pulls you in, pressing his lips to yours.

His kiss is like some sort of paradise, it leaves your mind feeling fuzzy... his lips… how are they so thick and soft? He’s hypnotic, sweet, addictive… like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

Before you know it, he's laying you out on the bed, moaning as he licks into your mouth, his tongue breaching through the kiss while he gropes your breast. Fuck, you shouldn’t have agreed to do this naked. But he tastes so sweet, you can’t think of a reason to object, too intoxicated by his lips. He breaks away from your mouth and starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body, and pretty soon he's mouthing at your inner thighs, his fingers skimming the base of your pussy plug.

Oh, shit. Wait, no, how did this happen?

"Master Park." You start to say, but then he's twisting the plug free, and you gasp at the unexpected stretch as it pulls out. "J-Jimin!"

He stops, his eyes wide at the use of his first name as he looks up at you from his lewd position.

"What the hell are you doing?" You ask, too flustered to rely on your usual formalities.

"Saying thank you." He replies simply. Then he leans down to kiss your clit, and begins mouthing at it devotedly.

You nearly jump out of your skin at the electric contact. Fuck, no one's gone down on you in a year at least, not since your training. Your body is screaming to let him continue, but you know it’ll lead to nowhere as he laves over your sensitive and neglected bud with his tongue, and you find yourself scooting up the bed and away from his blissful mouth. "Jimin, no. Stop."

You grab the plug from him and insert it again before anything can leak out, distress making your fingers tremble.

His face scrunches with concern. "Did I do it wrong?"

Damn it, why does he have to look like a heartbroken little puppy?

"No. No, it felt really good,” You assure him distractedly, trying to contain the frustration bubbling up inside you.

"Then why can't I-"

"Because!" You don’t mean to lash out, but your temper bursts before you can help it. "God, first Taehyung and now you, why is everyone trying to fuck with me today?"

His face falls, and he looks hurt. "I wasn't fucking with you."

"No, Jimin…” This day just keeps getting better and better. “I know you weren't. I'm sorry." You extend a hand, giving his shoulder a squeeze. It’s not his fault that you can’t seem to follow your own fucking rules. "But please don’t go down on me, not ever, okay?"

"Why not?” He frowns, and you feel even worse for letting this happen. “You deserve it. You do so much for us."

You pause, wondering whether you should lie. Always going for honesty hasn’t worked out too well so far... But looking at Jimin’s eyes, full of concern and confusion, you can’t bring yourself to lie to him. "Because I can't orgasm."

His brow furrows. "Just because it’s not a part of your job, doesn’t mean-"

"No, Jimin." You draw your knees up to your chest, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable for letting your guard down so easily around him. "I literally can't. I'm incapable."

"What do you mean?"

You sigh. This is not something you expected to have to talk about. "Do you know anything about modern birth control?"

He cocks his head to the side, unsure of where you’re going with this. "There are pills, right? And condoms too, I guess."

"There are also implants,” you explain, wringing your hands in your lap.

Jimin blinks, clearly confused. His gaze slides down to your chest for about half a second.

You sigh again. "Not that kind. It's like a piece of plastic they put inside you that emits a hormone. It stops ovaries from creating eggs. They're over 99% effective at preventing pregnancy."

He still looks confused. "Yeah, but why would that make you-"

You shake your head. "That's how most of them work. There's a newer, more tailored kind of implant for PhysComs that's 100% effective." When the technology was discovered, it was a hot item for PhysCom networks. Of course, some people developed negative side effects to it, but if one’s body was compatible with this new miracle form of birth control, it boosted their advantages in the field exponentially.

You let go of your legs and look to him, resignation in your gaze. "It puts the reproductive system into a comatose state and ceases all function of the ovaries and uterus apart from lubrication."

"Oh." Jimin looks shocked, and you don’t blame him. Barely anyone outside of the sex work industry has even heard of the technology. Who else would sacrifice their own pleasure for ensuring zero chance of pregnancy?

You’ve tried to climax before on your own, god knows. But the implant leaves you in a perpetual state of mild arousal with nowhere to go, like constantly revving an engine. Clitoral stimulation feels good at first, but with no resolution, it soon becomes tortuous.

You can put up with it for short periods, like if one of the boys starts to rub you while they fuck you. They mean well. But you’ve learned to convincingly fake an orgasm before it gets to be too much. Most of the time it’s not an issue, since your pleasure doesn’t enter into the equation.

"That's how all of you can cum inside me all the time. It's how I can keep it plugged up in me without any fear of getting pregnant." You laugh humorlessly, tapping the plug at your core.

Jimin stares at the plug, as if it’s presence has taken on an entirely new meaning to him. "I never thought about that."

You actually do laugh at his naïvety. “I’m sure no man would look that gift horse in the mouth.” You realize from his puzzled expression that the idiom might not translate well. “No man would question such a privilege.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess…” A shadow crosses over his face, and you decide to draw this uncomfortable conversation about your reproductive system to a close.

"There is a way to turn it off, in case of emergency side effects. But I can't just turn it off for fun. You have to understand that.” You rest your hand on his shoulder again, hoping he now comprehends the reason for your earlier outburst. “It's a part of my job."

"I understand. Sorry,” he says, giving you a small nod. He twists his mouth to the side, chewing over the revelations. "That must really suck. Not being able to cum."

You laugh heartily this time, your spirits lifted from his sentiment. "Yeah, it does sometimes." You give his thigh a pat and get up to go find your robe. "But I get to make all of you cum for me, so doesn't that make up for it?"

He shrugs, that pout appearing once more. You feel bad for bringing his mood down. You’re supposed to be lifting him up, making him feel good.

You tie the belt of your robe and come back over to him, your finger tracing under his chin.

"Come on, baby. Let's go order that outfit for you."

His spirits seem to lift a little at the proposition and you smile to yourself. Jimin truly is one of your easiest clients to please.

-----

A while later, you stand in Seokjin’s bedroom within his walk-in closet, admiring yourself in the full length mirror. You‘re wearing a gown more expensive than a house, and jewels decorate your throat and hair, elbow-length gloves adorning your hands.

“Are you ready for dinner, darling?” Seokjin purrs in your ear as he slinks up behind you, his hands lightly gliding up your waist.

“Yes, Master Kim.” Your answer is obedient and full of gratitude. You gaze at his reflection in the mirror, letting him take in your appearance.

“My, my, my… look at how lucky I am to have such a pretty pet, hm?” He chuckles, one of his hands skimming gingerly up your ribs and settling on your breast, squeezing you through the silken dress.

“Yes, master,” you sigh, leaning into his sinful touch and playing along with his fantasy. Seokjin's pleasure seems to hinge on your luxury. The more extravagance you’re dripping in, the hornier he gets. Which he often likes to complement with your unique position in the house...

“Such a pretty pet. I bet you’d gladly have us all fuck you on the dinner table, wouldn’t you?”

You shiver. Seokjin’s dirty talk was good when you started working for them, but it’s only improved over time. "Of course, master. I love to be your little fuck toy." You smile at him in the mirror, and then turn around in his arms, placing your hands on his chest. "Please use me tonight, any way you wish."

“That’s the plan, darling.” He chuckles, taking your hands and bringing them up to his mouth, languidly kissing each and every knuckle. His eyes burn with unbridled passion, and you wonder if tonight he’ll be in the mood to fuck you before you even make it to dinner.

Seokjin looks gorgeous, dressed to the nines in a tailored suit, with his hair styled perfectly, not a single strand out of place. Anyone would fall to their knees if they received a look like the one he’s giving you now.

“I have a gift for you, my sweet.” A smile tugs at his lips.

You gasp in delight, your eyes wide and innocent. “I’m so lucky! What is it, master?” You know what it is. He gives you one once a week, every Friday night, when it’s his turn to call the shots.

“Close your eyes, pet.”

You obey, and feel a slim piece of leather grace your throat. In a few moments he tells you to look in the mirror again, and you see a decorative collar circling your neck.

“Oh, master…” You don’t have to pretend to be impressed. Though Jin collars you every week, he never uses the same collar more than once, and this week’s purchase is a decadent, lacy display, with tiny jewels inlaid in its surface. “It’s beautiful.”

His hands are on you again, skimming up your waist while he noses your neck. “A perfect fit for my beautiful slut,” he breathes, and you feel a flutter in the pit of your stomach. Jin is just as charming as the rest of them, and It would be easy to underestimate him, but that would be a grave mistake. He gives off a certain aura of power that’s unparalleled by any other man you’ve met.

“How many?” He asks in a husky whisper, one hand slipping down your back to ease over your ass.

You shiver. Jin gets satisfaction on his night of control by knowing how much cum you’d collected inside you over the course of the day. “Sixteen.”

His hand comes down in a hard spank, rubbing you ass afterward to calm the sting. “Fuck. So greedy…” he rumbles, his voice thick with lust. “That’s more than two rounds each… Did you beg for them to fill you up, like the little whore you are?” His voice is soothing and elegant, a stark contrast to the filth coming from his beautiful mouth.

You nod, biting your lower lip. Anything to hear his silken voice in your ear again.

“You’ll eat well tonight, my sweet…” his voice lilts as he kisses up your neck, his hands slipping up once more to your tits, squeezing them possessively.

You moan softly, leaning your head back to expose more of your throat. Jin’s presence feels secure and thrilling all at once. You know he’ll never hurt you, but the effortless brand of posh dominance he wields keeps you on your toes.

“How do you feel towards Taehyung, pet?”

Your blood runs cold. How did he find out? Did Tae tell him what happened? Fuck. You try to keep your voice even, try not to let yourself become stiff in his arms. “Why do you ask, master?”

Seokjin shrugs one shoulder, more concerned with peeling down the bodice of your dress to reveal your breasts. “He requested the first taste of you tonight. I obviously won’t grant him the privilege of touching my pet if he’s done anything at all to fall out of your good graces.”

You swallow. You don’t know why Tae requested to go first, and you’d rather not give him any more ground until you’ve had a chance to talk to him. To make sure he knows the kiss was a one-time thing. To make sure he hasn’t gotten any ideas about those feelings of his.

“I… I would rather have someone else go first, master.” You say quietly, knowing that refusing Tae’s request could be just as condemning as going through with it and whatever he’d been planning to do to you.

Jin raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question you. You remind yourself to calm down. For all he knows Taehyung could have eaten all the breakfast cereal. He doesn’t have to know why Tae’s not in your favor right now. “Very well, pet. I’ll choose someone else.”

“Thank you, master.” You visibly relax, and let Seokjin play with your tits. He circles his thumbs over your nipples, and they quickly become erect under his touch.

“Do you know why I gave you this collar?” He murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he licks up your neck.

You know. “Why, master?”

“Because tonight you’ll be passed around and fucked by all of us. Every member of this household.” His words are crisp, in delicious contrast with his soft hands massaging your breasts. “You’ll be our dessert course. I want them to remember that you’re mine and that I’m granting them the privilege of fucking my sweet little toy and having a taste of you.” He nips at your neck, sucking gently before pulling away. “And I want you to remember that you belong to no one else in that room but myself.” He rolls your nipples between his fingers, tugging at the sensitive buds. “You obey me, and me alone. Is that understood?”

You whimper and nod. “Yes, Master Kim.”

“What a good little slut.” He smiles serenely and gives each tit a light swat before tugging your bodice back over your chest.

There’s a moment of tender silence as he observes you in the mirror. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s set his act aside for a brief moment. “You know, you’re really good at this.” He smiles appreciatively, giving you a warm hug around the middle and nuzzling into your neck.

You laugh at his break in character, laying your arms atop his. “It’s my job to be good at it,” you reply with a fond roll of your eyes.

He straightens his posture and adjusts his cufflinks, resuming his role seamlessly. “We’ll be starting the main course in thirty minutes. Be prepared.”

You nod obediently, and he hovers close to you once more. His tongue darts out to lick up your cheek possessively. “Be good while I’m away, pet.”

You watch as he leaves the room, the door shutting softly behind him. Well, you have half an hour of time to kill before they’re ready for you.

Pretty soon after you were hired, the boys’ company decided it would be a good idea for them to take turns living out their wildest fantasies with you. One night of the week is dedicated to each of them, and during that night, whoever’s in charge can do whatever they want with you, and the other boys have to either watch or join in. Their company said it’s good for group bonding, and for healthy sexual expression. The boys decided who would have which night through rock, paper, scissors, and Seokjin got slotted for Fridays.

Something about Seokjin’s banquet nights always give you jitters, as if you’re about to perform onstage. Well, if you count a tabletop as a stage. Regardless, you always find ways to relax before the show, so to speak.

Tonight you’ve decided to kill the time on your ComGear, with the few limited apps you’re allowed to have. You’ve become a master at solitaire and minesweeper, and as you take a seat on the chaise lounge, kicking your feet up, you select the hardest difficulty mode.

Honestly, you haven’t played a good game of solitaire in several weeks. But last banquet night you finished the novel you’d been reading and you’re now suffering from a severe hangover from the detailed and colorful universe the author had crafted. The next book in the series isn’t set to release for a few months, so until then you’re back at the games.

Easy. You beat the game in under ten minutes. There have to be some more difficulty levels. You switch to the settings menu and scroll until you find the gameplay options.

Huh. Strange. An option you don’t remember seeing before. ‘Connect and play with your friends!’ Psh, what friends? Did your network forget to disable the useless feature? Curious, you tap on the button and are greeted with a spinning circle, indicating that the game is probably trying to find your non-existent friends from your non-existent contact list. ComGears are so heavily restricted, they might as well be walkie talkies. All you’re allowed on there is messaging and scheduling between you, your clients, and your handler. Plus the games. But you’d requested those.

After several moments, you give up waiting and put the Gear away. You have more pressing issues on your mind, and solitaire isn’t enough of a distraction.

Why had Taehyung requested you first tonight? In fact, why had he disappeared right after the… kissing incident? He hasn’t messaged you since then, and the lack of closure is starting to make you antsy. You can trust him, right? Yesterday, you would have said so, undoubtedly. But you also wouldn’t have guessed that he had anything more than platonic feelings for you.

God, men are so complicated.

You groan and stand up, spending the rest of your down time doing your stretches, going through your positive affirmations, and trying not to worry about Taehyung. He’s under Jin’s control tonight, nothing bad will happen.

You hope.

-------

The dining room of the house is enormous, with high ceilings, chandeliers, and ornate paintings on the walls. Seokjin goes all out for his banquets and makes the room seem even more opulent with the addition of candlelight, a trained wait staff, and vases full of roses found on nearly every surface. Formal dress is required, and all the other boys are dressed just as fancily as Seokjin, though not all of them can pull it off quite as elegantly. He makes sure to hire a string quartet, the most elite caterers, and he even calls in the secondary PhysComs to assist during the meal.

You see, Seokjin has a very specific type of kink he likes to experience. It has to do with food, but it’s not exactly considered foodplay. Jin loves to combine fine dining with sexual acts.

During the first course, PhysComs are beneath the table, sucking off each member while they taste their soups and salads. They’re not allowed to cum until desert, so the PhysComs are only there to get them hard and ready.

The second course marks the beginning of the voyeurism. A fish course is served while a PhysCom is strapped down to the table and teased with at least one vibrator, moans and whimpers filling the room in harmony with the string quartet. Seokjin encourages the boys to talk about their week so far for some family time, largely ignoring the sinful sounds coming from their overstimulated centerpiece.

During the third course, sex is performed on the table by any number or gender of willing PhysComs, while the boys are forced to watch while they eat the stew you made. Jin often likes to give commentary on the PhysCom’s forms, or occasionally direct them around.

Lastly is the dessert course, where you make your grand entrance. All their hungry, lust-crazed eyes are on you, horny as hell from all the buildup. A maid brings you in on a leash, attached to your collar. You walk past the cluster of secondaries, and they aim stares at you, some jealous, some of admiration. You don’t care. Your eyes are on Seokjin. Your owner for the evening.

He stands as you enter, his eyes burning with barely contained lust. “Ladies and gentlemen. I present to you, our dessert.”

The other boys rise as well, and you can sense Taehyung’s stare burning into you, but you avoid meeting his gaze. Your eyes are locked on Seokjin. He orders the maid to help you up, and soon you’re standing atop the table, all eyes upon you. She hands the leash to him. You await his orders.

“Take off your dress, dear.” Seokjin says, sitting back down, and the other boys follow suit. His voice is quiet, but the atmosphere is so charged with sexual tension, you could hear a pin drop.

You reach behind to undo your zipper, the noise simply sinful as your dress falls to the tablecloth, pooling around your feet. You hear a few inhales of breath from around the table.

“Bring the bowl.” Jin’s voice commands again, and a butler hurries over with a jewel encrusted dish, setting it at Seokjin’s right. After that, he dismisses all the other people in the room. The only ones left are you and the seven men around the table.

Jin takes the dog bowl, holding it up to the light and watching the way the crystals shimmer and gleam. “How many loads did you take today, my pet?”

“Sixteen,” you reply obediently, and you see Yoongi’s jaw clench from the corner of your eye.

Jin makes a rumble in his throat, like an affirmative. “So much cum to fit in such tight little holes.”

You nod, awaiting his instructions.

He licks his lips and places the bowl at your feet. “Empty yourself out for me, darling.”

You smile. Kneeling down over the dog bowl, you carefully remove the plug from your cunt, and moan as you feel their cum start to trickle out of you.

You can feel their eyes staring, faces flushed, lips bitten, as their combined releases drip into the dish, slowly coating the bottom.

Seokjin’s hands are tented in front of his face, hiding all but his glittering eyes from view. “Now your ass,” he murmurs huskily, and they all watch as you twist that plug out too, and even more cum joins the rest. Sixteen loads from throughout the day fill the dish, and you look to Seokjin, awaiting further instruction.

“Jimin.” He says, and the boy’s ears perk up. “Would you do the honors of fucking her first?”

Jimin scrambles up, as if unable to move fast enough. He climbs onto the table and unzips his pants, his hands shaking. Meanwhile, Jin orders you on all fours and pushes the dish closer to you. “Why don’t you enjoy your dinner, my pet? It’s been cooking all day.”

He takes such filthy pleasure in scenes like this, it makes your core clench just from the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice. “Yes, master.”

You lean down and start to lap at the bowl. You can feel Jimin’s hands on your ass, but… something’s wrong. Why isn’t he fucking you?

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at him, a “what the fuck” look on your face for interrupting the flow of the scene, and see something unexpected. Hesitation colors Jimin’s expression, and he looks between you and Seokjin, seemingly torn.

Everyone’s eyes are on you.

Jimin leans over to speak privately, his tone lowered so only you can hear. “Do… do you want to be fucked right now?”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. Why the hell would he be concerned about that?

Seokjin realizes that something isn’t right, and he snaps his fingers. “Jimin, sit down. Hoseok, go fuck her.”

Hoseok is always a good fuck. He grins and climbs on the table, fishing his cock out of his dress slacks. “Ah, look at this ass. Pretty as always,” he chuckles and gives you a light spank before lining himself up with your entrance. He pushes into you with a heated groan, his hands groping you appreciatively. “So wet, baby…” Soon he’s snapping his hips into you at a good pace, filling you up with his length.

But you can’t focus. You stare at Jimin, sitting shamefully with his head bent. You look to Taehyung, sitting across from him, only to see a smirk on his face. What the hell is going on?

