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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

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I Would’ve Stayed (FNTO 4)

Any mess we had to deal with was way more worth it than any clarity without you.

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: strangers to friends to lovers, popstar/idol!jk, fluff, angst, smut; this is a dialogue-heavy series so read if you’re into that!

Warnings: foul language, heavy drinking, lots of kissing, penetrative and oral sex (not too explicit; a condom is thrown in there somewhere but bbs please be safe! and also, I tried) (18+)

Word count: ~8,000

Series summary: You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the cafe, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he.

series masterlist

A/N: Here it is! OC hates confrontation so guess what happens - that! Listen to Yours by Raiden x Chanyeol ft. LeeHi & Changmo and Moon, 12:04 AM by Offonoff.

It’s been 3 days and Jungkook still hasn’t reached out.

You would have, but somehow that time he completely ignored you for a whole week before he left still plays in your head and has made you quite traumatized, if you’re being honest.

Add to that, you recall how you both left things that day. You don’t know how he was doing in the 2 months he was away. Maybe he just got ahead of himself and realized he didn’t really feel that way about you, maybe he’s still angry. Maybe, and this scares you the most, he realized he’s better off and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore - too much crazy, you think.

None of the guys have reached out to you too since they’ve arrived aside from Jimin’s message, perhaps too sorry to even say anything.

You’ve followed the same routine you’ve had the past 2 months - cafe check-in before and after your actual job, weekends for exercise and chores and whatever work you can sneak in, and Saturday nights with your friends. You even volunteered to babysit your cousin’s kids for 2 weekends and accompanied Jaehyun to the orphanage for the bi-annual party he throws for the kids just to keep yourself preoccupied.

It feels so different without Jungkook. Even when he was away then, you were always video calling for at least a minute, and sending each other funny videos or memes to keep the connection, that string that neither of you wanted to break. How you both managed without each other these past months is surprising, but that's just made it clear to you, more than anything else, that you truly want him to be part of your life, and you, in his, in whatever way he’d have you.

But his radio silence is once again driving you insane. You keep typing then deleting whatever message you thought to send him.

You: Hey, I heard you’re back. How was the tour?

You: Hi, Kook. I’m so sorry again. I was wondering if we could catch up?

You: Omg help, my neighbor got another cat!

You: Can’t wait for the final concert! Excited to watch you guys.

But nope, you’d deleted them as fast as you’d typed them. You know you were at fault somehow; you’ve accepted that you could’ve done something like talk to him at the first sign of a problem, but you always hated confrontations and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that with him.

More than anything, though, you want him to be the one to reach out this time. Not just because he said those hurtful things to you before he left, but also because you want to know if he still feels whatever it was he said he feels - or felt - for you before he left.

You let your mind make up reasons. Maybe he’s still tired. Maybe he’s still catching up on sleep and isn’t in his right mind yet to talk to you. Maybe they got caught up with more work when they got back. All these maybes are sending you in a whirlwind of emotions again, and you’re trying so badly to get out of your head and just settle things once and for all.

It’s finally Friday and you’re zoning out at work before your phone’s incessant ringing breaks through your thoughts.

Jieun is on the other line, convincing you to go to The Third tonight because a DJ friend of hers is spinning. She misses you, she says. You don’t have the heart to tell her that you don’t feel like going out and being around people, but she pleads. The guys will be there too, she excitedly shares. She charmed her way into having them accept her invite after they’d met up at a dinner party earlier in the week.

“Dinner party?” You ask.

“Yeah, remember Yoonah? I wrote some music for her. She had a birthday party last Tuesday,” Jieun innocently says.

Of course you remember. She’s one of the pop stars that Jungkook has been linked with countless times. He never dismisses it though when you’d ask. He just always says they’re close and enjoy spending time together when they can.

You feel your heart break a little, thinking of what his appearance at her birthday party could mean. You’d done yourself a favor and stayed away from social media so you don’t know if there are new pictures of them circulating in the web.

But you do like to torture yourself. As Jieun went on about her schedule for the rest of her stay, you checked online for any photos of the two to ease - or worsen - your panicking brain and speeding heart.

Yep, there they are. Some public photos of them laughing at the party, Yoonah so stunning in her red dress and Jungkook looking incredibly gorgeous in his dark blue suit. You scroll further down to look at the same photos and people screaming at how good they look together and wait, are those photos outside of a cafe?

Eyes wide, your heart quickens even more as you type “Jungkook Yoonah cafe” on the search bar because really, you’d been torturing yourself these past months too, why stop now?

They seem like unofficial photos, judging from the quality, but you can’t be mistaken that it’s him - you know that sweatshirt because it’s yours; the few clear photos show the clay mark on the left side of the clothing that you haven’t been able to remove. What kind of jerk wears another girl’s clothes when he’s out on a date with another?

You’re fuming. So much for making excuses on his behalf that he’s tired or busy. Well, he was busy, alright. You saw in the news that Yoonah was in the U.S. too for some photo shoots; some tweets were saying she was at one of the shows. Guess Jungkook was preoccupied in those 2 months too, you think to yourself.

“Y/N, you in there?” Jieun asks on the other end.

“Yeah, yeah sorry. What were you saying?”

“I said a lot… but I just wanted to know if you’re game for tonight?” She asks, excitement laced in her voice. It has been awhile since you’ve gone out to party with her anyway.

“Sure, I’ll be there.” You force the excitement out of you.

“Great! Tell your friends. Can’t wait to see you!” She hangs up, and you’re still fuming.

Fuck to feeling sorry for yourself. Fuck to being a responsible adult. And fuck to saying no to hook-ups. You were never one for drinking her problems away and finding a temporary fix in another’s body and the pleasure they could give but that’s exactly what you’re gonna do tonight.

Jungkook has made you do and feel things you’d never done or felt before anyway, and you aren’t gonna stop now.

You wait until 6PM before heading home and fixing up. You and your friends go to a nice restaurant for dinner, a change of scenery from your usual Saturday night take outs, before finally heading to The Third for a night you hopefully won’t regret.

You and your friends arrive at the bar at 10PM, Jaehyun the designated caretaker of everybody (more like of you, though, since you’re the only one with a plan).

You do the mandatory socializing, especially with Jiuen, and before you know it, you’re on your 5th shot of tequila, sips of other people’s beer or cocktail in between, and suddenly, a hand is pulling at yours and an unfamiliar voice is asking you to dance.

He’s funny and has well-manicured and soft hands. You can’t tell the color of his eyes or the shape of his nose or if he has plump or thin or chapped lips. He seems to have nice hair, though.

He says he’s a little awkward but he was beside you at the bar and heard you laughing and thought it was the nicest sounding laugh he’s ever heard. He apologizes for sounding sappy and a creep, but he thought he could at least ask you to dance, confident in at least that since he used to dance in college.

He asks if he could put his hand on your waist and you consent. There were no red flags, and you’d seen your friends give you a thumbs up to indicate they’re looking out for you in case something unsuspecting happens.

Something unsuspecting happens, alright. One minute the man’s hand is on your waist, fingers gripping you a little tighter as the song transitions to the next one, and another it’s gone. You turn around to make sure he’s still there but lo and behold, there stands the man you’ve been trying to get your mind off, hand on the other man’s wrist, and a glare that could cut through stone.

“I’ve got her,” the man says, voice cold and stern, it gave you chills.

It takes a while before it registers. Hair parted at the middle, black polo, black leather jacket. Even under these party lights he still looks breathtaking. You scowl at Jungkook.

“What the fuck, Jeon. I was dancing with Ye-jun!”

“It’s, uh, Yu-jun,” you hear the man say. Was he now stuttering?

“You’re drunk,” Jungkook responds, tone steady, head now turned to you.

“So? I’ve been drunk many times before. It’s nothing new,” you snap back.

“Yes, but you don’t do this,” he says, voice calm and patient.

“And what’s this? Enjoy myself? Find a man to dance with, to go home with? Maybe to hook up with?” You bite back, arms crossed, a little less drunk now that you feel anger consume you. You don’t see the surprised but intrigued look of the man staring at you, but Jungkook does and it takes all of him not to smack the guy’s face right then and there.

But really, how dare he? He ghosts you again and now he decides to show up and crash your little dance party?

Jungkook lets out a low grunt. He turns to the man, jaw clenched, eyes piercing. “Seriously, I’ve got this. You can leave us now.” He continues to stare at the man who knows he’s got nothing on Jungkook.

“Well fuck me,” the man says and walks away.

Jungkook grabs your wrist to take you to the bar, forcing you to drink 2 glasses of water.

“What the hell was that?” You shout. Jungkook eyes the bartender, as if to tell him to give both of you as much privacy as he can in a venue like this.

“You’re drunk and the guy was trying it with you,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“He actually had the decency to ask if he could put his hand on my waist, seeing that I was drunk!” You shout back.

He rests his right arm on the bar and looks at you blankly. “You’re still drunk and he’s still a stranger.”

At this, you completely lose it. “And you aren’t? What are you now, my friend? My fuck buddy I don’t fuck? My almost lover? The guy I can never have? The guy who’s too afraid to have me?”

You eye the bartender nearby preparing 2 shots of tequila. You walk the short distance towards him and down both shots, one after the other. “Make him pay for them,” you shout to the man, pointing to Jungkook, and you walk away.

Seven shots of tequila in and you’re quite the mess, physically and emotionally. Why you think it felt cathartic to down those shots is beyond you; now your head is spinning and your feet feel like death.

You see the light at the end of the tunnel, an empty chair a few steps away. You make it, thankfully, without much fanfare. You look around for your friends but it’s all dancing silhouettes and unfamiliar faces. The lights are now blinding and suddenly it feels stuffy that it’s hard to breathe. You drag your arms to the table and drop your head onto them, slowly succumbing to sleep.

A voice wakes you, repeating your name countless times until you start to resent it. You lazily look up to find Jungkook, crouching down to level with you, holding a plate of chocolate cake and a pitcher of water.

You look at what he’s holding before your glossy eyes rest at his face. He sighs, puts the pitcher on the table, and proceeds to take the fork and feed you with bites of the cake.

You drink water in between, and after 3 mouthfuls, you look up at him and flash your teeth, as if to ask if there’s some chocolate leftovers on them. He lets out a short laugh and removes a crumb hanging on the corner of your lips. “All good,” he says.

“Take me home, Jungkook.” You plead. “Please take me home.”

Jungkook doesn’t know why he suddenly got scared. He’d made up his mind that he would message you when they’d landed, drive to your place to see you, and talk things out the next day, but his mind had other plans.

He got so caught up at the thought that he’s finally home, finally breathing the same air as you, that you were just 30 minutes away from him - so near yet so far - that he’d zoned out and completely forgotten to message you. He was so anxious about finally talking to you that he’d ended up falling asleep at 5AM and slept through the rest of Monday afternoon.

