#i refuse to call j word by his name he fills me with such rage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercurygguk · 3 years

Text

winter soldier | jjk

genre; winter soldier/avengers au, angst/smut/fluff

pairing; winter soldier!jungkook x avenger!female reader

summary; the love of your life died during ww2, they honored his death. you had never imagined you’d ever see him again until you’d join him in death, but here he is and he’s trying to kill you. he’s not himself at all. you, however, insist that the man you used to know is still in there somewhere.

word count; 6,764

warnings; descriptions of war/battle/fight scenes, descriptions of scars, the rest of the avengers joins the party, reader is like Cap A but not like Cap A, you know??, jungkook looking hella hot with his long hair and steel arm, inspiration from ‘captain america: winter soldier’, swearing, SMUT; explicit sexual activities, oral (f. receiving), love making at its highest- nothing kinky, just plain ol’ sex

a/n; okay so um, i’m binge-watching the avengers movies atm and i was watching Captain America: Winter Soldier. i kid you not, throughout the entire movie i was imagining what jungkook would look like as the winter soldier- jungkook combined with superheroes is like the perfect story, amirite?? ;)) enjoy!

ps. once again, i didn’t proof read so ignore my possible mistakes lol

(for reference, this is what jungkook’s hair looks like in this fic)

War.

Terrorizing. Horrifying. Absolutely petrifying.

There are several words to use when talking about it, describing it, reliving it. Once you’ve experienced it, it will haunt you till the day you die and even beyond that. There isn’t much positive to take from it, not many positive memories come to you as you think back to the time during war. Only one positive memory returns to you from those dark times...

Him.

Him who did not fit in with the military services due to his lack of strength and speed. Him who never let anyone step upon him and evolved with the job. Him who never backed down from a challenge or an order given from the highest ranks. Him who had braveness unlike anyone, loyalty like no other, a will to fight for what’s worth it and to win. Him who made you fall for him without meaning to. Him who promised he would always come back to you, no matter what happened.

And then one day he didn’t. They had told you he went down in the fight, died for his country, for his team. He hadn’t hesitated to sacrifice himself, thrown himself towards the threat in the hopes of ending it for everyone once and for all. That he did. He killed himself in the process of saving everyone else.

A hero is what they had called him. Honored his name, saluting as they all stood facing his military photograph, serious faces and emotionless eyes all over. Tears had filled your eyes that day, but they didn't fall. You refused to let them. There was no way you would cry because of a liar. A coward, really. Anger kept you going, anger aimed at him. A rage so intense that you would convince yourself that you hated him. Some people would call you selfish, selfish for hating a man who sacrificed himself for everyone else. They were right. You were selfish. But love makes you selfish, and you loved him. So ridiculously much.

Years later, decades into the new century he remains as a positive yet heartbreaking and frustrating memory in your mind and heart. You haven’t aged a day thanks to the advanced technology and the project you offered to be the experiment of, in the end of the war. After his death and the war seeming more out of control than ever, you thought there wasn’t much more to live for, so you volunteered. A successful masterpiece, professor Kim had said as you regained consciousness on the lab table. You were his greatest, most succeeded experiment. You still are, except for the fact that Kim Namjoon is no longer walking among people on earth.

Now you’re living as the successful masterpiece he has created. Stronger, faster – young too even though your real age is something near 98. It doesn’t show. You look like any other 23-year-old but with extraordinary strength and speed. Being a part of a team as the Avengers truly has given you a meaning of life, a purpose that you didn’t feel you had before joining this outstanding team of superheroes as some would call you.

But as you stand here, in the middle of a battlefield that is scarily similar to those back in the 1940’s, you feel small. Gunshots fire around you, flying past your head and ringing in your ears. Explosions going off from the shots fired by Stark, Iron Man as he’s known as. The grounds breaking from the power of Thor’s hammer, the bad guys falling like flies in the hands of Widow. You’re watching it all unfold, breathing for a split second as robots are charging at you with red, glowing eyes.

For God’s sake, just how many of these are there?

Keeping yourself from rolling your eyes in pure annoyance, you set off running towards them with an unmatched speed, fists up and ready to take them out. One goes down after another, surrendering to your very angry, very powerful fists. Your patience is running thin as the robots keep appearing from left and right, setting their focus on you as demanded by whoever’s controlling them. A person you haven’t managed to find yet, but determined to hunt down and put a bullet through their head.

“Hey, Thor!” You call out to the nordic God flying around you, punching fists through robots and throwing his hammer at them. He glances your way, finding you surrounded by robots, too many for you to fight by yourself. “A lil hand here?”

He nods in response, immediately dropping to the ground and plunging his hammer into the asphalt on the ground, lightning seeping through the ground and into the robots, taking them down and splitting them in half. Thor throws a smug smirk at you before turning back around to fight another round of robots. You roll your eyes, about to run off when shots are being fired at you.

“Shit!” You hiss, running to hide behind a tipped-over truck while fishing out a gun from the strap around your thigh. You lean out, aiming in the direction of the shots. There is a man with long, dark hair, a black mask covering half his face and a silver arm that does not look familiar at all. The mysterious man steps onto the railing of the bridge he fired shots from, hard glare focused on you as he steps out and lets himself fall to the ground beneath the bridge. He lands on his feet, supporting himself with the silver fist into the asphalt. He stands to his height, walking straight towards you and leaving a mark in the asphalt where he had landed. Your eyes widen as he holds up a machine gun, opening fire at you as you scramble to run off while loading more shots into your gun.

Peeking around the corner of the brick building you’re hiding behind, you hold your gun up to aim at him. You fire a bullet, hitting his silver arm. He doesn’t budge, the bullet not even leaving a bump in the silver.

“What the-” you gape, firing shots again. He holds his silver hand up, the bullets bouncing off like they’re made of cotton, still walking towards you with eyes focused on you. There’s something about him that seems familiar – maybe his build? Or the way he walks? Or was it the slightly curly hair on top of his head? You can’t quite pin it as you watch him get closer, fists clenched tightly at his sides as if he’s ready to throw punches at you. You contemplate running to him, throwing the first punch at him before he gets to you. There is a slight hesitancy in your body as you can’t shake off how awfully familiar he seems the closer he gets to you. Knowing what the right thing to do is, you step out from your hiding spot, collecting all strength as you charge at him. A yell of anger and confusion rumbles from your chest as you jump on the last step, fist pulled back only for it to be forced forward and into the center of the mysterious man’s chest.

He stumbles back slightly, gaining his balance quickly before he steps closer, throwing a punch at you as well. You dodge, throwing your leg into his side in a strong kick. He grunts as he catches your leg, pulling on it to force you towards him. You ram into him, his clenched fist connecting with your jaw. You groan in pain as you fall to the ground, landing before his feet. Squinting at him, you watch as he kneels down over you, holding you down against the ground. As he stares at you, raising his hand to deliver a punch to your face again, you realize it as your eyes meet his. You gasp softly, not believing the sight in front of you. It’s a known fact that you would recognize those deep, brown eyes anywhere in any given moment.

“J-Jungkook?”

The sound of your voice, the sound of his name falling from your lips has him freezing for a split second. His eyes shift between yours as he slowly begins to sink his fist. But not even seconds later he’s raising his fist again and that’s when you can tell that he does not recognize you. He is looking at you as if you’re a complete stranger, like he didn’t spend the last year of his life telling you that he loved you more than life itself.

His gaze fills with the only feeling he feels, hatred. He moves to force his silver fist down and into your face, a face he used to call beautiful as he traced his finger tips along the edges. You barely dodge it, trying your very best to meet his eyes again as you call his name.

“Jungkook!” You fight the tears that are brimming your eyes as you continue to dodge his hits the best you can, “Hey! It’s me!”

He’s not holding off, continuing to throw punches at you and hitting the asphalt as you squirm in between his thighs. He’s impeccably strong, the asphalt cracking under the jabs of his fists. His thighs are keeping you in place as he pins you to the ground, your arms locked along your sides. You know he’ll punch you to death if you don’t get inside his head. It seems nearly impossible as his eyes are trained on you, emotionless and angry, only a small glimt of the man you used to know in them.

“____! Might wanna duck down a bit,” Tony shouts as he flies in your direction, his glowing hand aimed at Jungkook.

Your eyes widen in horror as you scramble together all the strength you have, throwing Jungkook off you and away from the deathly ray of light coming from Tony’s palm.

“No!”

The shot hits the asphalt a few meters away from you, nearly grazing Jungkook but it doesn’t, thankfully. Tony is shocked as he comes to a halt in the air, staring between Jungkook and you. You wave a hand at him. “I got him,” you assure him as you pant out breaths of air, nodding towards Widow and Thor, “go help the others.”

The man in the iron suit in front of you seems to hesitate for a second as he looks at you. He catches the pleading look on your face, glancing back at Jungkook for a moment before nodding at you once and flying in the direction of Widow and Thor, aiming his shots at the robots that are still coming from all sides. You turn your attention back to Jungkook, the body of the love of your life but not the eyes or mind of him.

“Jungkook,” you try again, slowly stepping closer as he stays still, slightly shocked that you had saved him from Iron Man’s deadly shot, “it’s me, ____.”

You’re begging, tone pleading him and hands up in surrender as you slowly step closer to him. He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling in deep breaths. His eyes are dark, cold and distant as you get even closer. He’s frozen in his spot. He seems confused behind that hard expression, confused because you look less terrified than you did before realizing who he is. He doesn’t flinch or move away from your hand as it inches closer to his face, reaching for the black mask on his face.

“Hey,” you softly say, hesitating to touch him as you let a single tear escape and roll down your cheek. Something flashes in his eyes as he looks into your wet eyes, a small hint of recognition, familiarity too. Maybe he remembers. You hope he does. He lets you pull the black mask off completely, the strong line of his jaw appearing in front of you as well as his pink lips you used to kiss so often in that hidden place you liked to meet almost every night. “It’s me,” you whisper, “it’s ____.”

You’re afraid you’re imagining things as tears build up in the corner of his eyes, his jaw tightening. It’s too much for him. The memories returning with full force, the emotions filling his chest and warming it for the first time in 70 years. He wants to cry. He doesn’t know whether it's happiness because you’re right here in front of him, after he thought he would never get to see you again as he took his last breath back in 1944, or sadness because he’s well aware that he almost killed you if you hadn’t pushed him off you.

“____?” His voice betrays him as it cracks, your name coming out in a croaked voice. More tears escape as you hear your name falling from his lips for the first time since that morning in the military camp where he said ‘see you soon’ and then never returned. He freezes as you throw yourself at him, arms wrapped around him as you pull him closer in a tight hug. The sniffles and muffled cries you let out breaks his emotionless, cold heart and filling it with a warmth he hasn’t felt in so long. A tear escapes from the corner of his eye as he lets his own arms snake their way around your waist, hugging you just as tight as you hug him.

Relief.

That’s what he’s feeling.

Jungkook wanders around inside Stark’s office, eyes exploring things as he calmly runs his silver hand over them. You watch him from a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest. Worry is filling your entire body as his back is turned to you. He still doesn’t seem like himself. There is something about him that makes you anxious, something about him makes you wonder if he’ll turn at any moment, falling back into whatever sort of amnesia he has been experiencing for the past decades.

You jump in surprise when the door opens beside you, revealing Tony. He notices your jumbled state, giving you a small, half smile. You turn your eyes back to Jungkook who’s picking at an ancient-looking sculpture on Tony’s desk causing Tony to take a step closer.

“Hey! Buddy!” He calls out, catching Jungkook’s attention. “Don’t touch that, please. It’s antique.”

Jungkook steps away from the desk, hands up in mock surrender, emptiness in his eyes as if he couldn’t care less about Tony’s antique sculpture. No one really cared about that sculpture. It’s doomed to break at some point when it’s placed in his office, in the Avengers building.

“Tony,” you catch the attention of the older man, looking straight at him with hopeful, desperate eyes, “can you help him?”

He turns to face Jungkook, looking him over from head to toe. “Friday, give me a scan of whatever’s controlling Jungkook.”

Anticipated, you wait while biting a nail. Jungkook doesn’t move an inch as Friday scans him for anything to help Tony figure out a way to help. He’s glancing from Tony to you, his eyes meeting yours. Seconds. It takes seconds from his stare meeting yours to something flicking behind his dark brown irises, something inside of him snapping like the tips of someone’s fingers. Your eyes widen in panic as you move to stand between Tony and Jungkook.

“Tony!” You shout, moving fast as you try to get in between the two men. Tony has already activated his iron hand, catching Jungkook’s silver fist right before it hits him square in the face. You come to a halt, staring in surprise as Tony tightens his hold on Jungkook’s fist, forcing him to the ground. “Tony, please, don’t hurt him. He’s not in his right mind!”

“Oh, really?” Tony scoffs, sarcasm dripping from each word. A small yelp leaves your mouth as Tony kicks his knee up under Jungkook’s jaw, knocking him out. Jungkook falls limp to the floor, eyes closed as he’s kicked unconscious by Tony. You kneel down beside him, brushing his long strands of hair out of his face. He looks peaceful as he lays there, completely unconscious, and yet there’s a furrowed look on his face, like he’s never free from whatever that is controlling him. You sigh deeply, head dropping as you cradle Jungkook’s hand in your own. Tony’s palm rests on your shoulder. You glance up at him. He gives you a small, reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help him,” he tells you. You nod, knowing he spoke the truth.

“Thank you.”

The frustrated look and furrowed eyebrows are gone. He looks genuinely peaceful this time, long lashes resting on the top of his cheeks as he rests beneath the sheets on your bed. You can’t help yourself as you reach out, palm cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone in a soft caress. Hopefully you’ll have the love of your life back once he wakes up from the deep sleep Tony put him in.

You’re about to move away, retrieving your hand from his cheek just as you hear him whimper softly. Turning back to him, you watch as his lower lip begins to quiver, eyebrows furrowed tightly together. “No,” he whimpers again, head shaking in his sleep. “Please, no! Don’t!”

Worry fills you once again as you sit on the edge of the bed beside him, hands cupping his face between them. “Jungkook,” you softly call, trying your best to wake him without startling him. “Jungkook, my love, please wake up. Please!”

Startled, you gasp as his eyes shoot open, his lips parting as he gasps for air. He’s looking right into your startled, widened eyes. It takes a minute for him to realize who you are and where he is, the surroundings not seeming familiar at all, but it feels nice. The aura, the warmth and the dimmed lighting in the bedroom where he’s tucked under the sheets.

“Hey,” you breathe out as you smile, not sure what to say to him. Tony had made sure to help him, get whatever that was controlling him out of him, his head to himself now and slowly filling with memories, both good and bad ones. “How are you feeling?”

He groans as he moves to sit up. You help him straighten up, making sure he has a pillow for his back as he leans back against the head of the bed. He closes his eyes tightly together as he drops his head back, still trying to calm his erratic breathing. You sit back in the chair you had pulled to the bedside when you got here.

“I feel…” he begins, words feeling foreign on his tongue as he speaks with a croaking voice. He sighs deeply. This is a lot for his head to take in in just one day. “I feel like my head is about to explode.”

Your smile is careful as you look at him. “Makes sense,” you softly say, watching him glance at his arm only to notice the silver is still there, like he had hoped it would be gone. It’s easy to tell the arm itself is a symbol of a very dark time as he looks at it and then looks away from it. He isn’t fond of the silver arm, obviously having a love-hate relationship with it as it has given him power and strength he never had to begin with and problems he never voluntarily wanted in the first place. There’s pain in his eyes as he glances at you, shame as he cowers under your gaze.

You frown deeply. “What happened to you?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. He closes his eyes, not really wishing to go back to those dark times where his life was saved and changed for the worse. The dark times where he became a shadow of himself and a manipulated soldier, brainwashed to take orders from others.

“I, uh, I don’t think-“ he stumbles over his words.

You place your hand over his actual hand, your thumb brushing the skin there. He glances at where you’re touching him before looking up at you. You’re hurting, it’s easy to see. It’s not your own pain though, it’s his. You’re feeling pain for him, hurting because he went through things he never should have, things where death would’ve been much less painful. You want to kiss him, kiss it all better if that was possible.

“You can tell me,” you whisper, pleading him to confide in you, to tell you what happened to him all those years ago.

He sighs deeply, turning his hand over to wrap it around yours. A rush runs through your stomach as he grips onto your hand with a hold so tight that you find yourself promising him silently that you’ll never let go again by giving his hand a small squeeze.

“They found me a few days later,” he starts, gaze focusing on the way yours and his fingers intertwine with each other like they’re meant to do it, “in the ruins of buildings. I-I wasn’t fully awake when they did, only just coming to my senses again after the explosion that was meant to kill me.”

You’re focusing on his hand in yours now, not able to look into his eyes as he tells the story of how he ended up here, 70 years later, and still looking like himself but with longer hair and impeccable strength.

“I didn’t recognize them. They wouldn’t tell me anything. They took me to this place, a bunker or something like that. There was this huge laboratory inside with equipment way ahead of its time,” he looks confused as he relives the horrifying moments, “I was placed in a chair and the next thing I know they’re sawing my arm off-“

You whimper. “Oh, god,” tears dwell in your eyes as you grip his hand tightly.

“____, I have never felt as much pain as I did that day,” he looks you straight in the eye, the pain from that day flashing over his face as he recalls it, the feeling of it. “And all I could think about while they turned me into this- this monster… was that I lied to you.”

You shake your head in denial. “No, Jungkook,” you whisper, “you couldn’t know. You couldn’t.”

He offers you a small half-smile, remorse covering his features as he reaches up with his silver hand, careful as he lets the fingertips of it brush your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry I gave you an empty promise,” he whispers, silver fingertips brushing against the side of your face. You cover it with your own hand, letting him cup your face in the cold silver. He leans closer, hissing lightly as pain shoots up the side of his torso. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come back to you like I promised.”

“You did though,” you sigh deeply, resting your forehead against his. “You’re right here.”

He nods softly, his eyes shifting between yours.. “and I won’t leave again,” he assures you before hesitating, shrugging as he adds; “unless you want me to.”

You chuckle through the tears that had built up in your eyes. He’s smiling at you as you reach up to cup his face in your palms, brushing your thumb across his cheeks. He’s watching you, still not quite believing that you’re here with him. After so long. 70 years of wondering if you’re still alive. 70 long years of wondering where you were in the world. 70 unbearable years of longing for your touch, your soft, plump lips that made his heart stop beating for a few seconds each time they would touch his in a kiss.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he whispers into the small gap of air space between you and him. “Each time I’d return from a mission and become myself again after being under mind-control, you were the first thing on my mind. To be honest, I don’t think you ever left it. You’ve always been there with me, in the deepest parts of my consciousness. You kept me sane during the missions, kept me from forgetting myself completely.”

Listening intently, you close your eyes as your thumbs continue to brush over the skin on his cheeks. He continues, a deep sigh falling from his lips and clashing against yours causing goosebumps to rise upon your body. You’re shocked that you have gone this far without smothering him in kisses. You don’t want to risk anything, waiting patiently for him to make the first move in the direction of more physical affection, whether it’s a touch of his hand, a hug or more.

“And when I realized it was you earlier today...” his voice cracks, “when I realized I almost killed you- I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for that.”

“You can and you will,” you softly tell him, the undertone of your voice stern, “you didn’t kill me. You wouldn’t. You were gonna recognize me sooner or later.”

He exhales shakily. “You don’t know that,” he almost snaps, eyes closed tightly as he drops his silver hand from your face. He pulls away from your touch, the warmth of him disappearing the further he moves away. He’s not looking at you. Tears are threatening to spill as you stare back at him, lips slightly parted as you want to speak up. You want to tell him he’s wrong, but you already know that he will not take your words for what they are. He, and you, know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t pushed him off when you did.

“You’re right,” you say, catching his attention again. He barely glances at you, noticing the small remnants of tears in your eyes before looking back at his silver hand, clenching and unclenching it. A tear rolls down your cheek. “You’re so right, Jungkook. I don’t know if you would or not.”

You get up from the chair you’ve been sitting in since you brought him back to your apartment. Jungkook still refuses to look at you as you move onto the bed, crawling closer to him. You don’t hesitate as you lay a hand on his shoulder and throw a leg over his to straddle his lap. He finally looks at you, eyes slightly widened at your actions. His eyes meet teary ones again, his silver arm moving out of an old habit as he reaches up to wipe your tears away.

“But I like to think you would.”

Your lips press against his before he can reply to your words. Jungkook gasps and then grunts in response as you press your mouth to his, desperately and needy. His body freezes beneath you as you kiss him, tasting his lips for the first time in an unbearably long time. It takes him a while to realize that you’re kissing him, finally kissing you back as he cradles you in his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. The silver arm keeps a tight grip around your waist, holding you in place as the other runs up your thigh.

Pulling away, you gasp for air, letting your forehead rest against his. Jungkook is breathing heavily, his breath once again clashing against yours as you both catch your breath. Your eyes meet, seconds after he’s kissing you again, your tank top riding up as the silver arm keeps you tight against him. The silver touching your skin causes goosebumps to cover your skin, a chill running up your spine as you cup his face. His tongue licks against your bottom lip, you let him in. A moan escapes your lips as his tongue touches yours.

“I’ve been holding myself back ever since you woke up,” you whisper against his lips, making him smile as his hands slide under your top, pushing it up before pulling it over your head completely. You return to his lips, catching them with your own as you reach for the hem of his t-shirt. He helps you pull it off, your mind elsewhere as you throw it onto the floor. Your hands rake down his body, over the tensing muscles of his abdomen as he moves his kisses down your cheek and further under your jaw. Your breathing is ragged as you pull away, only a few inches so you can glance down at his torso. The sight horrifies you, your fingertips brushing over scars and healed wounds.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as you glance up at Jungkook, his eyes meeting yours for a few seconds before you look back at his chest. Your eyes wander, over his both small and larger scars to his silver arm. You feel your heart tightening as you take in the way the silver arm is sewed onto his body. You hesitate to reach up, Jungkook’s eyes on you as you let your shaking fingertips brush over the burned, scarred skin that keeps the silver arm attached. “I- This…”

His human hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. “I know,” he agrees without hearing the rest of the sentence. You look back at him, finding relief in his eyes as you rest your palms against his chest. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he then says.

“They literally cut off your arm,” you point out, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t even imagine how much pain he must’ve been in when they did this to him. “I wish I could have spared you this pain, spared you the torture you went through.”

He smiles softly. “I know, ____. But there's no way you possibly could’ve.”

You're carefully running your pointer finger along one of his scars when you look up at him, eyelashes framing your eyes so perfectly. He thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, even more so than the last time he saw you. You can’t do anything to stop the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I love you so much, Jungkook.”

His breathing stops for a second, his heart skipping a beat. He hasn’t heard those words since 1944. He didn’t even hear those words that morning you had sent him off, he hadn’t said those words when he promised to return. He should have. That way you’d never be in doubt of his love. He wonders if you’ve loved him since or if there has been anyone else in the meantime to love you the way he should’ve.

Silently, you watch him as his thoughts run one hundred miles per hour. Your palms are sliding from his chest to his shoulders and further up his neck to cup his face again. The love he feels is evident in his eyes as he focuses on you.

“I love you,” he whispers, carefully turning you over onto your back only for him to hover over you. You’re watching him, tingling in your stomach as you hear the words fall from his lips. He returns to kissing you, kissing the skin on your cheek, your neck and further down to the very top of your chest, right beneath the collarbones. He glances up at you as he kisses his way down the valley of your bra-covered chest. “I didn’t say it enough back then,” he mouths against your skin, another round of goosebumps rising beneath his lips, “I should have said it more. I’m sorry.”

You exhale deeply, arching your back into his touch as he reaches your navel and moves even further down to the waistband of your pants, your spandex pants that you so elegantly wear whenever you have a mission with the Avengers.

“Stop apologizing,” you breathe out, eyes closed as you succumb to his touch. The silver hand brushes over your stomach as it runs up to your chest, unclasping your bra on the front. It falls to the sides, revealing your perky nipples to the crisp air. You gasp softly as a silver hand brushes over both, the cold steel doing nothing but erecting them even more. “I've always hated it when you apologize.”

He smirks softly against your lower stomach, pressing one last kiss to the skin there before pulling the silver hand down to pull off your pants, and panties too. The pants are barely on the floor before he returns to your lower abdomen, kisses being spread across your hip bones and pubic bone. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his long hair as he runs his hands up the inside of your thighs. He spreads your legs, revealing your throbbing core to him.

“God, I missed this,” he breathed out, the air of his words hitting your wet folds. “Having you like this, all to myself.”

You whine from above him. “Jungkook,” you whimper, “please.”

It doesn’t take more for him to lean closer, tongue licking a stripe up between your folds and to your clit, his silver arm sliding across your abdomen to keep you down as he eats you out for the first time in decades. One would think he had lost his touch and knowledge of a woman’s body, but you can say that he certainly didn’t as he roots himself between your legs, tongue licking your wetness and prodding at the entrance.

“Oh god,” you moan, softly gasping for air as his human hand rests on top of your one thigh, fingers digging into the flesh there. You’re in heaven, on the ninth cloud as he slurps your arousal, licking your folds and clit as if his life depended on it. “Fuck, Jungkook!”

The sound of your name toppling from your lips as he hits a certain nerve makes his body flush with a warmth he almost forgot what feels like. You’re writhing in the tight hold of his silver arm, squirming as he licks you to your release. The orgasm is approaching fast and hard, Jungkook being the sole reason for it. No one could ever get you there as fast as him.

“I’m s-so close- oh!,” you pant, your walls clenching as Jungkook’s actual fingers slide into you. He pumps his hand in and out of you in a pace that is perfectly building up your orgasm. He takes nothing but a glance into his eyes as he leans down to softly kiss your clit that you’re toppling over, hitting the wall of your orgasm. “J-jungkook, my god!”

You jerk away as he leans forward, tongue licking up your release, tasting it on his taste buds. He hums with a small smile as he glances up at you, loving the way your eyes are almost bulging out of your head at the sight of him between your thighs. It takes nothing more than a few seconds before you shitting up, Jungkook meeting you halfway in a kiss. Tongues clash against each other, the taste of you on his tongue as he kisses you deeply, needingly.

“Please fuck me,” you mumble in between kisses, a desperate whining tone attached to your words. “Make love to me, Jungkook.”

He seals your words with a kiss, giving you a silent promise of doing just that. As if he’d lick you out and that would be it. No way.

You watch, teeth biting into your bottom lip, as he gets off the bed to remove the sweatpants you had dressed him in when you got back, getting him out of those military pants with belts and buckles all over them. His cock springs free, slaps against his abdomen as it stands proud into the air. A rush runs through your stomach at the sight, mouth slightly watering. Once the sweatpants and his boxers lie on the floor by his feet, he crawls back onto the bed. He moves closer, pushing you back onto your back as he hovers over you. You’re glancing at his silver arm for a mere split second, your hair reaching up to run along the hard edges of it. Jungkook can’t feel your touch but he’d like to imagine that he can as he watches your palm brushing over and further up to the nape of his neck. His eyes move back to lock with yours. You’re looking at him just like you did that last night of intimacy you had back in 1944, the night before he was sent off on a deathly mission. A huge wave of emotions hits him as he glances from your eyes to your lips and back again.

“I love you,” he softly says, eyebrows furrowed together as he looks at you, “so much, ____.”

You smile, pulling him down to meet you in a kiss. The kisses are soft, tender even as he reaches down to line himself up with your entrance. You gasp into his mouth as the tip of his cock prods at your folds. A hand of yours tangles back into his locks as he pushes inside, the tightness overwhelming for the both of you. He rests his forehead against yours, your breaths clashing together between you as he buries himself to the hilt.

“Shit,” he hisses, glancing down at your connecting hips. “Can i move?”

You nod your head, whispering, “yes.”

Jungkook watches the way your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pulls out and pushes back in, the sight causing him to do it again and again, wanting to see you lose yourself and succumb to the feeling of his cock brushing against your walls.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp as he gives you a particularly hard thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin as he hits that exact spot that makes you whimper out a soft, whiny moan. You’re clawing at his shoulders, his neck and chest as he sets a rhythm, keeping it steady as he grinds into you. He grabs your leg with his silver hand, helping you to wrap it around his waist. The other follows suit, locking with your other behind his back. He hits deep inside of you, his veiny cock sliding against your walls so deliciously.

It’s like that last night you had with him all over again just with more longing and more desperate kisses. Your stomach tingles with the overwhelming amount of emotions you’re feeling in this exact moment as you look up at him – his long hair slightly damp at the roots, his toned chest glistening in sweat as he works you both to a release, to a high you’re both so desperately in the need of.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as you unawarely clench around his length, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Don’t do that or I’ll cum right now.”

“Sorry!” You squeak, chuckling as he eyes you with a small smirk. God, you wanna ride him so badly. “Oh, Jungkook,” you moan breathily as he hits your spot again. He’s watching you, eyes running over your face as it contorts in pure pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he grunts, leaning up on his hands to get a better angle. He rams his hips into you, his strength coming to show as he thrusts into you harder than ever before. The power of his thrusts have you seeing stars as your second orgasm nears you. Jungkook can feel it as you clinch repeatedly around him. He won’t last much longer if you continue to do that.

High pitched moans tumble from your parted lips as he speeds up his movements, desperately trying to get you over the edge before he topples over himself. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as you reach your high, the orgasm hitting you like a bullet.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan, breathing ragged as he continues to fuck you to get himself to cum. His breathing is uneven, not matching his thrusts as all as he moves in and out a few more times before stilling inside of you, spilling his load and painting your walls inside.

“Fuck, I love you,” he breathes out as he drops his forehead to your collarbone. You’re smiling widely as you run your fingers from his shoulders and up into his hair. He lifts his head to look at you as you push his long, brown hair out of his face. You know him too well when he gives you a look, a small smirk on his lips. A joke is coming. You can just feel it. And you can’t help but grin at him as everything feels exactly like 1944 again. Also, you want to punch him for his next words:

“Not too bad for a 98-year-old, huh?”

2K notes · View notes

bratkook · 4 years

Text

i dont mind. jjk (m) part one.

part two. pairing: rockstar!Jungkook x reader genre: band!au, strangers to lovers, lots of fluff, smut, future angst warnings: overstimulation, he spits in your mouth yum(jungkook has a thing for spit ok), multiple orgasms, oral, face sitting, fingering, its sweet & playful okay word count: 21k+ summary: What do you do when a cute boy barges into your car and demands you floor it because he’s being chased by security? Well, you floor it of course, and somehow manage to fall for him because of it. author’s note: I’ve been writing this for ages whenever i’d get a minute to spare but its here and will be two parts!! plsplspls give it a read and drop some feedback or a reblog. please listen to I Don’t Mind by Defeater, that song it the reason I wrote this lmfao.

Day One.

The iced coffee you held in your hand felt nice despite the slight breeze that surrounds you as you walk down the street, phone held against your ear as Yeri spills her heart out on the events that just happened to her. Something about being rejected by someone and that said someone’s girlfriend popping up, you were sort of lost in her story, only humming when you deemed necessary.

“This is why I'm single!”

Mhm. That sucks.

“Like can you believe that?”

I know that’s crazy.

You shuffle the bags on your shoulder higher up, wincing when you realize the weight of them had left an indent on your skin. “I’ll call you back Yeri, I’m about to get in my car.”

She said her goodbyes promising to let you know even more details on her story later before you hung up. You grab your keys out of your bag and throw the shopping bags that unfortunately do not belong to you into the trunk as you curse your boss for making you do her shopping before getting into the driver's side and starting it up.

You place your coffee into the cup holder, put the car in drive and deem yourself ready to speed off when your passenger door flies open, a man flinging his body inside, practically throwing himself onto your side and shutting the door behind him, “Drive, please just drive!”

The stranger gives you an exasperated look when the car remains at a standstill, seeing you stare at him with wide eyes but how could you not stare? He looks absolutely frantic, the red flannel he wore was hanging off his shoulder and he wasn't even on the seat properly. His hair was a mess on his head, the length of it allowing you to see he has black earrings in his lobes, but you have no time to admire him in your state of shock.

“Please!” He begs again and honestly you don’t know why you listen, maybe because he sounds desperate, maybe because you’re slightly bored and want to see where this would take you, or maybe because he probably had a gun. Regardless you do so while managing to clear the tight parking space with ease before you were speeding out of there.

He visibly relaxes as he looks behind him and your curious eyes glance at the rear view mirror to see what he was staring at, gasping when you saw cops running down the sidewalk by the spot you had just left, clearly looking for someone.

“What did you do!” You shriek, your fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as you look over at the brown haired boy. Making decisions out of pure boredom would be the death of you, literally. If the cops were after him your reasoning of him maybe having a gun were probably right.

“Don’t freak out.”

The car screeches to a halt as you nearly pass a red light, both of you jolting forward at the sudden stop. “Don’t freak out? You invited yourself into my car, demanded I drive and I have no idea who you are. Those cops were looking for you weren’t they?”