Taehyung subtly catches Jimin’s attention and mouths something to him, but of course it’s Korean, so you can’t make out the words as Hoseok pounds into you. Jimin’s eyes widen and his grip tightens on the stem of his wine glass, his knuckles white as his expression changes to one of anger. Tae merely smirks and sits back in his chair, a challenge in his eyes.

What the fuck is happening? Is this about you?

Your heart sinks through the floor. It has to be. You and your damn lips are the only common denominator in this equation.

Hoseok grabs your leash from Jin and tugs on it, the collar forcing your head back. Your neck feels like it might snap from the sudden strain of trying to keep watching their silent conversation, but it’s no use from this angle, and you give up, forced to stare at the ceiling as your legs quiver and anxiety washes over you, a sense of foreboding starting to build in your chest...

Someone jumps to their feet, their chair scraping back from the force, and something crashes to the ground with the unmistakable noise of breaking glass.

“Jimin!” Seokjin’s voice cuts through the sound of Hobi fucking you, and he halts his thrusts. You’re able to see again, pants of breath from Hoseok filling the silence as Jimin looks down, frustrated at being reprimanded. “What’s gotten into you? Sit down, now.”

Taehyung chuckles, seemingly satisfied with himself, and Jin looks to him with narrowed eyes. “That goes for both of you. Stop fucking around.”

“Yes, sir.” Taehyung merely shrugs. You can see Jungkook place a hand on Jimin’s arm, his eyes wide with concern as he helps him calm down and return to his seat. Namjoon shoots Taehyung a look, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, his eyes still fixed on Jimin.

Seokjin’s attention turns back to your display, sighing from the interruption, and he gestures for Hoseok to go harder on you. Hoseok is all too happy to comply, chuckling as he pushes down on your back, forcing your face into the bowl of cum as he pulls out of you and starts fucking into your ass instead.

Normally this is part of the proceedings. But this time you aren’t prepared, too distracted and worried by Taheyung and Jimin to focus properly, and you gasp into the bowl, choking on the pool of stickiness and sputtering on cum as you turn your face away to try and catch your breath.

Seokjin has no reason to sense anything is amiss with you, as you would sometimes struggle for show. He hums and pets your hair as you’re fucked into the table. You try to inhale, but your lungs won’t work.

You feel suffocated by the weird tension in the room, and your heart starts pounding in your ears. You know this is your fault. The other boys all look uncomfortable. Jimin’s shooting daggers at Taehyung, and Tae is glaring right back. This isn’t right.

You just need a minute to think, a minute to sort this out, to fucking talk to them and clear this up. Fuck, you want Hobi to stop. You want everything to stop. You feel overwhelmed, you can’t take it anymore, and you’re flooded with shame as tears spring to your eyes.

“Bulletproof!”

You cry out your safe word, a sob wracking your body. “Fuck! I’m sorry...”

It takes Hoseok a split second to realize what you said before he pulls out of you, his eyes wide with worry. The others all look just as shocked, and Jin jumps to his feet in an instant, helping you off the table. “What can I do, darling?” He asks with concern, grabbing a napkin and carefully wiping the cum off your face.

He doesn’t question why you broke character, he only wants to help, and that makes you want to cry harder. But you pull yourself together, inhaling deeply to keep any more tears from falling. There’s only one person who can help you clear your head, and your gaze turns to him, your voice wavering. “I need to speak privately with Kim Namjoon.”

All eyes fall on their leader, who looks just as surprised to be requested. “Uh, yeah. Sure thing.” Namjoon gets up, his high backed chair scraping against the polished wooden floor as he circles around the table to you.

Namjoon is the conduit between them and their company. An ambassador of sorts. If anyone could help you sort this out, it would be him.

As he comes over, he takes off his suit jacket, draping the garment over your shoulders to help cover your naked form. “We’ll just be a minute, guys,” he calls over his shoulder, one supportive hand on your back as he guides you into the other room, leaving behind a different sort of tension, one of fear and worry.

-------

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Namjoon says softly, shutting the door behind him. He’s taken you to one of the larger bathrooms, with a few areas to sit in addition to a toilet, soaking tub, shower stalls, and a few sinks. “Is everything okay?”

Clearly it isn’t, but him trying to bring some normalcy into the situation makes you want to cry all over again. “No, it’s not.” You sit down on a cushioned bench, covering you face with your hands. “Fuck, I’m so sorry…”

“No, no. Shh… it’s okay, honey, really.” His hand on your back is more of a comfort than you’d care to admit, and you find yourself wishing he would hold you, wishing you could cry in his arms.

But no, damn it, that’s what’s gotten you into trouble in the first place.

“Mr. Kim, I-”

“Please, call me Namjoon. I don’t mind.” He gives you a small smile, and his willingness to be informal with you adds another layer of comfort.

“Namjoon.” You start again, and he looks to you with sincerity. “I, uh… fuck, I don’t know how to explain this.” You give a rueful laugh, running a hand through your hair.

“It’s okay. Take all the time you need.” He rubs your back soothingly, offering you a tissue from a nearby box to dry your eyes.

“Thanks.” You blow your nose, and a part of you feels self-conscious, letting him see you this way. You haven’t been this out of character in front of him since you were hired. “Um… okay. So, earlier today, two of the other members kissed me. I didn’t want it to happen, but it did...” It tumbles out of you in a rush, and you glance down nervously. Damn. This the third time you’ve lowered your walls in front of them today. What the hell is happening?

He seems to chew on your statement for a moment before proceeding, his tone cautious. “It was against your will? They forced themselves on you?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. “No! No, they didn’t- it wasn’t like that. It was… nice.” You’re ashamed to admit that you took pleasure in breaking your own rules, but you can’t let him think they were forcing you to do it. “I enjoyed it.”

He looks more confused. “So, you did want it to happen…?”

“Not at first! I mean… ugh, I shouldn’t have let it happen at all.” You grouse, still kicking yourself for being so unprofessional. “I think at least one of them might… have developed feelings for me.”

A moment of clarity lights his eyes. “You’re worried about keeping up boundaries.”

You nod miserably. Thank god someone in this house understands your limits.

“Who was it?”

“Huh?” Your gaze snaps to him.

He repeats the question. “Who kissed you?”

Your eyes lower to the floor. You feel bad dropping names, but he probably has a good reason for asking. “Taehyung and Jimin.”

His mouth stretches into a thin line. “I see.”

“I don’t know what to do. I feel like they’re trying to breach my professional boundaries. But... I like it. But I shouldn’t!” You groan. “Fuck, I have to keep this job...” A weary sigh leaves your throat and you try to keep your tears at bay this time.

Namjoon makes a noise of understanding. He seems to ponder the problem for a moment before speaking. “Those two are young. They’re still figuring out their feelings.” He says it to comfort you, you’re sure. But you decide not to point out that he’s only a year older than them. “But I think I know how to fix this.”

You sit up straight. “You do? How?”

Namjoon smiles, his dimples poking through. “Like I said, they’re young. They want what they can’t have.” He smirks. “You made kissing off-limits, right? So they want it now.”

You’re following his logic so far. It would make sense that something off-limits is more tantalizing… that’s certainly how you felt when kissing them.

He continues. “Look, if you liked it, then that means it’ll happen again. No offense, but willpower is damned when it comes to matters of the heart.” He gives a wry chuckle.

“Remind me how we’re fixing the situation?” You ask skeptically, wrapping his jacket around yourself and nudging him with your arm.

He smiles. “It’s simple, really. I think you have to desensitize them to kissing. We need to show them it doesn’t mean anything that they kissed you. You’re still just their PhysCom.”

You blink, still at a loss. “How do we do that?”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and he has that same tender look in his eyes as he does right after you would get him off.

“I think we should go out there, and I should kiss you senseless, sweetheart.”

#bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader smut #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts ot7 #bts ot7 smut #bts smut fic #bts fic rec #jimin x reader #jin x reader #taehyung x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #the other boys will get more screentime dw <3 #thank you all for enjoying physcom! <3

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kchuarts · 3 years

Text

Flowers in Blood

A/N: PLOT TRAIN ROLLS ON CHOO CHOOOOO. This one took a bruiser on my wrist so Idk if i’ll write tomorrow. Also, the greek is “little mouse”

Summary: The Gala takes place but alas, things go awry.

Warnings: Slight non-con

Taglist: @lucywrites02 *(Let me know if you want to be tagged!!)*

Chapter 4: Red Rose

The sun's morning light seeped through the tiny slit between the curtains. In the light's path lay two peacefully sleeping spies. Jonathan had his back facing the window and one arm wrapped around Katie’s resting form while the other was under his pillow. It was inevitable that this sort of thing would happen and although Pine did promise he wouldn’t end up in this position, the odds were against him. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open as his body had told him it was time to wake up and he inhaled sharply. He panicked a little as he realized what position he was in and carefully removed his arm from over her. Much to his sheer luck, Katie woke up with a gasp as he did so and felt an odd poking at her backside. “I-I’m so sorry.” He blushed, looking away from her and getting up from the once comfortable state he was in. “Biology. I can’t help it.” He tried to explain further, stumbling over his own words and exhaling loudly. This was humiliating. She probably thought he was a damn pervert after all that work they’d done to get her comfortable with his touch…

“It’s ok. I uh… Actually woke up a bit before you and I forgot what it felt like to be held.” Katie’s cheeks matched Pines as she looked down at her own hands. “It was nice.” She added quietly and coyly flicked her gaze up at the dark blonde man.

Jonathan’s blue eyes widened slightly at her confession and felt his heart beat a little faster in his chest. “Really? I mean, that’s great.” He laughed dryly, pressing his lips together and nodded his head. He continued to chastise himself internally at his sudden dumb school boy antics. This woman had him feeling all giddy and tingly inside for some reason. She was much too young of course, wasn’t she? No, she was definitely in the appropriate category of a possible hook-up. Pine mentally smacked himself for letting his hormones think for him and sighed through his nose. “How long do we have until the gala? I was kind of wanting to maybe look around for a cafe and grab a coffee.” Katie’s question brought Pine out of his internal struggle and he looked up at her. “It starts at 5 PM sharp and it’s 9 AM right now. I suppose we’ve got a bit of time for leisure, I’m going to stay up here and give Angela a call for the plan of action. If anything bothers you or you sense something suspicious, come back right away and keep your phone on you.” He watched the girl rummage through her suitcase before pulling out a nicer set of clothing. “Ok! I won’t be gone for very long as I do want to doll up… I haven’t worn makeup in a long time.” She smiled bashfully, pushing her bangs from her eyes. “Oh! Do you uh, want anything maybe?” She shook her head and raised her brows at Jonathan. “Earl Grey tea if they have it, otherwise no thanks.”

Nodding, the young woman shut the bathroom door and changed into something more appealing. Katie figured a cute pink cardigan over a tank top and a pair of black skinny jeans was acceptable. Her sneakers were out of the question and she opted for a pair of flats. As she brushed her teeth, she couldn’t help but wonder what sort of dress Angela had picked out and prayed it would fit or at least be somewhat nice. Giving her messy hair a brush through and putting deodorant on, Katie came out of the bathroom and grabbed her phone, wallet and room card. “I shouldn’t be longer than like ten minutes. If I am, I’ll let you know.” She gave a wave to Pine as he stared at her before waving at him again. He blinked and shook his head, “Sorry, er yeah. See you then and be careful.” He cleared his throat as the door to their suite shut. Despite their short time together, Pine never took Katie for the pink type. He found that he rather liked her in that color and how her ass looked in her skinny jeans- Jonathan groaned, smacking his forehead as his morning wood thought for him just as he hoped it went away to save him some embarrassment.

The lobby was massive to say the least, and Katie was just now taking in how grand the place truly was as she hadn’t last night. “Stunning, is it not?” A woman’s thick accented voice caught the brunette off guard. Her green eyes locked with sharp amber orbs with bright red lips to match her pale complexion. “Y-Yeah.” Katie stuttered out, blushing a little as this woman was gorgeous. “Sorry, this is my first time out of the United States.” She rubbed the back of her neck, smiling sheepishly. The woman raised her eyebrows, yet gave her a charming smile “I can see that. No offense, dear but you do look a little lost. Were you by chance looking for somewhere or someone in particular?” She inquired. Katie nodded, “I was hoping there was a cafe around here so I could grab a coffee and a tea for my f-fiance.” She blushed hard thinking about Pine and fiddled with the fake engagement ring on her finger. “Ohh how sweet!!” The woman swooped over, placing her arm gently around Katie’s shoulders. “Come, come dear. I’ve been here thousands of times and I will show you the best spot for coffee. Oh how rude of me, my name is Abbey.” She gave the brunette’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. Katie was about to reply but her brain suddenly clicked at the name and her appearance. Dark curled hair, piercing eyes and slender form. She had to assume that Abbey was short for Abbadon.

“Oh jeeze, I’m sorry. I really need that coffee, I’m Natasha Romans.” she smiled, holding her hand out and shaking Abbeys. “You’re a funny one aren’t you.” The auburn haired woman chuckled, leading her new friend over to the cafe. She ushered Katie to sit with her and gave a genuine smile. While she did deal in the underground business and committed unsavory crimes, it was nice to have a casual and harmless conversation with the public from time to time. It reminded her of the life she had wanted over the life she lived. “So since you said you are from America, I am from Greece. I come from a large wealthy family but the status of my wealth does not compensate for who I am as a person. In fact, I prefer the little pleasures in life over the vast amount of wealth.” Abbadon picked up her menu and skimmed over the options. Katie couldn’t tell or not if this woman truly meant what she said as her appearance was saying otherwise. However, just because one is in a world of crime does not mean that they would like to continue to be in that lifestyle. “That’s really admirable of you. I like that a lot actually. Uh…” she gulped a little as she had mistakenly picked up a menu that was strictly in Russian. Her sudden panic brought Abbadon’s attention back, “Oh I apologize. Here, allow me to read the options for you as I’m fluent in speech and writing… And thank you, it humbles me so that you think alike.” She flashed the young woman a smile before translating for her. “You see, the finest gems are often the little places that no one goes to often. Unfortunately, 90% of the time these places do not have any English as it is universal, but that is exactly what I like about these corner delights.” She nodded, placing the menu down.

For a crime lord, Abbadon was extremely smooth and charismatic with her way of words. Her accent did not pose any hindrance to her English, which made Katie feel a bit better knowing she could understand her properly. “You’ve got a point! There is a little cafe where I’m from except further up north. I come from Michigan, I can point the place out really easily seeing as I can use my hand as the map.” She chuckled, seeing no harm in a little mindless conversation. Abbadon laughed softly at her gesture and nodded, “That is extremely useful!! Mm, yes I was right. You are a funny one indeed.” She smiled and listened to Katie give details on the cafe she had mentioned. Abbadon had a rather wistful look in her eyes as she listened further. She would be lying to herself if she said she had zero envy for such a mundane life. The drinks finally arrived with Abbadon ordering something fancy while Katie stuck to a regular Caramel Macchiato. “Ah, hold on one moment, I need to text my fiance and tell him I’ll be occupied for a little longer with a new friend.” The brunette woman beamed, shooting a quick text to Pine.

O’Connor - Soooo I think I just may or may not have made buddies with our main lady.

Pine’s eyes widened upon seeing this and he furiously tapped away.

Me - What do you mean by that? You’re not in trouble are you?

O’Connor - No! I accidentally made friends with her. Don’t worry, I’m not spilling anything. She seems really genuine though. Makes me feel bad she’s on the wrong side of the law. Anyways, I’ll let you in on more later.

“Fuck.” Jonathan bit his lip and ran a hand over his face. At first, he was going to call her on one of the worst rookie offenses she made, but this gave him an idea. He had to get on Roper's good side, and that was a rookie move he did so why not let her get on their target's good side. Perhaps, Abbadon would even slip up about her true work.

“Sorry about that, Fiance’s worried and all. He thinks we aren’t going to make it to the gala on time tonight if I keep chatting.” She saw Abbadon smile widely and clasp her hands together. “Why my dear! I hadn’t the faintest idea you were attending, oh how exciting!! Today just got better.” she spoke truthfully, taking a sip of her coffee. “I am ever so curious as to what you will be wearing. I can see the vixen in you.” She winked and took another sip. This caused Katie to blush hard and chuckle, “Thank you! You’re stunning as well, Abbey. Honestly, you’d make anything look good.” Both women chortled at the image and carried on about the Gala. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Abbadon lowered her voice, “Some of the artwork that is being shown tonight is fraudulent. Now, being in the business I am something like that shouldn’t bother me. Oh but it does.” She rolled her eyes, giving a huff. “You see, I have an eye for the arts and I do not care how much the fake may resemble the actual piece! I could never steal art. Not for money or for false identity. Art is meant to be admired and inspire great minds. I am a painter myself in my downtime.” She pulled her phone out and showed Katie a few pieces of hers. Either she was the best bullshitter Katie had ever met, or she was truly talented. All her doubts were proven wrong as there was a picture of Abbadon posing by a work of hers with a little boy. She smiled fondly at the picture, sighing. “My little Nikolai. He is my greatest work of art and my business trips have me missing him so. His birthday is coming up soon and it breaks my heart that I cannot be there for him.” her voice saddened. This was something Katie was sure of that Abbadon wasn’t lying about. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She placed a comforting hand on the other woman’s and smiled. “How old will he be turning?” At this question, Abbadon perked up again and smiled softly, “He will be ten! He is turning the double digits. Ohhh I remember when he was but a tiny peanut.” She wistfully reminisced fondly over her baby boy. “He was the fattest little chunk, so many rolls! But he was so precious. He will always be precious to me. I call him each night to tell him he means the world to me and we recite a tale my grandmother told me growing up. It is of love and that no matter what, the stars will shine for us.” She gave Katie’s hand a squeeze back.

“That’s beautiful, Abbey. Truly. It makes me think if I want kids one day or not.” She bit her lip, looking to the side. What would her life be if she ever had children? Katie hadn’t ever really thought about it as Travis had ruined any sort of blossoming question leading to that reality. However, now it was a different story with Pine helping her overcome her fears and finally break the shell she had hidden behind for so long. “I keep all of his drawings too and make sure each time he draws, he sends me a picture if I am away.” She showed Katie a file of the drawings. “Well he certainly takes after his mother in regards to talent! This is incredible. I could never draw anything like this.” She saw Abbadon give a sad expression. “Why Natasha, of course you could. We all start from some place, do we not? All you have to do is just pick up a brush and let your imagination go wild. My grandfather always told me that when I was down. I tell my son the same thing and the more he draws or paints, the more his talent blooms. Do not be so hard on yourself, you are young and have plenty of time!” She gave Katie’s hand a firm pat and then released it. “Oh! I’ve had so much fun I’ve forgotten to check the time. It’s nearly noon. You simply must let me have a look at you when you arrive! Thank you so much for this, Natasha. Your heart is true.” She smiled sadly at Katie before getting up and bidding her farewell. The sad expression remained on Abbadon’s face as she made her way back to her room. How she wished she had a life like Katie’s, so mundane and relaxed. She would spend every waking moment with Nikolai painting all that they would ever dream of in the remote hills of France. There, she wouldn’t be a part of this wretched family and would start life new. No more controlling brother, abusive husband who never loved her, and cursed family lineage.