They had a scheduled meeting on Tuesday and had Yoonah’s dinner party that night, and he had wanted to message and see you on the same day because he was that impatient.

The dinner party wasn’t a big event, but photos from her agencies were soon released that obviously included Jungkook and Yoonah laughing and talking. He knew what was about to happen next. What he didn’t expect was Yoonah’s pleas that night to go out the next day for their routine stunt that they’d do every once in a while.

Jungkook and Yoonah went to the same middle school and high school in Seoul, both trying to balance education with their responsibilities in their respective idol groups. They ended up being close and confiding in each other, but never went the dating route. They were both so young then and happiness, at that time, equated to success in their field. It’s later on that they’d come to realize how lonely that would feel.

Jungkook had his hyungs and felt content; Yoonah, who eventually went solo, felt the loneliness eat her up. She’d been dating a friend from her childhood and she knew the only way they could stay together is if their relationship was kept a secret.

She’d enlisted the help of Jungkook who’d willingly agreed to be her decoy when needed - anytime the media or even fans would catch wind of Yoonah’s relationship, it was automatic for the pair to be seen going out. They never admitted nor denied the rumors. It was enough to throw the scent off the real man she was dating.

He agreed that Wednesday for a quick lunch out at a cafe. No need for overkill, they agreed. As long as they’re seen together, that should be enough. Jungkook didn’t have the heart to turn her down and instead, kept mum about his own relationship trials with you. He knew that whatever photos that fans would take would be all over social media, and he could only hope you stayed away from it long enough until the issue died down.

This was another dent in his plan and he had to regroup. Another day has passed and he still hasn’t reached out to you. He was beginning to think it was a stupid idea to wait it out in the first place.

He entered the bar that Friday night, half sure that he was going to see you. Jieun has been away a while and would definitely want you there.

It didn’t take long for him to spot you. He was half expecting you’d be dancing with your friends or laughing about in one of the tables.

He didn’t expect you to be dancing so closely to another man, his hand on your waist, his mouth so dangerously close to your ears. You looked like you were having fun, what with your half-lidded eyes and teeth constantly biting on your bottom lip. He’d never seen that look on you before, and it scared the shit out of him.

He saw your friends who confirmed the man is someone you’d just met and that you’d gone on about getting shit-faced drunk and hooking up with someone because “Jungkook’s being a jerk right now.”

“Please grow up, you two, and talk things out,” Chaewon shouted at him, tired and exasperated in dealing with your whiny ass, before she stormed off to shout at her boyfriend. Jaehyun went on about their lover’s quarrel, and Hyejin had discovered the allure and deceit of cranberry vodka and had been puking her guts out in the washroom.

“Please look out for her,” Jaehyun told Jungkook. What your friends didn’t tell him is why you’re acting this way. Was it the radio silence? The photos you might’ve seen? Or both?

That’s when Jungkook proceeded to shoo the man away. Of course you wouldn’t go without a fight. From the dance floor to the bar, you had a go at it. He deserved all that, he was sure, even if he was angry at the situation as well.

It took another pep talk from his hyungs - who were watching you from afar, as you laid your head on the table, and making sure no one would try with you again - convincing him to swallow his pride and just talk to you.

He hated seeing you like this, moreso since it’s the first time in 2 months he’s seeing you, and considering how things have been during the time you two were apart.

The sweets and water combo always works. Two washroom trips later, you were on the passenger seat of his car, fetus-laden and drifting in and out of sleep.

Jungkook is frustrated. How bad had things gotten that you were willing to hook up with some stranger at the bar? What were you thinking? Why didn’t you reach out this time? He was just making excuses again but regardless, he looks at you, a snort escaping your mouth as you catch yourself snoring, and thinks you’re still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

You wake up underneath two thick blankets and a mountain of pillows surrounding you.

Clawing out of your fort-like surrounding, you see a glass of water and aspirin on your bedside table. You sigh and try to recall the night before.

You were lucid at some parts. You recall the guy with the soft hands, both of you dancing so close together, his whispers of sweet nothings on your ear. You remember a bit about your little outburst at Jungkook at the bar, the chocolate cake, vomiting your insides in the toilet, and climbing to your bed.

You force your eyes shut, trying to remember more. Your throat hurts, the kind that isn’t just from alcohol. You feel the crusty bits on your eyes, at both corners and on the sides.

You cried. You were probably shouting too. What the fuck were you going on about last night?

And then it hits you. Jungkook was there. He totally cockblocked you. But he also fed you cake and probably took you home. Now you remember a bit of his calloused hands drawing circles on your back as you tried to puke all the alcohol out of your system. He probably helped you brush your teeth too, you conclude, seeing as your mouth doesn’t feel extra disgusting this morning.

“What else, what else?” You think aloud. But your mind draws out blank. Knowing yourself though, and the anger and hurt that built up inside you before you stepped foot in that bar, was enough to let you know that you probably gave him shit, for what, you’re not sure.

You decide it’s time to get the gunk off your body so you get off the bed, pop the aspirin, and head out your room.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee is what welcomes you as you open the door.

You stand by the kitchen, looking for signs of the other person with you until you see the blanket on your couch and a familiar-looking black leather jacket lying at its back.

The bathroom door opens, revealing a freshly washed Jungkook, clad in a white shirt and boxers, clothes of his that you know he got from the second drawer on your dresser.

He pauses on his steps and stares at you. “You’re awake,” he says.

“And you’re here,” you reply, a bit of irritation laced in your voice.

You both stare at each other for a couple more seconds, not sure how to proceed. This is new territory for you.

Your mornings were never like this. They were always full of lazy greetings, games of rock-paper-scissors on who would get up first to brew coffee, soft singing in the kitchen, laughter.

“You uh, got drunk,” he starts, hand scratching the back of his neck, which he usually does when he’s nervous or shy.

“You uh, cockblocked me last night,” you deadpanned.

Jungkook stays put where he is, face faltering a little bit. “Were you really planning on hooking up with that guy?” He asks.

“I don’t know, maybe,” you say. You were so close, though, even if you knew you wouldn’t. Part of you is thankful that Jungkook made sure that didn’t happen but no, you can’t fall for this so easily.

He continues to look at you, eyes blinking constantly, teeth biting onto his lower lip, you’re afraid it’d start to bleed. Why is he so nervous?

“For goodness’ sake, Jungkook! I wanted to hook up with him, or anyone for that matter, because I’m fucking pissed at you! And if you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been doing things I don’t normally do because you’re messing me up!” You shout at him.

You’re closer to him now, and you can clearly see the flushed look on his face. He can’t focus on you, he’s biting his lip even harder and looking down on his feet. In the silence, you both try to find your own words to express the emotions that have been eating you up inside.

“I’m…” you start gesticulating, trying to find more words to express all the anger and pain and frustration you’re feeling.

And then your stomach grumbles, really loud, and it’s the mood killer you didn’t need.

“I’m fucking hungry,” you whimper, head falling on your hands as you make that sound of a cry that borders on a laugh. You look and sound utterly ridiculous right now. You’re losing your resolve, and you’re slowly cracking in front of the man you’re angry at.

Jungkook suppresses a small laugh. “I hate you,” you say, your tone not matching your words.

“You said that last night too,” he says, looking up at you.

“I probably meant it. I still do,” you respond, meeting his eyes.

“I know. But I said last night we’ll talk about it today. That shut you up.”

You laugh to yourself, imagining how you probably looked, drunkenly shouting at him last night. You tell yourself you’ve got to face this now, no more excuses.

“Good, because we’ve got months’ worth of shit to talk about,” you say, as you head for the bathroom.

“Bacon or sausage?” He calls out before you close the door. “Bacon!” You respond immediately.

Jungkook puts his utensils down and stops eating.

“I’m not gonna lie, Y/N, you’re scaring the shit out of me.”

You continue to glare at him, as if to say that making you breakfast doesn’t mean he’s off the hook.

“Seriously, your nose is flaring, you’re looking at me like you want to rip me into pieces…” he peers at your hands, knuckles white at how hard you’re gripping the fork and knife. “You look like you want to stab me for real this time…” he trails.

You grit your teeth and scowl at him. If looks could kill he’d be dead by now. He responds with a smile, the kind one would have if they want to get out of something.

“You’re not funny,” you deadpan.

“I wasn’t trying to be!”

You cross your arms, anger still painting your face.

“Okay, Y/N, let’s calm down and talk this out like mature individuals,” he continues, arms up as if he’s trying to tame an animal. This pisses you off even more.

You feel tears form in the corner of your eyes out of anger. “Yes, because ghosting me the second time around is soooo mature,” you shout.

You drop what you’re holding, push your chair backwards, and turn away to walk the very short distance to the living room. You let out a loud groan.

He runs to you, now even more worried than before. He stops in his tracks when he sees your shoulders start to shake. He’s really outdone himself this time, he thinks. What a way to try and “fix” things, he scolds himself.

“I’m sorry, I’m doing this all wrong.”

“You think?!” You shout, now facing him, tears already trailing down your cheeks. The look on his face, that of sadness, guilt, of regret, pierces through you like a knife, the same way the look of pain and dejection on yours cuts through him, rendering him speechless. He’d never seen you this hurt, this angry, this tired.

“You ignored me for a whole week. I went to your house to see you but you just…” you exhale. You couldn’t even say the words because just thinking about that day hurts you so much, something you realized you hadn’t really gotten over. The realization and the guilt you felt were enough to ease that pain but the recent radio silence from him only served to resurface those feelings.

“And you come back and what, nothing again from you?”

Jungkook stares at you, trying to name the emotions written on your face. There’s too much of everything he sees and it causes anger to course through him at what he’s done and what this could mean. So he does what he usually does when he’s hurt and scared - he deflects.

“Why didn’t you call?” He starts, earning him a scoff from you. “I confessed my feelings that day but you didn’t say anything; you just got angry that I was leaving and when I was away, all I got was a text for an apology,” he continues, jaw tight at how he’s trying not to cry.

You stare at him, wide-eyed. You did greet him on his birthday, but you opted to let him speak.

“I come home after 2 months and I don’t hear from you and I see you at a bar dancing with some guy. What was I supposed to do?” He grits his teeth. He knows he’ll break, he’s just trying to hold out as long as he can.

“You call that confessing? You barely gave me anything that day, Jungkook! We always talked about things but you drop that bomb on me from out of nowhere!” You stomp towards him, motioning him to look at you.

“We had such a good time before that. That trip, that morning… and then you ignore me a whole week and then you leave.”

“I…” Jungkook stammers. He always knew he handled that whole situation terribly. He didn’t give you time, he didn’t give you an option.

“I torture myself by replaying that weekend because I can’t help but think that might be the last time I’ll ever get to have you like that,” you mewl.

This is when he breaks, he thinks.

He takes in a long breath.