He chooses this moment to buckle his seatbelt and pull down your visor to fix his messed up hair, great he was making himself comfortable. “Okay, okay. Yes I was running from them.”

You were a split second away from physically kicking him out of your car, “What did you do?”

He flips the visor back up and rubs his jaw, looking back again to make sure the cops had lost sight of him before turning back around to face you, “I ...might have ...stabbed someone….”

Oh so not a gun but a knife.

You could feel your blood pressure drop and your mind going a thousand miles a minute as you try to figure out a way to go about the situation but in the end you opt for screaming, “You what?!”

Your fingers press the unlock button and you reach over to unbuckle his seatbelt, seeing him look down at it with a frown as it slid up his chest and off his body. You were not going to jail for harboring a fugitive. “Get out! Get out right fucking now!”

He just stares at you so you take it upon yourself to reach over again and open the door for him to let him know you were not joking. As your door swung open it nearly wipes out a biker who yells every curse word at you before flipping you off and continuing to bike away.

That's when the boy starts laughing, closing the door and buckling back up as he motions up with a smile at the light that had just turned green, “Wow you yell really loud.” His nose wrinkled up as he laughs, acting as if him admitting to stabbing someone was casual small talk.

You continue to drive, your nervous eyes bouncing around to see how many witnesses were around in case he did something. You were also debating just driving straight to a police station because as far as you knew he was a psychopath who needed to be locked up.

When you gave him no reaction he stopped laughing. “Okay, wow. You took that seriously, you’re super tense right now...and a little pale.” He tilts his head to get a better look at your face but you refuse to look at him, “It was a joke, ha ha, I didn’t actually stab anyone okay?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Yet you keep driving.” He has a smug smile on his face, choosing to slide down the seat to really get comfortable, “I stole some guitar picks alright? They really called out the beefiest mall cops on me for guitar picks. Pat me down if you want, I don't have anything that is stabbing material.”

“I still don’t–”

“Believe me, yeah yeah.” His hand reaches into his jeans pocket, plucking out one of the black guitar picks and holding it in front of your face to see that it was in fact new because the tiny price sticker was still on it.

There was a split second of pure silence as you stare at the pick before looking back at the road. Clearly satisfied, he sighs and pockets the pick again, choosing to spread his left arm out to rest on the head of your seat, “So, enough about me. How’s your day going?”

Cue the screaming, “Why would you say you stabbed someone you asshole!”

His eyes widen up, fingers going to plug his ears until you were finished, “Once again, you’re loud. It was a joke, lighten up.”

The muscles under your eye were twitching as you filled up with rage but you kept driving. And that's when you realized you had mindlessly began driving back to work so before you could give this self proclaimed jokester personal information you swerved to the curb and put your car in park.

“Ha ha yes it was sooo funny. Get out and tell everyone else your amazing jokes.” You gestured towards the curb with a sarcastic grin on your face.

“You’re really gonna–” He looked out at the sidewalk and back at you, “you’re gonna make me get out? Seriously?”

A nod was given in response, your hand still spread out towards the sidewalk.

“Alright, I’ll get out but you have to give me your number first.”

Your jaw dropped and your hand went limp, falling onto the center console with a thud, “What?”

“Your number, you know like your phone number?” He was already pulling his phone out, tapping on his contacts to make a new addition.

“No.”

He looked up, confusion written all over his face, not being able to fathom someone turning him down, “C’mon, let me make this up to you.”

The crisp click of your doors unlocking again filled the small car, “You getting out of my car is more than enough.”

He lets out a whistle, another grin making its way onto his face, “Feisty.”

Alright, you were ready to pop him in the face. More so when he started rummaging through your glove compartment, pulling out a random pink highlighter you had and a gas receipt that was crinkled up. He scribbled on it and slipped it back into your glove compartment, “Give me a call, I’ll buy you an iced coffee since you seem to like that.”

Your eyes flicker down at the now watered down iced coffee, only looking back when you heard the passenger door close. He blew you a kiss before strolling down the street back in the way you came.

Curiosity got the best of you so you reach over and grab the receipt from the glove compartment, looking at the paper and seeing he scribbled his number along with his name and a heart.

Jungkook.

You scoffed and crumbled it up, tossing it into the back of your car to be forgotten.

Day Twenty-four.

“Jesus Yeri stand up!” You grunted, struggling to hold your weight and hers combined as she leaned on you. She was completely shit faced, well you weren’t that far off but she was practically dead weight right now.

“He was so cute.” She whined out, rubbing your cheek with the back of her palm.

You managed to shuffle the both of you over to the brick wall by the club, gently pushing her against it to ease the weight off, “You were flirting with the mural on the wall Yeri.”

Yeri mumbled a couple of angry things before throwing her head back and smacking it onto the brick wall with a nasty thud. Her face contorted into pain as she clutched onto the back of her head, resulting in her completely losing her center of balance and face planting it onto the concrete. It all happened too fast for your drunk mind to comprehend and you only noticed she was now on the floor when she groaned in pain.

“Oh my god.” You crouched down and flipped her over onto her back, sighing out when there were no visible injuries or blood, “I thought you were gonna break your face.”

Her eyes widened as she patted her cheeks, “No I’m too pretty!”

She lay there, hands inspecting her face for anything while you gave up. You chose to sit on the ground with your back against the wall, leaving Yeri on the floor in front of you because wow your legs really fucking hurt. Dancing with heels on for three hours did not feel nice no matter how many shots you threw back.

This was supposed to be a fun outing, which it was, but neither of you were planning on getting as drunk as you are now. Obviously things didn’t go as planned, once she saw some guy she used to fool around with the stories of every failed relationship came flooding out of her mouth and the only way to get her to stop was to make her drink.

Everything was great, dancing with each other and making friends with other drunk girls was always the highlight of nights out but when you lost Yeri and found her trying to make out with a mural you decided it was time to leave.

“Where’s our uber?” She mumbled out, curling up on the floor, deeming it the perfect napping area.

“I got it.” You reached into your bra and pulled out your phone to order the uber except the screen wouldn't light up. The reflection of you pouting at your phone stared back at you when the charging icon flickered before going black.

You don’t got it.

It was dead and apparently so was Yeri’s.

The phone went back into your bra as your fingers gripped the wall to pull yourself back up. The black stilettos you had on were slipped off your feet and placed beside Yeri as you walked a few feet up the sidewalk to see if anyone had exited the club. The ground was dirty and your feet were throbbing as you walked but you didn’t pay much attention to it.

The area surrounding the club was empty except for a few girls who were way more drunk than you stumbling away in the opposite direction. Once you turned back around when you realized no one could help, you heard the sound of voices, men to be more specific.

Oh god. You instantly got nervous and hurried back to Yeri, attempting to sit her up to not draw attention to how drunk both of you were.

“You should’ve gone for it!”

“She was all over you dude.”

They all started laughing with each other as they got closer to the pair of you.

“Nah, she wasn’t feeling it.”

Once again they all groaned in unison, “She wasn’t feeling it? I don’t know it looked like she was feeling up all over you.”

You kept your gaze forward, hoping that if you ignored them as they passed they would ignore you. Yeri had a different plan.

“Hey!” She shouted out and you just held your breath as they stopped walking a few feet away from you. “Can you get us an uber?”

“Why, are you broke?” One of them asked as they came closer, making a few of them laugh.

“No, we’re drunk.” She giggled out as her head lolled over onto your shoulder.

Please don’t hurt us. Is all you could think as they moved to stand in front of you both.

“Yeah, we’ll get you guys an uber.” You hesitantly looked up at the one who pulled his phone out, expecting to see some creep staring down at you both with sinister eyes but instead you saw a dimpled face guy with purple hair and a look of concentration that was lit up by the glow of his screen.

“Holy shit, my partner in crime?”

“Dude what?”

“That’s the girl that helped me get away from the damn cops. What’s up Bonnie.”

You scrunch your face up as you tried to see who he was talking to because neither of you were named Bonnie. “What?”

“You know, Bonnie and Clyde.” That's when he crouched down in front of you and gave you a smile.

Jungkook.

“Oh my god, you!”

His friends laughed at how pissed you sounded, “In the flesh. You look like you had a fun night.”

You placed your hand on his forehead before pushing him back making him flop down on his ass, “Fuck off.”

Yeri was handed the phone to input the address, her tongue poking out as she slowly typed it, trying her best to not make any mistakes. You’d grab it from her but it probably wouldn’t make a difference.

“You never texted me.” Jungkook playfully whined, remaining seated while the rest of his friends fell into their own conversation.

“I seemed to have misplaced your number, it’s probably somewhere in a landfill if I’m being honest.”

He pressed a palm to his heart as he winced, “Ouch, can I at least get your name?”

You stretched your feet out, your calves felt cold against the concrete but you didn’t mind it. The least you could do was give him your name, “Y/N.”

He was about to respond, something smug you were sure but he was cut off. “The app says this address doesn’t exist…where do you guys live?” He looked to you for an answer because Yeri had fallen asleep.

“In Gangnam.”

Jungkook stood up, reaching his hand out for you to take, “I can drop you guys off if you want?”

You let him pull you up but you protested on the offer for a ride. It was half hearted because you didn’t want to be a burden but you also didn’t want to be stranded here until the first morning bus. “No I don’t wanna bug you.”

He already reached down and grabbed your shoes, holding them in his left hand while letting you balance on him. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather make sure you get home safe instead of laying on the street, consider this me making it up to you.”

The purple haired boy and another with silver hair reached down to help pick Yeri up since she was out cold. “My cars parked down the street.”

You mumbled out a slurred response, letting yourself lean on him. Jungkook had left your mind since your incident two weeks ago but you were pretty thankful it was him and his group of friends that had stumbled upon you instead of other creepy guys.

The whole group reached Jungkook's black sedan, opening up the back door to slide Yeri in and buckle her up while he helped you slide into the passenger’s side, clicking your seat belt into place.

“I’ll catch up with you guys yeah? Text me the address of the restaurant Namjoon.” The guy with purple hair agreed and waved at you before him and the others wandered further down the street to the other car.

Jungkook gently closed the door, making sure your feet were good before going around the car to get into the driver’s side. “Alright, I know how to get to Gangnam but you’re gonna have to help with your streets. Can you do that?”

“Yup!” He gave you a smile as he started up the car and slowly made his way out of the parking spot and beginning the route to Gangnam.

“I’d offer you a water bottle but these are all empty or half empty.”

You wiggled your feet, pushing around a few bottles that were on the floor in front of you, “Why?”

“My car overheats a lot. She’s thirsty but I love her.” Jungkook had a look of appreciation on his face as he patted the steering wheel and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“So where was this thirsty car when you were looking for a getaway driver?”

“Parked way too far away to be a good enough getaway car, you were very convenient.”

The lights of the clubs in Hongdae swirled by as he passed them, putting you in a trance as you rested your head against the window. “Well,” you sighed, “I’m glad I was able to help.”

The rest of the ride was filled with the soft hum of the radio playing a rock song that Jungkook mumbled under his breath. He was relatively quiet which differed from the small snippets of his personality that you had gotten glimpses of. Maybe he was keeping quiet because you were too drunk to really hold a conversation.

After directing him through the small streets you arrived at your complex, the surrounding area practically dead because people were either clubbing or fast asleep in their beds. Jungkook got out and helped you step out of the car, letting you rest against the door as he tried to get Yeri’s unconscious ass out of the vehicle.

You were less wobbly than you were earlier so you wrapped one of her arms around your shoulder even though realistically Jungkook took most of the weight. You typed in your code into the keypad and the front doors slid open, the three of you shuffling into the building and into the elevator.

“Who are you?” Yeri mumbled out while looking up at Jungkook

“A figment of your imagination.”

She nuzzled into him as the elevator rose up, “You’re cute.” Is all she said before she knocked out again, her body becoming more limp than before if that was even possible.

After a bit of a struggle and the pair of you almost dropping Yeri, you finally got into your apartment and laid her out on the couch. You let yourself fall onto the loveseat beside it and watched Jungkook take his phone out to scroll through the messages his friends had sent him.

“The guys are eating somewhere in Myeongdong do you wanna join us?”

You slumped down, your elbows resting on your knees, “Too drunk.”

That was very true, now that you were sat in one place you noticed that the room seemed to be spinning. He hummed as he took in your appearance, deciding to hand his phone over to you even though he was debating trying to persuade you. He knew more than anyone that beef tasted best when drunk but he also knew more than anyone that eating beef when that drunk resulted in it coming back out in the form of throw up. “Next time then.”

You grabbed the device, not really sure what he wanted until you saw that it had the number pad open and a blank contact waiting to be filled in. He was persistent.

You finally filled out your contact information, throwing in the middle finger and heart emoji beside your contact name before handing it back, not missing the giant smile that spread across his face.

Day Fourty-two

A nearly empty iced americano was is your hand as Jungkook dragged you down the streets of Hongdae once again, “I can’t believe your ass paid this much for an iced coffee.”

He sipped his own drink, smiling with the straw between his teeth, “One, it tastes great so stop complaining it wasn’t your money, and two did you not see how cute that place was? Definitely worth it.”

You had finally responded to the texts he had been sending you since he gave you and your friend a ride, the constant string of memes and stupid jokes he would send you only made you giggle to yourself but they wouldn’t elicit a written response.

You would open the texts while you walked from one place to the next, holding in your laughter in public or sharing them with your friends when boredom struck at work. But after a few days of silence on your end the memes and jokes ended and you couldn’t stop yourself from finally sending a text, Why’d you stop?

That was probably his plan all along, get you hooked on the jokes so you couldn’t stay away. Well it worked because the memes continued and with that came the invitation to finally getting you an iced coffee. The hassle of finding time between your always changing work schedule pushed the date further back but the wait was worth it.

“You’re right, it wasn’t my money so thanks. Where are we going now anyways?” He had told you to dress comfy and you were glad you listened because you guys had been walking for a while and if you had worn your normal flats your feet would be blistered by now. Your converse weren’t exactly the best but it worked, and Jungkook thought the same since he was rocking a pair of his own. Along with that he was also wearing a pair of ripped black jeans, a grey tee and a leather jacket on top that helped keep him warm now that the sun was setting.

“Somewhere fun. You’ll love it, I hope.”

A couple of blocks later and you were entering a dimly lit club, the bass shaking the walls. This was not what you’re used to, yeah you go to clubs on occasion but they’re usually playing the latest hits and everyone’s drunk and grinding on each other. A club like this, with a band playing and people moving around to the beat of a rock song was out of your element.

The second you stepped in Jungkook was greeted by a few people, shouts of heys and random handshakes being exchanged while he kept one hand on your shoulder to not lose you.

“You come here often?” You shouted over the music, luckily he had moved his face closer so he could hear you properly.

“Yes I do. A couple of my friends are performing tonight though, it’ll be a little more mellow than it is right now.”

You hoped that was true because from what you could see the current crowd were throwing elbows and a few fists around and you didn’t want to be caught in the middle of that. Jungkook seemed to grasp your hesitance so he lead you to the back, leaning against the wall he spread his arms out to invite you to lean into him. There wasn’t really an option, everyone was crowding around the back and if you leaned on him you wouldn’t get shoved around so you did.

He kept a loose grip around your waist, letting you rest your back against his chest, feeling him hum along to the current song, his hands gently tapping out a beat on your stomach. Jungkook rested his chin on the top of your head due to your height difference, you both probably looked ridiculous but it just made you laugh to yourself.

“Oh look they’re about to come on!” One of his hands lifted off your waist to point towards the stage where two people walked on, guitar in one of their hands, a box drum in the other’s and microphones being placed in front of them.

You remembered them from that other night, the one with silver hair that helped carry Yeri and another boy with faded orange hair that you hadn’t spoken to. One sat on the stool while the other made himself comfortable on top of the box drum, pulling the microphones a little closer as they settled in, “Thanks for coming out, I’m Jimin,”

“I’m Hoseok.”

“and we’re gonna play a couple of slow songs for you guys. Is that alright?” The audience cheered and raised their drinks up, a couple of girls screaming out that they loved them.

Both of them smiled at that, shifting in their seat and checking the tune of the guitar. Jimin tapped on the guitar and softly counted to three before he started playing off chords, Hoseok joining in to create a beautiful melody that made you want to dance along. And then he started singing and you knew you had just become a fan, especially when Hoseok joined in, both their voices mixing together perfectly. The crowd sang along, obviously being fans of them, their arms in the air slowly swaying side to side, it just made you wish you knew the song so you could join along.

“They’re really good.” You mumbled out to Jungkook who had dropped his head down onto your shoulder.

“Glad you think so. We’re in a group together, you should come see us next time we play.” You couldn’t say no to that, not with how his face lit up with hope that you’d say yes.

HALLOWEEN Day Sixty-seven

And that's exactly how you found yourself with a small group of your friends at the same club on the night of Halloween, but instead of being in the back the four of you managed to slip your way into the crowd right in front of the small stage.

You sipped your drink as you waited for the previous group to clear off the stage, the crowd was calm during their set, not really liking them as much which you were thankful for because you did not want your drink on your shirt.

“So what’s their name?” Irene asked as she looked around, Yeri and Seulgi waiting for a response because you had dragged them all this way with absolutely no explanation other than they had to come. You would’ve came alone but you just didn’t have it in you, the thought of doing that filled your stomach with too many nerves.

“Absolutely no idea.”

Seulgi smirked, raising her eyebrow at you, “Okay then, what instrument does the one you wanna fuck play?”

“Lead guitar.” It slipped out before you could stop yourself so your lips wrapped around your straw once again as the three of them gasped and started making a scene.

“Oh my god Y/N, go for it–”

“Especially if he’s hot!”

“Do you know if the feeling’s mutual?”

You were sipping on pure ice at this point, your drink running dry and no longer allowing you to stall. “Yes he’s hot and he’s also really fucking dorky in an adorable way.”

Irene smacked your arm, “Wait is it meme boy?”

Question marks appeared over the other two's head, obviously having no idea what kind of code name meme boy was.

You just nodded at her before she smacked your arm again, “Go for it!”

You were honestly tempted to do so but so far Jungkook hadn’t tried to make a move, yes he was flirty but that just seemed like his personality. Your texts were always friendly, very sarcastic and full of jokes and you had only really hung out twice since the last time he brought you here so you were stumped. Plus you weren’t quite sure what your friendship was...boy that snuck into your car and also saved your drunk ass while showing you good music and becoming someone you text regularly?

Suddenly the entire crowd shifted, everyone stepping up and successfully pushing you out of your train of thought and the four of you closer to the stage. Your knees grazing the stage and the feeling of elbows digging into your back just made you remember how nice being in the back last time had been but you wanted to see his group so you’d deal with it.

One by one they came out, all with giant smiles adorning their faces as they took their place and that's when your eyes landed on Jungkook who was standing directly in front of you, his shiny black guitar hanging off his shoulders.

Your eyes trailed up from his legs to his guitar where his hands loosely gripped the neck and that's when you noticed the subtle trails of ink he had adorning his skin, you had never seen those before considering he usually had a sweater or some sort on due to the current weather, but they definitely suited him. There wasn’t too many of them, simple script across his chest and a few designs against his left arm but they were bold enough to stand out. Your eyes went further up to see him staring right at you, a giant smile on his face when he realized you had actually made it.

“You came!” He mouthed out to you, his eyes crinkling up in excitement when you smiled back and nodded at him.

Irene shook your shoulder and squealed when she noticed that but luckily he had already turned around, lightly strumming a few times while the guy you remembered as Jimin spoke, “Wow, there's a lot of you here tonight. I see some of you have dressed for the occasion, we obviously haven’t because to be honest it gets hot as fuck up here.”

Shouts were heard from all over, mixing in with the sound of the members all checking their instruments when the man holding the bass grasped the mic in front of him with a smirk, “Plus a mask wouldn’t let you guys see my pretty face and lets face it, they’re just here to see my pretty face Jimin.”

Jimin shook his head as he fidgeted with his own guitar, his head lifting up for his eyes to scan the room, “Is that true guys? Did you all just wanna see Taehyung’s pretty face?”

Noises of approval and a few dirty comments were shouted towards the stage making Taehyung wink in return which only caused more noise from the girls all around, he was clearly the man in charge of making the girls go crazy.

Jungkook had turned back around, his hand no longer holding the neck of his guitar, instead just letting it hang low on his body. He grasped his own microphone, the damn black pick he stole being held between his fingers as he pressed his lips against the mic, “And what about my pretty face?”

The crowd got even louder than before and you couldn’t stop from rolling your eyes with a smile when he looked down at you, winking before crinkling up his nose and laughing at everyone's reaction.

“And what about me?” Shouted Hoseok, the drummer who was now standing up on his drum stool with his arms spread out.

The cheers continued and Jimin waved his arms around to silence everyone, “Alright, alright. Everyone here has a pretty face, but let’s be honest, it’s me you’re here for.”

Laughs were heard but before any of the members could respond to that he brought the microphone back to his mouth, “Anyways this is a new song, hope you enjoy it!”

Hoseok tapped his sticks together before the song began, the entire crowd moving along to the rhythm that you and your friends couldn’t help but join in. That's how the entire show went, even with the songs everyone but you four knew, the experience was fun and it was even more entertaining to see Jungkook on stage.

The white shirt he had on was damp with sweat and the collar was hanging loosely around his shoulders, letting you see the ink that painted his chest more freely. He got lost in the music, certain songs making him bob his head with his eyes shut while others made him roam the stage and interact with the crowd while him and Taehyung joked around and before you knew it they were saying their goodbyes, taking a bow on stage before hopping off and disappearing into a door to the right.

The four of you immediately slid your way out of the crowd that was still shouting out for them to come back out, finding yourselves back at the bar to get more drinks.

“They were so good!” Seulgi complemented before taking a sip of her beer.

“They really were and the amount of times Jungkook looked down at you,” Irene whistled,”you’d be stupid not to make a move.”

You took a sip of your own drink, replaying the moments Jungkook had looked down at you as he shredded away on the guitar. It was hot to say the least, you had to come out to more of their shows from now on.

A bit of a commotion was heard behind you before you felt someone sling their arm around your shoulder. You looked up in shock and saw Jungkook looking down at you with a sweet smile that didn’t match the smirks he was sending on stage. He had changed into a black shirt and he didn’t look as sweaty as before. “Did you like the show?”

You pretended to think about it, enjoying the fake shocked lock on his face before you admitted that you had really enjoyed it. “Definitely. You guys are really talented.”

He bowed his head down, suddenly feeling shy at your praises. “Thanks that means a lot, we’re gonna head out to this party our friend’s throwing not too far from here. Did you guys wanna go?” He looked at you then towards your friends.

“We didn’t drive here.” Irene spoke up.

He just shrugged in return, “There’s space in our van if you’re willing to squeeze together.”

Your friends could see that you were thinking of it because a party did sound inviting and they knew you had the hots for the guitarist so they motioned for you to say yes.

Jungkook noticed and his grin only widened when he saw you nod in agreement, clapping his hands together and telling you all to follow him outside, saying the bartender would put your drinks on his tab and to not worry about it.

On the way out a few girls tried to grab his attention but he only smiled and reached for your hand to get out of there but not before you saw the nasty stares being sent your way once they saw your hands intertwined.

Once you stepped out you noticed the sun had barely set, remnants of pinks and purples still lingering in the sky as the dark blue hue slowly overtook it. There was a slight breeze nipping at your skin, making you squeeze Jungkook’s hand as a reflex. He looked over at you as your group walked down the sidewalk, seeing your hair fan out to the side and the way you tried to look down to stop the breeze from hitting your face, the sight made him circle his thumb around your palm, sending tingles up your arm.

In that moment you felt like a schoolgirl developing a crush, stuck in the phases in between wondering if this was something you would forget in a few weeks or something genuine you felt inside. The feelings in the beginning of liking someone were always your favorite, finding out little quirks about them, realizing what you did and didn’t have in common and the anticipation of not knowing if they felt the same lingering in the back of your mind.

Was this situation love? Absolutely not. It was more than likely lust but considering the short time you had known each other that was a given, although maybe you could nudge that lust over into a nice like.

“Hey guys, this is Y/N and her friends.”

You finally looked up and saw Jimin, Hoseok, and Taehyung gathered around a black van, loading up the back with amps and their instruments.

“Isn’t she the girl you gave a ride to last time? Thought her name was Bonnie?”

Jungkook quickly said it was a joke as you nodded, slightly embarrassed at that memory and with Yeri’s noise of realization and horror you knew she felt the same.

“I knew I recognized you!” Jimin spoke with excitement as he pointed at you before turning back to the van to help continue the game of tetris in the form of amps. He stuck his head back out for another moment, “I kept trying to go on your side but Kookie here seemed to be a little territorial on that side of the stage.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes with a grin, mumbling out to ignore him and then stepping in to help his friends finish packing up. The back of the van was slammed shut and locked, Jimin rounding off to enter the driver’s side with Hoseok calling shotgun and Taehyung calling the only available seat in the back row because the rest were occupied with equipment.

Irene, Seulgi and Yeri stepped into the van’s middle row, Irene placing Seulgi on her lap and Yeri sliding in next to her, leaving you and Jungkook to squish into the last remaining seat. You shuffled in, feeling Jungkook step in after you and close the door but before you could sit down you felt his hands grip your waist and gently sit you down on his lap.

The heat rushed to your face at the position and the audience you had around you but you just laughed it off and shifted around so you sat sideways, facing your friends and letting Jungkook have a view of your profile.

“Sorry, it was either this or being squished beside my thunder thighs.” He whispered out to you with a laugh as he patted his muscular thighs.

“It’s fine, your thunder thighs make good cushions.”

He squinted his eyes at you with a grin, “Good to know.”

The engine started up and the conversations immediately followed, Jimin asking for brutal honesty from your group because deep down he thinks they need improvement. The chorus of no you guys are great from your friends filled the vehicle and a small tap on your shoulder from Jungkook drew your attention away from Jimin’s half convinced face in the rearview mirror.

“Hey how’s work been?” He asked quietly, a small grin spread onto his lips as he waited for your response.

There was always something nice about being asked questions you knew were genuine, and in this case you definitely knew it was genuine since you had been bitching and moaning to him about how much you hated your boss.

“I barely survived the week.”

“Yikes, what did she have you do?”

Oh man, where would you start? If this were a regular office job maybe it’d be easier to talk about but no, you were the head assistant and writer in training of the CEO of the biggest fashion magazine in South Korea and she just happened to sometimes be the devil reincarnated.

“She made me pick up her kid from daycare first off.”

“Why, did she forget?”

“No, in her exact words she said I don’t feel like seeing him today he gives me migraines.”

Jungkook laughed at that and so did Taehyung since he grasped the end of your sentence. In retrospect it was kind of funny but it also wasn’t in your job description to be a nanny.

“I can handle taking her coffee and picking up dry cleaning and phone calls and literally everything else but come on, she has three nannies.”

His palm gently patted your knee as he gave you a sympathetic smile, “Smile and breathe. Who knows maybe picking her kid up gave you brownie points and when she’s old and on her deathbed she’ll give you the company.”

You could only hope.

It was now three in the morning and somehow the majority of the people at this party were still kicking. The second everyone entered the house shots and halloween props were passed around in celebration of their friend Seokjin getting signed to a huge label to officially begin his career as a solo artist. He had gone around shouting fuck yeah no more playing on street corners throughout the whole night. He was probably somewhere in the house passed the fuck out.

Yoongi, a producer and close friend of theirs, and Hoseok were in the kitchen mixing up more drinks and discussing the band’s upcoming album and what ideas they had. Yeri and Irene were playing a match of beer pong against Seulgi and Jimin while Taehyung and a bunch of others you were unfamiliar with cheered them on. You were wandering around with a red cup full of water, the second you’d finish a beer you’d chug a cup of water because hangovers were the death of you.

“Hello miss soon to be CEO.”

A bottle was handed to you and you took it while grinning at Jungkook, his cheeks were flushed a cute red and his eyes and crooked devil horns made it clear he was a little past tipsy.

“Hi mister soon to be rockstar.”

He threw his head back as he chuckled, choosing to lean back against the wall that divided the kitchen from the living room. “Oh being a rockstar would be so crazy, imagine traveling all over the world. Are you gonna be there to make sure my outfits are fashion worthy?”

You gave him a once over, pretending to find his outfit unappealing and enjoying the look of shock that came across his face at your judgement. “I think you’re fine in the outfit department.”

Jungkook's eyes narrowed at you and his lips pursed slightly as he watched you take a swig of your drink, your water now forgotten and placed on the small coffee table full of bottles. “But what if I want you there with me?” His confession was quiet, so quiet it made you think you had imagined it, until he repeated it when you looked up at him and mumbled out a dumb huh?

“What if I want you there with me, y’know traveling the world and junk.” He seemed shyer now than before, his thumbs twiddling with the head of his bottle as he gave you a sideways glance.

“Well,” you took a step forward, choosing to stand beside him against the wall and nudge his shoulder, “I’ll be there as long as you want me there.”

Jungkook could feel himself grin at your statement, seeing you grinning right back as you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Can I ki–”

“Hey! You two look way too sober to be having a good time!” Jungkook’s head turned towards the direction of the voice seeing Jin who was miraculously not fucking passed out standing there while trying to juggle a few shots, fake blood dripping down his mouth accompanied by fangs and a cloak.

He was about to respond before your hand cupped his cheek and turned his face towards you, your lips wasting no time in slotting between his own. That caught him by surprise for a split second before he relaxed, his free hand coming around to weave through your hair. Before he was able to fully enjoy your surprising display of affection you were stepping back with a smile.

“Yeah you can kiss me.”

Day Eighty-nine

You had just finished slipping on your pair of tan booties when something caught your attention through your window. The bed squeaked underneath you as you stood up to peak outside, seeing Jungkook's car parked a couple of cars away from your complex.

“Fuck how long has he been waiting out there for?”

You huffed the hair out of your face as you reached for your phone, expecting to see a text from him saying he was here but you were greeted with nothing. That just made you smirk to yourself in the mirror as you fixed your hair.

You didn’t waste any more time grabbing your bag and leaving your unit, you had the element of surprise on your side so you wanted to use it before he texted you he was here.

Once you were out of your complex you slowly crept towards his car, standing a few feet away before you decided to sprint towards it, swinging open the thankfully unlocked door and throwing yourself into the seat much like he had when you first met.

“Drive just drive!” You shouted out as you reached for his shirt to clutch onto and weakly shake him.

The scream he let out during the whole thing made this all worth it. He didn’t catch a good enough look to realize it was you until he swatted your hands off and cursed.

“What the fuck!”

You covered your face as you laughed, resting back into the seat properly as you shut the door and buckled yourself up. “What’s wrong you big baby, c’mon let's go.”

He continued to stare at you, a deer caught in a headlight with his chest pounding and his lungs working in overdrive. “Who does that!”

“You.”

He stuttered over his words before giving up and rubbing his face with a groan that eased into a laugh. “I hate you.”

You reached over and gently patted his cheeks with a smile, “I hate you too. Now c’mon!”

Jungkook took a deep breath before grinning and starting the drive. After Seokjin’s party and the two of you kissing your relationship had become weird. Not in the sense of awkwardness, more like oh god we kissed what does that make us? What direction does this go in, friends, friends with benefits or a relationship dare you say.

After a week of it Jungkook decided to throw caution to the wind and ask you out on a proper date. He was very blunt about it, his exact words being I don’t know how I feel exactly but it makes me happy and I want to take you out to see where this goes. Please tell me you’re up for it.

You couldn’t say no even if you wanted to, hell your friends wouldn’t allow you to even think about telling him no. Jungkook was always as understanding as could be when it came to your work, he knew your career was your top priority, filling the time between then and now with never ending messages about what he had planned for it. It made you feel like you were in highschool, enamored by the cutest boy in class who only had eyes for you, slyly responding to his messages when you had the time underneath your desk at work.

When the clouds parted and you were given a day off, one hundred percent off, no worrying on if Mijoo would text you and demand you come in, you pounced on it, immediately asking Jungkook if his date needed more of a heads up than a day. The odds were in your favor, so now you were on your way to a cute little cafe beside Han River in Jungkook's thirsty car with the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.

It had been a while since you’ve felt this giddy about someone, work had basically taken over your life so you had absolutely no time to even think about a relationship with anyone. Sure you went out with Yeri and the girls whenever you all had a moment to spare and sure you’ve had your fair share of one night stands because a girl has needs but this, this was definitely new.

You found yourself excited to get messages from Jungkook, regardless of what they were. His random bursts of messages that he sent when his mind was whirling around and he just had to tell you of how certain he was that life was just a simulation and follow it up with fifty messages providing sources and proof. The random goofy selfies he’d send you in the middle of his band practice and on his lunch in the back room of his “real life job” because sometimes your dream job doesn’t pay all the bills.

But, your favorite texts would be the ones he would send when he thought of you, maybe a random flower on his walk out, a random stuffed animal, the smell of coffee. There was always something sweet about being shown that you were missed and being thought of.