A feeling in Katie’s gut told her that Abbadon wasn’t as evil as the papers led her out to be. She was true to her word in loving life and the artistic side of it. “I hope you get to see your son soon, Abbey.” She said under her breath before getting up and making her way back to the suite.

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There wasn’t much to tell Jonathan about Abbadon, except for the fact that she didn’t seem like she even wanted to be a part of whatever organization she was in. While slightly disappointed, Jonathan went with her information and hoped they would snag a lead at the gala.

Checking his watch, Pine tapped his foot as it was almost 4:15. He knew the building holding the event was only a ten minute drive, but it didn’t help his nerves. For his attire, Jonathan donned a simple black suit without a tie and his button down popped open, exposing a bit of his chest hair. His hair was slicked back and face freshly shaved, leaving no stubble. “Sorry! I know I’m not the best, but I had to remember how to put on makeup!!” Katie called from behind the bathroom door, feeling her cheeks heat up once she got a good look at herself in the mirror. The red mermaid shaped dress was close fit and complimented her curves in all the right ways. Her face was made up perfectly as she carefully contoured and shaped her face. She gave herself a vixen-like look as Abbadon had mentioned earlier, and didn’t turn out hooker like at all. Her brows were plucked and shaped accordingly and lashes full and long. A highlighter made her cheekbones shine and she even placed some on her collarbone. To top it off, she adorned a seductive red shade to her pouty, kissable lips. Her short hair had been straightened to a pin with some of her bangs dusting over her brow. Thankfully, she had brought a pair of gold dangling earrings that were delicate enough just to add to her look. The only thing she hated was the ampleness of her bust and how the dress seemed to make her breasts show off.

She cracked the door open, seeing that Jonathan had his back facing her. Quietly, she slipped out of the bathroom and turned the light off. “‘Kay.” She muttered and saw Jonathan’s body turn around and come to a complete stop. Any breath that Pine had left in his lungs subsequently left upon seeing her. His lips parted and he struggled to find the words to say as he was floored by how elegant the brunette appeared. Her hair sort of reminded him a little of his past lover Jed Marshall’s, which warmed his heart. “What? Do I look bad?” Her face dropped and she grimaced, panic settling in. “No! N-No. You-” Jonathan covered his mouth, still taking her in and basking in her beautiful form. “You look amazing. Sorry- It’s just… Wow.” He nodded, shyly glancing away and chuckling to himself. “You’re not too bad yourself.” She retorted, her cheeks sporting a similar shade. After a few more awkward moments, Pine cleared his throat and could not stop himself stealing glances. She was truly more beautiful than she had initially led on when they first met. What a steal she was, such a vixen hiding underneath the cutesy shy young woman. “I don’t suggest taking phones, so we will have to find a common meeting ground should either of us get lost.” Jonathan spoke, setting his phone in his suitcase, only taking with him his wallet and fake ID. “G-Good idea.” Katie replied quietly, taking her phone out of the small clutch that came along with the dress.

“Katie.” Jonathan’s voice was quiet speaking her real name.

Her green eyes, now standing out more than ever from her makeup, flitted up to his blue gaze.

“I mean it. You’re stunning.”

His continued compliment made the brunette feel special, wanted… Something she never thought she would ever feel again.

She gave him a smile and took his hand as he held it out to her. “I’m glad I have such a beautiful woman on my arm… And hey, those heels made you a bit taller!” He jeered, earning an elbow to the ribs and a snort. “Jerk.” She laughed, making her way out of the suite with Pine hand in hand.

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Just as Angela had promised, the ride was relatively short and the two were at the gala in no time. Jonathan felt Katie tense up at the sight of all the people inside and cautiously wrapped an arm around her waist. Her response to his gesture was to actually grab onto him and get closer. “It’ll be ok, I won’t let anyone touch you in ways you don’t want them to.” He whispered into her ear, giving her side a squeeze. Katie didn’t want to let go of Pine as she felt safe with him and he smelled incredibly good, even with the hint of smoke. “S-Steven?” She stuttered a bit as she was thinking of saying his actual name. Pine turned to her, raising a brow as he handed the guard their ticket and guided Katie over to their designated table. “I would like to dance with you at some point. If you’re ok with that.” Her lips were graced with a soft smile. “I’d love nothing more.” He admitted truthfully, placing a kiss to her hand. The young woman’s heart raced from his action and she wondered what his lips would feel like against her own…

“Natasha!!” A familiar voice called.

The two looked up to see Abbadon scuttle over while in a gorgeous black and gold gown, a man with similar features to the woman following in short.

“Abbey!” Katie got up, going over to Abbadon and giving her a hug.

“I was right!! I was absolutely right!! You are a catch! Just look at you! Red is your color, my dear!! Oh you look like the most beautiful rose.” Abbadon clasped her gloved hands together in delight. Her smile faded as she snapped her fingers, “How rude of me! Danny, this is my new friend Natasha. I met her in the lobby today and we had the most wonderful time over coffee. Natasha, this is my older brother Daniel.” She nodded at her with a smile, noticing Jonathan lingering close behind. Her eyes narrowed slightly as this man was handsome yet oddly familiar. Katie held out her hand to Daniel only to have him snatch it and swiftly place a kiss to the back, “The pleasure is mine. My sister has such a wonderful taste in finding the most beautiful of friends.” His amber eyes gleamed with hidden intentions. Katie swallowed hard and her nerves began to act up from the sudden gesture. “It’s an h-honor, Daniel.” She froze up as the strange man continued to hold her hand. “Please, call me Dan-”

Jonathan cleared his throat, placing a comforting hand around Katie’s waist and smiled at Daniel. “This must be your fiance you told me about!! My, my…” Abbadon winked at Katie and batted her eyelashes at Pine. “Y-Yes! Yes this is my fiance. He proposed last m-month in my hometown.” She lied through her teeth and placed her own hand over Pine’s lacing her fingers with his out of a need of comfort. Daniel did not look the least bit amused at this and huffed, adjusting his tie when he stopped, noticing what his sister saw earlier and scratched his beard. “Sorry to cut things short, but I need to discuss something with my sister. I do hope we cross paths again, Ms. Natasha.” He gave the brunette one last wicked smirk before grabbing Abbadon’s arm and muttering angrily in their native tongue to her. Katie watched as Abbadon was yanked away rather brashly from them. “Are you alright?” Pine gently turned Katie and looked at her in worry. She nodded and gave Pine’s hand a pat, taking a deep breath and calming down. “I-I doubt we’re gonna get anything right now, so we can just enjoy ourselves yeah?” She looked hopeful and much to his dismay, Pine agreed. “Yeah. I’m a bit famished anyways so we might as well get something to eat while we’re ahead.” He relaxed a bit more and sat down at their table. Once they had placed their order, Jonathan looked at the brochure of items that were being auctioned. “She did tell me one thing.” Katie took a drink of water before continuing. “She said half of the paintings are fakes and was very adamant about how even she wouldn’t be so low as to steal a painting. She likes art a lot.” She took another drink. Pine nodded and continued to skim the items, looking for anything that could possibly stand out as suspicious.

One thing that did stand out however, was the name of the family hosting the gala printed on the back. Pine had seen them before during his time under Roper and just passed them to be another crime involved family. Whatever the case was, they had seen Jonathan as well and now the game would be a bit more tricky. If he was spotted, he would be accused as the man that framed Roper and ruined any chance at bringing Abbadon down. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the faces of the family when he soon spotted them in the very back where Daniel and Abbadon were. The latter of the two actually did not seem to be having a good time and looked rather miserable. Perhaps Katie’s intuition was plausible, but he couldn’t afford to be relying on her heartfelt feelings when the supposed leader of the crimes was right within eyeshot. Making a mental note, Jonathan turned back to face a curious Katie who looked around at the surroundings, awed by some of the structure. Their food was shortly brought to their table and was obviously exquisite but also too small in proportion. This wasn’t some sort of fancy dinner party anyhow. Jonathan took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips before turning his attention to Katie, “Do you still want to dance?” He gave her a soft smile. The brunette gleefully nodded and took his hand as he led them both to the dancefloor.

Naturally, the song choices were classical and slow paced for those like Katie with more restricted dresses. One of Pine’s large hands rested upon the small of the young woman’s back but looking at her to make certain she was ok with it. She gave him the go ahead and blushed as she placed her hand in his free one. Within minutes, the two became lost in each other's eyes as they danced. They moved gracefully on the floor and seemed to have a fire ignite within them both. Others looked at the pair with a certain degree of envy or admiration at how unified they seemed. Jonathan spun Katie around, pulling her close to his chest just as the song ended and gave a boyish smile. “Not bad. Of course, I assume Cameron forced you to go to military balls.” He winked and caused Katie to giggle and blush. “Yeah, he might have done that a time or two.” She bit her bottom lip, noticing that her hands were still resting upon his chest and his arm wrapped around her frame. Something inside of Pine told him to lean in and kiss the girl as he was ever so curious to how her lips felt. His blue eyes glanced down at her lips then back to her face with her eyes half lidded. Katie’s heart began to beat fast, her breaths shaky with anticipation as she wanted him to do what he was thinking. She wanted him to do it more than anything and only him. What the hell was wrong with her? One minute she hates his guts and now… Now she’s smitten.

Before Pine can go through with his plan, the music starts up again and his face falls. This song is well known for partner exchanges and apparently Katie knows of it too. “Stay calm and breathe-” He quickly tells her before they are separated and onto the new dance. Much to his luck, Pine’s partner happens to be Abbadon who is not looking very amused. “Hm. I wonder what one of Roper’s men is doing here? It would not possibly be to rat my family out would it?” She spoke lowly, her gaze full of venom. Jonathan grit his teeth and tightened his grip on her waist, “That easy? Tsk, some agent you are.” Her words caused his grip to loosen and suddenly be pulled down so she could whisper in his ear. “It is not me you want, Birch… Or should I say, Pine? Do not play stupid with me, I know exactly who you are and what you’re here for.” She suddenly shoved something into Pine’s blazer. “It is my brother that you want. I never wanted any part of this family business! The only reason I am telling you is because he is keeping my son hostage.” Jonathan’s heartbroken to hear her words and his mind immediately thought of Jed. “He knows that I am faking my fidelity and it is only a matter of time before he kills me. Remember these names, quickly! Belladonna, Poppy, Bloodroot, Daphne and Wisteria. You already know my branch, Wolfsbane. Keep your friend close, Pine. Her heart is true.” Her grip released and tears shimmered in her eyes. “Please. Save my boy.” She whispered before moving onto the next person.

Abbadon’s words shook him to the core and he had no idea that there were four other branches within the organization. As it turned out, he didn’t need to look for a head start at all as Abbadon was a double agent and just wanted to live a life free of crime and be with her son. Katie was right and it made him feel bad for initially judging her.

“Mmm, we meet again, little rose.” Daniel’s accented voice sent a chill down Katie’s spine as she felt his fingers dig into her hip. She yelped softly at his touch as she was pulled to his body tightly. Her green eyes were wide with fear as she was forced to dance with Abbadon’s creep of a brother. Alarms were blaring in her mind but her past trauma would not allow her to do anything further but comply with Daniel’s touch. “What happened to the vixen my sister told me about earlier?” He whispered into her ear, his scratchy beard tickling her skin. “It seems that we have a shy little mouse instead. Mm, no matter. You are still very beautiful μικρό ποντίκι.”

Daniel selfishly shoved the next person in line to dance with Katie. “Please.” She felt her voice fail her as tears burned her eyes, fear taking it’s hold. Daniel mock cooed to the young woman, wiping a tear from her face. “Tears do not suit you, μικρό ποντίκι. At least, not right now they do not. Perhaps they are better suited when I have you screaming, begging for your lover's life as I hold it in the palm of my hand.” He flipped her around, his hand travelling up her body and coping an unconsented feel of her breast. Katie felt lightheaded, her breathing choppy and anxiety clouding her mind. “Mmm yes. Such a beautiful rose you are, my dear Natasha~ If that is your real name of course. I wonder if you are aware of Steven’s true identity? We know why you are here.” His fingers came around her throat and his lips placed a kiss upon her bare shoulder. The young woman let out a silent sob, her body trembling hard and breathing hard. “Shh, shh, shh… Fear not. You are too pretty to waste, μικρό ποντίκι. Oh no, I will not have you be a prostitute. I’ll make you one of my wives.” He nipped at her ear, his hand grabbing a handful of her breast again.

All Katie could think about was Jonathan and how badly she wanted him to come to her rescue. She was rendered useless by her crippling despair from this man running his hands along her body. She knew how to fight back, but not in a situation like this where old memories surfaced. Katie shut her eyes tightly and whimpered as she felt Daniel press his groin and obvious erection into her backside. “I thought you would have squealed by now. What an obedient mouse. Maybe I don’t have to kill Pine tonight but I will leave you with something to remind you of what happens if you continue your pursuit. He suddenly whipped out a pocket knife and sliced down Katie’s inner forearm, causing her to yelp. Jonathan’s head whipped around at the sound of her yelp over the loud music and he stopped dancing with his now rather upset partner. “Bastard.” He growled as he saw Daniel firmly holding Katie against his body and began to shove through the dancing crowd.

“Aww looks like our fun here is over for the night.” He put the stem of Belladonna berries he had into his pocket before he could squeeze the juice into the wound he gave Katie. “Rest assured, I am most positive we will meet again my rose.” He chuckled darkly and slithered away into the darkness, leaving Katie stunned and having the absolute worst panic attack she has had in a long time. Everything was spinning and she couldn’t tell what the hell was happening as hands grabbed her. Just as she was about to scream, Jonathan’s familiar scent entered her nostrils and she leaned forward, hugging him tightly and sobbing on his chest. Pine stared down at the hysterical girl that clung to him tightly. He had enough evidence to present to Angela tonight, right now he needed to get Katie the hell out of here. “Hang onto me, sweetheart.” He whispered, hoisting her bridal style into his arms and rushed through the massive ballroom to get out.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” Daniel pulled out a remote, pressing the button on it and setting off fire alarms. The family that had confirmed Daniel’s suspicion earlier were suddenly ambushed with the women and children’s vision being cut off with bags. Denizens of the party began to scream in terror as gunfire went off and finally, an explosion that left the men of the family dead. Abbadon glared hatefully at her brother, makeup running down her face from tears and water from the emergency sprinklers.

Outside, Jonathan turned on his heel as he heard the awful sound of the explosion followed by horrified and gut wrenching screams. There was nothing more he could do at that point but get back to the hotel, check them out and find somewhere else to stay. It was too dangerous to be in the same vicinity as Daniel. “Fuck this-” Pine muttered and set Katie down gently, flagging a car down before pulling his gun out and threatening the driver to get out. He did not have time to continue risking his and Katie’s lives and hijacked the car. With the young woman resting in the back as she had passed out, Jonathan sped back to the Metropol as fast as the car would let him. In sheer dumb luck, he had not caught any officers attention and parked the car sloppily in the parking lot. “Shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” He whispered to a stirring Katie who made panicked noises. Once she realized who it was, her arms wrapped around his neck and she buried her face into his blazer. “We’re leaving here tonight.” He muttered as he entered the lobby, rushing to get to the elevator. A few people looked up from their activities and began to murmur at what could be going on. A sense of unease laced into Pine’s gut as he finally got into the elevator and anxiously waited for their floor. It felt like forever until he finally reached the room. “Jonathan-” Katie whimpered as he set her down, tears coming back and broken sobs wracking her body. The dark blonde haired man furiously packed their belongings as best as he could and turned back to the sobbing woman. His heart sank at how scared she was and how defenseless she appeared. “Kate..” He spoke her other nickname softly and walked over to her, hugging her tightly, tears of his own burning beneath his eyelids. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, I promise. We’re getting out of here right now but I need you to stand up and walk, can you do that?” He released her but kept his hands on her cold arms, gently rubbing them up and down. Pine removed his blazer and noticed the cut on her arm that Daniel had given her. He would have to deal with that later as he helped Katie put his blazer on her to give her some warmth. He took her heels off, shoving them into her bag and helped her stand. “I promise you, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Without thinking, Jonathan pulled her forward and kissed the top of her head before giving a once over to make sure he grabbed everything.

The pair tried to look inconspicuous while rushing out of their suite and making a detour out of the back. Too many people would be witness to seeing them rush out like that and it would only add to their woes. Finally, they reached the car Jonathan had stolen and hastily packed their belongings. With a quick hot wiring, Jonathan stepped on the gas and peeled out of the parking lot with the tires squealing. A sense of relative safeness came over them as they sped off into the night in search of a place to rest. Unfortunately, it seemed their luck ran short and would have to spend the night in the car. Jonathan’s eyes peeled out for a hidden area he could park and eventually spotted a patch of thick woods as their temporary haven for the night. “We’ll give Angela a call tomorrow and ask what to do next as I frankly don’t have a fucking clue. What matters to me right now is your safety.” Jonathan pushed Katie’s bangs out of her eyes and gave her a sympathetic expression. She nodded and proceeded to climb into the back with some difficulty due to her dress but managed. “J-Jonathan?” She spoke quietly. Pine turned his gaze to her, nodding up as a signal he heard. “Can you hold me? Like you did this morning?” her voice was shaky again as she sought comfort. Jonathan nodded and turned the car off before climbing into the back. They both knew it was a tight squeeze, but didn’t care at the moment. Katie found herself laying on Jonathan’s chest instead and she closed her eyes, nuzzling against him. “I swear to you, I will never let anything like that happen to you again. We’re in this together now and I’m not about to break my promise.” Jonathan said before wrapping his arms around the young woman and letting sleep take him.

#the night manager #the night manager canon divergence #jonathan pine x ofc #tw: non con #spies in love #tom hiddleston #my writing #writing #fanfic

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werewolfdays · 4 years

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Prompt 12 ? 👉👈

12. Waiting for the other one to come home, falling asleep and waking up to the other person gently waking them up

After the compound fracture was set and stitched closed, I carefully wrapped the forearm up in sterilized gauze, then prepared a temporary splint. A cast would have been preferable, but I knew it would heal too quickly for that to be fully necessary. Still, the recovery process would rely mostly on the patient to be cautious with his wound.

I made the last adjustments to his splint, set him up in an arm sling, and stepped back to begin cleaning up my work station, “There you go, all done.”

Jeremy, the werewolf I was treating after his car accident involving hunters, finally let his shoulders and expression relax, and he hopped off the medical bed, “Awesome.”

“Please be careful with it,” I told him earnestly, “Try not to use that arm for at least a week. And come back in if there’s any issues.”

“Will do, Nadya.” He said with a genuine smile, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” I replied, patting his shoulder, and he was on his way.

Once I gathered all the waste to dispose of and disinfected everything, I went to my desk to mark Jeremy down in my patient log. As I was doing that, my phone lit up, catching my attention out of the corner of my eye. There was a missed call from Jayde and I scribbled down the information faster, making it barely legible, so I could call her back immediately. It barely rang twice before she picked up.

“Hey.” Jayde greeted softly through the phone.

“Hi, Jay.” I replied through a relieved sigh at the sound of her voice, “Sorry I missed your first call.”

“It’s okay. Hard at work?” She guessed knowingly.