“I woke up before you that morning and you just looked… so beautiful, so peaceful, and I just wanted to get used to that, you know?” He sighs, forlorn eyes focused on the floor as if he’s watching the scene he’s committed to his mind play out before him.

“I didn’t think much of it before, just that I wanted to be with you all the time and when I was, I wanted to stay a bit longer, or the night. And when I did I just wanted to sleep next to you and have you close to me until the next morning… and the morning after that. And I just wanted so badly for you to feel the same way.” He covers his face with his hands.

“But you… you thanked me for being a great friend and I guess hearing it like that, confirming that I’m just that to you, broke my heart because right then I thought…” he looks straight at you with his glossy doe eyes and suddenly you forget how to breathe. “I thought that I wanted so much more.”

You blink at him once, twice, a couple more times. He’d only implied he had felt something but this… this isn’t what you were expecting.

“I avoided you because I didn’t know how to talk to you without feeling sad and angry,” he explains.

“You still could’ve said something! You were the one who was being selfish and unfair, not me. You kept that all to yourself and didn’t give me a chance to tell you how I felt.”

He lets out a small laugh, sounding resigned. “You made it clear that day of what I was to you. I mean, with the amount of time we spend together, with how close we are? For fuck’s sake, Y/N, we kiss and sleep next to each other and even after all that, I’m just a friend? What more did we - did I - have to do for it to be more?”

“You could’ve told me, Jungkook. You could’ve told me because I would’ve told you that I felt the same way.”

He looks at you, a pained expression on his face.

“Then why say that, huh?” he turns away from you, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He should be happy but somehow he’s upset - at himself or you, he’s unsure. “Why do all of those and keep me at a distance like that?”

“Because I didn’t want to feel that way for you! I couldn’t.”

“Why not?

“Because I was scared.”

“Bullshit.”

“I know it’s a crap excuse for anything but it’s how I felt. Because I knew, long ago, that you’re the one who wouldn’t want anything more. All those PR stunts? The women you’d casually dated? I got your memo, Jungkook. Any feeling or thought I had of us being anything more disintegrated the moment you said that you had too much crazy going on to even deal with relationships… and I let it.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“This is really how you want to play this, Jungkook? Why didn’t I do this? Why didn’t I say that? I always do, okay? I call, I ask you over, I kiss you, I ask you to stay. And you always do exactly those, just those. Nothing more, never anything more. What would saying it do?”

Jungkook looks defeated. He understands you, more than you think he does.

That night when he’d gone to your apartment after your ex showed up - when he’d ditched drinks with the guys to help Seokjin take his mind off the girl he’d lost because he gave what he only could and it wasn’t enough until someone else could give more - seems to be as vivid to you as it was for him.

Going to you was reflex for him, especially after he’d heard your sniffles over the phone. Seeing you cry pained him even more. He’d cursed Jinyoung internally multiple times; how someone could be scared of someone as beautiful as you was beyond him.

That night felt like he saw you for the first time - your strength, your passion for life, your desire to be a better version of yourself. He’d enjoyed your musings about the innate goodness of people and the human’s incredible ability to love, hurt, heal, and love again. Even your thoughts on fate and destiny that were contrary to his had caused him to question more, think deeper, live more ardently.

Beneath those puffy eyes and shivering body, there was no sign of insecurity. You were just so sure of yourself, so free, so unapologetic, and he wanted to bask in your radiance, in your glow; he wanted front-row seats to the unravelling of you.

And he didn’t feel like he could be enough. Between his responsibilities, his restrictions, his commitments because of his own dreams and the life that he chose, he just knew that he would always fall short and he would lose you. And that frightened him more than anything.

So Jungkook did what he always does when he’s hurt and scared - he deflected. He said there was too much going on in his life - that’s why he can’t try, why he can’t commit, why he can’t want more, because he can’t be more, at least not what he wants to be for you.

He never finished that sentence though, felt like it would be final if he said the words. Looks like you convinced yourself of these thoughts of his for you, he concludes. And he sees it now. He was just as scared as you. Probably still are.

“I would’ve stayed, you know?” You break him out of the internal monologue he’d immersed himself in.

“I walk away when things don’t work out but I realized that I would have stayed. Whether it was I who felt differently and you didn't, or you did and I didn't… I would’ve stuck around.” You look at him, eyes now devoid of all the anger you were feeling not long ago.

“I was angry and sad because of you but you were the one I wanted to call about it,” you continue. “God, it felt stupid but that’s when I realized it, you know? I wanted to be with you. Any mess we had to deal with was way more worth it than any clarity without you.”

It’s all Jungkook needs to hear.

He marches over to you, two strides are what it takes until he’s palming your cheeks and softly resting his lips onto yours, waiting, wanting, for you to meet him halfway.

And you do.

You push yours onto his, tasting those saccharine chapped lips, causing your body to relax at how right this feels. The kiss is gentle, similar to the ones you’ve shared before, but different in what this means, different in what it is trying to say.

He pulls back and you feel hazy, like you’d just been woken up from a dream right when you were about to get to the good part.

He looks at you so tenderly, like if his eyes could sigh a relief they would. He’s thumbing your cheeks repeatedly, searching your misty eyes as if there are still questions he needs answered.

“Why did you want to kiss me? That first time. Why?” His tone is rushed, desperate.

“Because I wanted to know if I still felt it, whatever it was I felt before, I wanted to know if I still felt it.”

“And did you feel it then, and every time we did it?”

You close your eyes, causing the tears that have now accumulated to fall from your eyes. “Yes, Jungkook. Always.”

He thumbs the tears away as they fall down one by one. He looks at you as internally, he’s gathering the feelings of the past months - the anger, desolation, the regret - readying himself to let it all go, he just needs to hear you say it, whatever it is. He needs to know that you felt everything he felt.

“What did you feel just now?”

“Like I want more, Jungkook. I want more,” and you open your eyes to meet his satisfied ones, both of your breaths hitching at how you’re feeling a flurry of emotions that you can’t tame.

Jungkook pulls your face towards his once again, meeting your tear-stained lips; this time he presses harder, slightly parting his mouth and you angle your face for better access. You feel like that moment when two puzzle pieces finally fit together, when they finally find their way, like two lost souls following the north star to find each other.

He continues his motions, coaxing you to go harder just as he is, and you do. He licks onto your bottom lip, seeking entrance, and with your parted mouth, you revel in the way both of yours meld onto each other so perfectly, so fluidly like they’re meant to do this, like your lips are meant to fuse together like this. And it sets you on fire.

Your hands, which were only lightly touching his bent elbows as his palms continue to stroke your face, are now gliding on his arms, feeling the veins and ridges that dent his limbs. They proceed to graze over his hands, sending shivers down your spine as you imagine all the things those hands could do to you. You do this repeatedly, sensually, making Jungkook hungrier, needier.

You’re so lost in the feeling of him this close to you, like one of your drives where the windows are down and the wind is blowing and you feel unanchored, flowing, light, like you any time you can fly away.

His hands trail south, caressing your sides until they find purchase on your waist, grip tightening as his mouth continues its attack on yours, both of your tongues fighting for dominance. This time he wins, as a slight tip of his head gives him an advantage and he’s going deeper. You moan onto his mouth, hands pulling on his hair by the nape of his neck, as they have now found refuge there.

Push and pull you both go, from twirling your tongues and taking turns nibbling on each other’s lips. Your right hand slides down from his neck to his chest, and as you thumb his hard nipple that you feel through his shirt, he bucks his hip and you feel the dent on his crotch that causes adrenaline to surge through you.

You clutch on his shirt, eager to get it off. You’re desperate as you feel heat rise to your chest, as if it’s about to explode. Your senses are overloaded right now, making you lightheaded, intoxicated, a dampness in your core accumulating as your hips meet his, seeking friction to quench the intense thirst of your body to feel his own.

You pull away this time, feeling like your head will explode from the sensory overload - the strong and fresh scent of the white musk body wash, the sweet taste of coffee on his mouth, the erotic sounds of your heavy breathing and moans, the tingling feeling of his fingertips on your arms, and the sight of him on top of you.

Eyes wide filled with worry that he might’ve done something wrong, Jungkook asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” you let out a few continuous breaths, “I couldn’t breathe,” you continue, a short laugh escaping your lips.

He chuckles. “I’m sorry, I got carried away.” He chews on his bottom lip. “I just didn’t think I’d hear you say that.”

“That I want you?”

He nods shyly, suddenly very different from the man who’d just tried to swallow you whole.

“I do, Jungkook. What about you?”

Now it’s your turn to have a worried look in your eyes, nervous about what will happen next.

“I want everything with you, Y/N. I want this,” he pulls you back to him and rests his forehead on yours, “I want all of this.”

You close your eyes as he does, tips of your noses touching, breaths hot on each other’s skin. A smile forms on your lips as he kisses your cheek, left and right, then your jaw, and then your neck. He takes his time there, teeth nibbling on the flesh, tongue soothing the sting.

He licks a strip up until his tongue lands on a sensitive area below your ear. He grazes his teeth on your skin and your senses come alive again. “Mhmm, Jungkook,” you moan.

He smiles onto the spot, his breath causing that dampness on your core to pool once again. “You like that, babe?”

You laugh at the pet name, choosing instead to hide the overwhelming desire you feel to hear his low and raspy voice call you that everyday.

“I hate you,” you tell him, head leaning on his shoulder. This one has no bite, though. And he knows this, but he plays along.

“Let me make it up to you, yeah?”

The intoxicating feeling comes back, this time from just the mere insinuation of what he’ll do to you.

You nod and take his hand to lead him to your room. He follows, head in a daze because he didn’t think he could ever be with you like this. All the times you’d both walked to your room, you were drunk or tired or sleepy; you’d carefully lie on your sides of the bed, talk and laugh until you fall asleep. Just the thought of how different it’s going to be this time is making him feel dizzy.

He watches you walk towards your bed and as you stand there, turning to him, with the rays of the sun finding their way through your blinds and casting a heavenly glow on your silhouette, he thanks all the gods and the cosmos for planning this one out for him.

You look at him tenderly and his heart, which has been beating so rapidly since you’d woken up, steadies its beats. He feels the entire weight of the world, which he’d placed on his shoulders on his own, dissipate slowly.

He lives for moments on the stage when, in front of thousands of people cheering his name, he feels alive, like he’s got the whole world on the palm of his hands, like everything he’s ever wanted is possible. It’s just you and him in this apartment, in this room, and he feels the same and something else - he feels enough, he feels more.

He kisses you slower this time, lips aching to savor every inch of your face, of your neck, as he slowly caresses your arms, your sides, taking his time there too.

He pulls you by the waist, hands resting on the base of your spine and he rests his head on the crook of your neck.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry for everything.”

You both stay there for a while, your arms around his neck and your warmth steadying Jungkook’s breathing that once again picked up when he’d realized he really could have completely lost you.