His messages were no longer one sided at all, you had sent him a good amount of I miss you texts and selfies and memes and he was just as sucked in as you were. He hadn’t told you yet but he had a folder saved on his phone full of the ugly selfies you’ve sent him and screenshots of his favorite messages. It was clear that the lust you had for him earlier has nudged way over into a nice little like.

“Wait what?”

You were now sat in the corner of the cafe, right underneath a vibrant neon sign that just begged to be taken pictures with and luckily Jungkook had done so for you. A half finished iced coffee sat in front of you and a cup of green slush that used to be his green tea frappe sat in front of him, a slice of cake was currently being picked at by both of you in the middle of the table.

“I’m so nervous!”

You had just finished telling Jungkook about the new opportunity presented to you at your job. The fact that your boss had put her trust in you and allowed you to do a full spread for the last winter issue set to drop in the beginning of February on whatever topic or subject you deemed appropriate was shocking. How did you go from fetching her clothes and drinks and dealing with her appointments to doing a full spread?

“Don’t get me wrong, I know I worked hard for this to happen but like...what’s the catch?” you paused and took a sip of the last remaining part of your drink, “I can do this, one hundred percent.”

“Of course you can, you’re like ready to emerge from your cocoon. You won’t be able to see it but your wings are gonna be sick as fuck.” He cut you off, sending you a genuine smile before cutting a piece of the cake and popping it in his mouth as if he hadn’t just said the sweetest words to you.

“Are you calling me a caterpillar?” You tease, smiling when he forces himself to swallow the cake in his mouth, an exasperated face adorning his features.

“No you doofus, I’m calling you a butterfly.” He rolls his eyes before focusing back on the cake, his fork stabbing at another piece, “My butterfly.” He grumbles so lowly you almost don’t hear it.

You smiled at him in thanks for believing in you, opening your mouth to tease him about the cute analogy but not having a chance too since he thought it would be great to shove some cake in your mouth too.

“Whatever you decide to focus it on, I know you’re gonna make it work. I believe in you Y/N, I hope you believe me now when I say the she-devil will leave you in charge when she’s done.”

Now that was harder to believe, almost laughable honestly but you appreciated his kind words of support. You couldn’t help the slight smile that crept up on your face as you thought of the way to phrase the following words.

You finished chewing the cake in your mouth and occupied yourself by swirling your straw around the ice left in your cup. Jungkook watched you intently, picking up the slight nerves you clearly had but decided to just observe. He could tell you had something you wanted to blurt out by the way you nibbled on your lips.

“I actually have an idea,” you started off, pursing your lips slightly as your raised your head back up to make direct eye contact with him, seeing his head tilted slightly and his eyes giving you a questioning look, “I was wondering how you—well all of you actually—would feel being the subject I cover for my spread?”

His jaw dropped slightly at that, his eyes bouncing around the cafe almost as if he was trying to bring himself back to reality by remembering his current location. “Are you serious?” He wasn’t sure if you knew what that would mean to him or his band. The magazine you worked for was not some small internet zine that a handful of people read, no, it was one of the most influential magazines sold in Korea. If you guys wrote that an ugly orange beret was the next big thing then dammit every ugly orange beret would be bought and worn the following day.

The amount of publicity their band would get could potentially boost up their career and that’s exactly why they were your first option. They deserved to be heard, to move on from playing small clubs to bigger venues. They deserved to be able to fully live out their dreams and if you focusing a full spread on them helped in the slightest then you would do so.

“Yes, I’m serious Jungkook.”

A laugh left his lips as he covered his face with his palms, shaking his head in disbelief. “Holy shit...why?”

“Because just how you believe in me, I believe in you.”

Day One Hundred & Twenty

“Is this okay?” Taehyung asked you as he adjusted the leopard printed blanket he currently had draped around his shoulders. Him and the rest of Bangtan were in a studio taking shots for the spread next month and to put it simply, they were fucking nervous. They weren’t models, they didn’t consider themselves fashion savvy, they were completely out of their comfort zone but you assured them that they had to do this in order for the spread to be accepted by your boss.

As much as you wanted to slap pictures of them on stage in all their glory, this was a lifestyle and fashion magazine so you were going to tie those two together with their music and fucking run with it.

“Yes, you look great Tae!” You shouted behind the photographer, stepping back a little to give him room to work. Your back bumped into something and you stopped and glanced behind you, smiling widely when you saw Jungkook grinning back down at you.

“You look so hot bossing people around.”

He was one to talk, he looked so hot just standing there doing absolutely nothing. His black hair was laying messily on his head, he had a bit of light red eyeshadow around his eyes to give the pictures more of a pop, his outfit of choice being a leather jacket and a white tee tucked into tight black skinny jeans and his classic black boots.

“You just look hot.”

His lips turned up into a smirk, his hands tucking themselves in the pocket of his jeans, “Oh yeah?”

You hummed in response, letting your eyes gaze up and down his body and he clearly wasn’t opposed to your attention since he took it upon himself to give you a small twirl, finishing it off with a laugh.

“This still doesn’t feel real Butterfly.” He admitted as he threw his arm around your shoulder and brought you closer to his side, the both of you watching Taehyung posing for the camera and trying not to laugh as Hoseok teased him from the sidelines.

“Why?”

Jungkook took a deep breath and paused for a moment, letting everything really hit him. “I don’t know. I mean, we’re a random fucking local band that plays shows in a hole in the wall bar yet we’re here being styled by some of the best people. Shit, I’ve never had my makeup done for me so I didn’t expect to like it this much, but I know the girl who did it is probably top notch and this photographer,” His finger pointed at him and you reached out and grasped it, deciding to just hold his hand so people wouldn’t think they were being talked about, “He obviously knows what he’s fucking doing!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him and his excited little ramble, “It’s just crazy that in a few weeks we’re not just gonna be known by the fifty fans that come see our shows every now and then. I just…we don’t know how to repay you for putting your ass on the line for us.”

His gaze moved from Taehyung back down to you, choosing to give the top of your head a kiss. The gesture was sweet and made your heart swell while also making a slight blush rise on your cheeks so you wrapped both of your arms around him to bury your face in his chest so he wouldn’t see how easily affected you were.

“Okay Y/N, last two to shoot are Jungkook and Hoseok.” Ildo the talented photographer of the day called out to you. He had finished shooting Taehyung and was now moving to sit behind his monitor and review the shots he had just taken. You and Jungkook walked over to stand behind him and beside Taehyung who was looking at the monitor in awe at the shots just taken.

“Wow, I can just hear the panties dropping at these shots.”

Jungkook reached over and smacked his shoulder as they laughed loudly, the pair of them starting to bring up inside jokes that you knew nothing about. You scooted a bit closer to Ildo as you both flicked through the images. “These are gonna look super nice. We’re doing the group shot last right?”

“Thanks Ildo, you’re amazing and yeah we’ll save that one for the end.”

Jungkook was guided to the white backdrop, one of the hair stylists fidgeting with his hair for a moment before deeming him decent and retreating back to allow his shoot to begin. He had the same leopard blanket Taehyung had on draped over his shoulders for a few of the pictures. Whether or not they were models they were very handsome men that knew the sex appeal they carried with them, that was obviously thanks to the women that went to their shows and fawned over them, and you were extremely grateful for that because your boss would’ve thrown these in the garbage if they screamed amature.

Ildo easily instructed him on how to tilt his head and where to look for the shot to come out nicely and before you knew it you were halfway through Hoseok's shot. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were standing around goofing off while they waited for him to finish because the final group shot was next.

“I need to fix my instagram theme.” Jimin mumbled out, tapping filters he couldn’t decide between on a selfie of his.

“Why?”

He frowned at the photo, not sure if he liked it enough to post yet so he passed it over to Jungkook, “Because no one wants to follow you if your theme fucking sucks Taehyung.”

Taehyung looked completely confused, pulling his phone out to open up the instagram app. He tapped on his own page and scrolled down and back up, “I never realized?”

Jungkook handed the phone back to Jimin, “Yeah post it, it looks good. And Tae, that’s because your instagram is amazing without you even trying.”

Taehyung continued to scroll through his own photos, a small pout on his face as he craned his head over to see Jimin's instagram page from his phone.

“You have like a weird art hoe meets alternative vibe going on.” That caught your attention so you made a mental note to bring it up during your interview later.

“Thanks I think?”

All of you turned your head around to focus on Hoseok when you heard excessive clapping and excited screams coming from him, signaling the end of his shoot. You rubbed your palms together and grinned at the boys, “Alright, almost done guys. Just a few shots of you together and we can go get some food in our system before we figure out the interview.”

They all shot you a thumbs up before making their way back towards the lit up backdrop, all of them acting a lot more casual with being in front of the camera now that they were a group.

The shoot wrapped up fairly quickly after that, you shouting out thanks to the entire crew and the guys joining in as everyone gathered their things. Jimin had suggested you guys go to this new pizza spot near by, saying he invited the others to join in if that was fine.

You honestly didn’t mind it, as long as you were able to get a page written on them during this outing it didn’t matter who was there.

Jungkook fished his keys out of his pocket, jingling them in front of everyone before approaching his thirsty car. “Shotgun!” Taehyung yelled before bolting to the passenger side, not getting a chance to throw it open since Jungkook clicked the lock button.

“You wish.”

“That’s his wet dream’s seat Taehyung.”

They both started cackling when Jungkook sent them daggers for eyes. “Am I the wet dream?” You teased, giving him a smirk as you pressed your hand to your chest acting like you were flattered.

“Yes!” Shouted both Tae and Jimin, Jungkook only mumbling a timid yeah.

“Kinky. I’ll take it.”

Day One Hundred & Thirty-three

You were currently in your building’s conference room, your thoughts going a million miles a minute as you adjusted the giant blow ups of the mock spread you were in charge of.

The next months issue was dropping in a few days and considering your boss had been out of town for two weeks, if she didn’t approve of it she would scrap it, maybe fire you for pulling out amateur work and then go for the backup spread that one of your coworkers was told to provide just in case.

You tucked in your floral button up and adjusted the cuffed sleeves for the final time before taking a deep breath and plastering a smile on your face as everyone who was in charge of your job walked in, your boss being the last one.

“Good morning everyone!”

Everyone was shuffling into their seats but spoke a greeting in return, their attention automatically going to the huge posters behind you.

“Are you ready to impress me Y/N?” Your boss, Mijoo’s voice cut through the room, a smile on her face as she looked at you.

She may be extremely bossy, and strict, and sometimes bitchy but you couldn’t argue with the fact that she knew what she was doing and she put her trust in you so that had to count for something.

“Yes, of course!” You cleared your throat and stepped to your left, fully letting your spread show behind you.

“With winter approaching us it’s obvious to step away from fresh and inviting looks in fashion, everyone wants to bundle up and stay warm but something about the same old burgundy scarves and black trench coats is very–“

“Last year.” Mijoo cut in and you nodded in agreement with her, everyone else in the room nodding along.

“Exactly, I think we can switch it up by gravitating towards a more alternative look for winter.” You gestured towards the group photo of Bangtan on the first poster, they were clad in layers and boots.

“It would be a nice switch from the typical cutesy fashion worn for winter, it will give us an edge compared to other magazines. This style is meant for layering, it looks very messy but every article has purpose and it feels like every outfit has a story that comes with it.”

Mijoo stood from her seat and walked over, her gaze on the posters and not at you. She was intrigued, that much you could tell. She stood in front of what would be the first page, a compilation edited like polaroids of the four of them with their signatures under their respective picture, “It has an edge to it, and it’s very androgynous.”

You stepped aside as she continued to make her way through every photo, her eyes skimming the words you wrote with an approving look on her face, “Who are they?”

Her light brown eyes looked directly at you this time and you almost choked on your spit from trying to speak so fast, “A band, Bangtan. I know we never cover music artists but when I saw them perform live their sense of style combined with their sound is what really drew me in. I feel like this sense of fashion is heavily influenced by the artists who really birthed it so it just seemed right to have the focus of the spread be people who really live and breathe this.”

“Interesting.” Was all she said, taking a few steps back to see the spread in full with her hands crossed in front of her, “Were these the only pictures shot?”

“No, there’s still plenty of single and group shots that didn’t make the cut.” You were reaching for your phone to open up dropbox and show her but the sound of her own cell going off stopped you.

She reached into her pocket and fished it out, looking at the screen in annoyance before answering with a What? You looked away from her, giving your own work a look of pride because damn were you proud of this spread. Directing everything on your own and managing to put together a team that brought your vision to life really made you feel like you had found your niche.

“Well, pass a few photos you deem worthy of being cover material over to Sunmi and we’ll have it finalized and ready for production in a few days. If the general public is as intrigued by this as I am then you’ll be seeing more opportunities like this in the future. Good work Y/N.”

And with that she was walking out of the conference room, everyone else calling out a good job as well before packing up and leaving you standing there with your jaw basically on the floor. She not only loved your spread but she deemed it cover material, that was big for not only you but Bangtan as well and you couldn’t wait to let Jungkook know.

Your fingers were shaking so hard as you sat in your car with your phone in your hands, your contact list was lighting up the screen while you scrolled through it to find his name and when you finally did you pressed your finger down so hard on his name you were surprised your screen didn’t crack.

C’mon, c’mon…

“Y/N!” He shouted your name out in greeting, and you couldn’t help the giant smile that came across your face.

“Jungkook!”

“What’s up Butterfly?” You could hear the faint sounds of drums in the background, making it pretty clear he was currently practicing with the rest of the guys.

“Are you with the others?”

Shuffling was heard through the phone and from how clear his voice sounded you could tell he had his palm cupped over the microphone, “Why? Is this your way of initiating phone sex? Should I go somewhere alone?”

“Oh my god are you guys about to have phone sex?” Taehyung shouts out, having heard Jungkook’s hushed words from beside him. A deep laugh fills the air as he dodges a punch aimed at his stomach, running away towards Jimin with his bass hanging low on his shoulders.

Your face instantly went red as you let out a small scream followed by laughter, “No! And that’s not how I would initiate phone sex, c’mon romance isn’t dead-” Jungkook starts apologizing immediately, “I would obviously send some kind of nude before calling.” And the apology was over and now he was joining in on your laughter.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time, but to answer your question, yes I’m with the guys.”

“Cool, put me on speaker!”

Jungkook was confused by that but said okay regardless and did just that. His phone was held in his right hand as he waved them all closer together, Jimin and Taehyung had been fucking around with their instrument making a parody of a The 1975 song as Hoseok recorded them with a smile on his face.

“Hey!” He shouted out obnoxiously, a giant smile on his face as he watched his friends have fun. They all turned to him, Jimin falling to his knees as he played a random guitar solo with his head tilted back and a cheeky smile. “Y/N’s on the phone, she has something she needs to tell us.”

The last notes Jimin played echoed out in the room as they all quieted down, that honestly made them just a tad bit nervous and they were kind of assuming that you were going to inform them that their spread had been cut. Nonetheless they all gathered around the phone as Jungkook raised it up and told you they were ready for whatever news you had.

“Alright,” you began, trying not to let too much of the excitement seep out of your voice, “you know how I told you guys I was going to be in charge of a spread for next months issue?” They all hummed in agreement, Taehyung chewing on his fingernails while Hoseok continued to record with his phone.

“Well, about that. Uhm, how would you guys feel if maybe instead of that-” their hearts instantly dropped for a moment, “we make you guys the cover of next month’s issue too?”

All of them looked at each other in a state of shock, Jungkook screaming are you fucking serious into the phone while Jimin dropped to the floor with his hands over his head, Taehyung walking around the room with his hands in the same position and a smile on his face as Hoseok hopped around and recorded the whole thing.

Your laughed mixed into the sounds in their room over the phone, “Yes I’m serious! My boss loved the spread and told me to send our editor some more shots of you guys to make a cover for the issue. So get ready to see your faces plastered all over Korea on February 1st!”

Day One Hundred & Sixty

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Jungkook questioned as he stood in your doorway, a black leather jacket framing his body, a sliver of his dark red printed button up peeking out between the zipper.

You weren’t staring at him, you were just admiring him entirely, especially his new hair which he had decided to dye a bright red. “Because you’re fucking hot Jungkook.”

A bashful smile took over his face and he let his gaze fall to the floor before trying to play it off, “You’re one to talk, also, why do our outfits kind of match?”

You also had on a pair of black jeans, a thick belt around your waist and a dark printed button up tucked into them with a leather jacket in your arms. “Haven’t you heard? This group called Bangtan says this is totally in right now.”

Both of you were currently on your way to the nearest magazine stand to pick up as many copies of it as you could, a copy for both of you to frame as memorabilia, some copies for Jungkook's family, a few for them to toss out at an upcoming show they have, and some more for safe keeping.

Your eyes were a little dry due to the fact that you could barely sleep, tossing and turning the entire night with butterflies in your stomach at the thought of your first spread dropping today, but you were so full of excitement, mostly for Jungkook. The look in his eyes was one of achievement, this was something he and the guys only dreamed of and to have it happen was like a daydream he never wanted to end.

“So,” Jungkook started off, his hand reaching out and intertwining his fingers with yours, “heard any good feedback yet?”

Your thumb rubbed the back of his hand gently, “Yes actually! I got a couple of articles linked to me of other fashion outlets talking about you guys and mentioning our interview. So far everyone loves you guys.”

That just made his heart burst in his chest, he could only imagine what his mom was thinking as she sat in her cozy little house in Busan, maybe she had stumbled upon the magazine spread or an article on her own before Jungkook could surprise her but he was hoping that wasn’t the case, he wanted to have this moment with her.

“This is so...wild to me.” He spoke softly, his eyes downcast and a bashful smile on his face as you guys exit your building. “You know that feeling when things finally start to fall into place and you catch yourself thinking that this is it?”

You nodded at that, squeezing his hand in reassurance, “That’s what I feel like right now. Fuck, thats what all of us feel right now. We’ve been dreaming of this for years and the fact that you gave us this opportunity is beyond me.”

That warmed your chest up, you had only known Jungkook for a short amount of time but he had grown into someone special in your life. Every now and then you stumble into someone that makes everything click and he was that person. You wanted to make him happy, going out of your way to just make him smile and this opportunity did all that and more.

The rest of the walk was spent in silence, Jungkook getting slightly more nervous as you both approached the magazine stand and you felt like you wanted to barf already. You could see the stand in the distance, a small crowd gathered around it to buy the new magazines and you were praying you would hear some good feedback.

“Good morning.” You greeted the old man stood by the magazines, he greeted you with a smile while he checked out a group of teenage girls.

“Wait,” one of them whispered before looking down at the magazine, “that looks like him.”

Her friend looked down as well before looking back up at Jungkook, a small gasp leaving her mouth. “Excuse me!” They called out, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder and bringing him out of his own daze as he stared at his face on a magazine cover.

“Can you sign this!” Jungkook’s eyes bulged out, almost expecting them to say they were joking but when they stuck out their magazines with giddy expressions he realized they were being serious. You stood beside him with a smile, your phone coming out to take a sneaky picture of this moment because you were sure he would want this memory to be photographed.

Jungkook’s shaky hands took the sharpie the old man handed him and scribbled out the signature he had been practicing for years, bold strokes of his name on the glossy paper making a feeling of pride taking over when the girls thanked him excitedly and walked away.

That feeling of being on cloud nine lasted the entire time you guys trekked to the makeshift practice room the guys had in some random shop, a bunch of magazines being clutched in your hands and nearly spilling out when you guys entered the room.

“Holy shit!” Taehyung laughed out, your eyes drifted around the room until you spotted him and you burst out laughing because he was sat surrounded by his own pile of magazines.

“I guess we all had the same idea then huh?” Jimin spoke out, he was sitting criss crossed on the floor with the magazine opened up to their spread.

Apparently so, because all of you had a pile of magazines to share, to keep and just for the sake of having. This was meaningful memorabilia, something you all could hopefully look back at years from now, when you were all successful in your own way, and see the moment where it all seemed to take off.

“I honestly want to plaster a hundred copies on my bedroom wall as makeshift wallpaper.” Hoseok spoke as he flipped through the pages containing the interview, his eyes skimming the words typed on the paper, eyes squinting as he recalls the way you all had bantered throughout it.

“Oh my god, imagine when you bring a girl over and she sees hundreds of you staring back at her on the bed.” Taehyung snickered out as he took a photo of a magazine against the patterned rug he was on top of.

Jungkook giggled to himself before telling you he was going to facetime his mom and walking to a far corner of the room.

Jimin was sorting through a bag he had beside him, pulling out a flyer and handing it to you with a grin on his face. It was a red flyer, the words Hope World on the top with the date right beside it, June 26th.

“We’re headlining this festival with our friends. We actually had this planned before the whole magazine spread but tickets dropped today so this timing is perfect.”

Underneath the title was a group picture that hadn’t made the cut for the magazine spread, all of them looking absolutely amazing. Right beside them was a photo of Jin, the last time you had seen him he was drunk as fuck and not as put together but you couldn’t deny the fact that he was handsome. And right underneath him was a photo of Yoongi, someone you remember meeting at the halloween party, the name Agust D being right below him.

“We actually got a call a few minutes ago saying that tickets sales went through the roof and just sold out.”

You finally looked up from the flyer and met Jimin’s eyes, creased into half moons from excitement. “Holy shit, really?”

“Y/N, we weren’t expecting to get close to hitting capacity and today we get a call saying its completely sold out.” Taehyung interrupted, a giddy smile on his face.

“Obviously we aren’t Coachella over here expecting over half a million people but considering who we are we never thought it’d sell out.”

At that, Jungkook walked back over, dabbing his cheeks lightly as he slid his phone back into his pockets. “Sell out what?” He asked curiously, sliding his arm across your shoulder.

“Hope World Fest dude!” Hoseok shouted.

“Wait what?”

He slid his phone back out and called someone frantically, chewing on his bottom lip as he waiting for whoever it was to answer.

“Namjoon!” He shouted into the receiver making everyone flinch and the person on the other end chuckle, the sound filling up the small space through Jungkook’s speaker.

“Hey JK, what’s up man?”

“Don’t whats up me, did we really sell out Hope World Fest?”

Namjoon only laughed again, “Sure did. Sells went through the roof this morning.”

Jungkook could only stare at the floor, the shock rendering him speechless. His mind was currently going into overdrive. This was all happening too fast he felt like he was going to puke everything up.

His band mates felt the exact same, they’ve had this band since the last year of high school. They were used to playing house shows, the occasional club and bar but never a festival. The closest they had gotten to playing a show similar in size would be the one time they opened up for a band called The Rose but that had been a year or so back before they blew up.

When Namjoon first spoke of creating this festival a little over a year ago they never thought they’d be a headliner. Namjoon knew everyone, he had so many massive bands and solo artists and rappers on the bill for the festival but he always insisted on having them headline. And when the news that you’d be writing about them for your magazine came up he was sold on the idea.

Seeing everything come full circle like it was right now was too surreal.

“JK? Uh...can you guys confirm he still has a pulse?”

Jimin stood up and plucked the device from Jungkook’s hands, pressing it closer to his lips instead, “He’s breathing, might be in shock but he’ll be alright.”

“Okay good,” he laughed, “by the way, all the travel arrangements to Busan are set i’ll send you all the itinerary. Is Y/N there?”

“Yeah, I’m here!” You nervously spoke up.

“Oh, hey! I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it but there's an extra flight ticket with your name on it if you decide to go.”

You thanked him and let him say his goodbyes, Jimin handing you the phone with a smile before going back to what he was doing. You slid it into the front pocket on his jeans, giving his cheek a tiny poke to make him come back to reality. His nose crinkled up at the action, a smile spreading across his face as he cupped both your cheeks in return and planted an obnoxious kiss against your lips.

The both of you lingered in the practice room for another hour, talks of the show they played a few days back that you missed due to work, all of them taking turns to show you whatever footage fans had captured of the show, the boys going through their social media, having mini freak outs as they saw their followers increase before their eyes. There was just something about witnessing this moment in their life that filled you with happiness, the sparkle in all of their eyes as they watched views of their music videos increase every few minutes. It was absolutely priceless and made it so much harder to leave once you finally said your goodbyes, leaving the room with your hands clasped together and the biggest smiles on your face.

Your phone vibrates just as you reach Jungkook’s car once more, a small feeling of anxiety bubbles in the pit of your stomach when you pull the device out and see Mijoo’s name on your screen. It’s a short and simple message, Amazing spread, great feedback. Keep it up Y/N.

Jungkook sees you grinning to yourself, pressing the device to your chest lightly before locking it again and placing it on your lap. “Good news?”

You nod at that, “Yeah, my boss just sent me a good job text.”

“I’m telling you, she secretly loves you and her world would fall apart if you weren’t there to help her. This is just her moment of realization.” He’s giving you the cutest smile, and he’s about to keep going, already having a novel ready to gush about how amazing you are at your job but his phone sounds off next.

He hesitates to answer but you motion for him to accept the call so he does. He has to place the call on speaker since he’s started to drive already, “JK?” A voice fills the sound of the car.

“Yugyeom, whats up brother?”

A laugh sounds out from the speaker, “What do you mean whats up, your face is plastered all around Seoul from what I can see. Can’t walk more than 30 feet without seeing all of you on a magazine stand or on some girls phone screen.”

At that, you can’t control the smile that spreads across your face, looking to the side and seeing Jungkook once again had the giddiest expression on his face. “What can I say? There’s no escaping me.”

Yugyeom laughs again, “Honestly how did you guys manage to pull this off?”

Theres a beat of silence, Jungkook nibbling on his lip before his arm reaches over the center console and rests on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, “It’s all thanks to my girlfriend.” You can practically hear the intake of breath from the other line, no doubt Yugyeom was about to start firing questions out before Jungkook interjected, “Who can hear everything you’re saying because you’re on speaker.”

“Noted.” You laugh quietly to yourself, “well tell your girlfriend-”

“Y/N.” He interrupted again.

“Y/N, right, tell Y/N she’s currently winning the title of best girlfriend. Anyways, I gotta go. I’ll see you in Busan?”

Jungkook confirmed he would and ended the call, suddenly looking very nervous and you know why. Your hands comes down to grasp his thats still on your thigh, you slip your fingers underneath his palm and weave your fingers together, “So, I’m your girlfriend now huh?”

And now his face is warming up, a soft blush creeping onto his cheeks in embarrassment. If he’s being honest, he’s been calling you his girlfriend to all of his friends for a few weeks now even though he hasn’t technically asked.

He lifts your clasped hands and brings them to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on the back of your hand before bringing them back down to rest on the center console, “Please?” He very cutely mumbles out.

“Jungkook, I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

His body sags into the drivers seat in relief, his head falling back momentarily, “Thank god because I kinda told my mom you were my girlfriend already when I face timed her earlier.”

That just makes this warmth blossom in your chest and slowly spread throughout your whole body and you can only giggle to yourself as you give his hand another squeeze and enjoy the drive back to your place.

When you finally do get to your place Jungkook instantly orders take out before saying he’ll be back right back, choosing to go to the convenience store right outside your apartment complex because you both really need alcohol to properly celebrate this magazine spread.

Its still relatively early in the day, the sun only starting to set but you decide to get comfy. You switch into an oversized dark grey shirt and a pair of shorts that your shirt manages to cover and when Jungkook walks back in with bags of alcohol he acknowledges it, “Is this your way of tempting me?”

You look down at your exposed legs, lifting your shirt up slightly to show your shorts with a smile, “Are you telling me its this easy to tempt you?”

He grunts as he sets the bags down on your kitchen table, never taking his eyes off you, “When its you tempting me of course.”

“Mm,” you hum to yourself in thought, plopping onto the couch with a grin, slowly inching your shirt up to once again expose more of your legs, “so then should I throw away all the lingerie I have?”

You only laugh harder when his eyes bulge out, his hands already coming up to protest when your intercom system buzzes to inform you of your delivery downstairs. Jungkook tries to sputter out a sentence in defense but you just point at the intercom, “Can you let him in please?”

He groans and nods before buzzing the delivery man inside the building. He wants to pounce on you at this very moment, you’re just sitting there with your legs folded in front of you, looking comfortable and nonchalant but your thighs are teasing him and he just wants to bite and lick his way up them to your center.

It’s not until your front door buzzes that he’s snapped out of his wet dream of defiling you on your couch. Jungkook begrudgingly turns around and opens the door, you’re covered by the slab of wood so the delivery man is none the wiser to the fact that you’re now lifting your hips up to drag your shorts off of your body.

The sound of rustling has Jungkook turning around, his eyes widening up when you kick off the fabric, your shirt now pulled up to your stomach, showcasing the cute black panties you were currently wearing. When your fingers hook around them as well, Jungkook chokes and closes the door some more to further shield you.

You hold back the laugh you desperately want to let out when you hear him nervously talking to the man, hurrying up the transaction and shutting the door just as you finish sliding off the cotton material off of your legs.

With the door now shut, Jungkook fully turns to you now, your legs are resting innocently on your coffee table, your finger trailing up and down your thigh and over your stomach. The way your legs are placed he can’t see your exposed core but just knowing you’re bare from the waist down has his blood rushing to his cock and he groans.

The bags in his hands rustle as he rushes to set them on top of your table, giving you a glare because you’re not playing fair. How do you expect him to focus on this food now with you sitting on the couch, you’re the only meal he feels like devouring at the moment.

“You’re playing dirty.”

“Am I?” You question with a smile, eyes following him as he rounds the table to get closer to you. His eyes are boring into yours now, a small shake of his head is the only answer he gives you when he reaches the coffee table. Its the only piece of furniture separating you two so he has no qualms about gripping the edge of it and yanking it back completely.

A gasp leaves your lips when your feet thunk onto the floor, the wooden material being yanked away from you as Jungkook hauled it back with a grunt. Now that its no longer in the way he stands inches from you, looking down at your slouched frame, the material of your shirt had slid back down to cover you up and that just wouldn’t do.

You watch on silently when he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips curling up into a smirk when his fingers touch your skin, gently rubbing the skin above your knees and chuckling when your skin breaks out in goosebumps.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is barely a whisper, waiting to see what he would do next. The way he’s staring at you makes that obvious but you needed him to say something first.

His fingers reach the hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric, “I’m going to eat, if thats okay with you.”

He lifts his gaze from your skin back to your eyes, a smile gracing his face when you nod your head at him, “Yeah, perfectly okay.”

Thats all he needs, a squeal leaving you when his hands hook underneath your thighs and yank you down further until your butt reached the edge of the couch, your shirt bunching up around you and giving him a small peak of your center.

Your fingers instinctively grip your shirt, tugging the material higher up your body to give him a clear view. A teasing smirk is sent his way when he looks up at you, his eyes narrowing in accusation, “Like I said, you’re not playing fair.”

“Fair shmair, or should we actually eat our chicken before it gets cold?” Jungkook pouts at you even though he knows you’re just poking fun, a scoff leaving his lips when you bring your foot closer to nudge your toes against his chest with a giggle.

“I’m inches from your pussy, wanting to make you feel good, amazing even, and you wanna think about chicken?” He huffs playfully.

One of your hands leaves from its place holding your shirt, reaching forward to slip through his newly dyed red strands, twisting a chunk of it until it curls on his head.

Being the ever competitive person he is, he does you one better, his finger coming up to pinch the skin of your thigh like a child, a smile replacing the adorable pout on his lips when you yelp in shock, your hand moving to swat at his.

“Ow! Now who’s not playing fair?”

Adding insult to injury he has the audacity to snort, “Fair shmair, wanna make you feel good.”

A laugh spills out of you when he starts obnoxiously pressing sloppy kisses onto your thighs, the small huffs of his added laughter hitting your skin as he trails up towards your center, “Jungkook!” You chortle, squirming around from the ticklish feeling.

It’s not until the the sloppy kisses turn into gentle licks, then a soft suck as he reaches your clit that the tone of his name turns into a soft sigh instead.

“Oh, Jungkook.” It comes out playful, a low rasp in your voice as you sigh out and let your body sag into your cushions. He hums in content, his tongue swirling around your clit in a tantalizing manner. His eyes move up to stare at you and sees that your head is pushed back into the dark blue fabric of your couch, your eyes shut and a cheeky smile on your face due to his ministrations.

The chicken was definitely out of your mind now, a victory for Jungkook if he’d say so himself.

His hands haul your thighs higher onto his shoulders, his fingers urging you to tighten your hold on him, push your heels into his back, anything at all and you don’t disappoint.

Your thighs grip the sides of his head a little tighter as you groan out at the way his tongue slithers between your folds, the subtle roll of your hips being welcomed by him as he dragged the flat of his tongue up your slit, collecting the arousal that coated your lips.

One of his hands comes forward, his fingers spreading your folds apart as he spits onto your pussy, his saliva coating your folds as he rubs his spit around. A surprised moan fills the air when he sucks your clit back into his mouth, savoring the way you taste on his tongue. His hands grip your thighs tighter as he hums against you, his lips puckered around your skin as he sucks gently.

“Hmm, is this your way of trying to secure another cover spread?” You tease, your eyes opening up to stare at him while your heels push him closer to you with a giggle.