“I’d say so.” My eyes gave the chart on the desk a onceover, “Compound fracture, some gunshot wounds, and a couple stabbings today.”

She made a displeased grumble that was slightly growl-like, “Yeah, these hunters hit hard, but they’re taken care of. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be heading home soon.”

The rest of my anxious tension left my body at that, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

The urge to laugh at that caused the corner of my mouth to twitch up, “I always worry about you.”

“I know,” She said, sounding almost regretful, “But I promise I’m good.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, wanting her to be here so I could confirm that for myself, “When will you be home?”

“Probably not until really late tonight. We have to do some followup and mislead any potential tails we have,” Jayde explained, “So don’t wait for me. Get some sleep. You’ll see me when you wake up.”

I tried not to be too disappointed that she wouldn’t be here sooner, but I understood why and nodded, “Okay.”

“I will be home soon, Nadya.” She reassured, sensing my mood, even through the phone.

“I know, Jay, I know.” I said through a sigh, “I just need you safe and by my side.”

“I will be before you know it.”

I stood up a little straighter at her promise, “Yeah, you’re right. Be careful, okay? Come back to me in one piece.”

Jayde chuckled lightly, “Sure thing. I love you.”

My smile grew big enough that I knew she’d be able to hear it in my voice, “I love you too.”

With that, she hung up. I set my phone back down on the desk, stewing in our conversation and the relief of hearing she was okay for a handful of prolonged moments before I shook myself out of it and went back to work.

I knew as soon as Jayde told me to get some sleep I wouldn’t want to. My day was long and stressful, I worked hard to treat the people that needed it, and I could feel exhaustion start to seep into my bones, but I didn’t want to go to bed until I knew Jayde was home safe. I needed to at least see her in order to get a restful night’s sleep, so I resorted to studying until she got back, even if that meant staying awake all night.

My plan started off great. After dinner, I grabbed some coffee and went to our room to set up the desk for a study session. I was making really good progress throughout the evening, becoming utterly immersed in my school work, and barely noticing the hours fly by. That is, until I yawned. The simple action suddenly tore my attention away from my notes and to the clock where I saw that it was just after two in the morning. That realization made my exhausted body finally catch up with my brain in a collision hard enough to make me sink in my chair.

For the next half hour, I propped my elbow up on the surface of the desk and rested my head on my hand while I continued. My eyes grew heavier and heavier. It got to the point that I was having to reread sentences more than once. More than twice or even three times. I looked at the clock again and figured it couldn’t hurt to rest my eyes for a little while and recharge.

“Ten minutes.” I mumbled to myself as I put my glasses aside and crossed my arms underneath my head.

It only felt like a few minutes had gone by before someone was gently shaking my shoulder and whispering my name quietly, “Nadya, hey.”

My eyes blinked back open to look for the culprit. Just as I was about to mutter an annoyed retort, her beautiful dark blue irises came into my vision with a stunning smile to match them. I went from drowsy to wide awake in a second flat when I realized it was Jayde.

“Jay.” I said her name as my own smile grew into a beaming grin. I basically jumped up out of my seat and threw myself into her arms, clinging to her in a fierce embrace. Then I realized I must have accidentally fallen into a deep sleep instead of indulging in a quick break because my whole body was sore from being slumped over my desk, but that didn’t matter now that she was home.

Jayde chuckled against my ear, holding me just as tightly as I was holding her, “Yeah, I missed you too.”

We stayed like that for about a minute and then I pulled back to cup her face in my hands, tilting her head from side to side to assess any damage done to her. The bruises she sustained were already mostly faded and the scrapes I saw had scabbed over in the hours of healing they’d been given. I was proud to see her face was clean, which meant she had taken care of the scrapes despite their lack of severity. Then I directed my inspection down to the rest of her body. Her clothes covered most of her skin up, but I didn’t see any bloodstains to suggest that she had been shot or stabbed anywhere on her midsection.

“What, you didn’t believe me when I told you I was fine?” Jayde asked in amusement.

I threw her a lighthearted glare, “Your definition of ‘fine’ seems to differ from mine when it comes to your physical condition.”

“I’m alive and upright, aren’t I?” She teased with a crooked grin. When my eyes narrowed, hers rolled, and she said, “Okay, here, I’ll save you the time.”

Jayde presented her leg to me. It would have been easy to miss, any blood that seeped into her jeans was lost in the blackness of the fabric, but there was a new rip in the thigh. Small and nothing too noteworthy apart from the glimpse of a blood-soaked bandage hidden underneath it. The size and shape of the rip was unmistakable as a bullet hole. She had been shot in the leg, most likely with a silver bullet.

“Jayde.” I scolded in worry and disappointment, grabbing my glasses and kneeling down to try and get a better look. “Are you kidding me?”

“Before you get too mad,” Her hand came down to tuck some of my hair behind my ear, “It’s already been taken care of. I got the bullet out with tweezers, disinfected it, stitched it, and wrapped it up. Just like you would have done.”

I stared up at her with my brows furrowed in suspicion, “Were the tweezers sterilized?”

“Yes.”

“You used actual disinfectant and not booze?”

“Yes.”

“Did you put antibiotic cream on it?”

“Of course.”

I slowly stood back up, placing my hands on my hips, and raised an eyebrow, “What knot did you use when you stitched it?”

Jayde mimicked my stance, “A surgeon’s knot.”

We were locked in a staring contest for several tense moments until I broke the silence, “I’m still mad that you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you, I am okay.” The back of her finger brushed against my cheek to pacify me.

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from my face, “For future reference, when I ask if you’re okay, I’m asking if you’ve been hurt at all. At all.”

A flicker of guilt came across her face, “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“But you wanted me to see you with a surprise gunshot wound when you got home.” I pointed out.

Jayde’s face fell and her expression made my chest tighten. I knew she didn’t do it to hurt me, but she needed to understand how important it was for me to know about things like this. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel like she had to hide her pain to protect me.

My finger went under her chin, where I urged her to look up at me. Once her eyes met mine, I gave her a small smile, releasing her wrist and cupping the back of her neck to pull her in. I made sure to translate my feelings through the gentle cadence I lead, using every soft stroke of my lips to tell her it was okay. I wasn’t mad anymore. Neither was I disappointed. I just wanted to convey how much I cared about her. How much I loved her and wanted her to feel comfortable with sharing anything with me. Even her pain.

Jayde seemed unsure at first, but then she melted into me, her hands tentatively going to my waist. I kissed her deeper for a few beats in encouragement, my heart singing when she pulled me even closer against her. Neither of us tried for anything more, we simply indulged in this silent and soft conversation of reassurance, our uneven breaths being the only sound that disrupted the space between us.

We eventually pulled away from the kiss, foreheads resting together, and I took the time that the lingering quiet gave me to trace her bottom lip with my thumb. Jayde released a gentle sigh at the touch, her fingers clutching at my shirt to feel me through the clothing.

“Just tell me from now on, okay?” I requested gently, “I wanna know. Even if it’s just bruises.”

“Okay,” Jayde agreed with a whisper, “I can do that.”

I kissed her one more time before pulling back to look at her. It was then that I saw just how tired she was. And felt just how tired I was too. “It’s pretty late.”

She hummed in agreement, then a sly smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. I didn’t get a chance to make a remark about it because she suddenly, and effortlessly, scooped me up in her arms. A surprised squeak came out of me, but it soon turned into an amused giggle once she twirled us around and carried me to my side of the bed. Now that I was aware of it, I did note a slight limp in her walk, but the injury didn’t seem to bother her otherwise.

I was plopped down on the mattress somewhat unceremoniously and kissed on the top of my head, then I watched as Jayde got herself ready to sleep. Her jeans were replaced by shorts, which allowed me a better view of the bandage on her thigh. The spot of dried blood wasn’t as big as I feared it was, reassuring me further of her condition, but I still itched to examine it myself.

“Wait,” My hands went to her hips to stop her before she crawled into bed, “Can I have a look?”

Jayde nodded.

At her consent I directed my attention down to her leg and carefully peeled the bandage back to look at the work she did. The stitches appeared to be done correctly and it was clean and tidy. There were no signs of infection. The slightly gray off color around the wound was typical for a silver bullet, but I still looked up and asked, “Was it silver?”

She nodded again, “Yeah, but I got it out quickly. It wasn’t too bad.”

My thumb brushed her skin by the gunshot wound soothingly, both to reassure her and myself that she was okay. Then I put the bandage back into place and nodded my approval. “You did a good job. I’m proud.”

“Yeah?” She asked with a growing grin.

“Yeah.” I confirmed with my own smile.

Jayde happily pushed me back down on the mattress and fell on top of me, her arms wrapping around my waist and holding me tightly to her. My grin was wide and my laugh light as I wrapped my arms around the back of her neck to pull her even closer until she rested her lips on my pulse point. A hitched breath caught in my throat when she slipped a hand under my shirt, slowly dragging it upwards across my skin while she laid gentle kisses on my neck, but then her fingers dragged over the ticklish spot on my side and it made me flinch. Jayde chuckled mischievously into my neck when I squirmed underneath her.

“Jay, I swear—” Another poke made my body jolt again and threw me into a laughing fit, “Quit it!”

“I love hearing you laugh though.” Jayde protested.

“It’s bedtime.” I reminded her, trying to summon some authority to my voice through my giggling.

“Says who?” She grumbled.

I reached down, seizing her arm and pulling it out from under my shirt with only a little resistance. Then I flipped us over, straddling her waist and pinning both of her wrists down beside her head. Jayde was far stronger than I was, especially physically, so I knew she always allowed this to happen, but she still raised an impressed eyebrow whenever I trapped her underneath me like this.

“Says me.”

Her smirk was challenging and she wiggled one of her wrists free, reaching for the spot on my side once more. Instead of trying to catch her wrist again, I grabbed her jaw with a firm hand, forcing her eyes to stay glued to mine, and said a simple, “No.”

The command made Jayde’s body completely freeze, apart from her gaze that darted back and forth from my eyes and down to my lips. I gave her my own crooked grin and then turned her head to the side to expose her neck. Once her skin was bared to me, I bent down and placed an open-mouthed kiss to her warm flesh, relishing the way her body tensed further.

“Good.” I muttered in her ear and then pushed myself off of her.

There wasn’t another breath from her until I settled into the blankets. Then she cleared her throat and said, “Bedtime it is.”

I laughed and pulled her as close to me as possible, our limbs tangling together. I was conscious of her wounded leg and did my best to avoid it, luckily she didn’t flinch in pain at all. Once we were both comfortable, and I could feel our bodies relax in unison, I planted one more kiss to her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad to be home with you.” Jayde replied.

Being in her arms, it didn’t take long at all for a deep slumber to take me.

#asks #anon #thanks for sending this in!! <33 #sorry it took a little while for me to get to but I hope yall enjoy #my ocs #My writing #Jayde #Nadya #Nadya pov

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eyesfixedonthesun22 · 4 years

Text

Swallowed Pride

Summary: You and Natasha Romanoff go way back. Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader Warning(s): Smut 18+, Cheating, Lying, Secret relationship, Bisexual reader Word Count: 1,577 Notes: This is my first fic with all female smut. Definitely a work in progress. Cheating is bad, I don’t condone it. This song just always had that sort of tone and mood for me when I listened to it. Sorry Laur (@fvckingavengers) for this being like uber uber late. Your challenge said no deadlines and I legit just didn’t even put a note on my document of when I started this. It got lost in the shuffle. Please ignore the poorly translated Russian. Любимая моя= my love, не останавливайся = don’t stop Prompt: “The lies that tied your tongue in knots – Are the words that grew to hit my spots – So filthy, dialed desire – Swallowed pride but spit out fire – Liars turn me on” (Bounce - The Cab) Moodboard Image Credit: Photo credit for the moodboard goes in the following order left to right. All photos acquired from Unsplash. Maëliss Demaison, Aleksander Borzenets, Nihal Demirci , Leonardo Sanches, Richard Brutyo

St. Petersburg:

The first time it happens is in a shitty flat on the south bank of the Moyka River. The two of you had run there; stilettos clicking on the night washed cobblestones. You smirk remembering the chorus of screams and sirens behind the redhead and her accomplice. The next morning the papers would describe a silent assassination at the St. Petersburg's Mariinsky ballet; so perfectly coordinated it shocked the world. The two of you would have already left the country before ink hits paper.

In the dingy flat, she hushed your brazen giggles. Back then you always got drunk off a job well done, before honest work had slapped some humbleness and morals into you. You’d always gotten drunk as well. She preferred vodka while you guzzled bourbon. The honey sweet burn of the alcohol and then high of bloodshed fueling you.

The safehouse apartment had a crap bed and worse heat. That’s what you tell yourself now. More catalysts pushing you to an inevitable conclusion; out of your hands.

The two of you slipped off jewels, emeralds for you and rubies for her. The fine silk dresses now thrown unceremoniously across a chair in the corner; only panties and brassieres left separating skin. Such delicate little things. Watching Natasha disrobe set you aflame. Each click of her gun’s safeties seemed to ramp you closer to danger. You loved watching the dangerous woman disarming herself. A one woman militia. She did it with meticulous precision, the blood red nail polish clicking on cold metal weapons.

“Come to bed, Любимая моя. We have an early morning.”

You never went to sleep that night. Years later it was easier to blame the drinking or the cold, but it was a lie. It was more accurate to blame on the milky curve of her collar bone or the way she wears a knife strapped to her ankle… even to bed.

You remember the cold steel pressing into your vulnerable skin as you came; rutting against her ginger curls, cursing some Russian she taught you with your shoulder length opera gloves still on.

Berlin:

Over the course of the next few years the two of you fucking became part of the friendship. Some missions finished in girl talk; drinking wine and painting your nails a similar shade as the vintage. Others finished with you acting as wingwomen for each other in some crowded nightclub in whatever seedy corner of the world your work had taken you to. She’d smirk at you knowingly while you took a cab one direction and she did the same in another. But always, you’d bounce back to one another.

You loved her.

You remember Berlin, after nearly a year apart, the longest spanse of time between seeing her. She’d been different. Marked. Mentally and physically. You press your fingers deeper into flesh, tracing long memorized but deeply missed softness and feel the raised skin over her left hip bone. You knew how she got it. It was one of so many scars she’d acquired without you there to watch her back.

“Not soft all over anymore.” Her vulnerable eyes found yours in the dark before you thumb gentle circles on her clit. She sets her jaw; ever so stubborn and refuses to close her eyes.

“Still feels soft to me.”

Instead of words she responds by slipping two deadly fingers into your wet heat, pushing and pressing at the spots that make you keen.

That night you’d fallen asleep to her tracing all yours scars, gentle opera played in the background.

You loved her.

New York:

You loved your boyfriend (in a way).

Nearly a decade later the two of you had gone straight, joining up with the Avengers. It took her months to convince you to leave your old life behind. You wouldn’t have done it for anyone but her.

You remember telling her, “Honest work doesn’t suit me.”

The boyfriend knew about your line of work… vaguely. He knew you traveled a lot (for business). He knew if he asked you questions about your work besides what you’d already labeled as “safe” it’d start a fight. He thought you lived together. After dating a year, he’d presented you with a shiny freshly cut silver key. What he didn’t know was you’d kept your loft across town; the one two blocks down the street from Nat’s.

You can't bring yourself to feel horrible. A life of deceit and mistrust had warped you like a book left in the rain; only the most trained of eyes capable of deciphering it.

“Honesty doesn’t suit me,” you mutter to yourself.

The relationship wasn’t worthless. With him, for the first time in a long time, you had a place to come home to that didn’t feel like a glorified suitcase. He helped you learn to survive on more than takeout and boxed mac n’ cheese. You actually enjoyed cooking when your hips pressed against his at the cutting board. You felt like honest work felt a little less like work when you were trying to go on the straight and narrow for him.

You saw Natasha less since he’d come into your life. She was an anchor back into that old life even if she’d been the one to pull you into the present. You wondered if she had any new scars. You wondered if she still kept her favorite knife on her ankle as she undressed for bed. You wonder what your boyfriend would say if he knew you kept your favorite pistol under the mattress and at least one perfectly sharp blade in the bedside table.

Old habits die hard.

**************************************************************************************************

The warm glow of candlelight makes his eyes sparkle. It’s your anniversary and he’s twitching and flushed. You’re focusing on taking the next bite of your steak wellington; ignoring it’s turned to sawdust in your mouth and no amount of unseemly gulps of wine can push it past the welling lump in your throat.

“Darling! Любимая моя!” a familiar voice calls across the restaurant.

There she is; all silk and black leather accented with a flash of her flame red hair. She exchanges pleasantries with him.

You stand awkwardly only able to mutter a pathetic, “Bathroom.”

You brace your hands on the cool tile of the sink. Your two worlds were never supposed to collide. The room is twirling, and you can’t catch your breath. You search for an exit; perhaps some window when the door opens.

“There’s no exit.” She stares at you like a cat who’s caught a mouse. “Closest exit is out the kitchen to the alley. You should know that, Любимая моя.”

“Why are you here, Nat?”

“A better question could be why is he about to propose to someone with the last name Miller.”

“Fuck.” The curse is almost silent, muttered into the back of your hand your rage swirls fast and burning below the surface.

“He doesn’t know your last name! He doesn’t know what you do! What we do!” The double meaning doesn’t fail to hit home. “Were you ever going to tell him, or just let to poor bastard propose to a stranger?”

“Why are you here!?” you challenge her again.

“The lies that tied your tongue in knots – Are the words that grew to hit my spot. It burned away at me. I can’t let you live this secret fucked up lie. We gave that up when we joined the Avengers.”

“No. You did.”

You click the lock closed before pouncing on her. It’s so filthy; dialed desire pent up after how long of trying to fake a normal life.

“Let me taste you, Natalia. I’ve missed you.”

She sinks her teeth into your neck; already devouring your feeble attempt at domination. The black widow was in charge. She pushes you back onto the sink, yanking your dress up around your middle. Her manicured nails don’t bother to take your panties off, opting to rip them to the side before her soft mouth is on your core.

“не останавливайся! You pant and writhe as she forces your legs further apart. She drinks you down like vodka.

With your release sparkling on her lips and chin, the two of you run through the kitchen and out the backdoor.

**************************************************************************************************

“You don’t need him,” she says cool and calm between drags off her cigarette.

You’ve spent the past ten minutes toying with the cardboard box containing the rest of them. It’s some Russian brand with red and yellow packaging. The heady tobacco smoke mixes with telltale musk soaked into the black cotton sheets in Natasha’s bedroom.

“Why are we here, Nat?”

“Liars turn me on.”

She still manages to hold the smoldering stick while you chase her across the bed and dive once more into her fiery curls; soaked and creamy from her last release.

That’s how the night continues.

She doesn’t dress. Neither do you. The two of you keep your skin out in the open, on show for one another. It’s a constantly tussle of bodies in motion fighting to give pleasure because otherwise you have to stop and fight to deliver pain onto one another. Swallowed pride only to spit out fire. It’s as if each lie the two of you have told over the years for one another fuels you both; turns you on.

After her last shuddering release, muscles stretching like a tawny cat, she asks you, “Let’s go to the opera tomorrow?”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #Natasha x reader #Natasha x female reader #Natasha x you #my writing #my fics

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just-come-baek · 5 years

Text

Jewels

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Themes: smut | adventure!au | archeologist!reader | dodger!jk

Word count: 16.1k (whoops!)