“You haven’t lost me,” you say, as if his beating heart had whispered to you his ultimate fear. He hugs you tighter and buries his head on your neck even deeper.

“I’m still scared though,” you confess, fingers brushing through the loose strands of his hair.

“I know, so am I,” he responds, finally coming out of hiding and facing you. “And it’s okay. But we have to promise to tell each other when it gets too much, yeah? We have to tell each other what bothers us, what worries us.”

“I don’t like confrontations,” you say.

“They won’t be. They’ll be discussions. We can’t let this happen again, okay?”

“Okay.”

He tips your chin up so he’s looking into your eyes again. “Now I think I said I was going to make it up to you,” the smug look on his face making its return. You missed this. And also, you’re in trouble.

He kisses you again, and again, and again. He ghosts his fingertips underneath your shirt and then he’s tracing patterns, constellations on your torso.

The clothes come off soon enough, until you’re both bare, uncovered, vulnerable in front of each other. He traces patterns again, this time with his lips, down to your shoulders, and then to your chest.

His mouth feels immaculate on your breasts, wet muscle hungrily laving over your pert nipples. His hands find refuge on your mound, ghosting the lips until the wetness sucks his fingers in. He draws circles over your clit, eliciting the most beautiful sounds from you. This rivals the screams of the fans for them, he thinks, but this one, he could have this everyday, definitely.

Everything happens the way both of you imagined, and you both commit to memory this moment - the satisfaction on his face when you buck your hips into his mouth, your dripping core coating his face with your wetness; the feeling of his soft but calloused hands claiming every inch of your body; his half-lidded eyes and his clenched jaw as he enters you, pushes into you, drags in and out of you; your cries of more, don’t stop, and I’m close, ringing in his head and prompting him to go harder, faster; and his moans as he finishes and your heavy breathing as you ride out both of your highs, heads still in the clouds, hands intertwined to keep you grounded, to remind you that this is real, that this isn’t the last time, that this is more.

You wake up to the sound of a phone’s incessant ringing, tempting you to throw the piece of device off the wall just so you could bask in this moment just a little longer. You try to reach for it, causing the morning sun that passes through the uncovered corner of your window to blind you slightly.

Jungkook groans next to you, head buried on the hair at the back of your head, his hand resting on your waist. You smile and let your fingers trace the ink that thoughtfully decorates his, settling them in the empty spaces in between. He deepens his head where it’s found sanctuary, hands now intertwined with yours, and pulls you closer. He greets you with kisses on your bare shoulder, soft moans escaping you as his hand now releases yours to roam the body he’d spend the whole day yesterday exploring.

“Mhmm, baby,” he moans to your ear, feeling the ecstasy of your hand soothing the ache he feels on his length. It’s all you need to turn to him, meet his lips, close the distance of your hips to his until he’s inserting himself into you again. Your bodies easily find a rhythm, your labored breaths harmonizing well.

It’s a softer one this morning, unlike yesterday (morning, afternoon, evening, pretty much). It’s lazy, tender; bodies just falling into each other, melding, fitting together, finding each other.

He cleans you up, like he did all times yesterday, and he lets you snuggle to him this time. He plants a kiss on your forehead, eyes dreamily tracing your features. He still can’t believe he’s here.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“And you’re so good to me, Kook.”

You hum as he kisses you once more, a satisfied smile displaying on your lips. He likes this very much.

His phone beeps again, and again. He lets his head fall back on the pillow out of frustration.

“They’re calling for you,” you point out, a smile still gracing your lips. You’re used to this already.

“I know,” he resigns.

You rest your head on your chest and wrap your arm around him tighter. “Stay a little longer, please,” you plead.

He returns the favor and hugs you back, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Your turn to make breakfast, babe.”

You groan but proceed to drag yourself out of bed. Limbs sore and legs feeling like jelly, you miss your footing and trip on your clothes and ungraciously fall to the floor.

You both explode with laughter. He could get used to this, he thinks.

part 3 <<>> part 4 drabble

series masterlist

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fic #bts jungkook #idol jungkook

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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

Text

DEVIL MAY GRIND

(I)- Can You Touch This?

Dante/ AMAB! Reader

Series Summary: From a surprise rendezvous to a male strip club on your birthday to a private dance, you end up seeing eye-to-eye rather than eye-to-groin with a cowboy stripper named Dante Sparda.

Work Summary: A shy and short homebody celebrating your birthday with friends, you end up somewhere you’d never expect: a male strip club. And what you’d also never expect is a certain red-devil/cowboy stripper to lay his special treatment on you.

Tags/Warnings:18+, AMAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Minors Do Not Try It, Wholesome Filth

Rodeo’s Two-Pieces: And after months, Rodeo presents the male version of this soon-to-be filth. *tilts cowboy hat over eyes and leans in seat*

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club.

It wasn’t your fault, they promised you were all going for a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant. No loud noises, no crowds, and especially, you didn’t even know why you had to specify, no naked guys! That’s what happened at first. You went and blew out your candles on your cake at a nice place, but then things got weird. Your friends had got you thoughtful gifts, except one of them who promised to give it to you after another “surprise.”

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building.

So when you couldn’t hear your thoughts due to the overbearing bass in the room you were in, you realized you should’ve known better. The blindfold and earmuffs were taken off and you opened your eyes to a neon-lit room with the most hard-cut abs right in your face.

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?”

“Okay, first of all (Y/N). It’s a male strip club. Second, come on! I know you want to touch some diamond abs!” One of your friends exclaimed as they threw bills at one very tan and very oiled-up man named Diego. The box from before landed on your lap, and you unwrapped it to find a giant stack of dollar bills.

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!”

The orange thong-wearing male with the most defined quads you had ever glanced at winked at your friend and opted to dance on someone else. Clutching your drink, you swallowed thickly as other males who went to the gym every other hour thrust their hips proactively at you.

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin.

Luckily, your ability to disappear in a room, with your meek personality and small stature, came in handy in these situations. The tall and buff guys your friends screamed over seemed to prefer the company of the more extroverted and thirsty. While other tables farther from the stage had easy contact with the not-themed strippers, you were all confronted with the stage floor dancers.

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor.

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot.

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar.

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar in your favorite pair of dressy sneakers. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home.

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence.

“First time?” The bartender asked, sliding your fruity drink to you. You fiddled with the napkin. A woman posed in the corner with the logo “Devil May Cry” to the side of her, all lined in neon pink.

“Oh!... Yeah, it is.” You mumbled shyly. You blushed at his blue-eyed stare. Luckily, he wore a collared white shirt so you could look at him without bleeding out of your nose. He was very handsome, with rugged features and slight facial hair. His stark white hair shined even in the dim lighting.

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled.

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“It’s alright. Your next rounds on me if you stay a lil longer.” He winked, wiping a glass. A few other people came and went, requesting all sorts of raunchy-titled drinks. Despite that, he leaned on the table where you sat, making idle conversation.

“I’m Dante.”

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled.

“Nice name for a nice man. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded.

“What did you wish for?”

“Peace and quiet.” He laughed at that, gesturing to your friends who screamed and clapped at a dark-skinned stripper who ripped off his pants.

“With those friends?” He chuckled.

“They’re a lot more restrained. This is an exception.” You whined.

The conversation grew longer. You learned that Dante worked here with his twin brother Vergil. He loved pizza and strawberry ice cream, along with nice motorcycles. A total manly man, if you asked yourself.

You found a safe space talking to him since you didn’t have to look at nude guys with your back turned.

You were hoping to talk the night away until a similarly white-haired male with a serious glare rounded the corner.

Swiping back a few stray hairs, the esteemed brother Vergil knocked the smile off his twin’s face.

“You fool! Your shift has been over for some time now.” He snapped. Dante rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, this is old douchebag.” You giggled at his comment, quickly stopping when meeting eyes with the frigid twin.

“Have you been speaking ill of me? I will-” Dante threw a towel at his brother’s face before leaving the bartending station. By leaving, he jumped over the counter.

“Hey, (Y/N), nice talking to you. I’ll see you later.” The white-haired man left to the employee’s room.

“Alright-” You muttered. You’d sit, but Vergil’s cold glare prompted you to leave and rejoin your friends.

“Where were you? Chatting up the bartender?”

“Look at you. Being social in a strip club.” They teased.

After a few more dancers, you couldn’t help but miss the blue-eyed bartender with his quips and casual flirtiness.

Suddenly, the music and lights went off. The crowd stirred. Your friend grabbed your arm.

“Oh boy, they’re gonna need a mop after this.”

“Ew!” You cried out. Your friends sang that one horribly sexual song from the radio. Something about parking a truck in a garage and about wet-

A shirtless DJ grabbed the mic.

“And now, for our next entertainer, we have the Legendary Lady Killer. Hold onto your panties and your wedding rings, you’re all in for the ride of your life.”

The lights were turned back on from back to front. On stage, stood a muscular man with a cowboy hat and shawl. His legs were perfectly framed by black leather chaps and boots. You turned as red as his shawl as you could see his formidable bulge from yards across.

His spurs clinked on the floor as people began to cheer at his physique. Your jaw dropped in shock.

White hair.

“Ladies and gents, I got some questions for y’all.” He drawled, lowering his hat.

“Yes! I’m single!” Someone yelled from the back. He chuckled as others screamed with agreement.

“That’s nice ma’am. But really, I got three questions.” He made his way down the stage, his shadow covering your table.

He palmed his chest and abs, showing white chest hairs and slicked-down muscles.

“Can you touch this?” Everyone screamed for yes. He tutted.

“No, no, no.” He waggled his finger. He spun and exposed his lush tush. He was packing it front and back and you blushed while putting your face in your hands.

His hands groped his butt. Even with his giant hands, he still had more ass to spare.

“Can you touch this?” The screams grew louder. He waggled his finger again, wiggling his butt.

“No, no, no.” The crowd awed. He turned back around, a cocky grin on his face.

“Now,” He pointed to the crowd.

His palms groped the leather that concealed his huge package.

“Can you touch this?” Your friend threw a wad of cash at him, hitting him in the nipple. He stood unflinching.

“No, no, no.” He drew out each word.

“These are my laws.” Putting his hands on his hips, he rocked left to right, clicking his spurs.

“But I see a hell of a lot of lawbreakers here tonight.”

He shifted to walk around the chair placed behind him. He sat on it backward, legs spread to place his groin in the spotlight.

“And I don’t see a cop in sight.” He pointed at the DJ.

“Hit it!” Music blaring, he did his number. And boy, was the DJ right to warn you. Dante practically made sweet love to the chair, flipping his head back.

Hips circling and then pistoning the air, sweat trailed down his pecs.

You ended up throwing a few bills, hoping to avoid eye contact. It failed as he slid to his knees to the edge of the stage and crawled off the ledge onto your table. Like a preying tiger, he made his way over to you.

Thank god you had health insurance, your blood pressure was going off the charts.