Jungkook pulls away with a wet smack, his lips glimmering as he grins at you, “That depends, is it working?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, bringing your hand back to his hair to twirl another strand. His eyes flutter shut when you give a soft tug, goosebumps flaring on his body at the sensation, “maybe.”

He lets himself bask in the feeling of you playing with his hair, ignoring the way you impatiently press your heels into the middle of his back. For someone who was trying to act like you weren’t affected, you were doing a pretty shit job at it.

“Jungkook.” You finally whine, the pleading tone in your voice making his lip curl up into a smirk, his eyes opening up and squinting at you.

“What?” He jokes, softly blowing cool air onto your exposed pussy and smiling like a child when it made a shiver run through your body. “Do you not wanna eat the chicken now then or?” He continues, eyes full of mischief thinking you’re about to start begging him.

But oh no, you weren’t a begger, if you wanted something you’d go out and grab it for yourself. So thats exactly what you do, loosening your legs from his shoulders and reaching forward to hook your hands underneath his armpits. Theres a split second of confusion that clouds his face when you recklessly haul him up from between your legs as if his muscle mass was something you could easily drag around.

Jungkook takes a brief moment to acknowledge how hot it was that you were manhandling him around, but only a moment because with the way you yank him up his hand clambers onto the back of the sofa as to no crush you when you force him nearly on top of you. The look on your face has a laugh threatening to escape him when he sees the clear frustration etched onto your features.

“Shut up about the chicken.” You growl, cupping his face and yanking it towards your own, your lips slotting together in a messy kiss. Jungkook wants to laugh, so badly, but the way your tongue slips into his mouth, softly wrapping around his own before pulling back and sucking on his lower lip, the laughter fizzles away.

“Baby,” he tries to mumble in between kisses, his free hand scoping underneath you to try to haul you up from the awkward position you’ve put the two of you in, “Y/N.” He tries again, being muffled by the way you squish his cheeks, his lips puckers out in a way that almost prevents him from kissing you back but that doesn’t stop you from planting them on him as if you’ll never be able to again.

“Butterfly,” he attempts a third time, the word being almost indecipherable but you hear that loud and clear, pulling half an inch away from his swollen lips with a hum of interest, your eyes half lidded and locked on his.

“Here, let me,” he scoops you up and properly arranges you on the couch, your head resting on the cushion by the arm rest while he slots on top of you.

That laugh of his finally bubbles out when you impatiently try to go back to kissing him, his nose scrunching up when your lips miss his mouth entirely, landing on his cheek messily, “You’d rather make out than have me eat your pussy?” He quips, letting his resolve crumble when he starts to kiss you back.

It’s a change of pace, gentle presses of his lips against yours, simmering down the urgency you feel inside until its a slow roll of the tides crashing in. He feels the way you smile against him, your left leg hooking over his hip and bringing him flush to you, “I’d rather fuck you.”

Oh.

Jungkook hums against your mouth, this wouldn’t be the first time you two were intimate, having been on the receiving end of pleasure a few times, during the movie nights you would have and he’d somehow find himself between your legs halfway through whatever motion picture you decided to put on. Jungkook was absolutely a giver, loving to see you falling apart at the hands of him. But this felt different, with you acting so desperate as if you weren’t trying to play hard to get minutes ago, with your lust filled eyes and kiss swollen lips.

It’s not lost on Jungkook, but he loves it too much to comment on it. Loves the way you rut your hips against his, the friction of his jeans on your exposed core making you groan against his mouth in an almost filthy way.

And god does he want to make you feel good, you’ve done so much for him, became such an important part of his life in the span of knowing each other. The infinite amount of selfless acts you’ve done for him is more than he thinks he could ever repay you for, but if you wanted to fuck him then that was a good enough place to start.

“Are you sure?” he manages to ask in between your assault of kisses, the teasing tone to his voice is gone now so you pull back from him, letting him properly catch his breath as he stares down at you.

His wide eyes bore into yours, searching for any sense of hesitation but he finds none. A nod of your head confirms that, your fingers softly caressing the skin of his cheeks as you grin, “Yeah I’m sure, I want you Jungkook.”

Jungkook smiles at that, eyes crinkling up in the most endearing way, “You have me Butterfly.” The sweet nickname he had given you months ago makes you smile right back at him, a silent conversation passing between the two of you as you stare at each other inches apart.

You had him, he was yours, and you knew he meant it.

It becomes a flurry of clothes right after, Jungkook stripping out of the layers he has on with your help, his jacket being tossed behind your couch while you nearly popped the buttons off of his top in your haste to take it off, the red material joining the heap of growing garments on the floor.

“Fuck,” You sigh dreamily when he yanks his pants down, his broad thighs coming out into the world and its almost insulting that he has them caged inside denim all day. A phrase you had told Jungkook months ago pops back into your mind, you mentioned his thighs made great cushions, “wanna ride them.”

That makes Jungkook pause, one leg free from its confines while the other ankle was trapped at the end, the damn skinny jeans being a battle to take off. “What?”

“Your thighs, wanna ride them. Make myself cum on them.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he hit his head and was currently dreaming because that has to be the absolute hottest words he has ever heard come out of your mouth. The image of you rutting against his thighs, desperate to get yourself off, maybe wearing one of his baggy band shirts as you did so made his aching cock twitch in his briefs.

A short giggle leaves you when you notice it, “You liked that huh?”

He glares at you as he yanks his pants off his trapped ankle, balling them up and tossing the jeans down like a basketball, now standing in just his black briefs, his cock tenting the fabric of it.

“Y/N,” he whines with a pout as he steps closer to you once more, “you can’t say that shit to me.”

Another laugh bubbles out, your hands hooking under the hem of your shirt and sliding the loose material off of your body. Its discarded behind you without a care, your tits out on full display as you stretch across your couch teasingly, “Why?”

He groans at the way you’re sprawled out, arms lifted above your head casually with your back slightly arched to allow you to rest your head on the arm rest. Jungkook thought if the phrase paint me like one of your french girls held any real meaning to him it would come to play in this very moment. He wanted to capture this image and hang it on his living room wall, a tangible memory of just how delectable you looked.

“Because, now all I’m thinking about is how hot that would be.”

You make grabby hands at him after he slides out of his underwear, as if you’ve tied an invisible rope to his body and guided him to you, Jungkook makes his way closer. His cock is fully free now, bobbing slightly when he reaches the couch, but he doesn't go further than that. Instead his hands scoop under you, hauling you up much like you had done to him earlier, your knees folded over one arm while the other cradled your upper back.

“Jungkook!” You shout in surprise, your hand cupping his chest in an attempt to stabilize yourself from the sudden action.

“I’m not fucking you for the first time on your couch–“

“But it's made of velvet.” You joke, laughing when he rolls his eyes at you with a smile.

“Even more of a reason not to, good luck cleaning up whatever ungodly fluids get on it.”

He carries you across the living room, his foot nudging open your bedroom door, the eclectic style of your living room flowing into this space as well and Jungkook smiles to himself at how prominent your personality lies within your home.

“How dirty.” You jest, laughing when he drops you onto your bed, your hands propping yourself up to stare at him as he kneels onto the bed after you.

Jungkook smirks at you as he crawls towards you, a soft laugh filling the air when he sees you slowly inch back from him, “You think thats dirty?” His eyebrows cock up as he inches closer, enjoying the way you bite your lower lip as you take him in, “Just wait until I’m done with you Butterfly.”

The way Jungkook says that, with his eyes glazing over with lust, the tip of his tongue running along the bottom of his teeth as he prowls forward, sounds promising. You knew Jungkook had a way with his mouth but he seemed extra determined today to make you feel good, maybe it was the overwhelming joy he felt about the cover spread but you didn’t mind it.

“Mm, show me.” One hand comes up towards his shoulders, his proximity allowing your fingertips to trail along his skin down onto his chest, tracing the simple script he has marked on it.

“You actually gonna let me this time?”

You purse your lips, slowly leaning back until you’re once again flat on the bed, Jungkook hovering over you with his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of you.

“Yeah, i’ll let you.”

His head tilts slightly at your words, a curious smile gracing his lips in an almost taunting way. Jungkook clearly had something up his sleeve and when he decides to flop onto his side next to you, with his head near your headboard and that same smile spreading further across his face, it spells it out for you.

“Come here then.” He motions with his hands, slight rolls of his fingers in a come hither action leading you to his face and you have never wanted anything more.

You crawl over to him, swing your left leg over his body until your core is hovering above his face, your position allowing you to see the way his hard cock rests against his stomach.

Jungkook’s fingers trail up your thighs until they reach the juncture of where they meet your hips, softly digging into your flesh as he eases you down towards his awaiting mouth.

The small sighs of his breath hit your skin, a feeling of exhilaration spreading throughout you at being in this position with him. His thumb softly caresses your skin as he pulls you even closer, his nose nudging against your folds slightly. A soft whimper is let out when his tongue trails up your slit, short and gentle licks swirling around your clit to get you started.

When his tongue parts your folds, softly sinking into your entrance, you hunch forward, your arms seeking purchase on his hips to hold you steady. The noisy ways he slurps at your cunt, licking up any ounce of wetness coating your folds and dripping out of you has you moaning out, your jaw dropping slightly as he tugs you further onto his face.

Jungkook is lost in you, surrounded by your scent and the way you taste on his tongue, the soft moans of his name filling his ears and lulling him into a trance as he pleasure you, he doesn’t register the way you lean forward. Your sights were set on his cock, a small puddle of precum pooling around his tip, a soft shade of pink with the prettiest veins surrounding it. It was just beginning to find its place in your mouth.

The weight of it feels heavy in your hand as you wrap your fingers around it, the slight throbbing you feel being a clear indicator of just how much he enjoyed pleasing you.

He groans against your cunt when you give him an experimental pump, your fingers wrapping around the base of his length, a slight twist in your wrist as you come up towards his tip. The leaking beads of precum coat your palm, leaving a sticky trail in its path as you repeat the motion once more, the slight huffs of breath are felt against you as Jungkook tries to focus on you and you only.

Its not until he feels the softness of your lips against his tip that he finally pulls away from your dripping core, “Butterfly what are you doing?” He rasps out, his fingers digging into your flesh harder when you pop the tip of his aching cock into your mouth, soft kitten like licks on his mushroom head that has his stomach caving in.

“Making you feel good too.” Is all you mumble out before taking him all the way in. He feels like the wind gets knocked out of him when you sink fully down in one go, the tip of his length nudging against the back of your throat with no signs of resistance from you and Jungkook groans.

His head is thrown back against your pillows at the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his entire cock, the wet noises following suit only making his toes curl. You suckle his length when you slide back up, hollowing your cheeks to suck for a moment before sinking back down with a wet slurp.

“Fuck.” He groans out, lifting his head back up to once again meet your center.

His lips wrap around your messy clit, giving a harsh suck as one of his hands trails off your thigh and towards your center. His fingers circle your entrance, coated in a film of your arousal before he sinks a digit in, feeling your walls tighten around it as he starts to thrust into you, intent on stretching you open for his cock. You were absolutely soaked, his mouth covered in your wetness and he wanted to drown in you, with your thighs caging him in as you quivered on top of him.

A small hiss leaves your mouth when he sinks a second finger in, scissoring them apart before fucking them into you with more purpose, distracting you enough to pop off of his cock, leaving your fingers wrapped around it loosely as you hunch forward. Your oncoming release creeps up on you, making every nerve in your body tingle as you feel it building up.

“Jungkook, fuck-” You whine out, a subtle roll of your hips starting up that he welcomes whole heartedly, “I’m cumming, shit-” his fingers urge you to roll onto his tongue faster as he uses his other hand to continue fucking into you. A final roll of his tongue against your bundle of nerves is what sends you over the edge, a sob of his name filling the air as you cum.

Your knees give out on you, dropping you further onto his face but he has no complaints, moaning in content and continuing to slurp against your pussy, his tongue flicking against your clit as you come down, your skin prickling with pleasure as the sparks spread out on your body.

Jungkook slips his fingers out of you slowly, letting you catch your breath for a brief moment as your hearing returns and the room comes back into focus, the small spots in your vision clearing up as you float back down.

When you move to properly sit up as to not suffocate him thats when his vice like grip returns, both hands digging into your hips harder than before and forcing you back onto his face with a short laugh that showed he was up to no good.

“Nngh, Kook,” you groan when he reattaches his lips around your clit, strong pulsating sucks flaring up the tight coil in your stomach once more. The after effects of your orgasm being too fresh in your system, the tingles spreading out throughout your body as he continued the torturous rhythm he had going, hurdling you to another release embarrassingly fast.

“Shit, so good.” You mewl and his eyes shut, there was nothing Jungkook would love more than to hear you pant and moan about how good he made you feel for the rest of his life.

He feels your thighs tense above him as your second orgasm rushes over you in a more calming feeling than the first. Your bones feel like jello now, a warmth flowing across your limbs as you moan his name out like a mantra.

Jungkook finally pulls back with a sigh, his lower face covered in a sheen of your cum that his tongue comes out to lick up. “Fucking delicious.” He groans out, releasing your thighs and giving your ass a gentle slap.

You let yourself flop off of him, your knees nearly knocking into his head but all he can do is laugh at the fucked out look on your face as you try to catch your breath again on the bed, your limbs twisted about in a careless manner.

He sits himself up, his cock once again resting against his stomach and making the small puddle of precum near his belly button drip down. His fingers trace up your quivering thighs, enjoying the subtle twitching he had caused with a smirk on his face.

“You still wanna fuck me baby?”

Your eyes flutter open, not even realizing when you had shut them in the first place, but when you focus back in Jungkook is hovering above you with a sweet smile on his face as if he hadn’t let you get a taste of the good life just now.

“After that? Of course I do.”

Your legs fall open as you say that, leaving your messy folds on display for him, covered in his spit and your cum. “You see how messy you are already, is my Butterfly that excited for my cock?”

A whimper leaves your mouth when he gently slaps his cock over your pussy, the head of it nudging against your sensitive clit when he starts to rut against you. His thick length spreads your folds apart, your arousal coating his aching cock every time he thrusts forward.

“Jungkook.” You cry, utterly desperate as your hips roll up into his to match his motions.

“I got you baby,” he grunts out, forcing himself to pull away from you. His eyes start to roam your room, looking at either night stand on the sides of your bed and you grin when you realize what he’s searching for.

“Left side.” You point towards the top drawer and he smiles, reaching out to pull the drawer open and slip out the squared packet he was in search of. He tears it open with his teeth, discarding the foil aside as he slips the condom on, a small groan escaping him as he squeezes his length on the way down.

“Fuck, gonna make you feel so good.” He sighs as he nudges his cock head against your entrance, a teasing motion as he grasps his length in his hand, circling around it.

“Please Jungkook.” You plead, your thighs spreading further apart as he shushes you gently, easing his cock into you inch by inch. The girth of him is spearing you open, your pussy spreading apart as he drives his cock forward until he bottoms out in one go, the both of you gasping out when he sinks in to the hilt.

His hips are flush against you, his palms placed on your inner thighs to keep you spread open for him, his eyes shut softly when your sensitive walls flutter around his length. Jungkook had found his new favorite view point, looking down at you, seeing his thick cock splitting you open as you lay beneath him with your fingers clutching your sheets, your mouth dropped open in a silent moan as you pleaded for him to start fucking you.

He smirks above you, replacing his hands to rest by your sides on the mattress as he rolls his hips back, beginning a rough pace as he pounds into you, every thrust of his hips making a cry bubble out of you as his cock curved just right inside of your pussy.

“God,” you gasped out, throwing your head back as he hit your g-spot just right, your cunt spasming around him every time he thrust back in, “so good.”

He moans in response as he leans forward his mouth enveloping one of your nipples as he does so, swirling his tongue around your bud as he fucks you like his life depended on it. Your hands tangle in his hair once more, freely yanking and tugging on it just the way he liked it, the slight sting in his scalp surging his hips forward with more force.

Jungkook releases your nipple with a slight pop, your pebbled bud covered in a coat of his spit as he looks up at you, seeing your face screwed up in pleasure. He can feel the way your walls pulsate around his cock, your thighs quivering as your third orgasm approaches.

“Fuck baby,” he groans out, his head leveling out with yours as he rocks into you, your hands wrapping around his torso to help you ground yourself as your body gets jostled up with every thrust of his hips.

“You close?” He whispers into your ear, one of his hands coming up towards his mouth, his tongue licking a broad stripe onto his palm before he snakes it down your torso, connecting his fingers with your sensitive clit.

A choked gasp leaves your mouth when he starts to rub tight circles on it, your cunt tightening even more around his length as he does so.

“Shit, y-yes–“ you practically sob, your nails digging into his back, hearing him hiss at the slight pain. “Jungkook,” you plead out, your eyes locking onto his, your brows furrowed together as your mouth dropped open.

“What do you want love?” He wonders, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips before pulling back, not stopping the intoxicating roll of his hips. A small shudder flows through him as he feels his own orgasm make its presence known, the way your walls are sucking him in making it harder for him to focus on anything else.

“Can you–“ you get cut off with a moan, your thighs lifting up to hook your legs around his waist, desperately trying to tug him closer to you, “spit in my mouth, please.”

Jungkook groans at your request, his thrusts stuttering slightly as he nods vigorously, “Fuck, anything you want Butterfly.”

You think you could actually cry with the way his cock fucks into you, your toes curling in pleasure, more so when you drop your mouth open further for him. His eyes are hazy with lust as he stares down at you, mouth open and waiting for him to fill up and he swears he can cum just from this visual.

Jungkook’s lips pucker up as he collects spit from the back of his throat, letting it pool behind his lips before he opens up and lets the drool pass onto your mouth, the glob of his spit sitting on your tongue for a moment before you pull your tongue back into your mouth and swallow. Your eyes roll back into your mouth with a moan before sticking it back out for more, “So hot,” he groans out as he repeats his actions again, his fingers not letting up as they stroke your clit.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he starts to fuck deeper into you, his cock brushing against the sensitive spot inside of you that has you keening, “Fuck r-right there, nngh please Kook.” You whine out and hes not going to deny you, maintaining the angle that has you delirious on your bed, your body quivering underneath his as your orgasm finally crashes down over you, setting your body ablaze as he fucks you through it.

His fingers pull away from your overly sensitive clit, hearing the small gasps and whimpers leaving your lips as the pleasure lights you up. Your eyes fall shut once more, bright spots flashing behind your lids as your pussy spasms around him, a small gasp of your name leaving his lips as you milk the orgasm out of him.

Jungkook’s hips lose their rhythm, his mind heady with pleasure as he starts fucking into you desperately. His hips smack into the back of your thighs, forcing himself deeper into you as he cums hard, emptying himself into the condom inside of you with a deep groan of your name, soft pants following suit as the pleasure fizzles out within him, lulling him into a calm sense of clarity as he looks down at you.

You’re yanked back to the present when he starts to plant kisses on your face, gently bringing you back as he shallowly thrusts into you until fully satisfied.

“You okay?” He questions softly, pressing a kiss to your nose before moving onto your cheeks and then your mouth.

“Mm, yeah.” You mewl, letting your legs unhook from his waist as he pulls out of you slowly, the feeling of being empty making a pout form on your lips. Jungkook snickers when he sees it, pressing a hard kiss against it as he laughs and sits himself up.

As he’s sat on his haunches his eyes are glued to your swollen cunt, covered in your orgasm and the lube of the condom, your quivering thighs coming together to cover the view from him with a short giggle.

“Oh are you shy now? All of a sudden.” He teases, his hand playfully swatting at your thighs before he stands up and slides his condom off, tying off the end and tossing it into the small bin by your night stand.

“No,” you laugh as you prop yourself up, “but with that face you were making I had to hide the goods before you got any other ideas.”

He joins you in your laughter, his hands reaching forward to yank you towards him, your face pressed against his chest as he stood at the edge of your bed. His arms are wrapped around you, the rumble of his laughter being felt from your proximity.

“Hey,” you start out softly, pulling your face away from him, a sly smile spreading out that he eyes inquisitively, “can we go eat that chicken now?”

He scowls at you immediately, his facade being cracked as his lips curl up into a smile, a devious glint in his eyes that you spot instantly. A squeal leaves your lips when you feel his fingers dig into your back, swatting him away from you as you get off the bed with a laugh.

Jungkook stomps behind you as you exit the bedroom on your shaky legs, entering the living room and bending forward to scoop up your previously discarded shirt from the floor and putting it back on to cover the goods you knew Jungkook would be after.

You hear his footsteps behind you as you approach the kitchen, your hands busying themselves as you untie the plastic bag holding the food you two had ordered, pretending to not give him any attention as he walked your way, still fully naked in all of his glory.

He shakes his head slightly when you pull out a piece of chicken and take a bite, your eyes squinting up at him as you smile around it, “You’re never gonna play fair huh?” He questions as he stands beside you, plucking out the chicken from your hand and taking a bite of his own.

“Fair shmair–“ you yelp out when his palm reaches out and smacks your bare ass, the slap sounding out in your otherwise quiet apartment.

“Remind me to make sure we get our own room in Busan.” He smirks as he continues munching on the chicken, fighting the urge to laugh at the face you give him, acting as if you weren’t already having the same thoughts he was.

“Yeah, what do you think we’re gonna have a fuck fest?” You joke, as you sort through the alcohol bag he also brought, pulling out a can of beer and cracking it open.

He extends the half eaten chicken towards your lips, offering you another bite which you take. “Oh I know we’re gonna have a fuck fest. Are you joking, good luck trying to escape my glorious dick after tonight.”

You nearly choke on your drink as you laugh, your own hand reaching out to deliver a swift smack onto his own bare ass, his skin smarting as he yelps with a chuckle, his palm soothing the burn on his cheek.

“Pervert,” you cackle, grabbing another piece of chicken as you saunter away from him, “but text Namjoon now please.”

His jaw drops when you wiggle your hips at him, another laugh leaving your lips when you see him take off after you, the both of you bounding back into your room for a round two. Busan was definitely going to be a fuck fest if Jungkook had anything to do with it.

#goldenclosetnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #yoonkooknetwork #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #new

3K notes · View notes

hurting-fictional-people · 3 years

Text

Betrayal Story - part 5

This is it guys, this is why the characters got names! I hope y’all like it <3

CW: branding, burning, forced to watch, emeto (pretty brief and only at the end), whumpee restrained to a table, nonsexual noncon touch, hurt no confort again but that will change eventually I promise lol

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot @sunflower1000 @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove @boxofsilence @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump (let me know if you ever want me to stop or start tagging you ♡)

Part one is here, continued from here

Fire is strangely beautiful, Liam thinks, watching it flicker and dance in the hearth. A kind of painful beauty that hurts to see, the idea of touching it enough for gooseflesh to rise, but pretty nonetheless.

He wishes he could be like fire. Not because of its beauty, but because it produces no shadow. No darkness comes from the flames, only light. And pain, when touched without notice. If he could be like that, only light and self-defense, maybe all of this wouldn’t hurt so much. Chase’s leaving, the dread of what each of his breaths might bring as time passes, the plummeting of his stomach every time he hears footsteps outside his room’s door.

The flames crackle, and Liam wonders why it is he can’t shake the fear off, as he remembers the guards bursting into his room and pulling him out of bed, leading him outside as Liam pretended each step didn’t make him want to scream. That was minutes ago, and yet the fear still drums in tandem with his heart, pulsating turmoil into his bloodstream. Why feel fear when all it does is make things worse? Wouldn’t it be easier if he could just be at peace in those moments between pain, before it comes? But instead, his mind or his body or his soul decides to fill him with dread – only another layer of horror he cannot avoid.

Jonah was waiting for him when they brought Liam inside a weirdly cozy living room, leaning against the fireplace and watching Liam’s uncertain footsteps as he was pushed down to lie on a steel table placed in the middle of the room. Eyes glued to him as Liam was restrained until he could no longer move. His gaze went straight to the fireplace and stayed there since, watching the flames as memories of electricity, lighting up his every nerve until he nearly lost his voice to screaming, flashed before his eyes. The memory is still fresh enough to freeze him into not resisting. What a pitiful sight he must be.

“Hello there,” Jonah smiles, taking casual steps towards him and stopping by his side to watch from above, hands in his pockets as if having someone tied to a table in his living room is nothing out of the ordinary. “How are you today, Liam? Has your voice returned after our last encounter?”

He lifts his gaze to find the man’s eyes blinking innocently at him.

“You are sick,” Liam rasps out, shaky and small, but the words are there. He might be restrained and scared, but he is not broken. He isn’t. Right?

“That’s a yes, then. Very good, I like to hear you,” scream – he doesn’t even have to finish the sentence for the word to be heard. Liam feels sick. “Now let’s call our mutual friend, shall we?”

Liam narrows his eyes as Jonah types something on his phone. He can’t be talking about–

“Chase!” Jonah says to the camera Liam only now notices a few paces away, held by another one of Jonah’s men. He tries to hear more, but Jonah comes so close to the camera and talks in such a low voice that all he grasps and holds on to is the name.

Jaw clenched and stomach churning, Liam stares at the ceiling, letting the wave of bitter rage break against him without resistance. It wins the battle against fear for one moment, and that’s enough for him to seize it with every last bit of willpower. It is better to be angry than frightened, and he’s had enough of the latter for a lifetime.

The frantic beat of his heart turns into aching memories of Chase’s lies, promises of love he never intended to keep, each word meant to trick Liam into being a fool. Twice. Once months ago, then again when he genuinely, stupidly, hoped Chase would pick him instead of a job. Fucking ludicrous.

But bitterness can only do so much to keep fear at bay, and when Jonah’s voice reaches his ears again, not even a minute later, it comes crashing back and flooding his veins with pointless adrenaline.

“He was a very good boy if you want to know. Just stood there, still and obedient as we buckled in the restraints,” he says to the camera, stopping beside Liam once more, placing a hand on his head. “Say hi to Chase, Liam boy.”

“Fuck you,” he spits. Fuck both of you, he means to complete, but Jonah’s hand is already closing on his hair, drawing out a pathetic little whimper from his lips.

“Language, Liam.”

He closes his eyes and waits for the hand to let go. It’s all he can do. Still, his hands twitch uselessly by his side, palms turned to the ceiling closing in fists, knuckles scraping against cold steel.

“I guess this is a lesson for both of you, then. For Chase to not be a prick and for you to behave better, my pretty plaything.”

Eyes snapping open, he glares up at Jonah, feeling indignation bubble up inside of him.

Jonah doesn’t even see it. He is too busy looking at his phone with an unamused expression before handing it to one of the guards.

Is he talking to Chase? Is Chase delighting in seeing Liam like this, helpless and scared?

The part of him that refuses to give up entirely shakes its head, remembers gentle touches and tender gazes that couldn’t possibly have been faked. The other part, the one that grows each day he spends in this hell, purses its lips and scoffs at his naiveness. If Chase cared, he wouldn’t have left him here.

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah says, painful grip turning into deceivingly soft fingers that run through Liam’s hair in mock sympathy. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

He tries to fight it. Of all the things he’s been put through, he fights the tears that prick his eyes. And just like everything else, he loses. They fall in warm drops down his temples as he turns his head, looks away into the fire again. No shadows there, nothing like the darkness seeping through the cracks of his heart, tainting his soul.

“Now for the fun part,” Jonah declares, sauntering to the fireplace, crouching down in front of it. Something entirely too close to panic pools in Liam’s stomach as he gets back up, holding two iron rods he’d dismissed as fire pokers. As Jonah approaches him, he can see with disturbing clarity how wrong he’d been – the rods’ bright-orange tips shine in intricate shapes. Letter shapes.

“J-Jonah,” he breathes, more sob than word, “please, please don’t.”

Jonah smiles at him, and without saying a word hands one of the brands to a guard before placing himself beside Liam’s exposed arm.

He tries to breathe, beg, say something, but every rational thought disappears as Liam follows the blazing hot shapes with wide eyes, gasping for air that refuses to fill his lungs.

He is almost there, the please I’ll do anything hanging from the tip of his tongue when the branding iron is lowered onto the delicate skin above his wrist.

Burn could never describe the pain that steals every last bit of himself Liam tries to hold on to. Fire sinks into his skin, into muscle and bones until it reaches whatever lies within, and destroys everything in its path. He screams, cries and wails senseless pleads, but nothing passes through the ocean of agony he’s drowned in.

He barely notices when the brand is pulled away.

He does when the second one is pressed onto his other arm though.

Liam writhes and sobs, but there’s no escape, no mercy to be begged for. Only pain to feel, nothing, no one else but pain and pain and pain that swallows and dissolves the world into searing flames that hold nothing of whatever beauty he thought he saw.

You know, what really makes me mad isn’t even your fucking stupid idea of keeping things from me. It’s the shit job you did deleting those files. Who do you think I am, Chase?

That was all that waited for Chase when his phone buzzed, along with a link to a live stream instead of a video. No recording this time, no certainty that at least while Chase watches, Liam isn’t in pain anymore.

“Chase. I see you’re faster now. Pity you’re no smarter,” Jonah sighed as soon as he clicked on the link. “But I won’t go into how fucking idiotic it was of you to delete half the information I asked you to get me,” he hissed, low and angry enough for Chase to feel the words as bugs crawling along his skin, up and down, circling his throat, ready to squeeze. “What’s happening here today is entirely on you. I hope you see and hear and remember every bit of it, sweetheart.”

He felt like screaming when Jonah closed his hand in Liam’s hair and made him yelp. The impulse to clench his fist until it shattered the phone was strong enough for Chase to connect the live stream to the television in his living room and bite on his lip when the image expanded and Liam’s terror became so painfully obvious.

One minute later, Chase nearly threw the phone at the wall when he called the man and Jonah simply looked down at his muted cell phone on the other side of the screen and handed it to someone else.

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah said, and Chase seethed, half anger and half guilt boiling inside of him. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

Chase dropped the phone in time to avoid crushing it, but the desk chair didn’t escape his rage. Its broken pieces fell on the other side of the room, doing nothing to soothe the horror building up in his stomach.

And then Jonah grabbed the branding iron, and Chase’s heart missed a beat at the sight, eyes widening in tandem with Liam’s.

“J-Jonah,” Liam choked out, “please, please don’t.”

“Jonah,” Chase said too, unable to hold it in just like anything else in his life, even if he knew he was the only one listening. There was never such a thing as restraint when it came to Liam. If only Chase had seen it sooner. “No–“

When the iron descended on that soft, silky, perfect skin above the restraint circling Liam’s wrist, Chase fell on his couch, legs too weak to hold his weight.

Liam screamed, loud and raw and utterly hopeless, back trying to arch and being pulled back down by too tight restraints before it even left the table. His body spasmed, trying to escape the blaze, but there was nowhere to go, and it took only a moment for the despair to turn into sobs and tears.

It didn’t last more than a few seconds, but those would star Chase’s nightmares forever. Jonah pulled the iron off Liam’s now bright red skin, and Chase couldn’t bear to look at the letter-shaped burn. He also couldn’t help it.

When Jonah exchanged the used iron with the second one, Chase felt bile rise in the back of his throat. “Please, p-please, please,” Liam begged, so little Chase barely heard it, so dazed he didn’t think Liam did either.

He echoed it though.

“No, please don’t.”

But no one heard him, and the second branding iron was pressed to the inside of Liam’s other arm, and his mouth opened in a silent scream Chase heard nonetheless.

By the time the second one is pulled away, Chase is kneeling on the floor, hands covering his mouth and tears threatening to overflow.

It is nothing compared to Liam, though. His mouth hangs open even as the iron stops touching skin, and soft sobs wrack his slim body as his glassy eyes leak a constant stream of tears into his hair.

Chase doesn’t even move when Jonah’s voice leaves the speakers again.

“So? Do you like it?” he asks, a manic grin stretched across his lips as he points to Liam and the camera walks toward him.

It focuses on his face first. Sweat, tears, pure agony written all over it. His eyes lay open and unfocused, lost to the pain. The image slides down to his heaving chest, restrained arms, until it stops above both his wrists.

Chase turns to the side and vomits at the sight.

Two bright red burns mar the perfect skin he had once worshipped with lips and tongue and feather-light touches that never felt like enough.

Jonah chuckles, and the live stream ends in that ghastly image of two letters forever engraved on Liam’s skin. Flourished and elegant, a C stands out on his right arm and an R on the left one. His initials. Chase Raymond.

Chase pukes again, and then curls up on the floor and weeps.

(next)

141 notes · View notes

lucif5er · 3 years

Text

AssassinKatsuki x PrinceIzuku

Katsuki doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting in this cell. Was it weeks? Months? He can’t tell anymore. Days and nights have merged together to turn into one big blur. Finally, a guard arrives and tells him he’s been bought, by the prince of course. The prince he’s meant to kill.

He was hired to kill the prince, soon to be crowned king of Musutafu. They offered him a hefty sum, enough for his family to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. It was an offer Katsuki couldn’t refuse.

Izuku Midoriya was rumored to purchase prisoners and turn them into his slaves. Apparently, the bastard went through a new slave every month then they disappeared. Everyone around the kingdom has heard the rumors of the prince who kills his slaves once they were no longer useful to him. He was nicknamed Deku, fitting for a useless prince.