Summary: Nobody said it’s going to be easy, but when Jeon Jungkook, the handsome troublemaker, tags along on my adventure, my simple trip morphs into a life-threatening mission. I was to find an ancient necklace and gain fame in the archeology field, but thanks to Jungkook’s mischief, we also attracted lots of unnecessary attention and plenty of enemies.

Warnings: unprotected sex (there’s a lot going on, and I’m not gonna spoil it here), foul language, questionable loyalty

A/N lightly inspired by adventure movies such as Tomb Rider, The Mummy, Indiana Jones, and maybe others but unconsciously

***

The first thing which hit me when I left the airport was the heat; it was scorching hot, humidity was unquestionably above seventy percent, and I knew my stay in Casablanca wasn’t going to be as pleasant as I had expected it to be regardless of being used to high temperatures. I could make it, though. Casablanca was just a stop before I’d head further toward my destination.

Adjusting my straw hat which almost got blown away by a sudden wave of sizzling wind, I grabbed my suitcase and headed to the taxi rank. My hotel was only fifteen minutes away from the airport, but I wouldn’t risk getting sunstroke at the very beginning of my journey.

Thankfully, the taxi driver spoke English.

It was the only upside, unfortunately, since I almost died inside the vehicle without air-conditioning. The driver was unbothered, and I wondered how the hell he could withstand such conditions. Or how people could endure such weather in general.

“First time in Casablanca?” The driver started, glancing at me in the stained rearview mirror.

“No,” I lied, “I come here every year,” I added, knowing better not to disclose such information as he might’ve taken advantage of me, the naïve and inexperienced tourist. “It feels like home,” I added, looking through the window, admiring the beautiful scenery while the taxi driver hummed in acknowledgment as he turned to the left.

“Have a nice stay,” he respectfully spoke as he handed me my suitcase, and I paid the fare.

“Thank you,” I replied, smiling at him brightly, glad he drove directly to my hotel and not around the whole city at least twice.

Blowing the fringe off my forehead, I clenched the suitcase with one hand, undoing two first buttons of my thin white blouse with the other one, desperately trying to cool off.

“That’s it, it’s your shot, don’t fucking waste it,” I muttered to myself, hoping the pep talk would help me not chicken out. It was my only chance, or I would be royally screwed in more sense than one. My career wouldn't be the only thing ruined.

Having delivered the motivational speech to myself, I raised my head high and went into the hotel. Unlike any other hotels, the one in which I was staying was flea-bitten; half of the bulbs weren’t working, dust was everywhere, and the smell of sweat and dirt hung in the air. Too bad, I couldn’t afford the night in a four-star hotel nearby.

On the bright side, I’m staying here only for one night.

Confidently, I reached the front desk, telling the receptionist personal information so he could give me the keys to the room booked under my name. Although he spoke pidgin English, I could pick up most of the instructions he needed to relay.

Though my room was of the best quality they could provide, I still had a handful of reasons to complain. I wasn’t going to, though. It was already nine o’clock in the evening, and knowing me, dirty windows or empty mini refrigerator or broken air-conditioning wouldn’t agitate me that much after a couple of drinks at the hotel’s bar.

Not bothering to unpack, I opened the window, hoping to air the room, so when I'd have returned it would be more bearable to survive the night.

“You got this,” I egged on, staring at my reflection in the stained mirror. “People will write about you in papers when you find that jewel.” I continued as I reapplied my red lipstick.

Most of the scientists believe the Aminata’s accessory is a myth, but I was going to find it, earning the glory and fame in archeology environment. The necklace is made of African’s biggest blood-red ruby, decorated with twelve large diamonds, and it said to have supernatural properties.

Four thousand years ago, Aminata was the most beautiful woman on the entire African continent, and though she didn’t have a wealthy background, no man could resist her beauty. Many wanted to marry her, and some of whom were ready to kill for her grace.

On her sixteenth birthday, a handsome nobleman paid her a visit. Enchanted by her beauty, he gave her the necklace which was a token of his feelings for her. The blood-red ruby symbolized he would execute anyone who dared to look into her eyes. The diamonds, depending on two different translations signified either all the lifetimes he was going to love her or the purity of his feelings.

He claimed her, but the attention she was receiving from other men grew. Whatever her desire was, she had plenty of volunteers to fulfill it. Despite the dazzling pendant around her neck, men still yearn for the tiniest bit of her attention, whereas women hated her enormously being driven by envy.

When sun descended behind the horizon and the moon shined brightly, a few high-positioned women (a few women with high-positioned husbands) went to an enchantress, inclined to sacrifice everything for Aminata’s death. In exchange for their tongues, the enchantress locked Aminata’s beauty in the necklace.

Aminata’s charms were gone the second the necklace got stolen by one of the women, Yaya. She possessed the beauty and forced the men to kill Aminata. They scarred her beautiful face and defiled her body, and when she begged for mercy, Yaya slid her throat.

When the night fell, the women commanded their slaves to take Aminata’s body on the boat and bury her corpse in a cave on one of the inhabited islands. Tempted to keep the necklace, Yaya earned disrespect from the other women. Out of hatred, the women locked out Yaya in the tomb with Aminata.

The necklace remains lost until now, but I’m about to change that. I studied the Senegalese legends for two years, writing my master degree paper on it, and I am determined to find it, shaking up the entire archeology field. It may be dangerous, but I am willing to face the odds if that means the Aminata’s necklace becomes mine.

Checking my appearance one more time in the mirror, I threw the bag over my shoulder, ready to get wasted. Maybe it was the last time I had a chance to get drunk, so I was going to make the best of my current situation even though a lot of aspects could be improved.

As soon as I walked inside, I felt all the eyes on me. Maybe ten people were seated in the bar, and all of them were men, so I wasn’t surprised by the commotion I was making. Ignoring their nasty stares, I sat down on a barstool, waiting for the bartender to approach me.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked in English, sensing I was a foreigner, and I smiled, staring at the bottles of alcohol which was sitting on the shelves behind him. It's my first time traveling alone, and given the circumstances, it may be my last, so I assumed it was an excellent opportunity to try something new and experiment a little.

“I’ll have a glass of bourbon with a lot of ice,” I ordered, and the bartender nodded.

“Put it on my tab,” a man, who was sitting two barstools away from me, spoke, as he tilted his glass a little, sending me a smirk. “What such a pretty little thing is doing in such a shabby place like this?” He inquired, his doe eyes scanning my frame.

“Getting hit on by random dudes,” I retorted, thanking the bartender who brought my order.

“Feisty, I like feisty,” he commented as he jumped off his barstool, taking the one beside me. “I’m Jungkook, and you are?” He introduced himself, offering a handshake which I hesitantly accepted. “What a pretty name,” he said when he heard me say it.

“And what are you doing here?” I curiously asked, cocking up my eyebrow. “You don’t exactly fit in here,” I pinpointed as I tasted the bitter drink which did not suit my preferences.

“Not as much as you,” Jungkook challenged, and I rolled my eyes at his hesitation to disclose any information about him. Either he was very secretive by nature, or he was hiding something, and I wasn’t going to be one of his victims if he was plotting something vicious.

“I am an archeologist,” I started, thinking how much I could tell him without risking anything. I was alone in a foreign country, I had to be cautious. “And I’m staying in Casablanca for one night before I join my crew in Algeria,” I added, hoping my deception was believable. “And what about you?”

Jungkook turned to me so I could have a better look on his sun-kissed skin, doe and innocent eyes, veiny forearms, muscular arms, his messy brown hair, and his toned chest which I could admire because of the deep neckline of his shirt. He sat there, effortlessly looking like a cover model, and his attention was entirely on me.

It was weird. I had to travel across the world to be noticed by a handsome male, while in my hometown guys drooled over girls with overdrawn eyebrows when I was literally there, waiting to be hit on.

Outrageous!

“I’m a freelance writer.” Jungkook easily answered, and I wondered why he didn’t want to admit that in the first place. He was just a stranger; I had no reason to not believe him. People would do much more than lying if that meant they could get laid. “You know… guidebooks and sometimes articles in travel magazines. And sometimes, I help people around the town.”

“That’s interesting; tell me more,” I urged him, sipping my drink. I had nothing better to do, so I might as well listen to his story. Apparently, Jungkook had traveled much more than I had, so he must’ve had a few stories to share. Also, his experience could be useful.

“What’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear Casablanca?” Jungkook inquired, and I hummed, thinking about my answer. When I didn’t speak after a few seconds, Jungkook cleared his throat, “a lot of people associate Casablanca with that 1944 movie under the same title, and therefore – love. And currently, I write a guidebook, or maybe even an actual novel about different forms of love here. It may be something cliché-ridden like a newly-wedded couple making out on the beach, or something simple like a florist who gives flowers to beautiful girls free of charge. And frankly, I think Casablanca is more romantic than Paris.”

“Paris is so overrated,” I commented, nodding my head, as I agreed with him. Although I had never been to Paris, I had heard tales. Perhaps, I haven’t explored Casablanca the way the city deserves it, but I could tell it gave off that dreamy vibe.

“And what are you going to dig up, huh?” Jungkook casually asked as he whistled at the bartender, wanting a refill. Of course, he was curious. How could he be not?

“Are you seriously interested?” I questioned, and Jungkook eagerly nodded, smiling at me encouragingly. “Well… you are the first person who is excited to hear about me digging up pots.” I joked, and Jungkook chuckled at me almost lovingly. The Casablanca’s atmosphere must’ve got to him. “Have you ever heard about Aminata?” Jungkook shook his head.

“Is it something to eat?” He guessed, but he couldn’t be more wrong.

“No, Jungkook, it’s not food,” I clarified before I told him the legend purposefully missing, changing or adding minor details out of pure paranoia. I was being mistrustful, but it was my once-in-a-lifetime chance, and I couldn’t hand it over to a random guy in a hotel’s bar. My dignity wouldn’t allow me to come back home without it, and no matter how ridiculously good-looking Jungkook was, I wasn’t going to get distracted.

“Wow,” he said, impressed, “it’s tragic. Romantic, but tragic.”

“I guess.”

“Are you really going to find it?” Jungkook asked, and I firmly nodded. I would find that bloody necklace, or I’d die trying. “There’s one more question I want to ask; what made you want to become an archeologist? As far as I know, it’s a rare profession.”

“I suppose I’ve Indiana Jones one time too many,” I answered, and Jungkook laughed genuinely, and without any doubt, it was the most adorable sound I had heard in a long time.

“You really are something, aren’t you?” Jungkook challenged, and I shrugged shyly. I could feel his intense stare, and it made me feel weak. His huge eyes were looking into mine; his smile was wide and bright. “It’s so easy to talk to you. I could talk to you all night long.”

“Likewise,” I said shamelessly, finishing my drink, feeling quite buzzed.

“Rahim!” Jungkook hollered at the bartender. “Can we take this bottle to go?” The bartender approached us and placed the half-full bottle of bourbon on the counter.

“Add it to your tab, too?” Rahim asked, and Jungkook simply nodded, grabbing the bottle.

“Come with me, I want to show you something,” Jungkook jumped off the barstool, waiting for me to do the same, and when I was on my feet, he interlaced our fingers together. Quickly, I grabbed my glass, and we left the bar behind us.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

***

“It’s beautiful,” I said in admiration, as I looked at the pink sky; the sun was about to descend fully, and the colors across the horizon mixed stunningly. “Maybe the hotel doesn’t have many stars, but the view is marvelous,” I added, and Jungkook hummed in agreement.

“It would make a great postcard, wouldn’t it?” Jungkook sighed, and I pulled out my phone to snap a few pictures of the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen. “You know what’s also beautiful?” He asked, staring at me.

“Let me guess,” I muttered, paying him little attention. I was too engrossed in the view in front of me, so I was barely aware of what was going on around me. “Me?” I replied carelessly, as I had a feeling Jungkook was going to say something cheesy.

“Quite conceited, aren’t you?” Jungkook teased, and I blinked, realizing what I just said. “I wanted to say the lighthouse over there, but I must admit you’re not wrong,” he elaborated as he walked toward me, standing just behind my back.

“Sorry, I just assumed you tried to hit on me again,” I apologized, and Jungkook chuckled.

“I did, but in a less cringe-worthy way,” he agreed, and I turned to look at him; he was so close, and the warmth was emitting from his body made me question what was hotter – the weather itself or just he. “You ruined the mood, but are you at least a bit swooned?”

“Not really,” I answered honestly since my previous response was quite excruciating. “But I’m really into you so I wouldn’t really mind if you wanted to show me your room,” I added boldly, and Jungkook smirked, turning slightly, so his side was brushing against me.

“I hope you wouldn’t mind a little teaser,” I smiled, and Jungkook leaned forward to press a cautious kiss against my lips. As if tasting the waters, he gently nipped my lips, and when I kissed him back, he relaxed, moving against my mouth more courageously.

When he slowly pulled away and looked me in the eyes, I licked my lips before I said, “This won’t do; I need more.” Jungkook smirked mischievously, happy that I was thinking the same thing he did. There was no need to play dumb; I wanted him, and Jungkook wanted me, so it was pointless to play hard to get. Tomorrow, I was going to start my journey, and right now, Jungkook looked at me as if he wanted to devour me; a promise of unforgettable night glistened in his beautiful eyes, and I’d be a complete idiot if I rejected him. “Much more.”

I hadn’t been fucked properly for way too long, and now, I was going to have my brains fucked out. It was going to be the best lay of my life, so in case it would be my last, I definitely wasn't to regret it.

“Fuck yes,” Jungkook hollered cheerfully, as he cupped my face, and once again kissed me, making my legs shake under my weight. He was passionate and energetic, and that combination really got to my head; it was what I needed to ease the stress which had been accumulating in my body ever since I had decided to find the Aminata’s necklace.

“I’m not gonna put up a show here,” I warned him when his hand slid under my blouse. I had no problem with his touch; quite contrary, I’d urge him to caress my skin if he didn’t do it by now, but letting other people see me writhing under his ministrations? Never.

“There’s nothing you should be embarrassed about,” Jungkook said, gawking at me as if I was a piece of meat. “You’re gorgeous,” he added, leaning down to suck on my neck, while his palm still roamed around my stomach, upwards to my breasts.

“Still,” I whispered, as I closed my eyes, “I want you to be only one seeing me like this,” I continued, telling him that tonight, I belonged to him only. “But I hope everyone will hear me screaming your name when you make me come.”

“You know how to get me in the mood,” Jungkook admitted, and I smirked, as a sudden wave of confidence washed through me. Usually, I’d never do that, but the atmosphere and the circumstances and Jungkook made me act without putting much thought into my actions. Right now, I was bold and determined to have the night of my dreams with a stranger, and I couldn’t care any less about the consequences. None of it mattered anyway.

“Jungkook,” I moaned when his large hand massaged the inner side of my thigh. Instinctively, I pressed my legs together, squeezing his wandering palm before he touched my cotton panties. “Not here,” I purred when his mouth kissed my neck and throat, nipping gently.

“Let me, at least, eat you out here,” Jungkook whispered into my ear, as he pinched my thigh, making me spread my legs a little. “I promise, no one will see you,” he added, as his right hand traveled up to my panties, tugging it playfully.

I had no idea what got into me, but the idea of Jungkook on his knees right now, eating me out was more than arousing. With his head under my skirt and between my legs, with his tongue on my clit, with his fingers up my pussy; just thinking about it made me dizzy. I’d probably faint if he started his ministrations.

“What do you say?” Jungkook purred against my skin, while his hand was teasing me by pulling on the hem of my panties. “Agree, I know you want to,” he continued, gently rubbing his nose against my neck.

“Yes,” I mumbled so quietly I thought he might’ve not heard me. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was pressed tightly against me, I’d probably have to repeat myself, losing the last bit of my composure. I barely knew Jungkook, yet I’d bend however he told me to; it only took a snap of his fingers, and I’d fulfill his every wish regardless of how freaky it could be.

“Fuck yes,” Jungkook breathed out and pulled down my panties in one fluid motion, his large hand grazing my skin. Instinctively, I raised my right leg and then left one, helping him to get rid of my undergarment – which in a matter of seconds was pushed into his pocket.

“Jungkook,” I moaned his name when he rubbed his erection against me, turning me on even more. I hadn’t felt this hot in months, and he barely touched me. If he was going to keep up the pace, I would explode before we’d reach his room.

“What is it, baby?” Jungkook asked innocently, teasing me, evidently trying to strip me of the remains of my dignity. He heard me, but I had a hunch he wanted to hear me beg. “That’s right, that’s my name,” he spoke in a low voice; his hands cupped my butt, squeezing it.

“You like teasing, don’t you?” I inquired, hoping to sound less affected than I was; my voice would break in an embarrassing stutter, but my articulation was the last thing Jungkook paid attention to. “Just eat me out already!” I cried out, frustrated with his ministrations.

“Teasing? Only you,” he mocked. “And for someone so reluctant about being eaten out here, you seem very eager now,” Jungkook continued to provoke me, his finger finally touching my clit, making me gasp at the sudden sparkle of pleasure. Because of the lack of attention to my sensitive bundle of nerves, the slightest of his touches was setting me on fire.

“P-please,” I begged as I shut my eyes close, feeling my knees give up under his compelling touch. “Jungkook, please, just do it,” I carried on, as I yanked him closer by his belt, moaning when his prominent erection rubbed against me.

“Spread those beautiful legs for me, baby,” Jungkook commanded, playfully slapping the inner side of my thigh, and I obeyed without thinking. Holding my breath, I leaned against the concrete railing. With a smug smirk on his face, I watched Jungkook got on his knees in front of me, getting lost in my wild fantasies when he lustfully licked his lips.

“Oh, God,” I breathed out when Jungkook pressed his mouth against my clit, kissing it so sensually. “Mm…” I huffed in pleasure, as Jungkook sucked on my clit, sending me into overdrive so quickly. His hands were on my butt, pulling me closer, his nose was grazing against my pubic mound, his tongue licking my folds.

I was panting; I gave myself all to Jungkook, letting him do everything he wanted, and I loved writhing under his will. I hadn’t felt this good in weeks, or maybe even months, but damn; I was floating over the cloud nine because of his touch.

“I love how you respond,” Jungkook muttered, as he pulled away from me. I was so sensitive, and when Jungkook gently tugged on my clit, I just kept pressing myself against him, desperate to feel more.

“Keep going, Jungkook,” I moaned, licking my lips. “Fuck me with your fingers,” I voiced quietly, hoping he would consider my humble request. His tongue felt divine, the way it flicked against my folds sent shivers down my spine, the way it swirled around my clit made my toes curl, but it wasn’t enough. “I need more.”

“You’re so needy,” Jungkook chimed in, as he pulled away and looked into my eyes. His chin was glistening with my juices, and his lips were swollen from all the work he had done, and he looked incredible. He was handsome, but right now, he looked like a deity. “How much do you want my fingers? Would you fuck yourself on them?”

“Yes! I’ll do anything you tell me to,” I answered obediently, afraid that he’d stop unless I gave him a definite reply quickly. “Please, Jungkook, I was so close,” I begged, and Jungkook generously complied with my plea. “Oh, yes,” I gasped when he inserted his middle finger in my drenching pussy.