Your friends lost their heads, throwing bills and screaming like banshees. But he wasn’t interested in them. His eyes preyed after your own, baby blues on an absolute beast.

“Wanna save a horse and ride a cowboy, handsome?” He purred as he traced your jaw. Your skin jumped as you internally imploded. This was was too sensual and people were watching, for goodness sake!

“(Y/N), if you don’t agree I will cancel your Barnes and Noble membership.” Your friend threatened.

“Come on, spare this outlaw some sugar?” You didn’t have a moment to think. Dante threw his hat on your head and carried you onto the table and to the stage.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” You shrieked.

He ran hot. So hot. Your skin burned at contact with him, pressed up against his chest as he stood you in front of the chair he practically humped.

“Take a seat, sir.” You blushed at his sensual persona, not sure where the kind bartender and the suave cowboy started and ended.

Obediently, you turned the chair around and sat with your ankles crossed. Dante tutted in disapproval.

His hands lingered by your legs.

“May I?” He asked. You shook your head slowly, feeling his callused hands on your thighs. He firmly spread your legs and stood over you on the chair.

As if that wasn’t enough, his arm muscles bulged and twitched as he ripped off his leather chaps. He ripped the chaps. There were no zippers or velcro straps. That was all him!

Your face a hair’s width from his abs, he gently took your hands and traced his pecs with them. He growled and winked at you.

Despite the one-in-a-million situation you were in, you shrank at the many peering eyes of the other women and bar patrons. Your anxiety was seen by Dante, who tilted your head up.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me. If you’re nervous, just give me a purple nurple or something, alright?” You laughed at his idea of a safe word and nodded.

“Okay, Dante.”

And like that, it was like you pulled a trigger. Dante grinded on your form and explored his peak-conditioned skin with your own hands.

You gasped as he led your hands down his front to his leather shorts. You couldn’t stop looking with widened eyes at his crotch. You had read erotica before, describing the male member in the throes of passion, yet this was the first time you had been this close to anything like those erotic novels.

It was obscene! Why did it seem to get larger? How was he allowed to carry that thing around without a license?!

“Hey, eyes up here.” He teased as you snapped your head up.

“O-oh! Sorry.” You whispered. Your blood had rushed to your head and you had grown deaf to your friends’ yells of validation.

“Grab him by the buns!” One of your friends yelled. Dante turned around to make eye contact with her.

With a grin, he slid your hands to the back. What he didn’t expect was you to squeeze.

“Whoa now, kitty.” He purred. You gave a watery smile.

Suddenly, a water bottle was thrown at his head. With lightning reflexes, he caught it after it bounced off of him.

“Hey! Stage times’ over, you fucking show pony.” A short-haired woman with mismatching eyes called out. Dante scoffed.

“Just givin’ a nice gentleman some lovin’.” He argued.

“No, get off the stage, Dante.”

“Five more minutes?”

“NOW.” He sighed. Getting off of your lap, he kissed your hand that was resting on his thigh. Lord, if you died right now, that’d be fine.

“Glad to have this dance.” He flirted.

“Y-you too.” Taking your hand, he took you for another surprise and swept you off your feet. You squeaked as he handed you to another dancer on the ground. The club-goers cheered as dancers arrived, dressed like businessmen with briefcases.

You were promptly seated, head dizzy from everything that just happened. You watched as he took his leave as if he didn’t just cause you to get feverish from how hot he was. Your friend hugged you.

“Nice work! You were so lucky!” Another friend plucked the hat off your head.

“Ah! He left his hat!” You exclaimed as you took it from her hands.

“A souvenir.”

For the rest of the night, you held onto the hat and traced the red stitching. You never saw Dante for the rest of the night, his brother in charge of the bar service.

Finally, before the last round of dancers, you were tapped on the shoulder. You found yourself staring into much harsher blue eyes.

One of your friends threw money at him, which he growled at.

“I am not an entertainer. Well, not right now.” He explained. He handed you a drink with a napkin on the bottom.

“My buffoon of a brother said to keep the hat. Although, I’m not sure why you would.”

“I-”

“The drink is on the house. Good evening with you all.”

He walked off, and you took your drink. You realized it was the same one you ordered when you got to the bar.

“Hey dude, take a look.” A well-manicured nail pointed to the napkin. You saw in red pen an arrow pointed to the folded corner.

You shakily opened it to reveal a series of numbers and words, along with a card that flitted onto the table.

Tonight was fun, wanna do it again? The card’s for a private dance, just call and ask for Dante Sparda. No crowds, only you and me. No Lady barking up my tree for appreciating beauty either - DS

A little heart with an arrow through its center was scrawled in a corner. You picked up the laminated card and saw it was for a free private dance. Your heart beat out of your chest.

Your friends laughed as you immediately stuck it in your pocket, along with the note. The club closed and you were all ushered out. The night was pitch black when you emerged from the debauchery that was the Devil May Cry strip club.

As your other wasted companions were stuffed into the car, you sat shotgun to the sober and designated driver.

You were silent the car ride home, laying your head against the window. You thought about that white-haired flirt’s remarks and how gentle he was to you.

Waving and embracing your wonderful friends, you left for your apartment with all your gifts. However, the little slips of paper in your pocket weighed the heaviest on your mind.

With your keys in your hand, you climbed up the stairs home.

After closing the door, you slid down the wall and let out a pleased sigh.

“Best birthday ever!” You said to no one in particular.

#amab reader #dante x reader #dante x male reader #devil may grind #devil may cry

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bangchanstudio · 4 years

Text

Never Have I Ever | Changbin (3/?)

pairing: seo changbin x reader (fem)

genre: university au, awkward friends to ? something more? smut, house party

tw: sex, attempted date rape (spiked drink), mild panic attack, unprotected sex, penetration, cursing, praising, mild dom!changbin kink, oral sex (fem;receiving), fighting?

word count: 6.8k

ch.one | ch.two

synopsis: you’re forced to face Changbin after ghosting him for weeks, and things happen.

note: I suffered A LOT writing this so please SUFFER WITH ME. Shout out to sera aka @seraplantery for thirsting over changbin with me and his new fresh undercut as i wrote this 🥺 you the real one✨ again, i would love it if you let me know what you thought about this etc. i would love to interact more with those you read my fics!! 🥰 feel free to drop ideas or suggestions/requests in my inbox~ ps. if you would like to be added to the tag list for ✨NHIE✨ please let me know via inbox/message ❤️

taglist: @seraplantery @chang-binnie @synnocence @lordseochangbin

“Spill it, sister.” The way Hyunjin crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently reminded you of your mother when you were in high school, waiting for a confession after sneaking out to a party the night before with the guys.

Suddenly, the ramen hanging out of your mouth that linked to your chopsticks seemed one hundred times more interesting than looking at Jinnie. He was good at seeing through your lies but mostly because you were such a bad liar.

When your only response was a shrug, he let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve been acting sus for days now.”

“How?” You asked, still avoiding his gaze, sipping on your straw.

“Well, for starters, you’ve stopped pestering us about what happened at the party.” He eyed you up and down. “Did you remember?”

“Just that we watched a hot ass morning sex video.” You said wiggling your eyebrows. “Really, there’s nothing going on.”

That was a lie.

The only thing that was running through your mind most of the time these days was Changbin. Since that night you went to see him you couldn’t stop thinking about his touch. His skin. His lips. The way he tasted. Changbin got your number from Chan, but you were avoiding him. He wasn’t one to chase or push either, so when you didn’t reply to his first message he didn’t send another.

Chan already interrogated you about the night he walked in on you blowing Changbin, and asked why you haven’t talked to him. You could only assume Changbin told Chan you were ghosting him, and Chan knowing you like the back of his hand decided to mediate. You were grateful, because he never judged you for being an asshole or ghosting people. You were always like this and you had been told by many people that you were “too much”, but not Chan. That’s what made you love him and run to him. Even when you didn’t run to him because you were too self-conscious and didn’t want to annoy him, he’d go to you. Talking with Chan helped you realize you didn’t know anything at all and that it would all be okay regardless.

“You know what your problem is, (Y/N)?” Chan started two weeks after you went to see Changbin at his apartment.

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” You were laying upside down on your couch, feet hanging over the backrest next to Chan who was sitting upright typing away on his laptop.

“You avoid thinking about your feelings. Instead of trying to face them head on and figure them out, you just run away.”

Ouch. The truth of his words stung.

“Just slap me next time will ya?” He rolled his eyes at your remark.

“I’m serious.” He closed his laptop placing it on the coffee table before giving you his full attention taking your hand in his as if you were a child. “Look, you know I love you. I care about you and I want to see you happy. That’s why we need to figure this out together. Tell me, when you look at Changbin, what do you feel?”

That was a tough question to answer. “Do I really have to think about that?” You whined.

“Yes.” He said sternly in his dad voice. “We’re going to figure this out together because if not you’re just going to continue this vicious cycle forever and I won’t stand by it.”

Sighing, you closed your eyes trying to find something, anything that you could put into words.

The image of seeing Changbin for the first in over a year at Seungmin’s house party at the start of summer came rushing back. You were sitting at the bar table in the wide living room of Seungmin’s mansion in a champagne slip dress and red lips talking your half tipsy ass off with your girl friend when she gasped at a hot guy who walked in. The place was overflowing with bodies, the heat made your skin slightly damp and the music was loud. There was a mixture of cigarette smoke and the smell of booze flowing in the air, basically it smelled like a good time.

“Who’s that hottie coming in with Felix?” She had asked shouting over the DJ and pointing at the door with her free hand, drink in the other.

Your heart had stopped and the smile you had plastered on your face slowly faded as you saw Changbin walk in, leather jacket, hood up, hat covering his features, but you knew it was him. He was scanning the crowed, high-fiving and bro hugging Seungmin and Minho as they found him. Minho had turned to find you amongst the crowd and nodded your way, Changbin found you but turned away. He never went up to you that night and you didn’t either.

“I feel sad.” You admitted, voice only slightly above a whisper.

“That’s good, (Y/N). That’s a good place to start.”

[three days later]

“Another party?”

Everyone was gathered around in your apartment eating your food and playing video games.

“Yeah, my parents are going overseas again so it’s the perfect time. I think we all could use a good old fashion house party.” Seungmin, respectable Virgo though he may be, was notorious for his house parties. He always had the best DJ’s, the best drinks and most importantly a big house.

“God knows we need to let loose, especially (Y/N).” Felix smirked over at you wiggling his eyebrows, blocking the pillow you threw at him.

“Besides, it’ll be funner this time since Changbin is back and we’ve been hanging out.” The room went quiet at Jeongin’s comment, just the video game sounding in the background “Oh… was I not suppose to say that?”

“Just focus on your game the grown ups are talking.” Hyunjin hushed the younger boy. “Everything is set to go we just need to go shopping.”