Getting imprisoned was the perfect way to infiltrate. The guard, a tall man with duo-colored hair and a scar on his eye walked him to a small room. “You must shower before meeting the prince. Everything you might need is in there.”

Katsuki could only scoff at the smug bastard. Once he was finished and changed the guard was already waiting for him at the door. He escorted him to what must have been the prince's room but stopped before the doors.

“Your majesty is waiting for you.” the guard says.

Katsuki pushes the door open and he spots a small man sitting on the bed. If this is the prince he’s definitely not what he was expecting.

Wild green curls sprout from his head which is filled with freckles that seem to be never-ending. When he turns to look at him, Katsukis breath catches in his throat. Big green eyes stare at him and he smiles so brightly at him Katsuki has to keep himself from looking away.

“H-hi um I’m Izuku but you probably already knew that uum so you’ll be working as my attendant so um well” the man starts mumbling while his cheeks and ears slowly turn pink “and well please take care of me,” he says as he bows.

“Are /you/ the prince they call Deku?” Katsuki asks and he can’t help the distaste in his voice.

The smaller man looks down as if ashamed and nods. “That's just a nickname b-but if that’s what you’d like to call me it’s no problem.” He says as he scratches his arm.

“Okay, Deku what is it that you would have me do? Will I get some type of training?”

Deku looks up and he's smiling again. “Oh well, you sort of j-just need to keep me company.”

“Tch so what am I like your fucking call boy or something?” and Katsuki feels disgusted at the words. Never would he have thought the prince stooped so low as to taking advantage of his servants before killing them.

Deku flinches at the words but takes a few steps closer to Katsuki anyways. “N-no of course not. I-I would never. Y-you will just be like a friend.”

Katsuki barks out a laugh that echoes through the room and when he turns to look at Deku he’s red all over and looks like a strawberry.

After a week of being Dekus “friend”, he learns that the prince is a nerd. He reads countless books and talks Katsuki’s ear off every day, from sunrise to sundown.

On the 7th day, one of the other servants disappears and Katsuki remembers he can’t be swayed by this monster in disguise, he has a job to do after all.

But on his way back to his servant quarters he hears one of the other servants talking about the one who disappeared.

“Prince Izuku took her back home last night. She was so happy. I’m going to miss her so much.” the servant girl says.

“I know Ochako but soon you’ll get to go too. You know we have to give the prince some time or we’ll get caught.” Katsuki recognizes Iida's voice right away. He’s the servant who helps Deku with his studies.

“I know I know Tenya. The prince is too kind for his own good.” Ochako says.

Katsuki didn’t mean to eavesdrop but he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Deku took the servant girl home? He freed her? There's no fucking way. So Katsuki stalks his way to Deku's room and doesn’t even bother knocking.

When he swings the doors open he sees Deku standing in front of his mirror, shirtless. His torso and back are covered in bruises but his arms...Katsuki is shocked at the scars on Deku's arms, they looked old but his skin looked mangled as if his skin was chewed up until the point of no repair.

Katsuki sucks in a breath and Deku turns holding a blanket to his body.

“Waacchan. Y-you scared me. I thought you were going to bed” Deku says with a look of mortification.

“The fuck happened to you Deku?” Katsuki asks as he moves to grab Dekus' blouse, holding it up for him to put his arms through it.

“O-oh it’s nothing I was just training with my father,” he says as he hisses at Katsuki’s light touch

“This seems like a little extreme don’t you think nerd?”

“Father says it’s character building for the future king”

Katsuki simply humms at his response.

As days turn into weeks Katsuki learns of Deku's garden which he tends to every day. Of his secret spot in the library that holds his favorite books. He learns of the constant abuse that is inflicted on him by his father.

But the kindness in his voice when he speaks to his servants or ‘friends’ as he calls them never leaves. He learns that in secret Deku sends provisions to the villages whom his father steals from. He learns that he is far too kind and gentle for his own good and Katsuki can’t help but grow angrier because how will he fulfill his job like this?

And every 7th day of the week Katsuki waits for him in his chambers with healing tools for his never ending cuts and bruises and burns. And he waits for Deku to break down because he can’t fathom a life like his but it never comes.

Deku only sits with his head held high and a shy look on his face as Katsuki tends to his wounds with the lightest of touches.

“Kacchan do you miss your family?” Deku asks him one night. This night Deku's wounds are the worst he’s ever seen them and Katsuki can’t help the rage that fills him.

“Why do you care?”

“H-huh oh I was jus-“

“I know that you free your servants” Katsuki doesn’t mean to sound so angry but he can’t help it. “I know you fake their death and send them away. Are you going to send me away too?” and it comes out as a whisper.

Deku just sighs. A look of indignation on his face. “My father is a cruel man, Kacchan” and Deku looks so sad, so fucking sad that Katsuki wishes he could kill every fucker that put this look on his face.

“Soon Kacchan will be home. I promise” and for the first time, Katsuki sees tears. They stream down freckled cheeks.

“Oi nerd whats with the tears”

“It's because it hurts Kacchan” Deku says with a small smile on his face

“Hah?! You get beatings on the daily and this is what hurts? The beatings getting to your head now?” Katsuki says with a grin.

“Ah, I really just wanted to see Kacchans smile.”

As Katsuki wipes a stray tear away and rests his forehead on Deku's he realizes that he may love this man, because the scent of bell orchids that he can smell when he’s near him, he very selfishly hopes that he’s the only one who ever smells his scent. Only him.

Katsuki’s love is slow, but even hearts of stone can long for something more. So it is, that Deku and he gradually move closer to one another as the days wore on, tiny fractions of an inch at the time, so slowly that even someone who was paying attention wouldn’t notice.

And when Katsuki starts feeling impatient, sometimes when the waiting is unbearable he finds himself moving entire inches at a time and he takes and takes and takes. Takes from Deku because he is always willing to give. He gives everything to Katsuki, bending to his touch.

—————————

“Lets leave this place Deku”

Deku pauses his watering and turns to look at Katsuki. “Leave?”

“Yes. Somewhere far away. Where no one can find us”

They stood there for a long time under the light blue sky until Deku finally spoke.

“We can’t leave my mother and-and our friends”

“They’re not your friends they’re your servants Deku”

“Maybe” Deku says with a sad smile “but Kacchan is my friend right?”

Katsuki sighs and takes Dekus hand and presses a soft kiss to it. “Yeah Deku but only me okay?”

“Of course. I love Kacchan the most.” Deku beams at him and in this moment Katsuki exists for a while in a state of blissful glow but the pressure of all this light is crushing his bones into powder. It’s too much.

Katsuki always believed that there was no such thing as too much love that it’s warmth was a comfort from which we never tire but when love turns to obsession it consumes itself. The flame that nourished becomes angry, merciless, an all consuming blaze that now leaves him confused by the chill in the air and the hate left behind.

——————

“The king has requested your presence” the guard whom he now knows is named Todoroki says.

Katsuki rises from his cot and walks out the door. “I can get there myself half’n’half” he says without turning.

When he arrives to the throne room /he/ is sitting there. But Katsuki does not see a king, no. He sees a tyrant, a murderer, an abuser. Hisashi Midoriya, the devil incarnate.

“It has been nearly 4 months and you have yet to complete your job Bakugou” the king says.

“I changed my mind. Keep your gold” Katsuki spits out.

“Oh? Then maybe you need a better incentive” he says nonchalantly.

Katsuki sneers at him. “I won’t do it you bastard. I’m leaving.”

“Tell me, do you think you can get there before your village burns to the ground?”

Katsuki’s eyes widen and he grits his teeth “You wouldn’t!”

“Are you willing to sacrifice hundreds for one person?”

“You fucking bastard I’ll kill you”

“Maybe one village isn’t enough. Well. There are always more villages.” And he laughs. The bastard has the audacity to fucking laugh. “You may go now but make sure you think about it. The coronation is coming soon.”

Katsuki leaves the throne room unbeknownst to the man standing just outside the door.

Please, God, Katsuki thinks, and then realizes that he had no idea what he was asking for. Please what? Please don’t let what happened happen? Please don’t let him take Deku away? Please don’t let me feel this way anymore?

Please take away this awful thing inside me.

——————

“You asked me if I missed my family” Katsuki says as he wraps yet another cut on Dekus arm.

Deku looks up at him with wide eyes then they turn sad but filled with understanding and already shiny with unshed tears but his soft smile doesn’t leave his face “Is Kacchan ready to go home now?”

He looks away, willing his own tears to go away but Deku sweeps him out of his chair and dances him around the room while Deku laughs in his arms, his movements smooth and graceful as ever.

Katsuki hugs him tight and the pressure on Dekus cuts must be hurting him because he whimpers but yet he doesn’t pull away.

“I can’t take you with me Deku”

“I know you can’t love”

“I’m sorry”

“Me too Kacchan” Deku says at his shoulder, but Katsuki hardly hears him. With one sudden movement he reaches out and thrusts the blade in his back.

“I will always love Kacchan the most” Deku breaths.

He just holds him there as Dekus body grows limp. When Katsuki dares to look at his eyes again they are no longer green, and he realizes that he didn't have a word for the color they were anymore. The color was bleeding and leaking out of his world in mere seconds.

And suddenly he hears it, in the heavy stillness of that wretched palace, the heavy pounding of boots through the corridors and the echoes of the shrieks, all running towards the direction of the training room.

“THE KING HAS BEEN MURDERED”

Katsuki wails.

He weeps until he can only lay next to him, motionless, with his lips almost touching Dekus, he closes his eyes and breaths. Wishes he could’ve told him that he was the closest thing to true love he had ever known.

But maybe he just wasn’t close enough, not this time, not this way. Maybe next time around, the universe will be kinder to them and Katsuki won’t be a monster and Deku won’t fall in love with him.

#bakudeku #bkdk #katsuki x izuku #bkdk fluff #bkdk au #bakugou katsuki #bkdk angst #dkbk #mha izuku #bnha izuku #katsudeku #decchan

60 notes · View notes

sooibian · 4 years

Text

Flambé - I

poster and edits/collage credits to @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt !

chapter two | moodboard by the lovely @pororodks

🍜 pairing: kyungsoo x fem!reader ft. baekhyun, mark lee

🍜 description: pull up a chair. take a taste. come join us. life is so endlessly delicious. - ruth reichl

🍜 themes: fluff, crack (ish), slight angst, a lil bit of spice (in the future), rivals to lovers au

🍜 word count: ~ 9.7k

🍜 a/n: writing this makes me feel lonely and hungry and that, my friends, is a deadly concoction of emotions so while i wallow in my misery, i dearly hope you’ll enjoy this creation. i'd love to hear from you <3<br>

🍜 reference notes: yt channels: maangchi, one meal a day, bore.d; netflix shows: midnight diner, street food: asia, chef’s table

🍜 tag list: @changshapatrol @j-pping @kyungseokie @exosmuttytalk @his-mochi-cheeks @littleflowercrown13 pls lmk if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list!

Water bobs in frenetic bubbles in a massive ancient stone pot perched atop a fort of raging wood. Amidst brutal peals of thunder, a gushing stream rises from a nearby hill, obscuring the shrill cries of the sacrificial crab.

Chanting a spell, you lift the enormous crustacean by its pincers and lower it into the growling, pitch black utensil. Blubbering helplessly, it lodges its claws at the rim of the pot in desperation, seeking escape. The sound of your maniacal laughter reverberates through the cave as you thrust it back into the violent undulation with a heavy-handed flick of the bladed-spatula.

All of a sudden, you’re swept over with a wave of unconsciousness, your skin tingles, and boiling water begins to fill up your lungs.

You are alone at the bottom of the very same utensil.

“Help!” frantic, you stagger up, gasping for air. But the bladed-spatula wielding crab, now untied and hovering over you, roars jubilantly at your defenseless form.

Maybe the spell didn’t land, you think.

“Please, Chef!” you whimper as a last ditch attempt.

In one swift motion, it swooshes down to your eye level.

Bushy black brows sprout on its forehead, just a little over a pair of big brown circles for eyes. Then comes the nose, followed by a bloody red mouth that snarls at you.

zzzz…

“Late again?”

zzzz…

4:00 a.m., your phone blinks.

In a sleep befuddled state, you reach out for the wailing device. ‘Late again?’ Chef’s cold, deep voice sounds in your consciousness as you wipe the droplets of sweat off of your forehead.

Chef.

Doh Kyungsoo had insisted on the title and you’d boldly refused to call him that. What business does a man working at a Kalguksu stand in Gwangjang Market have, being called Chef. You’d seeked redressal with the higher ups. The owner.

Your aunt.

“Aegiya, he has something that you don’t.”

“A dick?”

“YAH! A degree in culinary arts.”

“Imo, haven’t you watched Parasite? Anyone can forge documents these days and if so then why is he here? He could very well land a job at Four Seasons like Hyunjin. Think, Imo. Think!”

“Exactly! With forged documents, he could be anywhere. But he’s here, no?”

“Maybe you’re just easier to manipulate.”

Finally, she said in her no-nonsense, stern voice. "Chef. You’re calling him Chef.”

Every time the egotistical madman opens that darned mouth of his, it makes you want to knock him down with a roundhouse and beat the living daylights out of him.

But, counting to five, you always resist the temptation.

Because one day, one glorious day, you’d take over your aunt’s business and the very first item on your agenda would be….well, the obvious. With a glimmer of hope, you flounder out of your comforter, muttering every cuss word you’d learnt…and crafted in the course of working with the devil himself.

“Ah 3000 is a bit too much for cucumbers", he says to the middle aged vendor, flashing a boyish grin.

The face of sourcing has drastically changed in the last six months since Kyungsoo’s arrival. Prior to his dictatorship, Imo had tie-ups with vendors who’d hand deliver the produce every single day, without fail. Guess Kyungsoo didn’t fully comprehend the benefits of customer loyalty. ‘There could be better quality ingredients out there, Sajangnim…economically priced, I might add’, he’d convinced your aunt using his military corporal voice. No matter if it meant awkward break-ups with the vegetables ahjumma or the prawns ahjussi: you were left to do the dirty work.

And required to tag along for the routine 5 a.m sourcing runs. Every morning, he’d greet you with an accusatory ‘you killed my cat’ expression.

Groaning, you shift your weight from side to side. If only he’d quit flirting with every woman in the market and hurry up! The purchases have long exceeded the capacity of your humble cart. Flailing your numb arms awake, you urge him to speed up with a nudge of the knee but he glares at you like you’d asked him for a kidney.

Kyungsoo has a tendency to overbuy but never does he help with a single bag. ‘I don’t like to sweat’ is his excuse. Which is pretty ridiculous considering he spends over ten hours a day overseeing a scorching frying pan at the stall.

But you know better than to argue.

Because as much as you loathe every fibre of his existence, he terrifies you a little. The man possesses the duality of a psychopath. As fierce as he is in the Market, ruthlessly competitive even, he’s quite the sweet talker. Incredibly charming. And you can bet your life on the fact that every ahjumma - whether or not a rival - would take a bullet for him.

“Ahdeul-ah”, the woman coos at him, making your insides violently contort, “you know how tight the market is these days. But I’ll throw in some more only for you.”

The additional weight of three kilos on your right arm ends your sourcing run for the day.

***

“Chef”, huffing, you say to him on your way out, “I had a late night last night.”

“And I need to be privy to this little nugget of unwarranted information because?” He paces ahead of you at his usual lightning speed.

“No, I meant, could we stop”, panting you continue, “could we stop for a quick cup of coffee.”

Halting abruptly, he turns around to look you square in the eyes, “No.”

“Asshole!” You murmur under your breath.

“I heard that.”

Monday at Choi Yoonsun’s Kalguksu stall was busier than usual.

It went by in a daze amidst the cacophony of a sizzling girdle, clanging of pots and pans and Imo’s relentless vocalization inviting guests to the stall. Having served thousands of bowls of Kalguksu and Kimchi Mandu, you rely heavily on muscle memory to get you through a workday’s demands.

Despite its massive chaos and commotion, you quite enjoyed working in the Market.

Not being particularly skilled at much and having nearly flunked out of high school, cooking was the one thing that defined you. It was your safe harbour. You’d lost your father in an accident at the tender age of ten and your mother was forced to work long hours to put food on the table. So you honed your culinary skills, little by little, because you thought it vital for your own well-being as well as your mother’s.

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.

At the end of yet another rewarding day, you leave a wet towel soaking in vinegar for Kyungsoo to clean the iron girdle and proceed to tend to the dirty dishes yourself.

“Yahh!” Imo calls out for Kyungsoo and you, thumping her hand on the table, gesturing for you to join her.

“Ahh! Imo, there’s a huge pile of dirty dishes!” You cry out in response, only to turn around to find that ass-kisser already at the table, schmoozing with your aunt. Hastily taking off your grubby apron, you wash your hands and wipe them clean with a rag cloth. Straightening your black shirt, flattening unruly flyaways, you rush toward the table but she’s already up and ready to leave, “We’ll have dinner together tonight. I want to have a word with both of you.”

“But -”

“Sajangnim”, Kyungsoo interrupts, wagging a finger in your direction, face scrunched up in mock concern, “this one’s had a late night last night -”

“Chef! So I guess I’ll be seeing you tonight. As if seeing you every day of every week wasn’t enough already!”

An overtly saccharine smile spreads across your face and his jaw hardens in response.

“Aish….you two…I’m leaving now”, shaking her head, she sighs, “see you both in two hours.”

Kimchi jjigae, Pajeon, Tteokbokki, Jajangmyeon, some leftover Bibimbap with sides galore from Hong Lim Banchan Stall. Imo clearly has something important on her mind.

But the vibe at the dinner table just doesn’t sit right with you.

The reason for that could be the bespectacled black hole of negativity that’s seated besides you in all black clothing but there’s something off about Imo.

She’s being a little too nice.

Fear gradually starts to settle in your bones. Is she finally closing down? Is this delectable fare an attempt at softening the blow? After all, she’d settled her husband’s debts over five years ago and her sons were doing well for themselves. Quite well, in fact. The elder one, Hyunwoo, is an investment banker and the younger one Hyunjin went to culinary school and is working as a chef at Four Seasons’ Chinese restaurant. It only makes sense for her to trade the Market’s gruelling ways for some much deserved peace and quiet.

“We’re closing down the stall”, she says coolly.

It’s like a punch in the gut.

“Imo -”

“Aegiya”, she rests her chin on her hand, face clouded over with serenity, “the Market’s given me everything. It’s given me a sense of independence…a sense of pride. It put my family back together. I used to think that I’m nothing without my husband and my sons…but the Market gave me an identity. I continued to work even after my husband’s passing not because I needed the money but because this is something that I’ve created and I’m mighty proud of what’s become of it today. My name is a brand in itself. And a decade ago I couldn’t have imagined this even in the wildest of my dreams.”

A million scenarios cascading through your head drown out Imo’s voice.

Would you now have to go back to Bucheon? Or invest in a stall of your own at the traditional Gwangjang that would never accept your big and bold ways with cooking? And to start from scratch? With a new recipe? Kalguksu with a twist, perhaps? But you had no insight into your aunt’s special broth. She’d never let you or even Kyungsoo for that matter whip up the hand-cut noodles. The two of you only ever helped with the ancillary tasks.

You soon come to the realization of not being the only one caught in the eye of the storm. Kyungsoo’s unwavering gaze is scarily fixated on the bowl of jajangmyeon before him. His miserable state gives you a fleeting sense of relief and it’s in that exact moment that he chooses to say something unpalatable.

“Sajangnim, you’ve worked too hard. It’s time for you to reap the fruits of your labour. We’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about us.”

Of course he’ll be fine.

Nearly all food stall owners in Gwangjang have been vying for him ever since the day he set foot into Choi Yoonsun’s with his phlegmatic personality. Whereas you had nowhere to go. The world conveniently assumes Imo hired you only because you were her poor sister’s daughter who she sought to help financially. Not because you had what it took to be there and survive.

“Did I say I was ready to retire?” She laughs, eyeing Kyungsoo quizzically.

“Here’s the thing..I met up with a friend last month. She was looking for a buyer for her little family run restaurant in Gangnam. So I took out a loan, made her an offer”, balling her hands into fists she sighs, “put in the deposit…and the place is pretty much mine now!”

“IMO”, you yell, “you didn’t have to scare me with that long winded speech! God, you’re so dramatic!”

“Well, it is a big move. I’m not sure either of you are ready to take the leap. It requires a tonne of work and I may not be able to pay half of what you earned at the Market for at least two months until we open. It’ll take the restaurant two years or so to break even and only then will I be able to afford scaling your salaries. On the other hand, what I can do is, help you secure a job at the banchan stall since you love seasoned spinach so much and Kyungsoo even stands a chance at managing one of the Pakgane stalls!”

Pakgane is the mung bean pancake stall that had gotten so popular that the owner managed to branch out of Gwangjang. So even your beloved Imo believes that you’d make for a better “help” and Kyungsoo, a Manager.

Ugh!

“I’m coming with you”, you say firmly, “I’ve saved up a little and Eomma will gladly pitch in, if need be…”

At this point, you’d expected Kyungsoo to be ready with his luggage considering the little sycophant he is but his expression is stoic, eyes still glued to the jajangmyeon bowl, filling you with insane hope.

He was going to jump ship…finally!

“Chef…”, you couldn’t resist, “you don’t have to worry about us…I’m more than enough for Imo. You may…”

He shoots you an angry glare making you chew on your unsaid words. But wanting to rile him just a little more, you excuse yourself and bring out a bottle of ketchup. Squeezing it generously atop the stack of pajeon, you snicker maliciously.

Ketchup.

The tangy, unassuming condiment is the sole reason Kyungsoo abhors your very existence. But as this dinner marks the end of his torturous regime, you celebrate with ketchup - lots of it - right in front of his nasty eyes.

Steam swirls in different directions and at every twenty metres a contrastive redolence tickles your olfactory senses. Experiencing Gwangjang as a guest is clearly a far richer experience compared to the donkeywork involved in life as a vendor.

A proper send-off is essential lest Kyungsoo decides to stay, even if it means creating a huge dent in your pocket. You plan on giving him a final tour of the Market where you could both say your goodbyes while receiving a premium fuel of vitamins, minerals and carbs.

Lots of carbs.

“Let’s start with Pakgane”, says Kyungsoo, with a skewered sausage in one hand.

Wanting to start with nothing less than the best in order to create a lasting impression, you shake your head in response. This was supposed to be a farewell he’d never forget.

With every step, the aroma of scallops drizzled with butter and cheese grows stronger. You start your tour by ordering two portions of the delectable street food which sets you back considerably but you’re far too elated to care, even refusing Kyungsoo’s offer to pay as the woman sets the scallops ablaze with a blow torch.

“Do you know what this technique is called?” Kyungsoo gives a little nod in the direction of the flaming food.

A teachable moment. How does his own personality not wear him off?

You’d made a firm resolve to not let any of his condescension bog you down so with a sweet smile, you reply, “No, Chef. I do not.”

“Flambé, minus the alcohol. Do you know how they manage that?”

The ahjumma calls out for you and you nearly jump to collect the order, the slight upward curl of his lips coming into your peripheral vision.

***

The Market supposedly looks the same as it did fifty years ago and you quite enjoy eating your way through it. The tour makes your heart grapple with nostalgia even though your partner’s vibe is akin to a mug of insipid coffee.

Although you’d spent only a little over a year at Choi Yoonsun’s, the goodbyes were long and hard. Some of the vendors squeeze you and Kyungsoo in heart wrenching hugs, the others give you a little cash to help you through the transition and for some of the food, you pay only with smiles and thank yous.

After a gastronomic fiesta entailing tteokbokki, pajeon (minus the ketchup - you did it Kyungsoo’s way), sashimi, kimbap, different types of banchan, a thousand more teachable moments, the both of you end the day on a sweet note with hotteok.

The ahjussi wishes you both luck, making you choke back tears.

Your moist eyes don’t escape Kyungsoo’s attention.

“Are you…. Is the hotteok spicy? No, I mean it’s obviously not…erm”

The dam of your tears explodes.

You were going to miss this place. Even the less appealing aspects of it. You were going to miss the kimbap unnie who greeted you with a hug everyday, also the snooty mandu ahjumma who could hardly stand the sight of Choi Yoonsun’s crew. You were going to miss washing dishes in the winters with water that was supposed to be ice and the sweltering summers that had you sweating through every layer of clothing.

Hell, you were even going to miss Kyungsoo.

“No”, you sniffle, “No, no Chef, it’s nothing. Take care of yourself. As much as I’m glad that our fateful working relationship has met its rightful end, I truly, genuinely, wish you luck. And learn to smile a little more, yeah?”

“Are you dying?” Eyes glinting, mouth agape, he chuckles.

“What? NO! What? You’re leaving. What is wrong with you?”

“Who says I’m leaving?”

“You! You’re not coming with us to Gangnam!”

“Says who?”

“Your stupid face that looked like it was hit by a freight train when Imo broke the news last week!”

“I’m not leaving?” He draws his words out in a question.

“This is no time to joke, Chef. You are leaving!”

“Says who!”

“Your stu-”

“Stupid face? I wasn’t planning on leaving at all. I’ve even found myself a place close to the restaurant. Oh yeah, sorry for having misled you. It was really just - my stupid face.”

A month from Grand Opening

It’s not just about food.

Food only makes for a fifth of a restaurant’s success equation. Management and promotional skills are essential because a restaurant is, first and foremost, a business.

Mark Lee, the young consultant from PCY Associates had imparted this crucial business knowledge to your compact team of three aspiring restaurateurs in exchange for an egg sandwich and watermelon juice. The enthu-cutlet has been overseeing the legal set-up of your humble restaurant for a month now.

However, according to Mark, the crème de la crème of the success equation is customer service.

Customer service.

Here’s where the crusty Chef was supposed to take a backseat and you - a real people person, a socially adept charmer - were to sashay in and shine.

These ideas were a bit too much for that thick, globular skull of his so you tried to educate him with a practical example.

He’d added a rule to the first draft of the menu - a shared document for brainstorming purposes. It read ‘No ketchup for you.’ This rule (or insolence as you called it) went against your belief system as the restaurant’s to-be-anointed Manager (a girl can always hope). ‘Never say no to a customer’ being the foundation of customer service, you slashed the rule with a strikethrough.

But the next time you tried to log in, you found yourself locked out of the document.

“Chef, why can’t I find the draft menu anymore?”

He’s aggressively julienning leeks, pretending to not have heard you.

“CHEF!”

“What?” Finally, he looks up. The skin between his eyebrows pinched and his arm raised to level his brand new 1-piece chef’s knife (initials etched into the blade) with his profile.

“Why-why did you lock me out of the draft menu?”, you stammer, gaze trained on the cutting edge glistening with tears of The Leeks.

Kyungsoo’s been visibly getting jittery by the day as opening day approaches.

He deliberately places the knife to the side of the board and you take a gutsy step forward. He uses a cold, serial-killer voice to ask, “What makes you think that I locked you out?”

You lean over from the other side of the granite counter, face barely an inch from his, “Who else could’ve? Imo is technologically challenged.”

“Fine”, he sighs, “I locked you out.” His lips curl up in a menacing smirk, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Grinning, you stare right into his dark eyes and let out a shrill, high-pitched scream, “IMO!”

This throws him back a few steps and he’s rubbing and pulling at his right ear when Imo walks into the kitchen.

“Yah! Am I your babysitter? Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear about it. I am asking you”, she looks at you before spinning her head in Kyungsoo’s direction, “and you, to sort this amongst yourselves. For once!”

“But-but Imo!”, you protest.

“Aegiya, I really don’t want to ship you back to Bucheon.”

***

“Here’s your tax ID, liquor license… okay so this was a touch-and-go because the officer is transferring to another Department and the one that’s supposed to be coming in is a real piece of work….”

Mark Lee is here with the final set of documents.

Imo’s eyes are gleaming with excitement and sheer joy but she’s held a businesswoman-like composure. On the other hand, Kyungsoo looks very much like himself - like someone’s sucked the life out of him.

You bring Mark his usual egg sandwich and watermelon juice because there’s only so much your restaurant can offer at this point in time, feeling brutally overwhelmed with the volume of pending tasks until opening.

After practically inhaling his mini-meal, Mark dabs his mouth clean and says, “My work here is done. If you need anything you know where to find me. And good luck. Trust me, you’ll need it.”

Imo looks worriedly at Kyungsoo and then at Mark and at Kyungsoo again which prompts him to ask rather uncomfortably, “What do you mean ‘you’ll need it’?”

Mark’s dramatically long sigh is an indication of a sermon to follow. As he leans back into his chair, Imo and Kyungsoo instinctively cower like an invisible weight has been plopped onto their shoulders. The sight is beyond pathetic: they are like peasants before a feudal lord. It makes you want to smash the know-it-all smirk off of Mark’s face.

What comes after, though, isn’t a sermon but a sentence and a half that leaves the three of you shaken.

“The dining business here in Gangnam is hyper-competitive and most restaurants fold in six months. And if that sandwich is any indication…”

Kyungsoo valiantly advances to rescue your team out of the dark bubble of Mark Lee’s words with, “What’s wrong with the sandwich? She makes a perfectly good sandwich!”

What was supposed to be a compliment somehow sounds very wrong in your head, but before you could give him the death stare he leaps to damage control, “What I mean is, we all ate the very same sandwich for breakfast. I don’t usually dissect food for novices but the egg was perfectly cooked, mayonnaise was just the right amount and the seasoning was balanced, too. So I’m not sure what you’re trying to say. We’re serving perfectly good food here.”

“The thing is, this is something even my mother could make and dude, believe me, she’s terri…her culinary abilities are highly questionable. Also, do you think your friend would’ve sold you this place if it were thriving, Mrs. Choi? She’d inherited it from her grandfather and she sold it to you at a dirt cheap price because she was neck deep in debt. I’m sure you know, real estate here is three and a half times the country’s average. So not only do you have significant funds locked into a possibly deadweight property but also your plan clearly lacks vision. Gwangjang’s Choi Yoonsun can keep you afloat for four…maybe six months but Gangnam’s Choi Yoonsun has to create an identity for herself. Look around you, everyone’s serving good food”, Mark tilts his head in Kyungsoo’s direction, “Here, people eat with their eyes first. Now, I’m not saying family-run restaurants serving traditional cuisines don’t do well. A lot of them have been passed down for generations. What I’m saying is…..find your USP.”

Mark squints, looks into the distance, and pinches the air a lot during this damp squib speech of his.

So the menu isn’t very different from what Choi Yoonsun served in Gwangjang. Her USP has always been homestyle cooking with a twist. But that was the demand of a Market that upheld traditionalism and Gangnam, being precipitously everchanging, would be quite something to keep up with.

The weight of Mark’s words manifests on Kyungsoo’s shoulders. He lets out a sharp exhale and starts to clear the table, giving him plenty non-verbal cues to leave. You rush to help him out and meet his defeated form (crouched over the sink) in the kitchen.

The shuffling sound of your footsteps reaches his ears and he pivots to face you.

“We’ll be okay”, your voice is but a calm whisper prompting his creased forehead to slowly smoothen.

“We’ll be okay”, he forcefully echoes.

Grand Opening Day

A frisson of fear laced with excitement descends your spine.

Choi Yoonsun’s is enveloped in a pin drop silence save for the sound of Kyungsoo’s pacing. It’s grating on your nerves but Kyungsoo pacing is far better than Kyungsoo “going over the plan” for the umpteenth time.

The kitchen’s prepped for battle so you’re seated at the cash counter, cuddled close with Imo, placated by her soothing, motherly presence. The three of you are like ticking time bombs, ready to go off at any minute.

This, right here, is the perfect example of a pinch-me-it-doesn’t-feel-real moment. You allow yourself to feel the forces at play as your eyes take in every nook and cranny of the restaurant. The place is agreeably well lit and the ventilation hoods aren’t an eyesore either. The decor’s minimalistic with a sand and stone colour scheme and the floor’s been scrubbed spotless. Eight sturdy wooden tables, tactically placed, allow for movement and privacy yet the area has been optimally utilized.

Fifteen minutes for the ‘Open’ sign to light up.

Kyungsoo and you proceed to help each other out with crisp bright yellow aprons affixed with red name tags (handpicked by Imo, the aprons made you both look like dumpy chicks) and clear plastic masks and wish each other luck with curt nods.

***

Imo’s sons are the first to arrive with some friends in tow. They are served with Kyungsoo’s Yachae Twigim and Budae Jjigae, your Gyeran-mari and Kimchi Bokkeum-bap and of course, Imo’s famous Kalguksu and Kimchi Mandu. Makes you wonder if they’ve had enough of it but they seem to be greatly enjoying themselves. Some of Hyunjin’s friends from Four Seasons are here too, their mighty presence driving Kyungsoo to the edge.

But a few compliments from them are enough to soothe his nerves.

Among the flurry of patrons through the day were vendors and stall owners from Gwangjang along with their family and friends, Kyungsoo’s acquaintances who you knew nothing about and neither did you care enough to ask, Mark Lee with his very handsome boss Park Chanyeol also dropped by sometime around noon.