“Tell me how much you love it,” Jungkook urged, and I moaned my gratitude, but words were incomprehensible, and I hoped that my attempts to praise him would suffice. “I made you feel so good that you can’t even speak; damn, you love my fingers,” he teased, adding another finger, curling it inside of me, almost throwing off the edge.

“Yes!” I hollered between my shallow breaths, all tensed, sensing my orgasm approaching. Just the way Jungkook had suspected it, I rocked my hips against his hand, needing his fingers deeper inside of me. “Yes, yes, yes. Jungkook, don’t stop!” I screamed, not bothering who might’ve heard me. At the moment, I only cared about Jungkook and my impending high.

“That’s right, squeeze around my fingers,” Jungkook egged me on, though I’d do it without his encouragement; he agitated fire in my veins, and when he started to suck on my clit again, I reached the moment of explosion. With the final thrust, my blood burnt, my vision blazed white, my throat growled his name, and my body thawed out falling straight into his arms.

“Jungkook–“

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” Jungkook stood up, showing me his hand all covered in my juices. “You look so blown away,” he added, staring into my eyes, as he licked his fingers clean. “So fucked out,” Jungkook pointed out, planting a peck in the corner of my lips.

“Well… yeah… you’ve got very skillful fingers,” I spoke, wrapping my hand in his; it was still a bit sticky, but we were also covered in sweat, so I didn’t care about it that much. “Thank you so much, I really needed that.”

“Don’t thank me now, you’ll thank me later when you feel my cock,” he corrected me, as he looked down at our interlocked hands, giving it a light squeeze. “My room or yours?” With a twinkle in his eyes, he asked directly, and I smiled, refraining myself from throwing myself into his arms, so he could take me to his chamber and fuck me all night long.

“The one which is closer,” I eagerly answered when I bit my bottom lip, looking at his erection, still cramped in his trousers. “You’ve been so hard for so long, your dick is gonna fall off,” I retorted cheekily, and Jungkook smirked at me.

“We could always finish up here,” he egged on, but I firmly shook my head; it was enough of exhibitionism for today. For maybe months, even. “Whatever you say, but sex under the starry sky? Mind-blow-ing,” Jungkook stated, articulating each syllable, but he might’ve as well spelled it out for me, yet it still wouldn’t change my mind. I’d rather have him in the sheets. “You have no idea what you’re missing out on.”

“Maybe some other time,” I said vaguely, running my hands across his chest, entwining my fingers behind his neck. “Indoor sex can be mind-blowing, too,” I added, staring at his swollen lips when I licked mine.

“Oh, yes,” Jungkook breathed out, quickly throwing his hands on my butt, hoisting me up. “Hold on,” he said when I wrapped my legs around his waist, “let’s not forget about the booze,” he added, as he turned around, letting me grab the bottle and the glasses before we forgot about it. “I bet sex with you is always amazing. You got the prettiest cunt I’ve ever tasted,” Jungkook whispered, and his words affected me much more than I would’ve guessed.

“Oh, Jungkook,” I murmured against his skin, nipping on his neck teasingly, and since Jungkook didn’t seem to mind my ministrations, I continued to suck the hickey while he was walking down the stairs. “I want to feel you inside of me,” I purred into his ear, and Jungkook immediately stopped in his track, pressing me against the wall quite aggressively.

“You do tend to speak carelessly,” he whispered, his voice giving me chills. “I barely control myself around you,” he added, playfully nipping my earlobe. Jungkook was sensual, and I was incredibly close to letting him fuck me right here in this shabby corridor. “If you keep talking like that I may not be able to hold myself back any longer.”

“I will make it up to you, I promise,” I muttered before I smashed my lips against his in another hungry kiss. “I will suck your cock dry if you want me to,” I added, and Jungkook began the walk to his bedroom.

“I want this and much more,” Jungkook mischievously added when we reached his room.

Quickly, Jungkook opened his room and let me enter it first, acting like a real gentleman.

When Jungkook was closing the doors behind us, I placed the alcohol on the cabinet. Then, I took my shoes off and looked around, wanting to study the interior, silently judging if his room looked fancier than mine. Unfortunately, the moment I started my thorough analysis, Jungkook wrapped his hand around my wrist, swiftly turned me around and yanked me against his muscular body.

My eyes gazed into his, instantly seeing the pure desire in them. Jungkook had already made me come, and now, he deserved to reach his orgasm too.

“Come here,” he muttered, and I, as if I were under his spell, wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him slowly. His bottom lip felt incredibly soft between mine. Quickly, his hands found a purchase on my hips, as he pulled me closer, and I deepened our kiss. “I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you. You drive me crazy,” Jungkook confessed, and I moaned feeling the same; with each move of his lips, I felt thirstier and thirstier.

Slowly, my hands roamed across his shoulders, down his chest until they reached the buckle of his belt. Biting my bottom lip, I undid it along with the button of his trousers.

“Can you do it any slower?” Jungkook asked in mock anger, impatient with my ministrations. “You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he added, and I smiled when I realized how he called me. I had never been a fan of pet names, but when one rolled of Jungkook’s tongue, it genuinely made me feel wanted and adored even though I was just about to kneel and suck his cock. “Please, have mercy.”

Having pulled his zipper down, I pushed his trousers down his muscular thighs, leaving him only in his deep-cut shirt and a pair of boxers. The bulge was impressive, and I unconsciously licked my lips, admiring the view in front of me.

Enthusiastically, I got on my knees, pulling his boxers down, making his erection spring out of its restraint right in front of my face. “Oh my,” I started, but I didn’t know how to finish my thought. I really wanted to suck his cock and make him come either down my throat or on my face or whatever he wanted to.

“You know what to do sweetheart,” Jungkook said, as he grabbed his cock and gave it a few lazy strokes. Damn, it was hot. His veiny hand was moving smoothly up and down his length, as he stared down at me, waiting for me to take care of him.

Gently, I put my hand over his. “Let me,” I whispered, and Jungkook took his hand away, allowing me to touch him. His cock was throbbing in my hand, as I stroked him carefully, feeling the slight curve of his erection and prominent veins.

“That’s right,” Jungkook sighed, kicking his head backward, giving into the pleasure I was giving me. “Spit on my cock,” he instructed, and I followed his order, quickly smearing my saliva over his length, mixing it with a bit of the precum. His cock was slick, and my hand moved quickly, making him grunt in enjoyment.

Shortly after, I leaned forward and started to suck on the tip of cock while still running my hand up and down his erection. Jungkook thrust his hips slightly and hissed when he felt the tip of my tongue on his cock.

“Oh God, yes,” he praised, and I hummed, glad that he enjoyed my ministrations. “Yeah, suck me off, just like that,” he grunted, as he shut his eyes close, giving completely into the pleasure. Eagerly, I hollowed my cheeks, taking more and more of him, resting my hands on his hips. My head bobbed back and forth as I sucked him, my tongue gently pressing on the veiny underside of his cock. “Oh my God,” Jungkook whined in enjoyment when I squeezed his balls with one of my hands.

“Do you like what I’m doing to you?” I asked as I pulled out with a pop. “Are you going to come?” I asked innocently, still playing with his balls. Jungkook looked down at me, but I just smirked, leaning down, pressing my tongue against the tip of his cock, licking it down to its base along a large vein. “You are close, aren’t you?” I teased, chuckling when Jungkook’s cock started to twitch in my palms.

“You won’t be smirking when I am done with you,” Jungkook warned me, but I only giggled to his threat. If he was going to fuck me into oblivion, I’d gladly take that punishment. “No one has ever fucked you like I’m about to,” he added, and I only hoped he wasn’t all talk and no action.

“Can’t wait,” I muttered before I once again put his cock into my mouth, sucking him off eagerly. Jungkook, on the other hand, decided to take control of the situation. Gently, he grabbed my hair and wrapped it around his hand as he wanted to give me his rhythm.

“Will you be a good girl and let me come in your mouth?” Jungkook asked, and though I had never let men finish on my tongue, I couldn’t bring myself to decline him. Jungkook woke up my inner most-hidden desires, and right now, I would let him do anything. Even if he wanted me to swallow his cum, I would do it with pleasure. With him, I felt like a sex goddess, and I was eager to cross all of my past boundaries.

Tonight, I had no inhibitions.

It could be my last time having sex, and I was going to make the most of it.

Jungkook was on the verge of coming, and I felt needy too, so my hand reached down to rub my clit. He had given me one orgasm, but I was ready for more.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked as he pulled my hair, staring at me touching myself. “Stop it. Only I can touch this pussy,” he added authoritatively, and I quickly stopped since I didn’t want to upset him. Although it was difficult to resist this temptation, I had a feeling that Jungkook would reward my obedience.

Biting his bottom lip, Jungkook closed his eyes before he began thrusting his cock in and out of my mouth. His hips quickly snapped, but he didn’t push it beyond my limits. Though he was a little upset about my urgency, he respected my boundaries and didn’t force his cock, so it didn't become unpleasant to me. His thick cock gagged me a little, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Jungkook breathed out when he pulled out. “Open your mouth, sweetheart,” he urged me, and I instantly complied with his order, being too enchanted by his quiet grunts. I have always thought that men moans were the hottest thing a man could do during sex, and Jungkook only proved me right now.

With a throaty groan of my name, Jungkook came, milking my tongue with his massive load. His hand moved across his shaft quickly throughout his orgasm, and I moaned when I felt the taste of his cum in my mouth.

“Are you going to be a good girl and swallow it?” Jungkook asked me in between his shallow breaths, and I obediently nodded my head, fulfilling his request. “That was so hot,” he added, as he stretched his hand for me to take it, so he could help me stand up from my knees.

“Everything you do is hot too,” I honestly said, “and I am really needy,” I added innocently, smiling at him, slowly unbuttoning the last piece of clothing which he had on.

“Once I fuck you, you’ll never get enough of me,” Jungkook muttered when I slid my hands under the silk material of his shirt, slowly pushing it off his shoulders. “Why don’t you put up a little show for me? You’ve got so many clothes on,” Jungkook started as he lazily moved towards the bed.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I teased, pushing him backward, so he stumbled on the bed, staring at me as if he were an addict and I was a sweet dose of drugs. “Sit back and enjoy,” I said, having no idea how the hell he made me so confident.

Putting attention to every detail, I started to unbutton my shirt, doing it agonizingly slowly. Jungkook enjoyed my performance; I was teasing him, but I could tell he liked every second of it. When my shirt hung freely over my shoulders, Jungkook leaned back, propping his body on his elbows.

“You’re killing me. I’m gonna be hard again, and you haven’t even taken your shirt off,” Jungkook complained, but I only giggled, glad that my show was affecting him that much.

Smirking at him, I pushed my shirt off my shoulders, letting him admire my body clad only in a simple bra and a skirt. His eyes studied my appearance, and I didn’t need any other validation that I looked stunning.

“Do you mind bringing me a drink?” Jungkook requested politely, and I gladly poured us drinks even though the alcohol didn’t particularly fit my preferences. With two glasses of clear whiskey, I approached him and handed him one. “To your success,” he whispered before he clinked his glass against mine and drank the half of the liquor.

Sitting on his rock-hard thighs, I reached behind my back to unhook my bra. As if enchanted, Jungkook sat up, staring in admiration at my breasts. Quickly, he placed his glass on the floor beside the bed, desperate to touch me. In an instant, I felt his large hands on my sides, slowly riding up to my bare breasts.

Jungkook started to kiss the curve of my neck, and I kicked my head backward, giving him more access to my skin. His thumbs gently played with my nipples while his lips covered my collarbones with kisses, and his tender ministrations made me buckle my hips against his flaccid cock.

“Jungkook,” I moaned quietly, and Jungkook’s mouth turned into a wide smile. He was very pleased with himself whenever I reacted to his touches. “Why don’t you lie down?” I asked him, pushing him onto the mattress before he managed to reply.

“Why don’t you hump me until I’m hard again to fuck you?” Jungkook said, correctly seeing through my intentions. “Or maybe you think you could get yourself off against me?”

“I’d rather feel your cock inside of me, but if you can’t pop another hard-on, I guess you’ll leave me no choice but satiate my needs with dry-humping you,” I teased him before I leaned forward to shut him up with a kiss. I’ve had enough of talking; I wanted another orgasm to wash through me. Besides, I was sure Jungkook wouldn’t mind another one, too.

“Baby,” Jungkook moaned the moment I started to rub my drenching pussy against his limp cock. “It feels too good,” he added, but once again I shut him up with a passionate kiss. My tongue danced with his in imperfect sync, his hands roamed all over my hips and thighs, while I rocked myself against his half-erect dick.

“Oh fuck,” I cursed when Jungkook cupped my breasts and pinched my hard nipples. “Oh my God, yes, Jungkook, yes!” I shouted, rubbing myself against him way harder. It felt good, and that stimulation almost made me reach my high.

“You’re a real freak in the sheets,” Jungkook commented, amused by his remark. “You really need my cock, don’t you?” He inquired, as he stared at my desperate moves against his length. “Let me take care of you, okay?” He asked, and mirroring my previous bossy mannerism, he didn’t wait for my reply, but he just pushed me onto the mattress and got on top of me, his hard cock poking my folds.

“Jungkook, please, fuck me with your cock already,” I urged him, but Jungkook only smirked before he grabbed his thick length and with its tip slapped my drenching pussy, making me choke on a throaty moan. The sensation was erratic, and though he didn’t penetrate me, I felt another wave of warmth surge through my body.

“How can I say no when you’re asking so nicely,” Jungkook whispered, and I buckled my hips against his erection. Though I was desperately whining for his touch, I wasn’t ashamed of my words. We both had needs which we were going to deliver to each other.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, Jungkook, oh my god,” I breathed out when Jungkook slowly eased himself in, stretching out my walls. “It feels so, so good,” I added, raising my hips off the mattress, only to have them pinned back to the bed by his strong hands.

“Lie still,” Jungkook commanded, and though I felt tempted to roll on top of him and ride him, I decided to follow his order. Despite looking my age, Jungkook perfectly knew how to please a woman, and I was going to let him take care of me.

Staring into my eyes, Jungkook pushed his length inside of me. Trying my best not to react, I bit my bottom lip, waiting for Jungkook to make another move. Gently, he massaged my thighs before he slowly wrapped them around his hips.

“Good girl,” he murmured, sending me a mischievous smirk which could only mean trouble. Before I managed to reply, Jungkook started to slam his fat cock in and out of me, making me a whining mess beneath him.

Sweat was rolling down his forehead and chest, and I couldn’t help myself but admire the wild beast which fucked me senseless. Though he only started, and I was nowhere near the orgasm, I felt tiny sparks of electricity erupting in every cell of my body. His pounding was incredibly pleasurable, and I knew the orgasm would be bone-crushing.

The bed creaked in the rhythm of Jungkook’s thrusts and my moans. The sounds of our bodies colliding and Jungkook’s quiet breaths rang in my ears made me close my eyes and grip on the sheets, completely giving myself into the pleasure.

After a while, Jungkook’s tempo slowed down, but I couldn’t complain when he was pounding his cock inside of me and rubbing my clit simultaneously.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Jungkook grunted, and I obediently nodded my head.

Jungkook was falling out of his rhythm when I was near my orgasm. My walls started to tighten around his cock, and I moaned his name. “Jungkook, I’m…” I started, my voice breaking, since I was feeling too good to sound comprehensive. “I’m gonna come.”

The moment when I was panting, when my blood was boiling, when I was about to explode, Jungkook stopped. With a smug smirk on his face, he pulled out, denying my second orgasm.

“That’s not cool,” I said, starting to giggle. This situation was ridiculous.

“You have to trust me,” Jungkook whispered, as he massaged my thigh gently. I wanted to purr, but before I managed to produce a sound, Jungkook suddenly turned me around, making me lie on my stomach. “Butt up, sweetheart,” he ordered in a seductive voice, and I instantly obeyed his command.

On my fours, I waited for his touch. Carefully, he traced the tips of his fingers across my thighs up to my butt. Then, taking me aback, Jungkook slapped my butt. Though it didn’t hurt me, it left a pleasant stinging sensation.

“You like that, don’t you?” Jungkook purred into my ear when he pushed his cock inside of me from behind and leaned against my back. “Admit that no one has ever fucked you the way I’m doing it now,” he whispered while pounding in and out of me.

“Jungkook, yes, yes,” I breathed out, gripping the sheets when I slowly neared the bliss. “You’re the best I’ve ever had,” I moaned, craning my neck as I needed to kiss him.

“That’s right,” Jungkook let out a throaty moan, making me shiver. His body was making me feel amazing, but his raspy voice was going to be the death of me. By far, it was the sexiest sound which had ever rung in my ears.

“Jungkook, can I ride you?” I asked quickly, as I thought about sitting on his muscular thighs, sliding up and down his pulsating cock.

“Fuck yes,” he eagerly answered before he pulled out and sat up, leaning his back against the headrest. “Come on, jump on it,” Jungkook urged me, and I, with a mischievous smirk on my face, I sat astride him.

“I’m really frustrated,” I truthfully said as I looked into his eyes and entwined my fingers behind his neck. “No more playing dirty,” I added when I started to move my hips, rubbing my drenching slit against his veiny cock.

Jungkook’s grip on my hips tightened slightly. “Jump. On. It.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth, sounding quite angry. He was just as impatient, and I, obeying his order, sat down on his cock. “Mm… Good girl,” he whispered before he leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine.

His kiss was passionate, and it felt as if our lips molded together. His hands held my hips, giving me guidance, helping me set the right tempo. God, it felt like heaven.

“I’m coming,” I moaned, as I increased my pace, giving him no chance to deny me of another orgasm. I’d die if he stopped me again from reaching the blissful high.

“I’m close, too,” Jungkook genuinely admitted before he captured my lips again. My walls were squeezing around his throbbing cock as I entirely gave in to my instincts. I moved up and down his erection until I felt an explosion of pleasure rip me apart.

Jungkook came a few seconds after me, growling my name as he milked my walls with his cum. All covered in sweat, Jungkook looked at me, and I just started to giggle.

“It was…”

***

According to the analog clock on the desk in the corner of Jungkook’s room, it was five o’clock. Jungkook was lying on the bed beside me, breathing soundly, and for a brief moment, I marveled his gorgeous looks; his muscular body, his soft hair and his sun-kissed skin with a variety of love marks I had given him when he had been pushing all the right buttons. Damn it; even his eyelashes were beautiful, casting shadow on his cheeks.

No matter how much I fancied having another round in the morning, I had to leave; I am a woman on a mission, and now, when the night was over, I had to return to my priorities. The fling with Jungkook was unforgettable, but I had to flee his chamber.

My legs were sore, but strangely I felt energized; almost as if I had slept for twelve hours, not two. It must’ve been the hormones.

In haste, I collected my clothes, carelessly putting it back on my body. From time to time, I’d peek at Jungkook, yet every time when my eyes landed on his frame, he was sleeping soundly, as if it was the first time in years he had such a calm slumber.

Sighing at the beautiful sight in front of me, I turned around and left.

***

As soon as I stepped into my room, I undressed and headed to the bathroom, desperately needing a shower. I was sticky with sweat and my and Jungkook’s arousals, and I just had to clean myself.