“We?” Everything sounded amazing except parties meant socializing, dressing up and being in public. You had a love hate relationship with parties, about as much as you had a love hate relationship with everything else in life.

[]

The weekend came faster than you could have hoped for and that mean the party did too. All you could think about was how you planned to avoid Changbin, though it shouldn’t be too hard in a house that big. You did it once before. The truth was, maybe you were scared to genuinely fall for him, just as he had said he was afraid of falling of falling for you. The only thing you knew how to do when you were unsure of anything was to run away.

Chan was right and you knew it. Your flight instinct was all you were good at but even you knew it would be your downfall eventually.

“Wear this. From your bestest friend in the whole wide world – Jinnie”

Hyunjin stopped by while you were in the shower and shouted a quick goodbye, reminding you to not be “late” to the party before rushing back out in less than a minute. You pulled your towel closer to your cold body before opening the top of the box and pulling out a really short, strappy, silk red slip dress.

“Does he want me to die of hypothermia?” you mumbled to yourself before doing your hair and make up. All the while constantly checking your phone to keep tabs on Chan’s eta. The best you could do was curl your hair and do some basic face makeup since you loved striking more with red lips rather than heavy eyes. Since the party had a rave vibe you opted for a way heavier highlight than normal and sprinkled a bit of body glitter along your collarbones and shoulders.

“(Y/N), I’m here !” Chan’s voice rang out as you heard him shuffling from the entrance to your room.

“Are you rea– damn girl, who are you?” He stopped dead in his tracks taking you in from head to toe.

“Fuck, this is too slutty right?” You turned from your long mirror to face Chan.The dress fit you well enough, but it was so short and low cut you thought your boobs would fall out at one wrong move, not that you had much to begin with, but this dress sure made it seem like you had a decent amount of cleavage. “Shit, I need to find something else to wear. I swear Hyunjin just wants to make me look like–”

“No! Don’t you dare, you look amazing, you are totally wearing that tonight. Just take a good coat so you don’t get sick.” Just like Chan to nag, you couldn’t help but laugh at his comment.

By the time you both made it to the party it was close to 10pm, definitely late. The taxi left you at the gate at the bottom of a small hill. Making your way up you were grateful you opted for a pair of black boots instead of heels. There were a lot of people making their way up to the house and people spilling out of the house as you got closer. The bass could be heard since you stepped out of the taxi and the closer you got the sounds of chatter, heavy laughter and shouting got louder. Crowds made you nervous but holding on to Chan’s arm made you feel better. After a few drinks you wouldn’t be as nervous or anxious. Alcohol had a way of numbing just about anything.

Stepping into the house the heat of bodies welcomed you, almost immediately encouraging you to take off your coat before handing it to Chan who in turn put it, along with his in the hallway closet. You were familiar enough with Seungmin’s house to be able to use certain areas of his place that would otherwise be deemed unappropriated for others.

“Welcome, welcome friends.” Seungmin said greeting you and Chan with a hug. Hyunjin and Felix followed close behind.

“Wow, (Y/N) that dress looks so much better than I imagined!” Hyunjin didn’t trust your sense of taste when it came to party or club attire so he had the habit of picking things up for you ever since you all started partying and clubbing together junior and senior year of high school.

Felix handed you a drink with a sympathetic look, maybe your nervous were louder on your face than you realized. You looked around the crowd trying to see if you could spot Changbin’s figure but by the looks of it he wasn’t here. Even though you were avoiding him, your heart still sank a little.

Get it together, you scolded yourself.

Before you knew it you found yourself on the dance floor passing between Hyunjin, Felix and a couple of strangers. Drinks and shots started to blur as your nervous melted and you started to feel slightly dizzy at the heat and bass filling your chest. The black lights made everything neon and colorful, there were even bubble machines that left residue of shimmer on everyone’s hair, face and body as they burst.

“Whoa– whoa!” Hyunjin shouted as you grinded your ass on a guy, making you laugh and push the stranger away before turning back to Hyunjin, throwing your arms around his neck and his hanging lazily on your hips. Felix had gone off somewhere, probably the bathroom. “Do you think Changbin will show up?”

You shrugged, not wanting to ruin the fun you were having. “Who knows.”

Eventually, you found yourself alone on the dance floor still as Hyunjin went to look for Felix, probably to do other things with him.

The vibrations of the song were filling you when you felt a pair of hands grab your waist letting you know someone was there, but you couldn’t see who since they were behind you. You let your body lean back into the stranger swaying to the song coming out of the loud speakers. He felt strong and warm though he reeked of weed which immediately turned you off, but you didn’t leave him enjoying his body instead.

“Let’s grab a drink.” The stranger said, grabbing your wrist and leading you off the dance floor, weaving you through the crowd. He wasn’t half bad looking, though, the thought came to you like second nature... but he wasn’t Changbin.

You leaned against the bar, letting the coolness of the marble run up the length of your arms, without thinking you placed your forehead down the bar top to cool off a bit. It felt good against your hot skin and the heat of the room.

“Here you go.” The stranger said handing you the drink with a cocky smile.

You thanked him raising the drink to your lips. He had a dark glint in his eyes that made you hesitate. “Fuck!” You shouted as someone grabbed the wrist you were holding your drink with, jerking it away.

“What the fuck did you put in this?” It was Changbin. You froze as he grabbed the glass out of your hand, still holding onto you. He shoved the glass in the guys face, “Drink it.”

“No way, I got that for her.” He said disgust in his voice, knocking the glass out of Changbin’s hand. It shattered on the floor, but you hardly heard a thing over the loud music that was playing. “What? Is she your bitch?”

“She’s not a bitch and what she is to me is none of your fucking business.” Changbin got between you and the guy, shoving his chest.

Fuck, this was not good. You desperately looked around for Chan or Jisung, anyone that could stop Changbin better than you could. You’d seen him in enough fights to know this wouldn’t end well. Of all the good qualities Changbin had, holding back was not one of them.

“What the fuck man, I was just trying to have a little fun.” The guy shoved Changbin back, though it didn’t have much effect since Changbin had a pretty solid build.

“’A little fun’ by what? By spiking a girls drink? You must be one desperate piece of shit if you can’t get a single girl to sleep with you of their own free will.” Changbin’s words made you go cold.

Did he spike your drink when you weren’t looking?

“No, it’s just funner when their helpless.” The guy retorted.

You could feel the rage boil up in Changbin and spill over seconds before he threw his fist connecting it with the guy’s jaw, sending him stumbling into a crowd. The guy couldn’t recover before Changbin grabbed him by the collar throwing him on the ground and shoving a knee into his chest hitting him again and again.

“You low life piece of shit, I hope you rot in hell.” He said between every punch.

Fuck, fuck, fuck where the hell was everyone when you needed them?! You desperately wanted Changbin to stop fighting. The fact that they had garnered a crowd of on lookers but no one was stepping in annoyed you.

“Changbin, stop!” You pleaded but when he didn’t respond you grabbed his arm just as he was bracing to throw it again, “Please, stop!”

Changbin tensed as he turned to face you, his eyes were scary.. on fire with rage. Your eyes must have been desperate because you could feel his anger slowly start to dissipate. For a moment it was as if everything went quiet and all you could hear was your breathing and heartbeat pounding in your ears.

The stranger seized the moment and opening to escape from under Changbin’s hold and book it into the crowd shoving a few people out of the way.

“Fuck.” Changbin mumbled watching the guy run off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

He helped you to your feet before taking you by the hand and leading you around the bar and up the grand stairwell. His pace was a little faster than what you normally walked and with the alcohol running rampant in your veins you stumbled and struggled to keep up with him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was gripping your hand so tight you knew even if you tripped enough to fall, he would catch you.

The hallway lead off to various rooms and people were piling around room entrances and playing various games from drinking games to board games. The bass still sounded throughout the house, but you could hear a little more clearly from up here.

“Get the fuck out,” Changbin pulled you into Seungmin’s room where two people were making out on his couch. “Now.” He ordered.

The couple glanced at each other but did as they were told, which was good on their part. Changbin was scary when he was mad. You were dreading whatever was about to happen because he pulled you away from the crowd probably to scold you for almost getting yourself drugged.

The couple left closing the door behind them leaving you in a dim lit room with Changbin angrily pacing back and forth.

“You are so reckless!” Changbin’s voice made you flinch. You know he didn’t mean to, but he still needed to learn how to control his anger. “Why would you take a drink from someone you don’t know?”

All you could do was wrap your arms around yourself and avoid Changbin’s eyes. You felt like you could melt under his gaze, or burn.

“There are bad guys out there, (Y/N), just waiting for you to let your guard down enough so they can take advantage of you.” He was saying it with good intentions but that still didn’t make you any less angry about it.

“So, what the hell am I suppose to do then? Just not go out? Not drink or have any fun?” Your argument was weak but you hated being pushed around. Especially by Seo Changbin.

“That’s not the point, (Y/N) and you know it.” He stopped pacing taking an abrupt step towards you, your back hit the wall. He took another step cornering you in.

From this close you could smell his cologne, warm and musky. His chest was rising higher than normal, his anger still evident in his eyes and the way he set his jaw. Damn he looks so hot... wait shut up this is not the right time, you tried shaking the thought away but Changbin hit the wall next to your head making you jump.

“Look at me.” His voice was strained.

“Make me.” You challenged, the words leaving your lips before you could filter them out as this is a really bad idea, don’t say that.

He grabbed your jaw fingers digging into your cheeks forcing you to meet his gaze. It annoyed you how much that turned you on, you squeezed your eyes shut trying to control your lust.

“Do you like it when I get rough with you, is that it?” Changbin squeezed a little tighter until you opened your eyes meeting his. Fuck, was all you could think.

“Maybe.” You replied raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I just want to see you go insane.”

His dark laugh made you tremble.

“You know what drives me insane?” He sneered, “The fact that we had one decent, open conversation and then you ghost me like a fucking stranger you met off Tinder.”

To be fair, you knew it was coming. You shoved him off, crossing the room before slumping down on the couch, kicking your boots off and crossing one leg over the other so you wouldn’t flash him by accident.

He watched you from across the room as you noticeably gathered your thoughts before starting, “I.. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Changbin threw his head back in disbelief laughing before angrily asking if you were serious. You didn’t reply which seemed to only set him off even more. He crossed the large room in three strides before sitting down on the coffee table right in front of you leaning forward, elbows on his knees, face resting in his hands; but you didn’t flinch or shrink away this time.

“Then why did you do that to me?” His voice was lower now, his eyes were closed as if he was struggling just to say those words. As if he was trying to hid the hurt that was laced in that question.

“Because I wanted you to feel the same hurt that I felt when you abandoned me.” The words stumbled out of your mouth again before you could stop them.

You both froze.