Your mother couldn’t make it to the opening. It stung a little but as usual, you sucked it up and went on with the highly stimulating day that anyway left you with very little time to mull over any unpleasantness.

***

By the end of it, you were pretty sure you’d wake up with blistered feet the next morning.

It’d been a splendid opening with sales tallying up to KRW 2500,000: nearly two and a half times the estimate. Imo breaks into a dance at the figure, even Kyungsoo lips stretch into a reluctant grin.

You intensely wish Mark Lee were here to witness this euphoric win.

Six months later

Mark Lee had been right.

Choi Yoonsun was miles from creating an identity in Gangnam. Regulars from Gwangjang could make it to the restaurant only twice or thrice a week, support from acquaintances had been gradually trickling, and some negative reviews floating around the internet about poor table turnover had also been driving potential guests away.

You tried to mitigate this by hiring part timers at minimum wage but for several reasons, none of them managed to stay: anti-social hours and Kyungsoo’s hostility being two of the key causes.

On your best days, the sales would total up to KRW 1500,000 and the weekday numbers had been dismal.

***

“Dooly-dooly!”

Your eyes light up at the familiarity of that voice. Mirroring its excitement, you run into the arms of its owner.

“Baekhyunnie!”

Kyungsoo peers over his glasses while scrubbing the iron girdle, studying the floppy haired, cheerful man with a wide grin plastered across his face that’s pranced into the kitchen at closing time.

Byun Baekhyun has been your best friend since time immemorial. Growing up in Bucheon, he’d been the only family you’d known besides your parents and Imo’s family. You weren’t even as close with Hyunwon and Hyunjin as you were with Baekhyun. Since work always kept your mother busy, his parents had practically been the ones to raise you and not once did they make you feel like an outsider.

“Yah! Quit calling me Dooly we’re not kids anymore! Have you eaten? Let me whip you up something real quick. Look at youuuu, when did you get this skinny! How long are -”

“Not to interrupt, but you’ve left the water running”, Kyungsoo drones, lazily pointing in the direction of the sink.

You clearly remember turning it off before darting to greet Baekhyun.

‘Sonofa-’ exasperated, you mouth to Baekhyun, whose eyebrows have shot up to his hairline out of vicarious embarrassment, before turning around to face Kyungsoo who seems to be scrubbing the iron girdle to gold. “Chef, you’re closer to the sink.”

“Reiterating. You’ve left the water running. If you wanna go on tittle-tattling, by all means….this wastage is on you.”

“Make yourself comfortable”, too exhausted to pick a fight, you whisper to Baekhyun, gesturing towards the closest table, “I’ll be with you soon.”

***

“It’s bad”, Imo sighs, burying her face in her hands.

11 P.M., two hours past closing time.

The sparse lighting in the restaurant is causing you an eyestrain to look at the scribblings on the register. Your neck and shoulder muscles are tense from all the chopping, stirring, and scrubbing: a slow day does not translate to an easy day. You notice that Kyungsoo is growing weary, too.

Or maybe discouraged.

You communicate with each other in evasive glances as if the restaurant not doing well is, somehow, on the two of you.

“Imo”, Baekhyun speaks first so as to allay the looming dread, “I’ve been reading the online reviews and those who’ve visited here have been raving about the food - especially the Kalguksu. They say you’ve brought the flavours of Gwangjang to Gangnam. There’s this one thing, though - ”

“Sajangnim”, Kyungsoo interrupts a zealous Baekhyun’s pitch, “I don’t think this is any of his business. We’ve been keeping track of reviews and such - ”

“Let the boy speak. He’s family.” She says softly, pressing her fingers to her temples, clearly clutching at straws now.

Kyungsoo clenches his jaw and nods in Baekhyun’s direction, indicating him to continue.

“There-there”, Baekhyun stutters, eyes fixed on Kyungsoo who’s vaguely fascinated with his cuticles, “are some complaints about slow service. Particularly between starters and mains.”

After an uncomfortably rich pause, Imo gently rests her hand atop Baekhyun’s “Baekhyunah, how long are you here for?”

“For as long as you need”, the apples of his cheeks rise as his eyes crinkle into a gleeful smile.

***

“Somebody is early. Also, the cart looks different…it’s..?”

Dressed in his usual black athleisure, round eyes framed with chunky glasses, Kyungsoo jogs lightly to match your out-of-character sprightly pace into the market.

“Bigger. I bought a new one.” You chirp, shooting him an out-of-character smile.

Even the dreary weather isn’t a buzzkill because today is supposed to be Baekhyun’s first day at work.

“How did you get Sajangnim to agree? She can be -”

“Miserly? Stingy? Close-fisted? Also, when will you stop calling her Sajangnim?”

“Just so that you can stop addressing me appropriately? Dream on. And I meant economical. Sajangnim is economical.”

“Chef, do you even listen? I bought it. With my own money. I figured since we’d need more ingredients now, we could use a bigger one.”

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Impervious to his smug tone, you step away to pick up a one kg bulk pack of dried shiitake mushrooms while he’s examining a small batch of zucchini.

“Because Baekhyun’s gonna be working with us now.”

“Temporarily. And we’re suddenly going to start doing better because of an inexperienced, unemployed -”

The wheels of the cart hit his ankle when you swivel it, making him wince in pain.

“Oops! Sorry.”

“You did that on purpose!” He chides.

Half-shrugging, you say nonchalantly, “Serves you right. Baekhyun may be inexperienced but he isn’t unemployed. If anything, he’s doing us a favour. He’s whimsical like that.”

“I know”, he states, forcefully taking control of the cart, “I know he isn’t unemployed. He owns a Hapkido training academy for elementary school children and is on a break these days. I looked him up. I, personally, wouldn’t have hired him if it were my restaurant but I’m sure Sajangnim -”

“Chef?” You stop dead in your tracks.

“What?”

“You’re on…” you wanted to say ‘social media’ but the words sounded almost blasphemous to be used in front of a very uptight Doh Kyungsoo: a man with absolutely no online presence.

“What is it?” His eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

“Nothing, let’s go.”

“You know what else is different today?” He says on your way out, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

“Hmm?”

“You. You’ve showered.” He chortles, thinking he’s being funny.

But with a hardened expression, you let him know that he’s crossed a line.

“Too far?”

“A tad.”

“Let’s get you some coffee.”

“No.” You smile inwardly, relishing his apologetic tone.

“No?”

“We have to pick up Baekhyun’s apron and nametag.”

At first you thought you were imagining this.

A group of high school girls frequenting Choi Yoonsun’s must obviously be because they want to get healthy, homely meals instead of the trash served at fast food chains or the uneconomical subsistence of instagrammable cafes. They’re obviously not here for the charming server with an athlete’s body and a boyish grin.

“He should wear respectable clothing”, says Kyungsoo, indicating at Baekhyun’s skinny jeans and fitted black tee, hiss sharper than the sizzle of minced garlic in butter.

“Why, I don’t think his cleavage is showing”, you retort, scooping out a serving of rice from the cooker.

“You have absolutely no shame”, he states matter-of-factly, stirring the soup pot.

“What? Is my cleavage showing, too?” You ask in mock-surprise, fixing your apron theatrically.

“Forget I said anything.”

The aroma of Kimchi Jjigae had you salivating and you couldn’t wait to taste it for seasoning. Kyungsoo’s cooking amply made up for his drab, lacklustre personality.

“Chef, lighten up. Any publicity is good publicity.”

“You sound like a tabloid journalist”, leaving the soup to simmer, he turns around to face you, “What’s wrong with your hair?”

“I got a haircut”, scrunching your face you respond suspiciously, the fact that he noticed it despite the hair cover makes your heart palpitate.

Taking the unwarranted attention away from your hair, you ask hastily, “You think they’re here for Baekhyun and not your food, right?”

“Ye-yes”, he stutters, looking away.

“These people wouldn’t be here time and again if it weren’t for the food, Chef. You should know that.”

Moving closer to him, you lightly dust flour off of his shoulders.

“How did you get flour on your shoulders?”

His ears go scarlet.

Imo comes into the kitchen while Kyungsoo and you are preparing for the day ahead. Baekhyun has gone down to Bucheon to oversee the affairs of his training academy.

“There’s this new officer who’s reviewing all liquor permits issued this year. Be careful and make sure to check all IDs twice. I’m taking the day off. Will you two be okay by yourselves?” She swooshes out of the kitchen, not bothering with your incoherent replies.

“Can’t believe they’ve ditched us on a Friday.” You grumble, soaking clams in fresh water.

“We’ll be fine.” Kyungsoo reassures you.

***

It had been quite the day and nearing closing time, your feet were going sore. Baekhyun taking on the toughest role in the restaurant made you greatly appreciate his efforts. While most guests are civil, he’s experienced his fair share of rowdy ones firsthand and his ability to deal with them is unparalleled. He’s never, ever let any matter escalate to a point of embarrassment and has demonstrated the maturity to overcome every crisis situation with a smile on his face.

The fact that he’s only temporarily here suddenly starts to wear you out.

Kyungsoo sticks a handwritten note on the steel holder which reads - Yangnyeom - 2. It’s only been a little over eight months since the restaurant’s been fully functional yet the holder’s worn out more because of use and less because of time.

“About time we advanced to kitchen order tickets, right? Saves Baekhyun…or either of us unnecessary excursions to the kitchen. Also, billing will be simpler that way.” You offer while straightening your apron and getting ingredients ready for Kyungsoo to prepare the sauce.

“Yeah, it does”, he seems really out of it as he’s getting chunks of juicy chicken ready for the fryer. He’s moving around the kitchen rather clumsily, nearly tipping over the bottle of corn syrup.

“Wah, Chef, are you alright? Would you like me to do this?”

Resting his back against the wall, he slowly sinks to the floor, face buried in hands. “Yes, please.”

While you’re preparing a sauce the recipe for which you know like the back of your hand, his instructions don’t cease. The only thing you’ve ever liked about working with this man is that contrary to Imo, he does not believe in micromanaging. But right now it feels like you’re in the kitchen with her and not with Kyungsoo.

The tension causes you to lower the chicken into the fryer hastily resulting in specks of flaming oil to splatter onto your arm.

He’s quick to rush to your aid with a cold towel.

“Yah, Chef, you’re making me nervous, what’s with all this nitpicking?” You almost yell at him as he’s gingerly dabbing the towel on the affected area.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry. It’s just”, he pauses briefly, worrying at his lower lip, questioning eyes peering into yours, before helping you with the chicken - slightly more confident in his movements now, “whatever you do, don’t get out of the kitchen. Table number four, those guys there, are weird.”

“Weird, how?”

“Rowdy, mannerless and drunk. Really, really drunk. Steamrolled by the ‘Friday happy’.”

“Ah, Baekhyun’s well-versed with their kind. Don’t worry, just be polite. Are you sure you don’t want me to intervene?”

“Positive and whatever happens?”

“Stay put. Chef?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s only thirty minutes to closing. We can get through this, okay? And don’t accept further orders!”

***

Twenty minutes after, you’re aimlessly scrolling through your phone to take your mind off the stabbing pain in your lower abdomen. Simultaneously playing a little game of inventing the kind of content Kyungsoo would upload if he were a user on these sites only to be jolted with the realization as to how little you know about the man.

As the restaurant’s occupied with boisterous conversations and raucous laughter, you’re counting seconds to closing. Multiplying three hundred with every bracket of five on the clock.

The din comes to an abrupt halt when you hear a middle aged man bellow, “Yah, punk, do you have a death wish?!”

Gradually moving closer to the door, you try to get a view of the scene outside.

You see a polite but firm Kyungsoo bow before the man, “We can’t serve you any more alcohol, sorry, we’ll be closing now.”

The other two men along with the nasty vermin have long passed out. You quickly call for a cab, subconsciously grabbing a hold of Kyungsoo’s knife in the process.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO RIGHT NOW?” He thunders.

Kyungsoo recoils as the man grows louder by the second. “We cannot serve you anymore alcohol, sir.”

It happens in a flash.

So fast you almost feel like you’re astral projecting.

One moment, the man raises a hand to strike Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo swerves. You dash out of the kitchen with the knife in your hand. Face to face with the man, you scream until your lungs hurt, “GET OUT! I SAID GET OUT OF MY RESTAURANT!”

The vermin’s companions stir at the sound.

With frightened eyes they take in the scene as their drowsy brain is still trying to assess the situation for action. They soon pull the man by his shoulders while Kyungsoo’s tugging at your knife bearing arm that’s still raised in combat mode, simultaneously apologising to the rowdy guest.

Wagging his sausage like finger at the both of you he warns menacingly, “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Slapping the tab on their table, you proceed to threaten him, “Settle this and get - the fuck - out of my restaurant before I call the cops.”

Throwing a couple of bills on the table, he staggers out, grumbling, “You just wait”, still wagging his finger and reeking of stale alcohol.

It was only then that your grip on the knife eases as Kyungsoo carefully draws it out of your hand and you see, just like you, he’s shaking too.

“What just happened?” He’s the first to speak as you sit across the table from him, dark orbs glinting in the dim light, forehead beaded with sweat. His hands are tightly wound together as he places them on the table. One day without Baekhyun and Imo and Kyungsoo and you had messed up real bad. By the looks of it, neither of you were ready to accept this fact.

“We did exactly what we were supposed to do. Stop worrying!” You say more to yourself.

He’s not convinced.

“Chef, that man’s reaction wasn’t something that you could’ve preempted or….controlled in any way.” Finding yourself getting mildly annoyed, you try your best to lay the edge off of your voice. All you wanted was for him to be alright because, technically, none of this was his fault.

“Would you have allowed him to take a swing at you?”

“He was far too drunk for that”, he exhales heavily and you notice his stance relax before clamping up again, “but you-you came out with a knife!”

His tone isn’t accusatory. He’s simply baffled.

“Fight or flight…”

“It’s my knife.”

“I’ll be sure to hide the murder weapon.”

He nods slowly.

“Do you need some water? Tea? A hug?”

You half expect him to scowl or groan or whatever it is that he usually does but he seems to be actually evaluating his options.

“A beer?”

“Down for Chimaek?”

Stood up to go into the kitchen, you awkwardly, and very, very slowly put an arm around his shoulders and give him a tight squeeze.

***

This was your first time having fried chicken and beer in complete silence - a few minutes felt like hours with the incident still hovering over both of you.

“Chef, you know we haven’t murdered anyone right?”

“The restaurant feels like a scene of crime to me. Also, what did he mean by ‘you just wait’?”

“Eh. Empty threats. Testosterone poisoning. Do you think they’ll throw me into prison for threatening him with a knife?”

“You should be sent in for pilfering stock”, he says gesturing at the tray between you, taking a chunky bite of the chicken, “you were going to take this home, weren’t you? It’s good, by the way.”

“Ah, this makes me happy”, you lean back into your chair, smiling discreetly at Kyungsoo’s messy fingers and mouth.

“A compliment from me makes you happy?” His eyebrows shoot up as he takes a swig of beer.

“Testosterone poisoning”, you say pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I couldn’t care less what you think. I’m pretty confident in my skills.”

“As you should be. Then what ‘makes you happy’? The thought of going to prison?”

“Yes”, you lie, “you think I’ll have a prison bitch?”

“I think you’ll be the prison bitch.”

You open your mouth to protest but what escapes is a mortifying burp.

Uncomfortable silence.

Meeting his eyes, you purse your lips, feeling your face flame. He smiles at you and says, ‘wait for it’, before belching. Loudly. Sending you both into fits of laughter.

“What happened here last week?”

Kyungsoo and you are seated opposite Imo like criminals before a cop in an interrogation room. Baekhyun is holed up in the kitchen, cleaning. For the most part, he avoids conflicts like these where Imo’s red hot beam of anger could be misdirected at him.

She’s glaring at the responsible child, Kyungsoo, to break first but since it was your idea to keep the incident from her you start to explain. By the time you’re done she seems angrier, but not at the two of you. Only after a tiny lecture on how you should learn to be more tactful in such situations does she spell out her real concern.

Turns out the man the both of you had a scuffle with last week is the new officer’s brother-in-law. Now, the restaurant’s received a notice from the liquor permit’s office for an “inspection” in the coming week. Although aware that this situation isn’t either of your fault, Imo is far from pleased with this development.

“Fix this”, she orders and disappears into the kitchen.

There’s only one person who can help you out of this mess, but neither Kyungsoo nor you possess the emotional capacity to deal with him.

“He’s our only option”, you deadpan.

With a heavy sigh, Kyungsoo dials Mark Lee.

***

Mouth stuffed with egg sandwich, Mark Lee garbles, “What do you want from me? It’s an inspection so let them come and - inspect.”

Imo’s taken off for the day and it’s just you and Kyungsoo trying to sort out the mess you weren’t entirely responsible for.

“You said we could call you if we needed help with anything”, Kyungsoo reasons with Mark who’s now ogling at him as if he just got spoken to in an alien language.

“Yes, but I don’t see how I can be of help here?”

“Tell us anything you know about this new officer. Don’t leave anything out.” You’re nearly begging at this point and Mark Lee, as always, is reveling in your misery.

He relaxes in his seat, swirling the glass of watermelon juice, “You know you can’t buy your way out of this right? He’s an uptight bugger and you screwed up! Big time! All you had to do was give his brother-in-law a bottle of beer.”

“Oh, we’re sorry we didn’t have his family tree handy”, Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, “Besides, were just trying to abide by the rules - ”

The helplessness in Kyungsoo’s voice causes you to lose your cool at Mark. “Yah! Quit being cocky and just tell us everything you know!”

“Oh-oh feisty”, his mouth spreads into an annoying grin, “okay so he loves his wife, obviously, it’s why he’s doing this. Has an eleven year old daughter who is the apple of his eye. Erm, let’s see, he’s spent his teenage years in Japan and the country is all he’ll ever talk about. Piss him off and this inspection turns into a review and if things continue to spiral you’ll have your permit revoked. So be careful.” His eyes lock with yours making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“What are you planning to do with this information, anyway?”

“We don’t know just yet”, Kyungsoo starts clearing up the table, as usual, and Mark knows that his time is up.

“Dude”, he leans towards you, whisper-chortling, as Kyungsoo retires into the kitchen, “did you drive him out with a knife?”

Nodding, you grin gleefully.

“Fiery! You’re totally my boss’ type.”

***

“So what are we going to do?” Rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn, you ask Kyungsoo.

While the world sleeps, the market is awake. Buzzing with a contagious energy. Although you hate having to wake up this early, the moment you step into this space, you’re completely taken by its vigour and gusto for life.

It’s nothing short of a celebration.

Chefs, big and small, passionately scour every nook and corner for the perfect herbs, veggies, and meats. You may not know each other closely or even by name but you feel part of a community - part of a family. True to character, you won’t ever stop whining about this routine with friends and family and occasionally with Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, and Imo but you know it in your heart of hearts, you wouldn’t skip sourcing for the world.

“So he’s spent his teenage years in Japan right?” Kyungsoo muses, lowering a crate of mudfish in the cart for today’s special, Chueotang.

“Let’s recreate his teenage years for him. Japanese dorm meals?”

Kyungsoo stops abruptly, “That’s a thought!”

“We can set the menu today after closing.”

“How about a coffee now?” He asks, averting your gaze as a slight smile forms on his lips.

On the morning of the inspection, Kyungsoo sneezed. Once. Twice. And on the third strike he was sent home by Imo because “this is not a good look”. Or forced out of the restaurant - depends on who you ask. He whined a little, even shed a few tears but Imo steeled herself and drew him out, anyway.

Although the menu is simple, the concept is layered and robust. The exercise is, after all, being undertaken merely to impress the officer in question. Well equipped for the inspection, the restaurant’s closed for the day.

This is nothing Baekhyun and you can’t manage but, obviously, Kyungsoo feels otherwise. He’s been calling to check in in intervals of five but seems like the medication’s finally kicked in and put him in a state of deep slumber. Good for him. And for you.

Two hours until showtime.

Under your close supervision, Baekhyun is labouring over the fairly straightforward stuff: tako sausages, potato and macaroni salad and egg sandwiches while you’ve kicked off the recipe for rolled omelettes.

Egg mixture aside, you start the rice cooker, leave green tea to boil for salmon ochazuke while the frying pan’s heating up for yaki udon.

***

Once you’d gotten all the dishes down, done exactly the way instructed by Kyungsoo: rolled omelettes, yaki udon, tako sausage, potato and macaroni salad, egg sandwiches and salmon ochazuke, it was time for you to take on the simplest but the most provoking dish on the menu.

Neko Manma. Or, cat rice.

“Ah, Dooly, shall I bring out the jar of bonito flakes?” Baekhyun prompts.

“The one Chef brought us this morning?”

He hums in response.

“I think we should use the store bought one instead.”

“But he’s worked on this recipe all week. You sure you wanna do that?”

“Positive.”

“He’ll flip out.”

“I’ll deal with it. We’re altering the recipe for Neko Manma, this ones too pretentious. Doesn’t sit right with me.”

“So, what do you want to do with it?” Baekhyun’s tone is wary and questioning.

“Rice, soy sauce, store bought bonito flakes and just a faint drizzle of butter. Nice and clean.” You respond confidently.

“Are you really sure?”

***

“Why are you here?” You hiss at Kyungsoo while Imo is outside, busy greeting the motley of high-headed officials, giving them a brief of the restaurant, herself, her team, and going over the licenses and documentation.

Face flushed, Kyungsoo’s lips are swollen and his eyes are runny, puffy, and bloodshot. He’s clearly in the need for some rest.

“To see if everything’s in order.” His voice is hoarse.

He starts to closely examine the entrees laid out, a smile of approval gracing his lips until he stops short of cat rice.

“These bonito flakes -”

“I didn’t use the fresh ones. I thought -”

“There’s no miso soup?”

“No, Chef, I reckoned -”

“No grilled fish? Are you being lazy?”

“Chef, no, I am not being lazy. The original recipe just didn’t feel right. So i changed it up a little -”

“Changed it up? That decision was not yours to make!”

“It’s just a side, it’s not going to matter so much!”

Absolutely livid, he runs a hand through his hair and laments. “If we weren’t this close to serving i would’ve dumped this into the bin because that’s where it belongs.”

“Chef, please”, your voice quivers, “let me explain! This was supposed to be the lightest dish on the menu. We ended up styling it with… overwhelming ingredients, so I -”

“I’m utterly confused! What on earth led you to believe you’re qualified enough to teach me? I’ve trained at a diner in Tokyo for two whole years. I know exactly what I’m doing here!”

Eyes brimming with tears, you glance over and Baekhyun who has ‘I told you so’ written all over his face.

"Kyungsooyah? When did you come in? What’s going on here?”

Imo’s bewilderment cuts through the tension.

“Sajangnim, I was feeling slightly better so I thought of dropping by to wish you luck."

Courtesying, he quickly dashes out through the back door.

***

The inspection has been revoked. Unofficially, atleast. The restaurant is to receive a written order in a week’s time.

The officer was impressed to the extent of apologising for his brother-in-law’s behaviour. He even lauded Imo on teaching her staff to stick to the establishment’s principles which made you wonder if he was fully aware of the facts of the case: knife and all.

He also mentioned how, as a student, he’d eat a bowl of Neko Manma before every exam because at the time, to him, anything else was unpalatable.

And that, this was what he considered to be the perfect recipe.

You go through the rest of the day as if sleepwalking. How stupid could you have been believe you were “on good terms” with Kyungsoo or that this was an equal and productive partnership. The fact remained that he still thought of you as someone frivolous: some air-headed moron who has no idea what she’s doing.

Someone beneath him.

You made an effort to appreciate this victory but the day had only left you with a bitter taste. Your mother had been right. You’ve always been too soft. Too trusting. Letting people in too easily and allowing them to walk all over you.

Now, Kyungsoo’s always been like this: controlling, stubborn, absolutely thorough. He never deviates from his well laid out plans. But today was different. Today, you expected something out of him. You expected him to trust you. You expected him to understand your reasoning, to give you a chance. To comprehend the fact that you could have a mind of your own and that not everything has to be exactly by the book.

You loathe yourself for expecting this out of him.

Sailing rough seas together doesn’t bloom friendships. You were stupid to think of him as a friend while, in all these months, his opinion of you had remained the same.

Contrary to the Gwangjang days, you’d long stopped wishing him gone. In some farthest corner of your heart you were even grateful that he chose to say.

You’ve been so stupid.

Two months later

The kitchen has been fervent but hushed.

After all this time, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo and you seem to have found a rhythm. You don’t need to verbally communicate to get through a workday.

But, you used to.

Sometimes unnecessarily even. Kyungsoo and you hardly saw eye to eye on most things but there would be some semblance of friendly workplace banter. He’d say a little something about a perfectly done piece of meat or a well seasoned soup. Baekhyun would take wickedly funny pot shots at some of the customers (to the utmost horror of Imo). Imo would sporadically push morsels of whatever was being prepared into your mouths.

Baekhyun receiving feedback in the form of grunts has shut him up altogether. And the busyness of the restaurant has seemed to have blinkered Imo into not being able to perceive the tension between Kyungsoo and you.

It’s a dance to no music.

Furtive glances. Measured smiles. Curt nods. Exceptional dishes. Decent earnings.

That’s it.

Maybe that’s how it should’ve always been.

“Ready to go?” Baekhyun asks, dressed in a well fitted black shirt and slacks.

You’re mopping the floor. Clearly not ready to go.

When you make this known with a sharp glare, Baekhyun giggles.

Nothing good can come out of that impish smile of his. But before you can sink your claws into him and drag him back, he’s already chatting up Kyungsoo who’s fixing the chairs.

“Kyungsoo, you coming?” He says a little too loudly and you groan. But you know Kyungsoo all too well. He’s one to decline offers involving socialising with you (unless of course, the offer is put forth by his dearest Sajangnim).

’You can do better than that’, you mouth to Baekhyun.

Incurious about Kyungsoo’s answer, you’re fully prepared to chomp Baekhyun’s ear off for inviting him.

“Sure”, Kyungsoo says plainly.

Sure?

Without taking the where-what-why route like normal people do? Just..sure?

“Great! We’re going out for drinks since it’s Dooly’s birthday today.”

“Oh. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks. But, Chef, you can’t come. I don’t want you there. I’m sor-”

Swallowing the apology crackling at the tip of your tongue, you dash into the kitchen, your periphery catching his lowered gaze and tight smile.

Regularising the erratic thrumming of your heart with deep breaths, you shove the mop into the storage area, take off your apron and throw it in the laundry bag (which you were to deal with the next morning), straighten your outfit, fix your hair, dab some rosy tint onto your lips, throw your tote bag over your shoulder, run back out, grab Baekhyun by purposefully lodging your nails into his arms, and take off.

189 notes · View notes

everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

ABOUT TRUST.

Obispo “Bishop” Losa x Hank “Tranq” Loza daughter!Reader

Anon asked: can you do an imagine with bishop losa where you have a secret relationship with bishop and you two are having sex and hank (your dad) catch you two.

Warnings: NSFW, smut

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💖

Word count: 1.9k

Author Comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @angels-reyes

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcro-jnt @jade770 @arved @witchy-wish ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

The sun is shining on top of the sky, when you start to feel somekind of awaken, with two hands holding yours. One lying on your stomach, another surrounding your neck and your throat. It's a nice feeling his chest breathing against your back, as his breath collides on your nape. You sigh, sinking your nose on his forearm, 'cause yes, it's a good dream.

A finger running through your right cheek, putting away a small brist of hair, making you squirm on the sofa with a heavy and sleepy snort. Then a lips pressing your skin in a soft caress, while two arms are surrounding your body to lift you up. It's half past four am, and you fell asleep watching a TV show you can't remember which one was. Resting your head on his chest on the way to the bed. Your eyes getting almost opened in some flashes, recognizing your room, when he leaves you there. Again, his lips kissing your forehead. It's a good dream, you think. It's like if a eternity has passed, when his arms wrap you again, pushing you closer to that delicious smell you could die for. It's insane how much you need it in your daylife, being an agony every time he has to leave Santo Padre.

“Wake up”. Like a distant whisper, you hear his voice. But you refuse to do it, so he's gonna disappear again. “Mi amor…”

Another one accompanied by some kisses on your head, sliding his lips over your hair, reaching your neck. A soft gasp leaves your lips. One week separated and you're starting to be so needy in all the possible aspects that you're dreaming with him. With a slight sob you shake your head, holding tightly his arms around you.

“I don' want you to go again”. You say somewhat sleepy.

“I don' gotta go anywhe'”.

Your eyes snap open, touring with your orbs the fingers tangled with yours. Your heart jump, turning so fast over the mattress that you almost feel dizzy. Bishop is truly there. It's not a dream. Smiling with both eyebrows raised, chuckling in silence. You hug him, screaming for a second, before filling his face with kisses listening his laughter as he tries to give you back every kiss. You suppose that last night he came to your house and brought you to bed.

“It's good to be back at home”. He says holding you closer.

“I missed you”. Your lips finally find his.

He missed you too, by the way he has to kiss you. So slow and careful, wanting to enjoy every single inch of them, while one of his hands get tangled in your hair. Your teeth collide for a moment, making you laugh against his mouth and his tongue looking for yours. Drowning a moan there, his free hand travels to your ass grabbing it and pinching it. Forcing you to place a leg on his waist, you discover that he's naked and by the way how hard he is, moving your hips slowly as you're trying to feel some more friction. Your left hand getting slide among your bodies, grabbing gently all his extension and giving him a chill that makes him grunt between teeth.

“Fuck… baby girl, I need you”. He bites your low lip, as your wrist it moves faster at times, caressing his swollen glans with your thumb whenever you can. “Take it, mi amor. It's all yours. Only yours”.

With a naughty smile on your lips, drawing a way of kisses down of his chest, traveling all around his abdomen noticing how shaky his breath his, until the tip of your tongue roams his hardened skin. Grabbing your hair with a hand, so he can maintain your gaze full of lust, when you take his cock inside your mouth pushing him to the limit. Your nose touching his low abdomen, as he's forcing your throat. You can see Bishop leaning his head back slightly with his eyes almost white, till you need some air to breathe. Moving your lips somekind faster from top to bottom, with your tongue touring his sensible skin, his guttural growls start to flood the room. This is your favourite part, tasting him as he enjoy every caress you give him stroking your throat with the reddened and delicious head of his cock. It's fucking amazing.

“Com'ere, baby”. Holding your chin with two fingers, he raised you up enough to kiss you whilst he's getting up to rest his back against the metallic headboard, so you can sit on top of him. “Did you miss daddy, ah?”

Pulling away some bristles of your hair you nod with no hesitate, kissing him away. His tongue tastes good fighting with yours. His fingers curl the fabric of your shirt, lifting up above your head to throw it away. Bishop's moustache gives you some tickles on your neck when his teeth bite your collarbone softly and his fingers squeezing and pinching your nipples.

“Daddy needs you, baby girl”. He mutters, going up his lips kissing you under your chin, on it, until he reaches your lips so desperate that you can feel it as if it was your feeling.

He's tired after too much hours riding from southern Cali to northern and the only thing you want is please him, make him know that he's back at home so he can rest calmly. Guiding his warm cock between your thighs, you bounce on him just one time. His fingers getting nailed on your ass with a pleasure howl from him sinked in your lips.

“Fuck, mi amor… don't move. Let me enjoy it”. He almost begs pulling you closer, with your hands caressing his chest.

You can feel how Bishop is getting harder inside you, pressing your tightness in a delectable agony taking away your breath. Moving your hips slowly in a soft dance, keeping your gaze darkened, the pleasure is finding you. It feels better than finger yourself whilst he's moaning by the other side of the phone, when you two are in different parts of the country. Spreading your legs a little more, every pound gets deeper, faster and rough than the last, wailing his name with a broken voice. His saliva wetting your throat, filling it with small red bruises marking his territory in need of makes you know that you are his and he's yours.

“Hey, baby, I brou—”.

At least, your father had knock the door before coming in, giving you the enough time to sit by Bishop's side and cover your body with the sheets. The scene is the most awkward and uncomfortable moment you've had to live. Hank with a hand on the doorknob, Bishop licking his lips with an ill-at-tease look on his face, and you trying to hide under the sheets.

“I'm pretty sure he saw you too”. The older mutters twisting his head to a side just a little, as if your father couldn't hear him, but with his eyes on his.

“I can explain”. You say feeling your whole body shaking terrified.

“You better do”. Tranq's face has no expression on it and his hoarse and rough voice gives you cumbersome chills. “Get the fuc' outta' my daughter' house, Obispo, before I shoot you till the charger is empty”.

Your boyfriend doesn't say anything, nodding with his tongue touring his teeth for a second, before getting up from the bed to get dressed and collect his stuff. And he also doesn't give a fuck about Tranq being your father, proving it when he kneel above the mattress placing a hand on your nape so he can kiss your forehead.

“I love you”. He also says, leaving another kiss on your right cheek, taking off of one of the kutte' pockets a small red box. “From LA”.