Quickly, I turned on the tap, letting the water spill on the yellowish tiles. “Mm… he was so good,” I daydreamt, thinking of the night escapade with Jungkook, and how he made me feel. He was just a mere stranger, but none of my previous lovers had satisfied me even half as good. Too bad we would never meet again; I’ll be on my way before he’d even wake up.

“Get a grip,” I spoke to myself, hating how much he was distracting me although I had met him less than ten hours ago. Yes, the sex was mind-blowing. Yes, we had gone a few rounds. Yes, it was by far the best sex of my life. It felt like heaven, but I have a goal. I needed to stay focused, so regardless of how many pictures of him my mind would project, of how his deep voice echoed in my subconsciousness, of how I still felt his touch on my flesh, I had to figure out how I’d get to Senegal.

After what it felt like an hour, I stepped out of the shower with a towel tightly wrapped around my body. I was to spend maybe a few days in the wilderness, so instead of wearing my typical clothing, which consisted of a button down shirt with rolled up sleeves and a skirt, I put on one set of specially bought clothes.

Three days before the flight, I had purchased a pair of waterproof trekking boots, a few sets of bamboo organic cotton underwear, and of course, T-shirts and shorts made out of breathable fabric. I was prepared for heat, for flood, and any other climate anomaly in that region. I had even got vaccinated for exotic bugs, insects and other viruses.

When my phone was getting charged to the fullest, I threw everything out of my suitcase and packed the necessities into a huge backpack. I had nutritious food, a special bottle to filter water, ropes, and other archeology gear which I’d need to get into the tomb.

By seven o’clock, I was ready to leave. Nervously, I adjusted my backpack’s straps, and with my head high, I left my room and headed to the reception desk to check out. The receptionist was a bit startled by the change in my appearance, but he didn’t say anything; probably because he couldn’t formulate his commentary within his narrow range of English vocabulary.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say goodbye,” I heard a familiar voice the second I stepped out of the hotel. Instantly, I turned around and saw Jungkook, in a fresh set of clothes, leaning against the wall, munching on an apple. “You didn’t leave a note, either.”

“Sorry,” I said nervously, not sure how to talk to him. We were never supposed to meet again, yet there he was, apparently waiting for me. “Why are you up so early?” Folding my arms across my chest, I asked. He had never told me he had a reason to get up so early in the morning.

“I don’t sleep alone very well,” he added, as he pushed himself off the wall, and threw the half-eaten apple on the ground.

“Then I hope tonight someone will keep you company until you’re well rested,” I said politely, giving him a wide smile, hoping he’d get the clue that I didn’t have time to chat with him now. I really wished him well; I couldn’t stay any longer, and I didn’t want him to get lonely. “And if you excuse me, I have a bus which I need to catch.”

“How can you be so cold to me?” Jungkook asked, and I sighed, regretting that I had stopped when I had heard his voice. I should’ve ignored him then; I should’ve pretended not to hear him. “And why are you in such a rush? We could have breakfast together–“

“I’ve already eaten, sorry,” I interjected before he’d lure me back to the hotel with his handsome looks and tantalizing stare. “And yeah, I’m in a hurry, so have a nice day, but I gotta go,” I added with a smile, turning on my heel so I wouldn’t have to look into his eyes.

“But you have to try some of the Moroccan dishes before you leave,” Jungkook concluded, but I wasn’t having this. Yes, it could be delicious, but I really had more important stuff which had to be dealt with immediately. I couldn’t afford to get stalled and/or distracted.

“Your proposition is tempting, like really tempting, but I just can’t,” I spoke, trying to sound as genuine as I could. I didn’t want to be rude, but in my life were plenty of things which were more important than man’s companionship. Jungkook was amazing, but right now, my work was my priority. “I’m sorry, Jungkook,” I added quietly, before I turned around on my heel, and started to walk away.

“That’s too bad,” Jungkook added, “but have I ever mentioned that I have a chopper?” When I heard him, I immediately stopped in my track. I didn’t have to face him to know that this bastard was smugly smirking. “It’s not healthy to start a journey on an empty stomach. Please, have breakfast with me, and I’ll give you a lift to wherever you meet your crew.”

I must’ve gone crazy to actually consider Jungkook’s proposition. I didn’t know anything about him; how could I even think about accepting his ridiculous offering? Especially when there was no crew waiting for me anywhere, and I was headed in the opposite direction to what I had told him. It wasn’t a good idea to involve him, even though he could prove himself incredibly useful. Owning a chopper, for example.

“You lie, you wouldn’t be staying in this hotel if you could afford a chopper,” I concluded, still hesitant to his offering. It didn’t make any sense.

“Here’s where you’re wrong,” Jungkook said with a mischievous smirk upon his face. “You see, I’m supposed to write about regular people, and if I stayed in a fancy-ass hotel, who could I write about? Probably, some rich assholes who came here with their side-chicks to cheat on their wives. And I got my chopper from my super-rich sponsor who apparently loves my feuilletons.” Jungkook explained, and even if he lied, his reasoning made sense.

“Fine, I guess I could find an hour to have something to eat,” I gave up, and Jungkook smiled radiantly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders when he approached me. “Okay, Jungkook, lead the way,” I urged him, but Jungkook only beamed, guiding me to his favorite restaurant.

The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy, but I liked its homely atmosphere. Taking the table next to the window, Jungkook waved at the waitress, as he was ready to order without looking at the menu.

The woman smiled at him, and he smiled at her when they shared a conversation in a language I didn’t understand. However, judging by Jungkook’s frequent glances toward my direction, I had a suspicion that he was ordering me food.

Once the women walked away, Jungkook looked at me, and I instantly asked him. “What was this about?” I couldn’t help myself but be curious.

“Nothing, I just ordered some must-tries. We’re leaving Casablanca today, and you just have to try some of the dishes here.” Jungkook explained, and I internally cringed at the pronoun he used. He was just helping me to get from one place to another; he wasn’t my side-kick.

Though it didn’t sit right with me, I didn’t correct him. My bus left a few minutes ago, I couldn’t lash out at him, and then have him nullify our agreement.

“So what have you ordered for me?”

“A little bit of everything, you know,” Jungkook said, looking through the window. “I got you some fruit with yogurt, a plate of Sfenj, and fried eggs with olives. It’s really delicious.”

“I don’t really like eggs, so I guess I’ll enjoy my Sfen-something – whatever that is,” I added, and Jungkook chuckled.

“Sfenj are a type of deep-fried Moroccan fritter,” Jungkook explained, and I nodded my head, thinking it wouldn’t be half bad. “And whether you like it or not, you should eat the eggs, not only they’ll be amazing, but also you need a lot of protein.”

“Ugh, you sound like my father,” I grunted, remembering a dozen fights with my family regarding my eating habits.

“Well… I wouldn’t mind you calling me daddy,” Jungkook said, and I rolled my eyes, glad that the food wasn’t yet served because otherwise some of it would end up on his face. “What? Don’t act so coy. After last night, I know your true colors. You’re a freak.”

“I was just caught in the heat of the moment.” I tried to defend myself, but when I saw another smirk on Jungkook’s face, I knew it had no sense. No matter what I would tell him, it wouldn’t change his opinion about me and my kinks.

As soon as our food was served, we started munching it almost as if we were starved for a few days. Our physical acts must’ve drained us of energy more than anyone of us had thought.

“So… where are we headed?” Jungkook asked when he finished his serving, wiping his mouth with a clean napkin.

“A nameless island west of Ziguinchor, Senegal,” I said, and Jungkook looked the location on his phone, as he was probably unfamiliar with this region. Furrowing his eyebrows, he thought of the best route how to get there. It was difficult itself, but given the fact that the island wasn’t drawn on most of the maps, wasn’t making his task any easier.

“It’s not even on the map,” Jungkook muttered, cocking up his eyebrow, being even more curious than before. It was mysterious, and it definitely piqued his interest. “It’s gonna be difficult, but screw it, let’s do it,” he added happily, as he locked his phone and placed it on the table, giving me his full attention.

“Thanks, Jungkook, I really appreciate your help,” I added before I returned to my breakfast.

“No problem, I was getting bored here anyway,” Jungkook shrugged, sending me another bright beam. “So how about you finish your breakfast, and I’ll go get my stuff. I’ll pay for our meal, and let’s meet outside in ten, okay?”

“Sure.”

***

Within ten minutes Jungkook met me outside. He was carrying a large backpack on his back, and despite his handsome features and a bucket hat on his head, he looked ridiculous.

“Okay, show me your chopper,” I said with a smirk as I couldn’t wait to start the journey. The breakfast with Jungkook was a delight, but I had a pretty tight schedule, and it was about time to get going.

“We have a long journey ahead of us, sweetheart,” Jungkook said, as he showed me the way to his car. “I googled the distance, and we’re gonna be lucky to get there before the nightfall.”

Although we were on a pretty hectic schedule, we managed to board the chopper before 9 o’clock. Jungkook carried our backpacks inside and sat in the pilot’s seat, and I just followed quietly behind him, letting him work in peace.

“You know… you would be an awesome stewardess,” Jungkook said, trying to start a conversation with me for the nth time this day. “With your long legs, and everything else,” he finished his thought, but I was lost for words. I already was an outstanding archeologist, and I didn’t have to have long legs to prove how great I was at it.

“How long is it gonna take?” I questioned, getting a bit impatient. I had been studying Senegalese legends for years, and now, I was near to my first great discovery.

“Why? Do you hate my company so much?” Jungkook teased, and I just rolled my eyes. “If the rest of the flight will be as smooth, we’re gonna be there in an hour or so.”

“That’s good,” I said with a deep sigh before I looked through the window, admiring the calm sea below us. “Thank you, Jungkook. And sorry for being so sour in the morning, I was just anxious.”

“No, it’s okay. I understand; you must be under a lot of pressure,” Jungkook answered with a soft smile, as he looked at me. “Oh shit,” Jungkook cursed, his beam fading away. Quickly, I cocked up my eyebrows, having no clue what caused his sudden change in his behavior.

Still confused, I looked through the window again. I saw another chopper. Why did it make Jungkook freak out a little? What was going on?

“Hold on something,” Jungkook ordered, and I clutched the armrests of my seat.

“What the hell? What is going on?” I asked, but Jungkook didn’t even bother to answer my questions. Instead, he focused on the buttons in front of him, pressing one after another, making the machine soar higher.

“Okay, maybe I wasn’t entirely honest with you,” Jungkook started, and I looked at him in panic. What the fuck he meant by that?! “So, this chopper isn’t technically mine. It’s my friend’s, and he sometimes gets a little bit angry with me when I borrow it without his direct permission,” he explained, but I didn’t trust him wholeheartedly.

He had lied to me once, and he could do it again.

“Don’t worry, though. Namjoon’s harmless,” Jungkook added, trying to calm me down. Unfortunately, the moment I heard his words, the glass of my window cracked after what it seemed a bullet. “Or maybe, I’ve angered him one time too many,” Jungkook smiled sheepishly, as he swerved the chopper around, trying to avoid getting shot again.

“What the fuck?” I screamed, losing my composure. It was supposed to be a peaceful expedition, and right now, someone was aiming a gun at us. That’s not what I signed up for! “Jungkook, do something!”

“Don’t panic; I already see the island,” Jungkook replied, but his statement didn’t calm me down; not when more shots were fired our direction. It was difficult to remain level-headed, I did my best. Of course, everything changed when I felt a sharp pull right before when our chopper started to descend. All kinds of alarms flared red and began ringing, and I was terrified when I realized that we were going to die regardless of how tight I was holding onto my seat. We were doomed.

My heart was beating rapidly, my knuckles were white due to clutching onto my seat, and my eyes were shut. I was too cowardly to face reality when the death was about to swallow us in a few brief moments as soon as the chopper would collide with the surface of the water.

“Come on, we have to jump,” I barely heard Jungkook over my pathetic meltdown. I could comprehend only bits and pieces of his words, but thankfully, Jungkook just grabbed my hand, and yanked me out of my seat, handing me my backpack. “I hope you know how to swim,” Jungkook shouted before he opened the doors and pushed me out of the chopper.

I was in complete shock; one moment I was sure I was going to die, while a few seconds later I screamed my lungs out, waving my hands back and forth as I fell down into the water.

When I regained the remains of my composure, it was already on the narrow beach. I had no idea how long it took me to get to the shore, nor how I managed to swim such a long distance with my pathetic stamina.

Spitting seawater, I threw my backpack on the sand before I lay on the beach, the calm waves washing my feet. I felt terrible, everything hurt me, and I had water in my nose. However, I couldn’t complain, I was still alive after all.

As soon as I calmed down, adjusting myself to my current situation, I looked around, trying to spot Jungkook and our wrecked chopper. Though my sight was still blurry, either because of seawater or my tears, I could see smoke coming from the jungle.

“It was a close one,” Jungkook said as he emerged from the water and lay down next to me, trying to catch his breath after the energy-draining swim.

I was thankful that we were still alive, but when I saw Jungkook beside me, talking so casually about our near death situation, I felt rage wash through me. Before my mind could register what I was doing, I sat astride on him, violently hitting his chest with my fists.

Unfortunately, after what we experienced not that long ago, my punches weren’t as painful as I wished them to be. Without any trouble, Jungkook wrapped his fingers around my wrists, stopping my poor attempt of hurting him.

“Is your friend really harmless?” I asked him, trying not to burst into tears. I didn’t want him to think I was weak. Quite contrary, I thought I was pretty strong. However, because of him, I was caught in a life-threatening situation, and it was natural to feel so confused. “For fuck’s sake, he shot us down! What is going on, Jeon? Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

“OK, maybe he doesn’t consider us friends, but in my defense, it’s unlike him to behave like that,” Jungkook said, but his explanation didn’t have any value. I still didn’t understand what the point of shooting us down was.

"You're not completely honest with me, Jungkook. This Namjoon guy wouldn't shoot down his own chopper if he was mad at you for taking it. There has to be something more to it. Tell me the truth, and don't you dare lie to me again," I demanded, and Jungkook seemed to be immersed in thought as if considering disclosing the facts to me. Although he was dubious, deep down he knew I deserved to know the truth about his conflict with Namjoon.

“So… I might’ve borrowed some money from him, and technically, I haven’t paid it off yet completely, so maybe that’s why he’s feeling a little bit angry with it.”

“Jungkook, he’s not a little bit angry, this guy almost killed us, he’s livid,” I interjected, being unable to listen to him sugarcoat things. “This is just perfect; a guy almost killed us, the chopper is a wreck, and on top of that, we are on the wrong side of the island. I shouldn’t have agreed to go with you. I felt it in my guts back then; I should’ve listened to my hunch.”

“Don’t be like that, we’ll find a way out of it,” Jungkook said, trying to cheer me up, but I wasn’t having any of that. First of all, there was no we. Secondly, the chopper crashed, so even if we found the necklace, we wouldn’t be able to escape the inhabited island.

“Yeah, of course, you’re right,” I spoke bitterly, being on the verge of hysteria. The situation was ridiculous, and although we survived the crash, we were still trapped on this island. We were alive, but it was only a matter of time. “I have an idea; I’ll go through that jungle and find that necklace. In the meantime, you can stay here on the beach and built a fucking boat for us because as far as I am concerned, there’s no other transport we can use. How about that?” I was mean, but I didn’t care. It was Jungkook’s fault; he should be the one to do the hard labor.

“Well, you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” Jungkook argued back, clenching his jaw. “Besides, I believe you said something about your crew, they’re going to get here sooner or later,” he concluded, and I wanted to slap myself.

“No, Jungkook, you’re wrong, there’s no crew,” I admitted, and Jungkook really started to panic. “I lied to you back then. It’s my solo expedition.”

“OK, so we agree we’re both to blame. Now, we have to come up with a plan,” Jungkook concluded, and with a deep sigh, I agreed. “What are you suggesting?”

“I think we should focus on finding the necklace. Once we have it, we can start thinking of an escape plan,” I suggested, and Jungkook nodded, understanding my logic.

“That sounds like a plan, but I think we should think of a way to spend the night. The sun is about to descend soon, and from what I heard the wilderness can get pretty dangerous at night,” Jungkook voiced, and I hummed in agreement.

For people who had lied to each other so many times, our dynamics were pretty synced.

“What should we do? We can stay here, or find a place to sleep somewhere in the jungle; which would be safer?” I asked him, hoping that he had a good sense of survival. I didn’t want to get eaten by a puma in my sleep, so I really hoped we could rely on Jungkook’s instincts and survival skills.

“I think we should start a fire here, and dry off first,” Jungkook said after a moment of thinking. “I have a sleeping bag in my backpack, but like all the other things inside it, it’s drenched.”

“Okay, let’s do that,” I quickly agreed with him, desperately needing some sort of heat. Naturally, I had pretty low blood pressure, and right now, I was drenched. The blowing wind didn’t help, either. “You know how to do that, right?”

“Of course, who do you take me for?” Jungkook asked me, being slightly offended with my question. “With me, you’re safe.”

Wrapping my hands around my body, I watched Jungkook work. His clothes were sticking to his muscles, and when he was carrying wood, I could admire his masculine beauty. Although Jungkook had a base of a handyman, I would never peg him as one. If anything, I’d sooner consider him to be a cunning ladies man.

“Voilà!” Jungkook exclaimed when successfully prepared the bonfire. “Come here, you must be freezing,” he added, encouraging me to have a seat beside me. Grumbling under my breath, I stood up and approached him, sitting next to him. “Have you brought anything to eat? I gotta admit, I am starving,” Jungkook asked, and I pulled out two energy bars from my backpack.

For a while, we sat in complete silence, basking in the warmth of the bonfire, and it was actually pretty pleasant, given that Jungkook was my company. I had several reasons to complain; he had lied to me and put my life in danger. However, despite all of that, I couldn't bring myself to hate him with every fiber of my body. Because he had proven himself to be useful, I only hated him to some degree.

“Tomorrow, we’re gonna have a nice trek,” Jungkook started, as he looked at me. “Do you have a map or something?”

“No, Jungkook, there’s no map. It has never been discovered; all I have is a handful of very vague clues.” I answered with a sigh. Basically, I was looking for a needle in the haystack. “Also, the clues vary based on different translations.”

“Oh,” was all he said. “Don’t lose your spirit, you will find it, and I’m gonna help you,” he added, and I cracked a faint smile. It was comforting, but I still had a few doubts haunting me.

“Thanks,” I replied, wrapping my arms around myself tighter. “Are our sleeping bags dry yet?” I asked, feeling a bit sleepy. Just like Jungkook had said, we would have a long trek tomorrow, and I wanted to be well-rested.

“I don’t know, you can check if you want,” he said, and I walked up to them.

With a quick, sharp motion, I picked the sleeping bag up, wanting to get rid of the sand. Unfortunately, when I did so, I felt something fell out of the sleeping bag, and it was a fucking snake. The second my eyes spotted the reptile, I shrieked loudly, tossed the sleeping bag aside, and ran up to Jungkook to hide behind his back.

“It’s a fucking snake! Do something!” I shouted at the top of my voice when I looked down to see the snake slowly moving towards us. “Kill it, please,” I begged him, but Jungkook only chuckled, evidently amused by my panicked outburst.