It’s not something you consciously had thought out, but as soon as you said it you realized that was it. That was the real reason you were avoiding him, you wanted to get back at him. You wanted him to feel the same pain and loneliness you did when he left. Of what could have been but wasn’t.

“That’s fair.” Changbin concluded before straightening his back. “I don’t blame you.”

You sized him up trying to find any trace that he was lying, but he seemed a little more relaxed now. His shoulders were slack, his breathing was normal, eyes serious.

“Really?”

He nodded. “There is one thing though.” He said placing his hand on your knee before pushing it off your other leg. “I haven’t repaid you for that one time at the apartment.”

Your eyes widened as he pushed your legs apart. “Wh–what are you doing?”

He smirked at your sudden shyness. “I told you. Paying you back.”

“No, no it’s okay, I swear, just don’t mention it.” You clumsily shot up before stepping a safe distance away suddenly cursing yourself for being barefoot.

He laughed with his whole chest before standing up straight. “Come on, you were not this shy sucking me off.”

Your cheeks were burning, you were positive your face was the same color as your dress. Changbin made his way over to you, pushing your hair back behind your shoulder. The closeness of his body, the way his eyes made trails down your neck and collarbones made you tremble again, you tried crossing your arms to keep yourself still.

He noticed you shaking.

“Hey, (Y/N), it’s really okay if you don’t want to. I would never do anything you weren’t comfortable with.” His voice was soft, worried.

“It’s not that,” You trailed off averting your gaze. “It’s just I’ve never been... You know.”

“Never what?” He raised his eyebrow in that way that said, I don’t believe you,”I know you’re not a virgin.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “Of course not, I mean the,” You flailed with your hand trying to get the point across without explicitly saying it, “I’ve never.. you know.”

Realization dawned on his features, “Oh... you’ve never been eaten out?”

“Fuck, yes, Changbin. That. God.” The fact that he said it out loud made you even more shy.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” He said before pinching your cheek and biting his lip.

“This room’s taken.” Changbin called as a couple walked in barely keeping each other on their feet. He shoved them out before closing and locking the door behind them.

“Changbin!” You squeaked as he rushed back over to you, picking you up off the ground and carrying you to the bed before tossing you easily on it. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, one you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“Who let you wear this dress?” He asked pulling at it teasingly; undressing you with his eyes.

“Jinnie bought it for me.” You replied. He took off his jacket, the sleeves of his black shirt were cut off revealing his biceps. “Been working out?” You asked not hiding your want anymore.

“Like what you see?” Changbin asked before pulling your legs towards him so your bum was at the end of the mattress.

You nodded, biting the tip of your finger as you gazed up at him. He ran his hands up your calves and thighs before tugging you a little closer to the edge.

“When did you get so buff?” You asked half teasing. He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know just looking out for my health.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes laughing.

There was silence as Changbin took you in again, staring down at you, his face unreadable as always. “Would it be okay if we forgot everything for a little while?”

His words made you catch your breath in your chest. Your fingertips grazed his hands on your thighs, slowly back and forth before nodding hesitantly, “That sounds fun” You breathed.

Changbin smiled before slipping his hands under your dress and slowly pulled down your lacy black panties. He got on his knees and spread your legs open, the motion made you squeeze your eyes shut squeaking in the process, covering your face with your hands.

“Ah, what? Don’t tell me you’re still shy.” Changbin laughed before placing small kisses on the inside of your thighs, switching between the two. There was a soft romantic song playing in the distance, so you tried to focus on it to calm your increasing heartbeat as Changbin kissed and sucked small spots on your sensitive skin.

His breath was warm as were his lips and his hands felt like they were burning on your thighs. It wasn’t long until you felt your body longing for more of him. He noticed the way your breathing started to come slightly quicker, the way your legs started to unconsciously shake with want and desire. He saw the way you bit your lip trying to keep yourself from making any sound, and the way you covered your eyes with your arm, hand clenched into a fist.

He smirked wanting to make you break.

“Oh, my god.” You breathed as you felt his tongue trace along your folds. You trembled at his warm touch. He liked the way you looked from this point of view and the way you tasted on his tongue.

His mouth found your clit and you let out a “Fuck,” as he drew circles with his tongue, the sensation sending waves of pleasure that you had never felt before. It was so much better than touching yourself. He went between licking you up and circling your clit occasionally sucking on it making you whimper.

“That feels so so good,” Your hands found their way into his hair pushing it out of his eyes, he looked sexy from here.

“I’m glad you like it,” He hummed still at your core, the vibrations of his voice against your clit making you shake.

You could feel the heat starting to rise, the way that familiar knot was forming in your core.

But suddenly, you remembered the guy on the dance floor. The way he smelled of weed, the way he pushed his body against your back. The way he lead you off the dance floor and handed you the drink. The drink you almost drank, the one he drugged to...

The sensation hit you like a truck after a few minutes and you could feel the pleasure start to change into something else, your breathing was coming out faster and heavier. The walls of the room started to close in and you felt like you might pass out. Your thighs were trembling and Changbin had to hold them open to keep you from trying to close them.

“Changbin I– I– fuck, I–,” you couldn’t form a coherent sentence and panic started to rise in your chest. There were black dots starting to dance across your vision, you felt claustrophobic, “Shit, it’s really heavy. Changbin, please,”

“Please what?” He asked, noticing panic in your voice. But you couldn’t speak all you could do was clench his hair making him stop.

“I– I need to catch my breath.” Fuck why were you panicking now. You sat up clenching your chest trying to focus your breathing. Changbin was sitting back on his knees, he grabbed your face between his hands trying to get you to focus on him.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay just look at me. Focus on me.” His eyes and voice were calm but you felt a small part of you unraveling. Your chest hurt from how hard you were trying to breath, you tried closing your eyes but Changbin got your attention again, “No, (Y/N) look at me, keep focusing on me. I’m here. I’m real.”

Your eyes desperately searched his face trying to center yourself.

“The guy fro–from be–before, I– I’m having a p–anic attack,” You chocked out trying to at least tell him what was happening. It wasn’t the first time he saw you panic, but it had been a very long time.

“Okay, baby, don’t worry I’m right here. Just breathe. Can you tell me five things you can see? Come on, just five little things.” You could only see a small glint of desperation in his eyes.

“H–hair,” You chocked out looking at his dark hair, “Eyes,” His eyes that felt like home...

“That’s great, baby, really great. Three more. Just tell me three more little things you see.” Changbin encouraged, hands warm against your cheeks.

“Nose” that you loved to pinch when you would tease him in high school, “Cheeks,” they were flushed, “Lips,” they were soft and still wet from eating you out, your eyes stayed there.

“Great. Now four things you can touch.”

Your breathing was still heavy but you were a tiny bit calmer. You touched the bed for a few seconds, your dress, his hair and his hands on your face.

“Three things you can hear.” He continued calmly, voice like honey.

You concentrated, “rain, piano, your breathing.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“Beer and... your cologne.” Your eyes were closed but you were almost in complete control again.

“That’s amazing baby, now tell me one thing you can taste,”

“Dos XX.” You opened your eyes, he was smiling softly. “Damn it, Changbin I’m so sorry.”

You felt so guilty for freaking out like that. It was something that was out of your control but you still felt guilty and week for letting it overtake you like that. Especially now of all moments.

Changbin stayed on his knees looking up at you. You felt so embarrassed. Why did that have to happen now, you cursed yourself again. It had been months since your last panic attack but something about the way that guy tried to drug you made you lose your mind.

You pulled Changbin’s arm tugging him to join you on the bed. “Can you hug me for a bit, please?”

He chuckled before kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed. He pulled your body back with him as he sat up right against the headboard. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist as you settled between his legs. He rested his chin on your shoulder half mumbling half singing the lyrics to I will follow you into the dark and swaying you gently. You closed your eyes relaxing against his chest, feeling the vibrations as he sang the sweet words into your ear. You felt at home in his arms, they were strong and safe. Like a fortress.

After a while of being like this you shifted in his embrace enough to where you could look up at him.

“What?” He asked half worried half smiling.

“Thank you for saving me. Or well, not saving me but you know... saving me. I didn’t realize the guy was a total scumbag. I should have been more careful.” You looked down fiddling with your fingers.

Changbin was quiet for a long time before responding. “If you let me be near you again, I promise I will always keep you safe.”

You met his gaze again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, yes, I like you. A lot, actually. But I understand if you don’t want to be with me in that way or at least not right now, but it would be really great if we could try being friends again.. like before.”

Like before.

That’s all you had ever wanted. Was to go back to how things had been before, but you weren’t sure if that was even possible anymore. So much at had changed, everything was different. You were different.

“Can we go back to forgetting everything... Just for a little while longer?” You asked placing your hand on his neck, pulling his lips down to yours. You felt tired from the panic attack, but you need to feel something. Something that would replace the fear.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Changbin asked, he was hesitating against your lips.

You nodded pulling him into a kiss, your hands getting lost in his hair. Everything seemed to rush, the way your teeth teased his lips and his yours. The way you shifted yourself to lay down on your back pulling Changbin on top of you as you did. The way his hands slipped under your dress feeling your cold skin, and yours tugging his shirt desperately. You pulled the shirt over his head tossing it to the side before he went back to your lips shoving his tongue into your mouth. You could still taste yourself on his tongue and you blushed.

“I really want you to fuck me.”

Changbin chocked at your comment before laughing, “Damn, you can be really bold sometimes. I like it.”

He wasted no time unbuckling his belt buck, he looked so sexy doing it biting his lip, he knew what he could do to you. Changbin discarded the rest of his clothes and pulled your dress off surprised to see you weren’t wearing a bra.

“What?” You teased.

“Nothing, you’re just really hot.” His lips were hot on your chest, trailing down your stomach and back up again. His hands massaging your boobs before taking one in his mouth, he nibbling on your nipple the sensation making you whimper.

You pulled him by his hair back up to your lips, your legs wrapping around his bare waist pulling his naked body to yours.

“If you make me wait any longer I’m going to go crazy,” You whined pouting at Changbin making him laugh. “Oh, fuck,” he said shaking his head, “I don’t have a condom, I forgot my wallet at home...” At this point you were so turned on you just wanted to hit him, but you needed him so desperately.

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill. Either way, I trust you.” You looked at him as you consented, before pulling his body closer to yours. The tip of his throbbing cock was teasing your entrance and you whined pushing your hips to get closer to him.

Changbin tsked, “You’re so impatient baby girl.”

“I need you, I don’t want to feel afraid anymore.” You didn’t care that the words sounded dumb or selfish, it was the truth.

“You don’t need to be afraid with me around.” He hummed into your neck brushing his head against your cheek, his hair was soft and smelled of mint. “I’ll keep you safe.” his words gave you chills.

“I know that, Changbin.” You didn’t, but you wanted to.

He slowly pushed his tip into your entrance making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Changbin said grabbing your jaw in the way that was starting to feel familiar. “I want you to know that it’s me, that it’s me and no one else.”