Bishop leaves the room in silence and your father doesn't even look at him, with his eyes full of rage on yours. So, when you hear the main door getting closed, his snorts heavy supporting his shoulder on the door frame.

“Da—”.

“Are you fuckin' kiddin' me, (Y/N)?”

“Let me have a shower and we wi—”

“Stay there. Ashamed as you should be. What the fuck were you thinking, ah? Bishop? Really? You betray my trust for what? For a… frig?”

“Bishop is not a one-night-stand, dad”. You try to explain him, irritated and desperate.

“Shit, it only get worse when you think he's gonna have somekind of serious thing with you…” Tranq rubs his face with both hands laughing bittersweet.

“Two days ago was our anniversary”. You spit at him, raising the small box between your fingers, with both eyebrows upped. And you can hear how his heart stop for a while. “I didn' know how to… tell you, and I'm sorry. But I'm old enough to make my own choices. I didn' meant to fuck up your trust in me, but it just happened”.

“There are no secret between us, that's what I thought. But seems like I'm not that important to you”.

“C'mon, dad! That's not fair!” Tangling your body in the sheets, you get up from the bed walking towards him. “I love you, more than anyone and you know it well. But I was afraid of this happening”.

“So what? You were gonna hide it from me all your life?”

“'Course not!” You say a little bit louder. “He truly loves me and takes care of me, that's the only thing that should matter to you”.

“Till he breaks your heart”.

“It's not gonna happen. Likewise, it's the law of life and no one can avoid it”. You sigh closing your eyes just for one second, trying to calm yourself. “I—I'm sorry. So sorry. But I love him and I didn'... meant to hurt you”.

“Breakfast is gonna get cold”. He just replies, turning over his boots to leave your house in complete silence.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

You're playing with the golden collar around your neck, lying on the sofa waiting for a text or a call, after the night has fallen down. Neither your father, nor Bishop, have answered to their phones, starting to think about the worst possible sceneries where your boyfriend get shot, stabbed, asphyxiated by Tranq's hands… Until the sound of some keys colliding open the front door. Jumping off of the sofa, you run to the entrance, finding Bishop's bloody face. Covering your trembling lips with a hand, he starts to laugh confusing you. His nose is almost broken, with an open wound on his left eyebrow and gap on his lower lip. You can't even imagine how are his ribs, knowing that it's your father's favourite place to punch.

“I'm okay, but I need my nurse”. He says taking off the helmet and the kutte to leave them on the small table next to the door.

“My father…?”

“In the Mayans' ring”. He nods wrapping your waist between his arms as you place your hands on his neck, so you can study better his face. “He said that he… ‘approves’ it, after threaten to spread my body across the desert if I hurt you”.

“Shit, 'am sorry, Bish…”

“It was worth it, baby girl. But I really need you to heal me, 'cause it hurts as fuck”.

“Com'ere, boxer…”

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa #bishop losa x reader

179 notes · View notes

lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

for the made up fic title game what about... 'dice la canción que algún te llevarás mi tristeza (entre miles de colores)' which translates to 'the song says that someday you'll take away my sadness (in between a million colours)' 🥤

Tony knows that everyone thinks that soulmates fix everything. He’s seen all the movies of hopeful young women looking at the elegant, painted-on-script on their arms, starry looks pasted on as they sing some bullshit song about waiting for their true love.

He’s read books about a man finding the love of his life in a diner, and how much love they both have for each other. It’s hailed as a literary classic and it’s his classmate’s (Timothy’s) favorite book.

Movies and books. Some of the best tools for hiding realities.

Here’s another thing that Tony has seen, read into: his parents’ relationship.

Mama has the words wrapped up her leg, calling her gorgeous and wonderful.

It’s a lie, of course. No one thinks their words lie, but Tony sees it in the way that her stance always shifts to put pressure on her right leg, the one without the words.

How even in the summer, she’ll wear long skirts to cover the words, how she carefully skirts around how the “love of her life” is doing in interviews.

Howard wears long-sleeved shirts, flirts with other women and says that words don’t matter in the face of love.

The oldest trick in the book, and they fall for it every time.

But Howard was right about one thing: words don’t matter.

Tony has his right across his chest, in a script that’s half-print, half-cursive:

I swear to god, get out of my way or so help me god I’ll kill you.

Really nice words. Wow. Tony feels so infinitely loved and cherished.

His mother flinches when she sees his words, flinches at how cruel his soulmate must be.

Oh, he looks like his father alright...but he’s just like his mother.

Maria may not have the same words, never in the same tone, but her life turned out as if it was that.

Wives were an inconvenience to many businessmen, and she was no different. She had known that a week after their honeymoon, Howard’s eyes curious and roaming.

The kind of curious that she had fallen for, and then quickly realized that curiosity was a dangerous thing for him. Was a dangerous thing for her too.

But she played the role of adoring wife, and sometimes they were together alone and it wasn’t-it wasn’t too bad. He would smile and she would remember the good times with fondness, and then she would bitterly remember that her soulmate thought she wasn’t enough.

Tony sees her thoughts. Mama has never been particularly good at hiding her feelings from her son.

After all, he learned all her tells. Has quite a few of them himself.

But soulmates don’t matter, not to him, and not when he has college to go to. Finally escaping from Howard’s thumb, finally on his own. He got an apartment all to himself, he’s going to learn how to cook and not burn shit, and things will be great.

No time for thinking about soulmates when you’re busy thinking about if you really need to get more than three pans, and maybe you do? Not sure.

His neighbors are quiet. They don’t really interact much. They saw him move in, blinked, and Tony waved. Nothing else to say.

He still hasn’t met the guy who lives on his left. Tony’s heard crashes and brief cursing streaks, and maybe one glass that got dropped, but that’s it. All he knows is chaotic sounds and maybe that his name starts with a “J.”

It’s just the beginning of October when Tony is juggling his groceries with his hands (refusing to make more than one trip) when someone comes pounding into the hallway, and Tony can’t see over the chip bag he has.

I swear to god, get out of my way, or so help me god I’ll kill you, comes the phrase.

Tony blinks.

“Not if I kill you first, you son of a bitch.”

The guy gasps.

“Wait, so this isn’t a serious situation where my soulmate is shitty?”

“You said something shitty first!”

The guy looks back, and there is a rather murderous looking frat boy out for blood.

Tony takes one look at the situation, decides that he’s not going to make this guy fend for himself against a rage-filled boy in dock-shoes and too much hair gel, and pulls him into his apartment.

The boy goes flying onto the couch, Tony spills a bag of apples, and the frat bro is yelling at the door and pounding on it.

“What did you even do?”

“I kind of maybe took his bed and threw it out a window because he was being shitty at a party I went to.”

“On a scale of one to seven, how shitty?”

“One to seven? Who are you, who the fuck uses that scale?”

“Me! I use it! Now rate it.”

“Um, like a six?”

“Hm, that is pretty bad.”

There’s a thump at the door.

Oh, the frat boy is trying to break his door down.

Tony goes over.

“You’re opening the door?”

“Just...have faith in me.”

“Not to be like that, dude, but I just met you like two minutes ago and even though we’re soulmates that doesn’t mean I just blindly put everything I have into you.”

Tony grins. That sounded...perfect.

“Oh believe me sugar, same thing goes for you. But I have knowledge on my side.”

The door swings open, and in charges the frat boy, seriously not thinking that the door would open. He runs into the couch, flips himself over, and he’s on the ground.

Tony leans over him.

“I have a security deposit on this place that I’d rather keep, you know that? I also just bought ice cream, and it’s going to become soup if you keep bothering us. Now go or I’m going to call security.”

“And what the fuck are they gonna do?” The frat boy spits. He’s trying to get up, but cannot. What a shame.

Tony leans in closer.

“I want you to really look at my face. I’m sure you saw it on the cover of Time as part of the article ‘America’s Most Influential Family’. There’s a lot I could do.”

His eyes widen, and he scrambles out, near-about running into the wall.

His soulmate breathes out.

“Oh man, thank you.”

“No problem. Always using my status to make things go away, it’s fun.”

“So like...you said you were America’s most influential what, son?”

“In a sense. Probably not. But sometimes people know me.”

“Am I supposed to know you?”

“Only if you really wanna work at Stark Industries and need a good word put in.”

“Oh, I’m going to the military. Air Force.”

“They got lucky with a guy as nice as you. I’m sure they’ll be proud of all the frat boys you run from.”

“I’m Jim,” he says, holding out his hand for a shake.

“Not calling you that,” Tony says, shaking his hand. “That is too close to an old man, and you look far from an old man.”

"That supposed to be a compliment?”

“Well, I should hope so. I don’t flirt with old men, I flirt with attractive people.”

“You know, you still haven’t told me your name.”

“Give me a minute.”

Tony puts his ice cream in the freezer, coming back.

“My name is Tony. What’s your last name?”

“Rhodes, are you gonna use it for weird reasons?”

“Nickname reasons. I’m thinking Rocky Rhodes.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“Not if you want to eat at the best restaurant you’ve ever been to.”

“If you call me Rocky Rhodes, no promises.”

“Hmph, fine. What about...Rhodey?”

“I can always change it later.”

Tony smirks.

“Hm, maybe I’ll let you. But I think it’s a good nickname.”

They both are silent for a moment.

“You have any more ice cream?” Rhodey asks. “I’d, um, I’d like to get to know you. And I’ll pay for ice cream later.”

Tony should’ve said no. He’s seen all the failure with his parents, he’s heard all the horror stories, read the words on his skin enough times in the mirror to know that everything could mean nothing and that nothing could mean everything.

But he smiles.

“I’ll keep a running tab.”

It doesn’t end up like Howard and Maria, no matter how many times Tony thinks it will, wonders if he acts like it, if it will all descend into madness and he’ll be right.

Rhodey is patient and he calls Tony out on his bullshit. They both smile at each other over cups of coffee, evening argument forgotten.

When Rhodey has to go overseas, he always gets ragged on by his peers because he buys the cheesiest souvenirs. He never tells them who it’s for, and it’s not until Tony adds the absolutely terrible rendition of the Statue of Liberty onto his personal key-chain for his car that they connect the dots and stare at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

Tony makes him the most decadent of meals when he’s back, giving neck massages and draping blankets that are so soft they don’t feel real over them at night.

They come together and it’s like the ways that the actors and actresses smile giddily up at their counterpart, how the authors describe two coming together. Except it’s better.

Because Rhodey leaves the coffee filter in the machine and forgets to take it out, and Tony nearly always remembers to take it out before it’s a day later and the kitchen smells like old coffee.

It’s the way that Tony is only a control-freak about the thermostat, and keeps it at seventy-five always.

“You’re such an old man.”

“You’re just a weird guy who likes it to be sixty-seven! Who does that?”

Rhodey grins, kissing his man on the forehead.

“Me. But I’ll keep it seventy-five. For now.”

Tony settles back into the couch, pushing his legs over Rhodey’s. He smiles up at him, and it’s...it’s the best feeling Rhodey could hope for.

#lovelyirony writes #rhodeytony #anyways i love the ocncept of soulmates and how badly tony doesn't get it !#rhodey #tony stark #iron man #war machine #soulmate au #also YEAH of course they fall in love bc rhodey pissed someone off #i think it's classique

100 notes · View notes

deeperdark · 4 years

Text

sólo conmigo

↳ joel pimentel

about: joel has a bit more of a jealous streak than he’d like to admit

author’s note: thank you for 400 followers? that’s so crazy? also i guess this goes out to miss @peachyvinyl because i didn’t know your name was lara until after i finished this lol enjoy

warning: mature content [dom!joel, choking, daddy kink, light bondage, sex toy usage, raw sex (wear condoms, folks), spit kink]

word count: 3k

richard had been eyeing her all night, watching the way she swirled her hips to the music that was blaring through the speakers in the living room. she looked so fucking delectable and he was just dying for a taste. she was always fairly receptive of his flirting, sometimes throwing a line or two back at him, so he figured tonight may as well be the night to act on it.

only, it wasn’t that simple. lara wasn’t richard’s for the taking in the way he thought she was; she and joel had been seeing each other— naked— for weeks and just hadn’t told anyone yet. joel prided himself on his discretion, believing that things of the sexual variety should be kept between partners instead of broadcasted for other people to know about. and lara knew this before getting involved with him, being one of his best friends, and he always had been quiet about his sexual escapades: which for some reason led her to believe that he was on the vanilla side, soft and romantic, and even a bit submissive. but she was sorely mistaken.

“that outfit, nena... it’s just not fair.” richard’s eyes raked her body shamelessly, wedging his bottom lip between his teeth as he caught her attention.

she giggled as her dancing slowed came to a halt, her hand reaching up to adjust the shirt strap of her matching pink set. “i have my moments.”

“they’re more than just moments, trust me.” heat flooded her face as he stepped closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist as the song changed to one of his current favorites: reggaeton by j balvin. “dance with me?”

lara couldn’t find it in herself to say no, too entranced by his body and demeanor to turn down the chance to dance so intimately. he swiftly turned her around so she faced away from him, the fluidity of the beat washing through them as they danced. she moved her hips in sync with his, letting him guide her to the beat both meticulously and effortlessly. he started to get a bit too handsy for it to just be for the sake of the dance but she loved it, her heart racing at the way his fingers curled around her frame. right as the song started to slow down he gripped her tighter, rotating his hips towards her in long suave strides.

joel didn’t like it one bit. he was watching from the kitchen, crumpled cup of water in hand as he watched them occupy the dance floor. he couldn’t storm up to them in a jealous rage without exposing his exploits with lara, so he focused on his breathing and waited for their two and a half minutes to end. when it did, she parted from him breathlessly with flushed cheeks and wild eyes. he couldn’t make out what she was saying to him but he was praying it wasn’t something along the lines of asking him for another dance.

he couldn’t bear being a bystander any more, abandoning his cup on the countertop before making his way over to the two. “hey, lara, i didn’t know you were still here. thought you said you were going home.” there was a certain glint in his eyes that told her not to embarrass him. they both very knew well that she hadn’t said anything about going home and that joel was just looking for an out.

she ignored his pressing gaze. “guess i got... distracted.”

“well i can give you a ride, i was just about to head out.”

richard cocked his eyebrow, picking up on the slightly territorial vibe that joel was giving off. he figured it probably had something to do a crush joel had on lara, the sting of unrequited love getting to the younger boy. he was going to interject, telling joel to chill out and let them enjoy themselves. but lara stepped in, flashing a smile at the both of them. “yeah! that’d be great, thanks.”

neither of them said anything on the car ride back to her apartment. lara wasn’t sure if he was mad or just wanted to pull her away from the party scene to have her all to himself. she normally would’ve rested her hand against the tight muscle of his thigh, a soothing gesture as he drove with only one hand bothering to grip the steering wheel. but she wasn’t sure of his intentions so she kept to herself, watching the cars they passed in the late hours of the night.

he got out of the car first, not mad enough to skip opening the car door for her or placing his hand on the small of her back as they walked up to her place. she keyed them in quickly, slipping out of her heels before locking the door behind them. joel wordlessly headed to her bedroom and that was lara’s cue to follow, her heart rate spiking and panties soaking as she trailed behind him.

joel stripped himself of his t-shirt, tossing it near her hamper out of habit. the full length mirror adjacent her bed caught his immediate attention, pulling her to rest against his chest as he stood in front of it. “do you like upsetting me, nena?” she shook her head slowly, afraid to look him in the eyes as he reprimanded her. “nuh-uh, up. tell me, do you like acting up?” his hand wrapped around her chin, forcing her head up so she’d look at him through the mirror.

“n-no, i don’t, i’m sorry.”

his grip on her tightened as his other hand drifted against the front of her skirt, pressing against her core. “then tell me, baby, why did you tonight? why’d you dance with him instead of me?” she knew better than to explain herself to him. he didn’t really care if richard propositioned her or that the dance didn’t mean all that much to her. joel wasn’t looking for her excuses or justifications, he just wanted her to make up for it.

he unzipped her skirt, letting it pool around her ankles as he pulled the top off of her languidly. he licked his lips at the sight of her breasts on full display, letting his hands wander to tweak her nipples. she let out a sigh of content at the contact, pressing her ass against him. if he was in that mood he wouldn’t have let that slide, and most certainly would’ve punished her for doing anything without his permission.

“get on your knees.” she dropped down to her knees for him, staring at his commanding stance through the mirror. he looked dangerously calm as he palmed himself through his joggers, eyes fixated on her gorgeous body. “who do you belong to, babygirl?”

he joined her on the carpeted flooring, pushing down on her back to request for her to get on all fours. she winced as he pulled down her panties and spanked her roughly, not at all satisfied by her hesitance to respond. “you.”

“damn right.” he pushed down his pants and boxers just far enough to free his throbbing cock, lining up with her entrance before abruptly pushing in. his hips jutted forward until he bottomed out, hands reaching up to grasp her breasts. “get yourself off on me, princess.”

she thought it was a trap, some malicious trick that she’d be punished for acting upon. her only options were to either ask him if he was serious or to simply oblige, the former most likely leading her to punishment for questioning him. so she leveled herself on her hands, grabbing onto the short fibers of the carpet for support as she rolled her hips back onto him.

“that’s it, that’s a good girl.” he nudged her chin upward, locking eyes with her in the mirror as she continued to work her ass backwards. “look at yourself, you’re so pretty getting yourself off on me.”

lara couldn’t help the whimper that left her mouth, a desperate cry for more than what she was getting. she couldn’t ask him for more because that would be greedy, and he was already being gracious enough by letting her use him for her own pleasure after what she pulled with richard. but the curly red-haired man was far from her mind as joel kissed along her shoulder, letting his tongue dance against her warm skin as she tried to imitate the feeling he so easily gave her.

joel’s hands latched onto her waist as he started to thrust into her, his hips smacking against her ass mercilessly. her moans were spewing out of her at an alarming rate as he held onto her, her arms starting to give out as he picked up speed. there was the feeling she couldn’t replicate no matter how hard she tried, the intoxicating sensation of his cock filling her up so perfectly. “i’m the only one who can make you feel this good, baby. remember that.” he pulled her up by her hair, turning her head just a bit so he could whisper in her ear. “you gonna cum for daddy? like the little slut you are?”

she was chanting yes like was the only word she knew. lara was expecting him to pull away at any minute now, changing his mind and refusing to let her cum just yet: but he didn’t. he continued the delicious assault on her core all the way through her orgasm, clenching around him repeatedly as her eyes threatened to shut. “keep them open. look at me, nena.”

she pried her eyes open, keeping her eyes on him in her completely blissed out state. he loved seeing her like that, completely and utterly fucked for him and only him. his thrusts slowed to a stop before he pulled out of her, helping her to her feet as he rose to his. “get on the bed.”

joel retrieved one of the silk scarves she often fashioned around her hairline and something else she couldn’t see, glancing over to where she lay sprawled out for him. her breathing was still ragged as she recovered from the first state of euphoria, lips flushed a deeper pink as she awaited his next move. a chuckle tumbled past his lips at the soft gripe she croaked out upon seeing him finish undressing himself, his beautiful thighs calling her name. all it took was the slight shake of his head for her to know that she wouldn’t be getting that from him anytime soon. he settled between her legs on his stomach, grouping her hands together to rest atop her belly before tying them together with the tender fabric. “i promise i’ll be so good, daddy.”

“mmm, i know you will be.” joel pushed himself up on his hands to kiss her, his tongue overpowering hers as he pressed pause on his domineering role to show her a little love. his hand brushed along the side of her face lovingly as the kiss grew in intensity, lara tugging against the scarf, to no avail, out of habit of grasping the nape of his neck. he pulled away reluctantly, settling back between her legs with a light thud. she suddenly heard the unmistakable buzzing of her favorite toy, the small pink bullet vibrator that she’d used countless times while thinking of him. “stay still or else the rest of the night won’t be very good for you.”

he slid the vibrator along the inside of her thigh as his tongue laved along her glistening slit, a stifled moan reaching joel’s ears as he stopped at her clit. next was the other thigh as his lips puckered around her clit, free arm hooking around her leg to insure she wouldn’t move. he was dragging the vibrator dangerously close to her core and she knew she wouldn’t be able to obey him for very long. but she couldn’t tell him to stop because it felt too good.

his tongue circled her clit as he placed the bullet at her entrance and slipped it in, a choked sob tearing through her throat as she did her best not to move. “papi please, can i move?”

“but you’re doing so well. you can fight it, can’t you?”

it was rhetorical and she knew it, telling him no couldn’t possibly be an option here. “i-i think so.” he turned up the setting on the vibrator, shaking his tongue back and forth against her clit as his hands shoved her legs against the mattress. “i can’t! it’s too much, i can’t do it.” he could feel her thighs beginning to shudder beneath him, the denial to move far too overwhelming her as her orgasm crept up on her.

“you can move baby, it’s okay.” her legs instantaneously clamped around him, a cry of his name ringing through the air as she came again. her eyes rolled back as the vibrator buzzed unrelentingly, prolonging her orgasm as her back arched off the mattress. joel didn’t pull it out, though, letting it judder her walls as she cried out incomprehensibly. he turned down the setting, taking to out of her only to rub it against her throbbing clit, coating her in her juices indolently.

he turned it off before she could reach her third high, licking the toy clean before placing back in her nightstand, returning to her shivering body with the cockiest smirk she’d ever seen. she let herself relax against the comforter, the sweat coating her skin cooling her down before she felt him tap his tip along her folds. “wait, wait, wait, i thought—”

“you thought we were finished? we’re far from it, pretty girl.”

her walls hugged him snuggly as he drove his hips into her, his length slipping into her easily with the slickness of her first two climaxes. “oh fuck, daddy.” he loved how responsive she was, so eager to please him and stroke his ego. her hands were clawing at his lower abdomen, so frantic in her need to touch him but his stance was unwavering.

“just take this cock like a good girl and maybe i’ll untie you.” she was nodding for him without even thinking about it, pulling her bound hands away from his stomach so he wouldn’t put off her reward. the way his tip kept nudging past her g-spot had tears in her eyes, the air in her lungs dissipating as he slammed into her over and over again. “who fucks you this good?”

his fingers wrapped around her throat as he choked her, squeezing at the sides of her neck just the way he knew she loved it. “you, joel.” it was so raspy and wretched that he plunged into her deeper, his pubic bone grazing her clit with every gratifying push of his hips.

“who do you get this feeling with baby?”

“only w-with you.”

he growled at her answer, drawing his free hand to her swollen bundle of nerves to rub circles into it. “only with me.” his primal possessiveness was enough to send her over the edge for the third time, creaming around his girth as her hips mindlessly bucked up towards his as the shockwaves overtook her body.

lara’s thighs were already sore from the night’s activities, the burn in her stomach from orgasm after orgasm leaving her sensitive to the slightest of touches. joel leaned down to kiss her again, moaning against her lips as his hands dipped down to untie her. her arms immediately wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer as their lips smacked in contrast to the silence surrounding them.

“can you gimme one more?”

she knew she could but she was just so sensitive. he had never overstimulated her like this and she was starting to think he had more limits of hers he planned on pushing. “one more.”

joel almost came right as he sheathed his cock back inside of her, the warm velvet of her walls like heaven after denying himself his own ecstasy for so long. he steadied himself on his forearms, snapping his hips forward wildly as she bit into her lower lip. “open up.” she gladly parted her lips, sticking out her tongue to accept the spit that dripped from his mouth into hers. “ay dios mio, such a fucking good girl.”

it wasn’t long before she was clenching around him again, legs twitching around him as chills ran down her spine. she tried to say something to encourage him, tell him how good he was to her and how he should cum, too. her throat was raw as she attempted to clear it, parting her lips ever so slightly to mumble, “cum inside me, daddy.”

his hips stuttered on command, his hot spurts of cum emptying inside of her as her teeth sunk into his shoulder. “take my cum, princess, just like the filthy cum slut you are.”

joel pulled out, much to her dismay, collecting his seed on his finger before licking it clean. her breath hitched at the feeling since she was still recovering, pulling the blankets up to cover herself. he joined her soon after, wrapping an arm around her soothingly.

“you know that i— you know i’m not interested in richard, right?” joel looked away from her, face going red from embarrassment. “he’s attractive and a great dancer, sure, but that’s all that was. i only wanna go home with you.”

“i... i know that, deep down maybe, but it’s hard to ignore the way you were looking at him.”

she peppered a kiss to the corner of his jaw, curling further into his chest. “whatever look was in my eye is nothing compared to what i feel for you. i promise.”

he let his head rest atop hers as exhaustion took over his body, sleeping lulling him in after having exerted so much energy. “good. but i only want you to dance like that with me from now on.”

#joel pimentel #joel pimentel smut #joel pimentel imagine #cnco #cnco smut #cnco imagine

473 notes · View notes

your-worst-knightmare · 4 years

Text

Broken Speech

Memory was a fleeting thing, nowadays. Whatever rose in that murky abyss drifted away just as quickly. It may have been a small mercy. Jay didn’t know. All he knew was now. And now was being shut up in the same elaborate room when the Mistress had no use for him.

The Mistress talked to him, sometimes. Sometimes it was idle conversation. Other times it was commands. Most times it was “Talk.”

He could, he knew that. But every time he tried, his mouth would be dry and his mind blank and the words never came.

The Mistress tried to help him. She really did. She gave him teachers. They died too easily. So the Mistress gave him books. They were left unread. Not because of lack of want, but he simply couldn’t. He knew how, but his body refused to listen to him once again.

As so he was stuck with the fleeting library of his own memory. Not that there was much he could recall, anyway.

Today, the Mistress came to visit him. “You will watch my son, Jay.” A command. She was in no rush to speak, and the words flowed like sweet honey. Jay envied her words. He so wanted them, but they refused to let him hold onto them. “He will be your brother. Treat him as such.”

From the corner of his eye, Jay watched a small child stride into the room sourly.

“Be good, Damian,” the Mistress called as she left.

The boy tutted. “I do not require a caretaker,” he scoffed, mostly to himself. He turned to Jay. “And you are not my brother.”

Jay kept staring ahead blankly. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Why had the Mistress left her son with him? He kept staring.

“Well say something, you incompetent fool!” The boy leapt at him, all intentions turned towards attack. He was slammed to the floor the next moment. It was all reflex to Jay. He hadn’t meant to flip the boy, but his mind and body seemed to be twain nowadays.

The boy growled, but didn’t attack again. Instead, he flopped down onto a cushion near Jay. Close enough to observe him if necessary. He grabbed a book that he had brought with him and began to read.

Jay watched, not having moved a muscle since putting the boy in his place. The stared at the cover of the book, in some vain effort to absorb its knowledge. He yearned for it, but like many things, it didn’t seem to enter his mind.

An hour passed. The boy continued reading. Jay remained frozen. The boy looked up suddenly. “Mother mentioned you were from America. I am currently studying American literature. It may be a clumsy language, but there’s hope yet. Would you like to hear a poem?” Despite the boy’s friendly words, his tone was frosty. The Mistress likely told the child to speak to him. He would have remained silent otherwise.

But– at the chance to hear something that would feed his mind, Jay fought to speak. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes. Please. No words came. His face remained blank. The boy looked at him, huffed, and began reading anyway.

“Do not go gentle into that good night.” The words were music to Jay’s mind. He savoured each syllable slowly, picking it apart and inspecting it. “Old age should burn and rage at close of day.” Jay found himself reading along in his mind. He knew them! The words! From the before– before memory. “Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.”

Jay’s vision became blurry. Those weren’t tears, were they? But he was grateful so grateful that the boy had read. That he had reminded Jay of the before. Of the warmth in a vast library. Of kind voices speaking to him as his fingers brushed aging paper. And that was something he would have a hard time repaying.

___________

Damian al-Ghul did not require a caregiver. He was six years old. He could take care of himself. He had thought that Mother would understand that by now. But it seemed she didn’t, even after his previous caretakers had vanished under mysterious circumstances.

It wasn’t just this new caretaker that irked him. Mother and insisted that he was his brother. Ridiculous! If Damian had a brother, he would have known. When he first met Jay, he almost laughed. Jay couldn’t even be considered qualified to watch a chicken. The boy’s expression remained blank he entire time he was spoken to. Damian expected some sort of reaction, at least, but Jay gave none.

That is, until Damian attacked him. Jay was proficient in combat, Damian gave him that. Not that the boy could do much else. Perhaps that was why Mother had chosen him.

Damian resigned himself to reading under Jay’s watch. At remembering Mother’s request to talk to Jay, he figured he should read aloud. That technically counted as speech. Then Damian would not have to be distracted from his studies by idle, one-sided conversations.

Jay seemed... happier after Damian read. Which was odd, because he had not previously shown any hint of emotion. Damian decided to disregard it.

Much to his annoyance, he was required to stay with Jay the next day as well. And the next week. By the time the end of the month rolled around, Damian had consistently spent most afternoons in Jay’s lonely chamber.

It was a late Friday afternoon when Damian returned to Jay’s room, carrying two steaming cups of tea. They smelled sweet and floral, reminding Damian of Mother’s perfume. He set one cup in front of Jay, knowing the boy would drink when he wanted to.

“I shall resume our reading of Hamlet,” Damian informed him. “I suggest you drink your tea whilst I read, lest it go cold again, Jay.”

Had Damian not spent the past month with him, he would have missed the slight smile that tugged on the boy’s lips. Satisfied that Jay was listening, Damian began reading. His words were clear and each character seemed to speak through him when he read. “To die, to sleep –/ To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub,/ For in this sleep of death what dreams may come…”

Jay, who had been nursing his cup of tea, stopped suddenly at the line. Damian had learned to take his subtle clues at communication rather seriously, so he closed the book.

“What is it Jay?”

The boy’s eyes snapped around the room wildly, as if he did not recognize the place. It was vastly different from his usual blank, placid expression. He opened his mouth to speak. “Br’ce?” His words were garbled and his voice was raspy from disuse, but it was speech all the same.

Damian sucked in a breath. Jay was talking. Talking. Mother would be ecstatic. “No Jay, I am–”

“Day’m’n.” Jay’s answer has surprised him. But Jay knew his name. He knew Damian! Mother would be ecstatic.

“Yes, J- akhi,” Damian beamed. Jay, Damian supposed, was his brother. Mother had been right. he wouldn’t have been particularly concerned about Jay otherwise.

He ceased his reading for the day and in favour of encouraging Jay to speak again. Another word, for Mother, he pleaded.

By the time the last of the sun’s rays were starting to disappear from the horizon did Mother arrive, as she always did. Damian did not need to be coddled, but he appreciated when she came to see him. Damian had made no progress with Jay, but he was still excited to share the news.

“Mother, i have most excellent–” he stopped upon seeing Mother’s grave expression. “What is it Mother?”

Mother opened a bag, filled with servant’s garments. “Help me dress Jay, child. You shall remain here, until I come to collect you afterward.”

Damian obeyed quickly. He was never one to question his Mother’s orders. However, something felt off. “ Jay spoke to me today,” he finally said.

Mother raised an eyebrow. “Did he now, dearest?”

“Yes. It was not much, but I believe he said both mine and Father’s names.”

She smiled sadly. “I am glad Jay was able to talk to you.But your brother has been able to say your Father’s name ever since he came to stay with us. However, you name is progress, i am sure.” She bent down to kiss Damian’s forehead before leading Jay out the door. “Sleep well, my pride.” With that, Mother left Damian alone with a sneaking suspicion that something wasn’t quite right.

Damian slipped out of his room and followed Jay’s lumbering figure in the poorly-lit hall. He lagged several feet behind Mother, which worked to Damian’s advantage.

The sinking feeling in Damian’s stomach worsened as Mother led Jay farther and farther down into the compound. There was only one place they could be going. The Lazarus Pit.

Grandfather had acquainted Damian with its waters when Damian was three. Needless to say, it was not his most pleasant memory. And Damian suspected for someone in Jay’s condition, the experience would be even worse.

Damian did not want to watch his brother go stumbling into that green crater, but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away. Mother had not even led Jay down half of the final staircase when she pushed him. Jay always fought back at a menacing touch, but never when it was Mother. The boy teetered at the edge of the platform before sinking into that ancient lake.

Damian’s breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. How could he? How could he when his brother had been thrown into a pit that was the very mother of insanity?

Time seemed to pass sluggishly. It was forever that Jay rested at the bottom of the pit. Then, hands started to claw their way to the surface. Their body and voice soon followed. Damian thought he was prepared. He wasn’t.

It was almost absurd. The silence that embroidered Jay’s fall could have been broken by a mere pin-drop. Upon his emergence, however– Damian pressed his hands to his ears. It was all he could do to block out Jay’s heart-wrenching cries.

It was worlds away from the raspy, stuttering voice those same lips had uttered hours before. Even from a distance, Damian could see the toxic green eyes the pit had cursed Jay with. He knew the rage the pit brought all too well.

Dusk had fully disappeared when Damian returned to Jay’s empty quarters. There was nothing Damian could do for him at the moment but the moment but wait.