“It doesn’t seem to be venomous,” Jungkook concluded, but I had no trust in his analysis. According to what he had told me, he was a journalist – not a biologist. “It probably wants to warm up,” he added, but I wrapped my hands around his biceps, expecting him to provide me with safety. “Jesus Christ, your hands are cold,” he turned his head to look into my eyes.

“Please,” I cooed, hoping that after what we had survived together, I had an influence on his actions. “Jungkook, please, get rid of it,” I added, and Jungkook seemed to soften under my pleading gaze.

“Ugh, fine,” he spoke before he grabbed a broken branch and walked up to the snake, wanting to pick it up and take it far away from me. “It’s all done, it shouldn’t bother us again,” he explained, but I told him to check the other sleeping bag in case there was another surprise waiting for us. Thankfully, nothing else sought sanctuary in our belongings.

“Is it safe?”

“Yep, it’s absolutely reptile-free,” Jungkook said in a mocking tone, so I smacked his shoulder playfully. “If you’re afraid another snake may creep into your sleeping bag, we can share mine,” Jungkook suggested, and I actually caught myself considering his offer.

“Fine, but it’s not because I’m afraid,” I answered, and Jungkook cocked his eyebrow in curiosity. “I know I will get cold, and you’re like a portable heater, that’s why,” I explained, but it didn’t make his smug smirk disappear.

“It’s fine with me.” Jungkook smiled before he put his sleeping bag on the sand. “Come here,” he urged me, and I quickly obeyed, wanting to warm myself up. A bit too willingly, I snuggled up to Jungkook’s chest, and Jungkook hissed when he felt my cold hands on his skin. “What do you think about a quickie before sleep? I don’t know about you, but I sleep like a baby after a good fuck,” he hinted, placing an inviting kiss on my neck.

“I think I’ll pass,” I answered, turning on the other side. “And FYI, I haven’t forgotten about that I almost got shot because of you.”

“You can’t blame a man for trying to be romantic,” Jungkook said, not taking my rejection personally, but I only snorted. Yeah, it was romantic as fuck. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Jeon.”

***

At the crack of dawn, we woke up cuddling. Jungkook’s morning wood was digging into my back, but I couldn’t care any less. I was mad at him, and no matter how many times he would beg me to help him out, I wasn’t going to comply with his humble request. I was still mad at him for what he had put us through.

Having consumed energy bars for breakfast, we packed our things (now thankfully dry) and set off our journey. We had two possibilities; we could walk along the coast, or trek through the jungle. The decision was difficult, but after a brief discussion, we chose the shorter and more dangerous hike through the wilderness. Our food would suffice for two days tops; we didn’t have the time to take the longer route.

“How long do you think we have to walk like that?” Jungkook asked before he cut the bush in front of us with a sharp knife so we could move forward.

“According to the legend, they walked the entire night until they reached the heart of the island. Also, it was either April or May, so the trek took them about five hours.” I explained, trying to remember all the details from my report. I had it saved on my phone, but I didn’t want to stop to get it out of the zip lock bag from the very bottom of my backpack.

“And how long is it gonna take to get there from this side of the island?”

“Probably the entire day,” I answered quietly, focusing on walking and breathing. For someone with my stamina (or the lack of thereof), it was incredibly tiring, and I didn’t want to seem so weak in front of him. I was the captain of this expedition, not a thorn in Jungkook’s side. “Maybe a little less if we find a short-cut.”

“Now, that’s comforting,” Jungkook giggled, and I smiled. We were screwed; it would be a miracle if we found the necklace and made it alive. “So what you want to do when we come back to the civilization?”

“All I want to do is to lie in my bed and binge watch RuPaul’s Drag Race,” I admitted honestly, even though it might’ve sounded silly to Jungkook. “Don’t judge, it’s highly addictive.”

“I’m not judging you,” he chuckled, and I wondered if he was honest with me. “I was just asking what you’re gonna do with your discovery. If the necklace is half as important as you let it on, then I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be a headliner soon.” Jungkook elaborated, and I, being a complete idiot, blushed.

“Oh,” it’s all that left my mouth. I was shocked, for someone who could double-cross me, Jungkook appeared to be suspiciously supportive of my achievement. “Thanks, Jungkook,” I answered quietly still digesting his words. He was right; if I came back home with the necklace, it would definitely bring me lots of fame and wealth. “And what are you gonna do if we make it alive?”

“I’m not sure,” he whispered, thinking of the best way to convey his thought into words. “This journey is an once-in-a-lifetime adventure, so I’ll probably live my life peacefully, sometimes reminiscing how fun it was here with you,” Jungkook explained, and I felt funny. Yes, it was dangerous, but above all, it was incredibly exciting.

“It’s not gonna be as fun when I push in a puma’s claws, so I can run for my life,” I joked, and Jungkook chuckled, reminding me of the night we met; I had been feeling so lighthearted back then. “I’m not joking, though.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Jungkook teased, and I shook my head. We were alone in the middle of the jungle, yet we still could find some energy to bicker playfully. “You’d be scared shitless to move, let alone push me. I saw how you reacted to a harmless snake, trust me, you’re not gonna do shit,” he added, and I smacked his shoulder, acting offended.

“It’s a mistake to underestimate me,” I retorted, but Jungkook didn’t appreciate it. Instead, he only raised his hand, wanting to shush me. Cocking my eyebrow up, I eyed him, a little bit fed up with his superior attitude. “What do you –“ I started, but Jungkook quickly turned around, and cupped my mouth. Confused, I furrowed my eyebrows, looking up at him.

“Shh…” he whispered before he removed his hand from my mouth. “It appears the island isn’t completely deserted,” he commented, and I fixated my eyes on the people on the meadow just a couple meters away from us.

“Who are these people?” I asked him quietly, not expecting him to know the answer. It didn’t make any sense; where the hell did they come from? What kind of shady business were they engaging in here?

“I don’t know… maybe they’re pirates or something,” Jungkook guessed, and I just shrugged, not knowing what to say. It was a possibility. “I think we should get out of here,” he proposed, and I agreed. I didn’t want to get involved with these people; it was for the better if they didn’t know about our presence.

It was reasonable to retreat, but curiosity got the better of me. When Jungkook was cautiously backtracking, I was observing them. It bugged me that I didn’t know the reason why they were here, but when I saw one of the men carrying white packages, I regretted my actions.

They were smuggling drugs, and I was positive that I wanted to stay as far from them as it was possible. They were dangerous. Though I wasn’t entirely convinced, I believed that Namjoon didn't threat as much as they did.

“Are you going or not?” Jungkook whispered, and I immediately nodded my head, walking up to him in a hurry. Unfortunately, I didn’t watch down, so being the idiot I am, I tripped over the roots. “Fuck,” Jungkook cursed when he saw me fall down, face first.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed under my breath when I realized how loud disturbance I caused. The smugglers had to be deaf to ignore such strange noises coming from the bushes. Quickly, I picked myself up and ran after Jungkook.

The men were chasing us, but we had heavy backpacks, so it was just a matter of time until they would catch us. It was just fantastic, we had survived Namjoon’s attack, yet right now, we were going to be killed by some drug smugglers.

My life was just perfect.

And all of that because I wanted to find some jewel.

Mindlessly, I ran after Jungkook. The adrenaline must’ve kicked in because I wasn’t tired at all. Furthermore, my large backpack felt like as light as a feather. In no time, I caught up with Jungkook, sprinting right next to him.

“Jungkook, look,” I said when I saw a large rock with a split in it; it looked like shelter, and we could hide away in there if we were fast enough.

“It looks like a tunnel,” Jungkook noticed when we squeezed into the chink. “Should we go further? It can be a dead end,” Jungkook asked, a bit doubtful about exploring the cave.

“Let’s go further,” I said confidently, “just in case, they find this gap,” I added, knowing it would convince him. These men meant trouble, and we both wanted to never see them again.

Cautiously, I put my backpack on the ground, looking for small LED flashlights, giving Jungkook one.

“Ladies first?” Jungkook asked, and I just shook my head, bravely going further. “Who would’ve thought that we could attract so much trouble,” Jungkook said, trying to kill the pregnant silence. We were walking for the last thirty minutes, and the exit seemed unreachable. “It’s never boring with you, is it?”

“What are you talking about? I can boldly say that you’re responsible for the eighty percent of everything bad that has happened to us,” I said with a playful smile. The only fault in my behavior was not paying attention to where I was going; the rest of our misfortune was caused by him. “Shh… I think I’ve heard something,” I shushed him quickly, sensing upcoming trouble. Perhaps, these men knew this area better. Maybe, they knew all along that we were going to hide in this cave, so they just slowed down their pace, letting us think we’re safe.

“You’re just paranoid,” Jungkook said with a shrug. “They won’t find us here in a million years,” he added jokingly, but it didn’t make me laugh. I was still anxious. “Oh,” Jungkook mused upon noticing something, “check this out,” he prompted me, flashing the light on the wall. “What can it mean?” Jungkook wondered, gawking at the strange letters.

“Jungkook, I think this is it,” I answered, having difficulties with forming words. “I think it’s Aminata’s grave,” I added, wanting to pull out my phone. I had on it copies of the most important documents on her legend as well as I had my notes of their ancient language.

“Can you read it?” Jungkook asked in curiosity, being amazed by my skills, even though I haven’t showcased them yet. “It looks weird; are they even letters?”

“They are,” I confirmed quickly, looking for the right file on my phone, determined to decrypt the message on the wall. “Can you point your flashlight at it?” I asked, and Jungkook swiftly aimed his torch at the wall, fulfilling my request.

“What does it say?”

“Well… it’s hard to translate it literally, but it basically means “who lives by the sword shall die by the sword”. It’s strange; why did they put it here? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe it doesn’t, but it surely gives me chills,” Jungkook said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. “Should we get back?”

Jungkook must’ve gone nuts if he thought that I’d just give up at the very finishing line. We were by the gate to Aminata’s tomb; there was no way I would just turn around and quit. I hadn’t survived all the misery to come back home empty-handed.

“No, we’re going further,” I said confidently, blowing my fringe off my forehead. “We’re close, I’m feeling it,” I added, and Jungkook sighed in doubt. “You can stay here, but I’m going.” It didn’t matter to me if Jungkook wanted to join me or not. If he didn’t feel like it, he could stay behind.

“Are you insane? I can’t let you go in there alone, I’m coming with,” he quickly said, sending me another boyish smile. Jungkook was truly endearing when he was looking out for me.

“Fine, but if you have a knife or anything that you can use as a weapon, leave it here,” I suggested, and Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What? Didn’t you get the message? Don’t you know it’s better not to mess with curses? Ancient ones in particular.”

“Sure, you’re the boss here,” Jungkook voiced, hesitantly leaving all his weaponry on the ground. “Lead the way.”

Completely weaponless, we explored the cave further. It was risky as hell, but nothing inside the cave could’ve been more dangerous than the drug smugglers looking for us.

Although it felt as if we walked kilometers, I didn’t feel tired. The anticipation and excitement completely took over me, giving me the strength which I needed to fulfill my mission. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about Jungkook; he was panting behind me, probably waiting for the tunnel to end.

“Shit, now I think I heard something,” Jungkook whispered, suspicious of strange sounds from within the cave. “It’s not possible, though. How the hell would they find us here?”

Though I didn’t hear anything, I wasn’t going to disregard his suspicion. It seemed highly unlikely, but we had to be prepared for the worst; especially when we were unarmed, lost somewhere in a long, dark tunnel.

“Then we can only pick up the pace, find the necklace, and hope there’s an exit on the other end of its tunnel,” I concluded, but Jungkook didn’t seem very convinced. It was evident that he didn’t fancy my plan, but currently, it was the only idea we had.

Our casual stroll quickly morphed into a swift march; it required plenty of energy, but in the face of danger, it didn’t matter. This procedure had to be done.

“Is it weird that all of this turns me on?” Jungkook commented, once again attempting to lighten up the atmosphere between us. “All I can think of right now is how I want to fuck you when we come back.”

“You better stop that train of thought and focus, Jeon. We have a job to do, please focus,” I scolded him, and Jungkook, with a quiet whine, composed himself. “Really, Jungkook, you can’t keep it in your– aaah” I screamed when I lost my footing, falling into an abyss.

Two-meter deep abyss – still an abyss.

“Shit, are you okay?” Jungkook asked me, now not caring about his volume. If someone were actually on our tail, there was no way they wouldn’t hear my pathetic scream.

“Yep, I’m okay, although all in the dust,” I said when I realized I was lying in a pile of dust and whatnot. “Well… I hope it’s only dust,” I added before I began sweeping the dust off of me.

“Move aside, I’m coming in,” Jungkook warmed me before he jumped into the hole. “Do you think it’s the tomb?” He asked, and I looked around, studying my surroundings.

The pit looked simple. Rocks on the left, rocks on the right; no diamonds, no gold.

Well, except for one beautiful necklace sitting on a handful of tiny bones – which must’ve been Yaya’s phalanges.

“OMG, there it is, can you believe it?” I asked Jungkook when I ran up to the necklace, admiring its timeless beauty. It looked even better than I had imagined. Regardless of ornate words used to write these legends, nothing could convey its elegance.

“What I really can’t believe is that you used the abbreviation in an oral conversation,” Jungkook retorted, but I dismissed his rejoinder. The object of my research was within my reach, I couldn’t pay less attention to my annoying sidekick and his quips.

Just before I touched the necklace, I heard a bullet ricocheting against the walls of the cave.

“These fools,” I spoke, remembering the strange writing on the wall. “It’s not good,” I mentioned to Jungkook right before a few smugglers jumped into the hole, pointing their guns at us.

They were giving us some orders, but neither of us could comprehend what they wanted us to do. Based on their intonation I could only theorize the meaning behind their words. On the other hand, when one man’s gun pointed at me and then slightly tilted it in the direction of the necklace, it was actually pretty self-explanatory.

Despite the direct message, none of us moved an inch. Jungkook and I were stubborn, unwilling to cooperate. Maybe, someone would admire our courage, but most people would call us stupid.

The tallest of the smugglers wasn’t having it; he was sick and tired of our attitude. Staring into my eyes, he raised his gun, aiming at my head. It was perfect; after all I had experienced, it was how I was going to die.

Whispering something chilling, he pulled the trigger, whereas I, expecting to get shot, closed my eyes. Suspecting these milliseconds to stretch into hours, I anticipated the impact. It never came, though. Time passed, yet I didn’t feel anything.

Then, I opened my eyes and saw the man drop on the ground. He had a clear shot, yet he missed, and the bullet ricocheted and went right through his forehead. What the fuck? A few laws of physics must’ve been broken for it to happen.

“That explains the quote on the wall,” Jungkook stated when he slightly leaned toward me, taking advantage of the smugglers’ disorientation. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“It depends; are you wondering what Indiana Jones would do in this situation?” I answered, still unable to process what just happened to that man.

“Well… kinda.” Jungkook shrugged. “Take that necklace and let’s get the hell out of here,” he proposed, and I nodded my head, mindlessly following his suggestion.

It was unreasonable; as long as Jungkook and I were in the cave, we were safe. They couldn’t hurt us with their weapon. On the other hand, if we were outside, nothing could stop them from shooting us down. Unfortunately, due all that accumulated stress and panic, my mind didn’t function properly.

Quickly, I grabbed the necklace and ran after Jungkook.

At the same time, the smugglers fixated their eyes on me, blocking my way to the entrance. Each of them stared into my eyes with what seemed admiration? With each passing second, I could comprehend less and less.

What the hell happened this time around?

On cue, the smugglers kneeled before me.

“It starts to get really creepy,” said Jungkook upon seeing the strange behavior. “Care to explain what you’ve done to them?” Jungkook urged me, but I was lost for words. He demanded an answer, and I wished to have one.

“How should I know; I’m absolutely clueless,” I whispered, still in confusion. The smugglers behaved as if they were infatuated zombies. And then it hit me. “No, it’s not possible,” I muttered to myself, unable to fully wrap my head around it.

“Can you enlighten me? What is going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Jungkook said something, but to me, it was all white noise.

My theory didn’t make any sense. It couldn’t be possible that everything is valid. Magic is a myth; it was crazy. I couldn’t control their behavior with that necklace. And even if I could, how come Jungkook seemed resistant to it?

According to the legend, every man who took a glimpse of Aminata felt a strong desire to worship her. Men were literally falling to her feet; all men – no exceptions. It just couldn’t be happening to me, it just couldn’t.

Jungkook, still unfazed – exhibit A.

“Stand up,” I ordered them, and although they hadn’t spoken English before, they perfectly understood me. “Help me get out of the hole,” I added, and they obediently positioned themselves directly under the hole, ready to pick me up.

“What the hell is going on?” Jungkook asked, blinking swiftly, trying to grasp the current situation. How did they, in a matter of seconds, turn from shooters to butlers?

“No time to talk, let’s get the hell out of here,” I commanded before I started to run away outside, not even waiting for Jungkook to follow me. I wanted to feel the fresh air as soon as it was possible, and I didn’t care if Jungkook thought the same.

Whatever happened in the tomb, it was too much to take in, and I needed time and space to digest it; preferably, in a four-star hotel, sipping my fourth mimosa. Yep, that sounded like a perfect plan.

The distance seemed shorter when we were going out of the cave. One moment I was controlling zombie-smugglers, while the other I was basking in the sunlight.

“What the hell was that?” Jungkook asked when we sat down on the ground, panting while I took an empty ziplock bag and put the necklace in it. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he added, and I just shrugged, not knowing how to explain it, especially when I wasn’t sure about it either.

“I have no idea.” I sat beside him, pulling out a bottle of water, taking a few gulps of it. “Shit, there are more of them,” I pinpointed when I saw a few men running in our direction. “And they don’t seem to be enchanted like the ones in the cave.”

“Holy shit, when will this day be over?” Jungkook cursed, jumping to his feet. “And they aren’t alone, look there,” he added, pointing his finger to the left. “Oh my God, I don’t fucking believe it.”

“What?” I asked, once again being completely clueless.

“It’s Namjoon and his crew.”

Fuck. What else was going to hunt us? Aliens?

“What are we doing now?”

“Let’s split,” Jungkook proposed, and I couldn’t say I liked that idea. “I’ll go this way, and you go that way. We will meet by the chopper wrack. Once we lose them, we’ll figure out what we’re gonna do next, okay?”

I wasn’t okay, but we didn’t have time to strategize a better plan.

“Okay,” I answered, and Jungkook pulled me closer, giving me a kiss. This act surprised me, but I didn’t hate it. It was somewhat adorable. “Good luck,” I quickly added before we ran away separate ways.

Not looking backward, I sprinted as fast as I could. Adrenaline-driven, I really felt as if I was breaking some records. Unfortunately, it seemed to be only a figment of my imagination.

Not even twenty minutes later, I was surrounded by six pissed off smugglers. Due to our snooping, they must’ve lost almost an entire day of loading their shipments. Although I was scared shitless, they seemed to be pleased to catch me.

It was pointless to run at this point, so I decided to check if the trick with the necklace would work in this situation too. All of the men were looking at me, wondering what I was doing. In a desperate attempt, I put off my backpack and opened the pocket where I had hidden the necklace. Much to my surprise, it was gone.

“That motherfucker,” I whispered, furious at Jungkook for double-crossing me like that.

______

Sometime this week, I will post the second (final) part to it. Stay tuned!

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