He thought back to their first meeting. What was the poem he had read to Jay? Its words taunted him, but he could not seem to get the nagging thought out of his mind. Damian found the book and opened it, his eyes flitting to the final line. The irony was not lost on him. It could be all that was left of Jay now, if they weren’t lucky.

Yet Damian had a strange urge to read the line aloud. His fingers brushed over the words, reminiscing all those afternoons he spent with Jay. Afternoons he may not get again. “Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.”

The poem in this story is “Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night” by Dylan Thomas

#red hood #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #talia al ghul #lazarus pit #league of assassins #red hood lost days #fanfic #oneshot #dc comics #poetry #hamlet

48 notes · View notes

lee-em-dee · 5 years

Text

A Season 6 Bellarke Recap [a.k.a. the Receipts]

Before the finale airs, I thought we were due for a recap of some of the major B/C moments of Season 6, episode by episode.

6x01 “Sanctum”

[a.k.a. “It’s not crazy.”]

This felt like such a turning point for Bellarke, particularly on Bellamy’s end, because you can finally see him starting to fill in the blanks of their relationship. Clarke is so tentative and reticent about addressing the radio calls. Bellamy recognizes her vulnerability, understands the significance of this admission. And by assuring her “it’s not crazy” that she depended on him for six years, he reveals that he relied on her memory just as much, thus affirming the strength and stability of their relationship. Devotion is the name of the game.

6x02 “Red Sun Rising”

[a.k.a. “I don’t need you anymore.” + “This time, you die. Not me.”]

Talk about Foreshadowing™. This episode allowed audiences to get into the heads of each character (sans body snatching) and fully grasp what it is that drives/haunts them. Case in point, during Bellamy’s red sun psychotic episode, his compulsive need to protect and save his people is underscored, as is his deep-seated fear of being abandoned by/losing Clarke. This illustrates how, to a certain extent, Bellamy is terrified of how much he depends upon Clarke, knowing fully well the toll her death took on him for the past six years.

6x03 “The Children of Gabriel”

[a.k.a. “She is. She can speak for us.” + “We’ll bring Madi back. I promise.”]

Though the two are separated for the majority of this episode, Bellamy and Clarke’s “Together” partnership and co-leading dynamic are back in full force. Theirs is a relationship built on trust and mutual respect, a fact made very apparent when Bellamy doesn’t hesitate to allow Clarke to unilaterally conduct diplomatic affairs in Sanctum while he reconnects with their people. Likewise, Clarke entrusts the safety of her daughter to Bellamy in spite of the calamitous series of events that transpired in Season 5. It’s truly a redressal of S5, and it establishes how a relationship as profound as theirs is only strengthened by past disputes, betrayals, and grievances.

6x04 “The Face Behind the Glass”

[a.k.a. “You’re my family, too.” + “You’re too important to me.”]

I found this moment particularly significant when juxtaposed with the B/C dynamic in Season 2. Clarke’s “You’re too important to me” is very reminiscent of her S2 “I can’t lose you, too,” only this time around Clarke doesn’t attempt to diminish Bellamy’s value to her and, instead, recognizes that her love for him is a strength, not a weakness. She conveys to him how deeply she regrets abandoning him at the pits (much like her abandonment of him at the gates of Arkadia in S2), vowing to never lose sight of the fact that he is and always will be family to her.

6x05 “The Gospel of Josephine”

[a.k.a. “How are we on different sides of this?”+ “Who are you?”]

The strength of B/C’s relationship is even further bolstered with Josephine acting as a foil character to Clarke. Bellamy and Clarke know and understand each other so well, and her absence is glaringly obvious to Bellamy when he recognizes how uncharacteristically out-of-sync they are. He is the first and only person to have figured out that Clarke had been bodysnatched purely from knowing who she is as a person—her mannerisms, the way she speaks, the way she thinks, the things she values most (the same cannot be said of her own mother, but c’est la vie).

6x06 “Memento Mori”

[a.k.a. “...the hardest decision of his life: he will not take revenge.”]

Bellamy reveals the depth of his love for Clarke not by being consumed with his desire to exact revenge on her murderers, but rather by pushing aside his rage and grief in order to honor her. His inconsolable, bereaved, emotionally volatile state screams at him to perpetuate the cycle of war and violence, yet he overrrides his natural bloodthirsty instincts, all for Clarke. Bellamy is a fighter, and him choosing not to fight to preserve Clarke’s legacy is precisely why his love for her must be true and abiding—a love that stands the test of time and transcends death.

6x07 “Nevermind”

[a.k.a. “You’re too afraid to face him.” + “I’ll take your deal.” vs. “We’re gonna get her back.”]

The noticeable absence of Bellamy in Clarke’s mindspace (save for the drawings of him on her cell walls) is very weighty, especially when accompanied by Mindspace Blodreina’s spiel about Clarke‘s subconscious being unable to conjure Bellamy up due to fear. Fear that he will always resent her for her mistakes, fear that he views her as a selfish monster. It’s evident that Clarke values Bellamy’s perception of her to an unparalleled degree. Pieces of him are scattered throughout her mindspace (notice how a sketch of him is hanging in the area of her mindspace that symbolizes home, happiness, security, and family). He is literally ingrained in her head. This makes her decision to sacrifice herself to Josephine all the more meaningful. It is only when Clarke assumes Bellamy had given up on her without a second thought that she, herself, gives up. What she doesn’t get to see is how devastated he had been by her death and how determined he is to get her back when he discovers she’s still alive.

6x08 “The Old Man and the Anomaly”

[a.k.a. “You only care about Clarke.” ATTA BOY, JORDAN]

Bellamy is a man on a mission, and he’ll stop at nothing to save Clarke, regardless of the fact that doing so potentially endangers his people and their prospects for peace. While it’s inaccurate to suggest that Bellamy “only [cares] about Clarke,” you cannot deny that in this precarious situation she takes priority above all else. Saving Clarke is more important to Bellamy than ensuring that the peace deal for his people is fleshed out without a hitch. “He’d do anything for her. To protect her. Just makes sense.” Yet another S2 parallel. Bellamy will do whatever it takes to bring Clarke back, consequences by damned. If that entails leaving his people to fend for themselves, then so be it.

6x09 “What You Take With You”

[a.k.a. “Your people are in trouble. I guess you care about her more.” + “Now that’s a weird relationship, isn’t it?” + “I won’t let you die.” + “I’m not leaving you.”]

This episode was truly an ode to the history between Bellamy and Clarke—a complex history characterized by its highs and lows, by reconciliation and betrayal—but a history of devotion, nonetheless. Bellamy’s interactions with Josephine are enlightening, to say the least. The clinical way she breaks down the complicated relationship between Bellamy and Clarke is not only a testament to who she is as a person (i.e. a psychopath) but also to how deeply B/C must care for each other. In spite of everything that’s happened between them, their love and devotion to one another remains. Josephine leaves no stone unturned when it comes to recounting the bad and the ugly aspects of Bellamy and Clarke’s relationship, yet she redacts all of the good (those deep, intimate, emotional moments must be difficult to comprehend through the eyes of a psychopath). Everything about this episode—from Bellamy’s heartfelt “I won’t let you die,” to the terror and desperation in his eyes when J!Clarke is on the chopping block, to Clarke’s adamant “I’m not leaving you”—affirms that their bond is unbreakable.

6x10 “Matryoshka”

[a.k.a. THAT SCENE]

It takes real acting chops to simultaneously rip my heart in half and stitch it back together, yet, within the span of two measly minutes, Bob Morley accomplished the feat seamlessly. When Bellamy is confronted with the reality that Clarke is dead on that operating table, his greatest fears in 6x02 paradoxically come alive before his very own eyes. “I’m not losing her again.” “I need you.” “I’m not letting you go.” The shift from denial to desperation to devastation is as breathtaking as it is heart-breaking to watch. Speaking of the heart, what elevated the CPR scene to a caliber rivaling that of poetic cinema was its overt symbolism. Bellamy is Clarke’s heart. Clarke is Bellamy’s heart. When she’s trapped in her own head, it’s Bellamy’s voice that brings her back and jumpstarts her fighter instincts. When her heart’s stopped beating, he pumps it for her. He’s begging for her to come back to him because she is his touchstone, his other half. “The heart and the head.” “The head and the heart.” In other words, we belong Together. In other words, I love you, and I don’t want to live without you.

6x11 “Ashes to Ashes”

[a.k.a. “You saved me.” “So how do we save everyone that I left behind?” + “For Monty.” “For Monty.”]

The guilt sets in for Bellamy as he begins to think about the potential repercussions of his actions. Leaving everything behind to save Clarke was purely a heart move, and now that he’s got Clarke back, his head is starting to punish itself for shutting down and abandoning his people. Bellamy is off kilter and guilt-ridden. His plans for a peace deal fell apart, and he’s terrified that he won’t be able to protect his people just as he had failed to protect Clarke before (a 6x02 callback). Now, more than ever, it’s evident that Bellamy relies on Clarke to center him. She is his voice of reason, the head to his heart—a heart that, in a lot of ways, beats for her, as evidenced by his adamant refusal to allow her to jeopardize her life by acting as the inside man. Objectively, he knows her plan is the smart play and the only way to ensure that they “do better” per Monty’s charge, but he can’t risk losing her again. Bellamy eventually conceding to her plan illustrates how ideologically-attuned they are now. They’ve never been more Together, and, above all else, they uphold faith in each other.

6x12 “Adjustment Protocol”

[a.k.a. “I left them.” + “What took you so long?”]

Though this was definitely more of a fast-paced, plot-driven episode, the flashes of Bellarke peppered throughout are very telling, teeing up a major emotional moment for them in 6x13. While waiting for Clarke to shut down the shield, Bellamy is once again plagued by guilt for leaving his people behind without a second thought. Octavia’s verbal consolations do little to ease his mind, which goes to show how tormented he is by his actions. He genuinely believes dropping everything to save Clarke was a selfish decision on his part because he couldn’t bear to live without her. It wasn’t so much about Clarke needing Bellamy than it was about Bellamy needing Clarke.

He needs her. Not just as a co-leader, not just as a partner. Bellamy needs Clarke. His person. Never mind that his people may need him. If Clarke’s in trouble, he’ll go through hell and back to save her.

Pivot to the Becho reunion. Bellamy’s just been reunited with his girlfriend, the person he’d entrusted to protect his people while he went off to galavant around the woods with J!Clarke. The pure relief on his face upon being reassured that Echo okay is apparent. He left her behind, she was in trouble, but now she’s okay. He’s comforted by her presence in the same way that he’s comforted by the knowledge that a member of his family is safe.

But that look on Bellamy’s face when his eyes meet Clarke’s and everything around them seems to melt away? That’s more than relief. That’s yearning. That’s devotion. That’s “You came through. I knew you would.” That’s love.

#bellarke #the 100 #bellamy x clarke #analysis #season 6 recap #mine*

690 notes · View notes

codyfernmorelikedaddyfern · 4 years

Text

We Won’t Have To Hide - Xavier x fem!reader // Part Two

This was requested by @hains-j :)

Inspired by episode 8′s ending because I’m a firm believer that this Xavier deserves to go to Heaven.

Read Part One.

Description: Death is a funny thing. When everyone is pulled out of their Limbo and Xavier finally reunites with his Juliet, not everything goes as smoothly as they would have hoped.

Warnings: I think you look beautiful today. Strong language, mention of death, unprotected underwater sex (No consequences in the afterlife so don’t knock it ‘till you wrap it), angst.

Word Count: 5075 (Really sorry).

That ever longing dread would not leave her chest. Her feet helped her wander around the woods. How long had it been? Hours? No, she watched the sun rise and fall past the horizon more times that she could count. Months? Years? The emptiness was the only way she could remember she wasn’t alive anymore and when she remembered, anger and confusion would cloud her mind and she would try and climb the tallest tree possible and lose the sight of herself.

She would see them too. Ray with his blood splattered hoodie. Montana still wore that dress she had on when Brooke ended her life. Chet still looked at her with the same sad eyes he had before leaving the cabin. But she was too angry to even realise they were all dwelling here. Even Xavier.

She didn’t talk to anyone. The only people she had actually interacted with would be scared visitors coming on the grounds of the camp in search of a thrill. She would linger around the shooting range, sometimes seating right in the spot her boyfriend had collapsed against her.

In some twisted turn of event, the last embrace they shared pushed him to post mortem stardom. People knew his name now. They knew about the tragic Romeo and Juliette of Camp Redwood. But that didn’t bring him back to her. She sometimes thought she would see him in the corner of her eyes, still wearing the same lilac jacket he wrapped around her when she bled in his arms.

When she wasn’t sitting by the targets, she would be longing by the docks. That’s where Chet found her in tears. He didn’t have the same jacket anymore. Pain nestled in her chest, she couldn’t talk. She didn’t know how to. She didn’t know how to talk to him, at least.

She tried however. But whenever her ex-boyfriend sat by her, the only thing she could do was cry for hours on end. He would hold her against him for as long as she needed, his love still burning in his chest but hers was gone and she couldn’t break from her aimless wandering without a spark.

Xavier swore he could hear her weep sometimes deep in the dark of the night. But he couldn’t find her and the great pain it exposed him to turn into anger. He could smell her lingering perfume where he fell to her arms in a last embrace. It’s like she was here, right next to him, but whenever he would turn around, she would scatter away like a puff of smoke.

What angered him the most was when he would smell her around Chet. And soon he would forget who he was and spewed his anger and rage on the first living being he could set his hands on. He felt alive when he would plunge the blade into innocent soul’s chests and Montana helped him harvest his anger.

Until one night when his instinct took over him and he followed it. It had reached her too and, for the first time, she felt something different. Alive?

Her heart was beating out of her chest and he felt it. He grew more and more impatient while his feet carried him. She heard the creaking of the twigs in the distance and she stilled her erratic race. She saw the targets in the distance and she quickly made her way to it. It was that a sixth sense and it was pulling her there.

Another group of visitors must have been around recently because she could smell it. Arousal. Love. Mischief. Anger. When she turn her face in direction of the smell as if she had been a predator hunting her prey, Xavier’s steps stopped, coming to terms with the image of the figure standing.

Like a deer in the headlights, she was still, her breathing stopped, her heart too, she thought. He stared at his prey, then took a step forward and then another one. “(Y/N)?” his voice suddenly sounded desperate. And maybe it was. It thrummed in her chest.

“Xavier?” sounded like a whisper. Quickly closing the space between one another, his toned arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her up against his chest while her fingers got lost in his hair, pushing his face down the crook of her neck.

When a loud gasp filled Xavier’s lung with her scent, a warmth he had not fell in what felt like years spread through his veins, quickly radiating in the figure perched in his arms. Tears spilled against his cheeks once more and dripped against her top. He held her up for hours and she drew small patterns in his hair like she used to when he would crash to her place after a movie night.

His lips found hers and her heart found his and for a kiss, they felt whole again. Colours popped up on her cheeks and impatience built in his stomach. But impatience was worthless now that he would be dwelling here forever. Her feet hit the ground softly and, refusing to part his lips from hers, he leaned her down against one of the targets. Their targets. The soil, still soaked with their blood.

Her leg rode up against his waist, pushing him intimately closer to her. Xavier could feel his heart practically bursting out of her chest. He painfully broke the kiss and soft pants escaped his plump lips, now sore from the passionate embrace she was clamping him into.

(Y/N)’s gaze was erratic. It was as if she had forgotten what he looked like in those lingering months, or maybe year, and she was learning how to love him again. His features were soft and smooth again, his eyes heavenly blue and his earring twinkled in the corner of her eyes. Whether he kept the blisters or not did not matter to her. He was the most beautiful soul she had even laid her eyes upon and it all flood back in her memories.

The first date they went on when he had dropped everybody off after a long session and he had grown a pair and asked if she wanted to go to the diner across the road from her flat to share a milkshake.

The first time he invited her back to his place when they had spent the evening dancing their worry away in a club and she fell asleep on his couch before he even put a movie on.

The first time she brought him back to her place, the night they had allowed each other to delve deeper than just a simple kiss and he had spent hours inside of her.

The first time he made love to her after he had taken her to a restaurant and she had accepted to go steady with him.

The last time he made love to her and he moaned his deep feelings for her in the sweet harmony of their blissful sighs the morning before they left for Camp Redwood. The morning before they died.

His body shifted out of her grip and for a second, she was confused. But when she saw the petite frame of Montana and heard her call his name, she understood. His gaze fell to his feet as he gently placed her back on the floor. A blush crept against the cheeks of Xavier. “Romeo found his Juliet, I see” the bleached blond girl spat. (Y/N)'s body tensed at the venom laced in Tana's voice, her eyes looking up at her boyfriend for some sort of answers.

“Montana, please don't” he said softly while she stepped closer to the couple. “Don't what, Xavier? Don't tell her what happened when she refused to show up?”. The (Y/H/C) took a few steps forwards, propping her stance in front of her lover. “Don't tell her about the blood? About the murders? Don't tell her what, Xavier?” her voice was harsh, cold, calculated. Ray and Chet pulled themselves out of the cabin they were in after hearing their friend's voice

The (Y/E/C) gaze fell into into his blue ones, confusion and pain in her eyes. “Don't tell her about US?” she highlighted again, making her opponent freeze. “You told me she didn't what to see me any more!” a breath caught the back of Xavier's throat as he stared at Montana before focusing back on his girlfriend “I promise, baby, it was just a kiss”.

His digits reached for her touch but she avoided it, causing something to chatter deep inside of the boy's chest. “(Y/N), I promise, it was nothing more than that.” he tried again to hold her but she slipped away like a plume of smoke. Tears weld in his eyes as he watched her expression change from confusion to sheer pain. “You knew” the crying girl pointed her finger at Montana who could only bite her lip to suppress the massive grin threading itself on her face.

“You knew how much it killed me to be in this fucked up Limbo”. The boys looked at each other, confused. “I cried against you for days. I told you how much fucking pain I was in” a deep breath between her heavy sobs. “I told you how it destroyed me to be away from him, yet you went behind my back and did what?”. (Y/N) brought her hand to her mouth, biting harshly on her knuckles to the point of nearly drawing blood. Her other hand clutched at her hips.

Xavier's eyes were already wet, the words of his girlfriend twisting the knife she had plunged deep in his heart. When he looked towards Tana, she was already prowling towards him, her gaze fixed on the other girl. “I considered you my best friend, Montana. I cared for you, I lodged you when you got kicked out. I let you sleep under my roof, eat my food, share my bed. I pulled you out of your shit and that how you thank me?” the broken voice of (Y/N) bounced off the walls of the cabins.

Chet pushed his brows together and looked back at his friend, asking her if it was true, to which she sheepishly nodded. “She was going to hurt you, Chet” Montana tried to defend herself. “She moved on from me, Montana. And as much as I hate to admit it, I knew it” the ex-boyfriend replied. Crumbling with her tears, the (Y/H/C) crouched to the ground, her teeth sinking once more against the delicate skin of her knuckles now stark white from how tight her fists were.

“She didn’t look like she was when you were cradling her” the blonde replied causing hair to stand against the back of the neck of the tall brunette. “Because she’s my best friend and needed someone to talk to while you were too busy trying to take advantage of Xavier”. (Y/N) stood to her feet, the words rippling through her like a million daggers. Her gaze was clouded, the rest of the conversation was blurred.

Her body turned towards the other girl, her eyes now locked on her while she attempted to get closer to the tall blonde. The step of her legs were the only things she could here as she sprung forward, lunging at the other one. The soft pads of her fingers coiled around her throat and pushed the both of them to the ground, boiling with the anger she had accumulated over the days, months, years?

She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had started storing that rage within her but what she knew was that letting it go through the heavy punches she was delivering to her old friend felt great. The guttural shouts escaping her chest were only adding fuel to the burning fire in her mind and hands.

Xavier tried to pull both of the untwined bodies but his feet were glued to the spot. The animalistic urges gushing out of his girlfriend becoming a painful display she had hoped she would have never allowed. The words she had spoken. The words Chet had spoken. Montana’s body language. It all twisted his mind and he clutched his temples as if it would avoid his brain from spilling out.

It was Chet who managed to pry open the violent embrace. It had never been a problem for him to carry (Y/N) and he wasn’t ready to let go of her until she had calmed down to a gentle sobbing mess. His digits pulled on her hair to attempt to soothe the burning flames, shushing and hushing. Ray quickly went to Montana, her face now bruised and bloodied from the maniac assault she had just gone through. His coloured hands shook her shoulders, trying to reason with the blonde but the only thing she could do was let her own anger build up.

A feral groan escaped her lungs, pushed off of her friend and darted off into the night, the only traces of her being the shame and guilt she was dropping like a prey’s scent. She ran and ran, thankful that her stamina had now reached new heights since her passing. She ran until the only thing she could hear was the throbbing beats on her heart, the distant wails of her friends now lost in the woods just like she was.

Once the anger was gone and (Y/N)’s body stopped trembling in the tight grip on her ex-boyfriend, her eased her out of his arms while checking that she could stand on her own. The familiar blue gaze fell in her own and his lips parted to speak. “I’m so sorry, I swear” he whispered. She just looked at him, her face torn in a heartbroken expression.

Her hands pushed Chet’s further away, cutting off their connection and her feet carried her away from the group, silent. She did not have any tears left to shed but if she could be producing them still, she swore she would have spent days weeping.

What an incredible thing it was to be this ghastly spirit only allowing others to see you whenever you saw fit. And (Y/N) used that ability until she was ready again. And it burned a hole through her chest once more. She would watch Xavier lament by their target, hear his sorry pleas he would whisper in the wind like you would speak to a tomb.

She would smell him when she turned her face to the wind. Once more, he could smell her lingering scent too. This time he knew their words were true. She did not want to see him. She did not want to see any of them.

His pain lingered for some time then finally settled and once hers did too, she would allow him to see her shadow through the woods. She would allow him to feel the soft touch of her hands while he would shut his eyes for long enough.

The night she sat on the dock, her legs dangling above the water, Xavier thought it might have been a mirage. The moon was high in the sky, rippling against the water of the lake and shimmering across her frame. He had to do a double take to make sure it wasn’t his eyes failing him once more. Then her scent made his heart flutter once more and he gingerly stepped closer, afraid she would scatter away once more like vapour.

His heart nearly dropped when the creaking of his feet against the degrading wood, obviously alerting her of his presence. For a second, he wasn’t sure if it was her, troubled she really was an illusion. But she looked over her shoulders, threw him a glance, then looked back on the horizon. (Y/C)’s hand gently patted the spot next to her like she had already done so many times when something would bother her and she needed to talk to him about it in front of a cup of tea against the comfort of his couch. She would remain silent until the lump in her throat would untie from her vocal chords and she could allow herself to speak.

Xavier accepted the silent invitation and plopped down next to her. She pulled her legs up, crossing them while she gently traced patterns on her skin. His eyes drank her features, drench in the soft light of the moon. He wanted to talk to her. Desperately. But that was one on the rules. She needed to be ready. Her gaze flew up to the sky. It had been the same sky they witnessed that night he realised he liked her.

They had all gathered on the roof of her apartment complex to watch a meteorite shower and he had forgotten his own blanket, obliged to share hers, the close proximity igniting something he had never noticed. He watched her look at the star and was definitely taken aback. But she was still with Chet then, or at least he thought she was when he noticed the purple tainting the spot on back of her ear. The same spot he pressed his lips against before he told her he loved her many months after.

For a split second it felt like she was gone but when the creaking of the docks warned Xavier, she was standing there with a thick blanket, gingerly wrapping it across the baby blue top he was wearing. She lowered herself next to him, brushing her thigh against his before she hooked her fingers over the hem of the covers, wrapping it against her once more. He placed his hands behind him for leverage as he watched the stars fell from the sky just like he did on that night she kick started his heart.

“This isn’t the most comfortable position now that I think about it” the girl’s voice spoke, a halting breath escaping the chest of the boy by her side. Her voice was probably what he had missed the most. “Can I sit between your legs, please” she gently said, looking over at him and being rewarded by a nod. “Hang on” he whispered. A shiver crossed her skin and the hair of the back of her neck stood on end, but not because of the cold this time. Xavier shifted to sit behind her, his legs wrapped on either sides of hers. Softly, as if she was afraid of hurting him, she wrapped her hands in his large ones and pull is chest against her back.

Alive. That’s how he felt while being pressed against her spine. His temple went to rest on her shoulder and his eyes fluttered closed, getting himself drunk off of her scent and it felt like his heart was beating once more. (Y/N) laced her fingers in his soft locks, pulling a gentle sigh from him. A gentle smirk crawled on her face and she broke the embrace to spin and rest on her knees, her face inches from his.

He didn’t push his luck. He just left her to her own devices. He allowed her to take what she wanted because he knew she would give it back tenfold. He would let her move them and their own pace like they had even when her heart was unbroken like the first time they consumed each other. Her knees parted above his hips, pushing his legs closed and she sat on his laps, looking back at him.

She had to learn it all over again. The touches. The attention. The cravings. The desire. The love dripping out of their pores. She had to turn his again and he was fine with that. When it all started, he was the one who needed her and now it was back to square one.

Her hand sprung forward gingerly while she settled on his thighs. “Hi. I’m (Y/N). Mind being my boyfriend?”. Crimson sprawled across his cheeks and his palm linked to hers in friendly handshake. “I’m Xavier, it’s a pleasure to meet you, girlfriend”. His other hand reached her face, soothingly stroking the skin of her cheek after pushing her hair out of the way.

As much as he wanted control, she had always been the more dominant one because he was broken and she held the pieces together. He lavished in her touches and reassuring words and when she gently pressed a kiss to his lips and gently laying him down on the wood of the docks, the familiar throbbing of his heart reminded him how much love he had for his girl.

His hands went to rest on her waist and hers were grazing against the thin mesh of his shirt. “We were meant to get married, get a house and a pack of dogs, white picket fence and all” she broke the kiss and guilt seared his heart. “Maybe a couple of kids” he carried on, the pad of his thumb drawing a small circle on her cheek, whipping off the small tear threatening to spill from her (Y/E/C) gaze.

“But at least, we have eternity with each other so that’s sort of like marriage, isn’t it” she whispered against his lips. “And looks like the box of condoms you packed in your suitcase is going to be useless now that there is no consequences anymore” she finished before she pressed another kiss to his mouth, licking a gentle strip against his bottom lip. He allowed her to deepen the kiss while his fingers pulled on the fabric of the tank top she had tucked under the waistband of her shorts, burning trails of gentle tracing on the skin of her back, reaching up to unhook her bra.

A little giggle escaped her throat. It always made her giggle whenever he would effortlessly undress her in the darkness of their bedrooms. It was as if he knew exactly what he had to do and how to do it. She sometimes thought he could read her mind but it was apparently normal to have such a connection when you were allowing yourself to fall for your soulmate. That was the best way they could explain what they had. They fusional love.

Her tongue gently stroked his while she slowly lowered her hips to rest against his, rewarded by a gentle grinding roll of his pelvis against hers. She mewled and crumbled against his mouth while his teeth captures her bottom lip, teasing, tempting. Xavier’s fingers melted down her shorts, nearly spilling out from the other side as his large hands spread to clamp on her arse, pushing her further down against his hardening length.

Fireworks erupted from the pit of her stomach, parting their kiss while she busied herself with discarding her bra without having to remove her shirt. That was something he loved watching. It wasn’t when she was peeling her clothes off of her body to expose herself to him. It was when the unravelled herself enough to having him feel all of her. They didn’t need to be nude to reach intimacy. If anything, their clothed debacles were the best ones.

It was the quick ones, the hushed ones, where they were pushing each other in the tightest corners of the dance centre, that were getting them closer and closer both body and soul. His lips reached up for her neck, wrapping it with bruising kisses and blooming marks while she rolled her hips once more against him, her throat now slick with his saliva and her panties damp with arousal. “I’m going to make you feel better than I ever did” his voice rumbled in his chest, causing her to push her pelvis deeper, her lower lips captured between her teeth.

His need for control stronger than ever, be quickly worked his fingers against her belt, nearly ripping it off in his own impatience. (Y/N) quickly giggled, the fumbling of his fingers causing tickles to buzz through her stomach. Springing to her feet, he matched her and captured her lips in another heated kiss. Damn he was right. He was making her feel amazing and all he needed to do so far was allow his fingers to touch her skin. Xavier’s tongue was the one asking for dominance, taking his girlfriend aback when she tried her best to despatch shorts down her legs.

Her feet quickly climbed against his legs, wrapping around his waist as he lost his kisses against her neck once more. The night air was hot and their burning embrace only made it worse. Taking a few step forward and cupping her butt cheeks once more, he let their bodies drop in the murky water after retrieving her lips against his.

The cold bite of the dive causing their skin to be littered with delicious shivers and the current slowly brought them back to the surface. The kiss broke to allow air to fill their lungs once more. Xavier kicked the water, grabbing onto the thick wooden pole of the end of the dock then pinned the shivering body of his girl against it.

(Y/N) gingerly pushed the damp air away from her lover’s face now that it was slick with the water and he didn’t lose any more time loosening his own belt and freeing his cock from the tension of his boxers. His fingers looped around the gusset of her panties, yanking it to the side to allow himself to thrust deep inside her with his newfound vigour.

He was in charge now and the pleading moans escaping her lungs only reinforced his thirst for it. Teasing his want out of her cunt only to plunge back in, he lavished in her soft mewls. Her palm jumped to her lips to muffle her sounds while Xavier steadied her legs on his arms, his fingers dipping in the crumbling wood.

She opened her eyes to watch him devour her beauty, before thrusting at a dangerously slow pace. “Quit teasing me, Plympton” she growled, clenching herself tighter around his shaft. The blonde’s head rolled back at her sound and he gently quickened their pace, his fingers roaming against her body, semi exposed by the water helping the fabric of her clothes cling to her forms. “I’m enjoying this way too much tho” he mumbled, slowing his pelvis once more once the fluttering of (Y/N)’s walls became tighter and tighter against him.

She wrapped her teeth against his bottom lip, nibbling and suckling on it, ripping out a growl from his chest. Savagely picking up the bucking of his hips, he roughly massaged her breasts through the transparency of her shirt. She moaned, begged, whined under him, his lips losing track of how many hot burning kisses he had smothered her throat with. His hips bucked impatiently, desperate for his own release too. He was always so eager, so impatient, because he knew that when they were done, she would quickly crawl back on top of him for more, quickly consuming the night.

A fervent moan was whispered to the shell of her ear, causing the tendrils of arousal to coil and twist once more in the pit of her stomach. Twitching and clenching more and more against him, she was sucked in closer and closer to her depth. “I love you” they whined in unplanned unison, a gentle giggle rocking their chest before being quickly replaced by their groans. “I can feel how tight you are, kitten” Xavier whimpered in her ear, another heavy fluttering of her cunt around his cock setting fire in his loins. He was close to, at the mercy of her body now more than ever. His legs were trembling and so was she. “Cum for me” he begged, his chest heavy with arousal as he dipped deeper in her core.

He craved it. She wanted it. His words were languid as he desperate, pushing that sweet coil to snap, allowing her whole body to convulse against her lovers, her arms pushing his chest closer to hers while she whimpered desperately his name. With a heavy bucking of his hips, he met his own release too, deep-seated inside of her. His gentle moan was music to her ear. Snaking her legs around his arse, she invited him deeper and deeper by pushing him, his head heavy on her shoulder. His cock twitched and sprayed his thick seed far inside of her.

His eyes was pumping wildly in his chest and her breaths were shallow and hot. It took them a few minutes to compose themselves. Still holding onto his girl while she coiled and melted in his arms, he swam back to the bank, allowing their bodies to remain so intimately close, picking back in the same position they had started the day with the day they had left his small LA flat for Camp Redwood. Xavier’s gentle fingers stroked her cheek as they absentmindedly drifted to sleep.

When she opened her eyes, still laying on the bank, and her boyfriend still deep within her, a feeling of uneasiness washed over her. Dread, maybe? She looked over the lake, hoping the stillness of the water would ease her mind, gently nudging her lover awake. He could feel it. As if he was the tiniest fish in the sea, watched over my millions of predator. But the only predator they could see was the figure of Montana, standing on a bank on the other side of the lake.

Xavier’s grip grew tighter against his girlfriend, pulling her closer to his chest. When a giant, deformed and slimy form sprung out of the water and grabbed on the lover’s ankles, a loud scream burst through the camp coming from the both of them as they got pulled. They didn’t let go of each other, however. Even when the air escaped (Y/N)’s lungs and her eyes closed. Even when Xavier’s consciousness fled his body. Even when they woke up, dry and dressed, under the warm summer sun, the soft giggle of a boy pulling them out of their stupor.

They had not felt such panic as well as peace at the same time and the feeling was odd. The place looked weirdly familiar yet so different. Peace was the right thing. The boy jumped over to them “I’m Bobby! No one can come and hurt you if you stay here” he smiled wildly before inviting the lover to join him to a game of chest.

Was this Paradise?

#xavier plympton #xavier plympton x reader #xavier plymptom x reader smut #ahs 1984 #ahs #american horror story #american horror 1984 #american horror story 1984

149 notes · View notes