You picked up on what he was hinting at, because there were things he noticed that you didn’t. Like what may or may not trigger another panic attack. He was right, so you kept your eyes open, watching as his face scrunched up as he pushed himself into your pussy stretching you out.

“Oh, fuck that’s tight.” He groaned, voice raspy and deep. “Fuck.”

He waited for you to adjust before continuing to move slowly in and out. You were still slick from before, so even though he filled you up it felt so good. The way he kissed your neck, and left love marks made you whine and tell him how much you had always wanted to do this.

“How many times have you thought about fucking me?” He asked, sitting back on his knees and pulling your waist higher to fuck you at a better angle. These types of positions always made you a little self conscious since he had a full frontal view, but you felt safe under his gaze.

“Too many to count.” You admitted laughing before moaning as he picked up the pace in time to the song that was playing downstairs. The friction felt like heaven and you felt the butterflies in your stomach start to turn into little knots. “Have you ever thought about fucking me?”

“Since the day I met you,” Changbin confessed between moans. “Fuck (Y/N) you feel so fucking good.”

“Changbin,” You moaned his name, eyes rolling back shut. You arched your back slightly as he pounded into you, the increased pace was making you feel hotter. “Fuck, if I would have known you were this good I would have asked you to fuck me sooner.”

He laughed at your vulgar comment, “Where? Like at the hide out?” He slammed into you again making you curse, your walls starting to clench around his cock.

“Yeah, that would have been really fun.” You found his hand and squeezed it. “Shit, I’m getting really close.” “Don’t worry baby you can cum whenever you want.” His words made you go crazy, and he praised you telling you how well you were doing. He pulled your legs up over his shoulder and bottoming you out with each and every thrust.

“Changbin, don’t stop.” You moaned as the sound of his skin slapping yours echoed louder and louder, Changbin’s breathing was hitching and you knew he was about to cum too. “Fuck,” The knots in your stomach turned into heatwaves as you released onto Changbin, he slammed into you harder and faster the friction making you see stars.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” Changbin moaned your name as he came in you, his hot white liquid filling you up and you loved the way it felt. “Shit.”

He fell on your chest letting your legs rest on either side of him, you both struggled to catch your breath but the sound was sweet in your ears. Changbin kept telling you how beautiful you looked in this mess and how amazing you felt. You ran your fingers through his wet hair, admiring his beautiful features as he rested on your chest.

“Hands down,” Changbin breathed, swallowing his spit to hydrate his dry throat, “My favorite.”

You waited for him to finish his thought but he didn’t.

“Your favorite what?” You probed, putting your arm on your forehead still coming down from your high.

“Oh, my favorite sex round.” He said still breathing heavy, laughing. The sound echoing in your chest.

“Yeah, it was pretty fucking amazing.” You agreed. Changbin pulled himself out of you slowly before settling next to you pulling you close. You rested your head on his chest hearing his heartbeat return to normal, the sound bringing you peace.

His hand traced the curve of your waist, and he did that for long time.

Eventually you both fell asleep and sometime through the night, decided to just keep sleeping getting comfortable under the covers and Changbin’s skin pressed against yours.

It was the first night in a long time where you felt like you actually rested well. The morning light woke you and for a few seconds you started to panic, until you saw Changbin’s sleeping face next to yours. Then you remembered the night before, and the amazing things you felt. You calmed your heart and snuggled back into his chest.

“Mm?” he mused lightly.

“Shh, sorry for waking you.” You whispered wrapping your arms around him tightly. He chuckled and fell back asleep in seconds.

That was until Seungmin walked through the door and started yelling every curse word in the book, “What the fuck do you guys think you’re doing in my bed. Wait, fuck, what the hell did you guys do in my bed? Don’t tell me you fucking had sex in my bed that is so fucking gross. Ew! I hate you guys, we’re not friends anymore, get the hell out of my house and wash the damn sheets before you leave I’m telling Chan on you guys..” Seungmin stormed out of the room continuing his rant.

You and Changbin exchanged looks before bursting out laughing.

“I really hope this doesn’t turn into an everyday thing when we have sex.” Changbin said whipping a tear from his eye from laughing so hard. First Chan and now Seungmin.

You prayed to the gods the same thing.

184 notes · View notes

hobidreams · 5 years

Text

The Early Shift | Last Cup {M}

the last sip of coffee is always the most bittersweet.

pairing: barista!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, sprinkling of fluff words: 9.5k contains: coffee shop au, enemies to lovers, jealous/awkward yoongi, condomless sex, softness (ish), dirty talk, spanking, oral (f), hair pulling, the truth index: first sip - second taste - last cup

“H-Hyung?” The word is foreign on your tongue as you swivel, catch sight of Yoongi’s face. He’s gone ashen, stony as he barrels towards you two, abandoning the inventory checklist with a clatter onto the counter.

Yoongi’s hands dig into your wrist as he forces you behind him, taking your place instead right in front of Jiwon’s still smiling face. Except the grin is now somewhat plastered in place on his handsome lips. “Jiwon.” Yoongi drops the familiar term, his eyes more combative than you’ve ever seen them. Combative, yet not with the fires of passion he usually turns on you. Instead, a chill so cold, so empty you hardly recognize it.

“Ahhh...” Jiwon exhales, covering his mouth with a broad palm, scratching the skin just beneath his lips with a groomed fingernail. “It’s been a while… I’m still your hyung, you know.”

“Bullshit.” Yoongi whips the word at him, but Jiwon doesn’t back away.

“I thought you hated the night shift.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Is that why you’re here then? To ruin something else for me behind my back?”

The tension is so weighty it settles in the pit of your stomach as you look from man to man, neither one offering any explanation. Deadlocked in a standoff of stares or glares depending on the man. Their only weapons are their words, which could cut just as deeply as any blade.

This isn’t good. Especially because there’s still a customer left in the store.

So you throw yourself into the fray. “Yoongi, what’s wrong?” You ask in what you hope is a calm voice. “How do you know Jiwon?”

The second Jiwon’s name comes out of your mouth, Yoongi jerks towards you. “I don’t. Nothing’s happening. He’s just leaving.”

“Yoongi, you can’t just kick out a customer.” You feel bad – Jiwon is starting to look like a kicked puppy with his lips drawn down, somber.

“Can and will.”

“Yoongi…” Jiwon clenches his coffee. “Listen—”

He’s cut off when a blare of familiar song whips through the café. “I KNOW, we don’t talk together!” Volume turned up to the max, the music reverberates off the walls themselves.

“Sorry!” The only customer squeaks, the ringtone obviously hers as she answers the call. “Hello?” She hurries out the door, leaving awkward silence in her wake.

You didn’t think it was possible, but Yoongi’s scowl deepens further. It just had to be this song, the damn reminder of what he’s lost. The lines carved into his face are so hardened and painful you wish you could offer relief. Instead, you swallow that look and all its implications. Then something clicks in your brain.

“Wait, Yoongi...” You gesture to Jiwon, hands slightly shaking, “is he…”

Yoongi grunts, irritated that he can’t hide it any longer. “It’s your lucky day. Meet DJ Alex.” His voice is deadpan. “Or should I say, Do Jiwon.”

“Do… Jiwon.” You repeat in a whisper. “DJ.”

“Yup.”

Another silence, but this time it covers you in its heavy grasp. This Jiwon. This charming, handsome Jiwon that you almost asked out, imagined yourself possibly dating. This Jiwon that’s actually nothing but a thief.

Said man rakes a hand through his dark hair. “Yoongi, let me explain myself, please.”

With another scoff, Yoongi breaks the stare-off. He turns. His eyes find yours of all things and he just exhales as if it’s all too much. “Jiwon. Just… Just go.” He steps away from the counter, tensed fingers finding your wrist. He means to drag you both into the backroom. Running away from this mess like he always has.

But you’re not done yet.

Your mind is exploding with questions, with emotions bolstered by the absolute fatigue in Yoongi’s eyes. Why isn’t he defending himself? He so eagerly goes head to head with you but here? Here is where he loses his nerve? He’s just going to let Jiwon get away with it all without so much as a scolding? When Jiwon took his best chance away from him and his inspiration with it?

No. No damn way are you going to stand there and take that.

You jerk your hand free. Before Yoongi can grab you again, you storm back to the counter. “What the fuck, Jiwon?”

Some carnal part of you relishes the shock in Jiwon’s eyes when your voice whips at him, respectful honorifics dropped.

“What the actual fuck? You just come back here just to offer excuses about what you did?” Your finger jabs at the air over his chest. “If you want to call yourself his hyung, then you should make yourself fucking deserving of that name!” Your volume raises with every word you sucker punch at him. “But no, instead, you betrayed him! Just abandoned him!”

Jiwon’s mouth flaps but nothing comes out.

“How dare you come back into his life and remind him of all that? Of the shitty thing you did and are still enjoying now?” You’re on a roll, apparently. You didn’t even know you had it in you to defend Yoongi so vehemently when you usually spend your time doing the exact opposite. But the resignation in the way he bites his lip scrapes at your heart.

“Yoongi trusted you. You were his partner!” Jiwon shrivels with every syllable. “The only thing worse than a coward, which you are for dodging him, is a goddamn liar.”

You’re left slightly breathless at the end of your tirade, tense hands splayed across the bar You glare at Jiwon, but he refuses to meet your expression, your anger. Instead, he burns a hole in the counter for half a minute before he dares to looks up. Then his eyes flicker to Yoongi. You stiffen, ready for an explosion.

“…You’re right.” When Jiwon finally speaks, his voice has lost all flirtatious flair. It sounds small, pathetic. “I did a shitty thing. A shitty, selfish thing.”

What an ass—

Wait.

Wait, what?

“Y-Yeah!” You can’t quite hold on to the full amount of anger in your tone when he’s not feeding your fire. But having Yoongi in your peripheral vision keeps you from moving an inch. “Damn right it was shitty!”

“The producers, they just. Fuck.” Jiwon sighs, gritting his teeth. “Fuck, I know I can’t take back what I did. But. But Yoongi…” Your hands clench into fists, ready to counter whatever excuse he comes up with. Or his anger, which would be apt considering the venom you’ve thrown his way. “Yoongi, I’m sorry.”

You actually take a step back.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

This is… Not what you were expecting. And judging by the way Yoongi’s mouth just falls open, he hadn’t predicted it either. He just keeps blinking as if he figures he’ll wake up at any minute.

Jiwon stutters something unintelligible as he fishes in his jacket for a wallet. It’s much fumbling before he drops a white card onto the table, his name embossed on the front. “I-If you want, I can introduce you to some connections and we can get your music out there, Yoongi. Let me help you! Please.” He pushes the card across the counter. “Call me. Let me make up for this.”

Oh, hell no.

You take one look at the flimsy card stock and snatch it up. “He doesn’t need your pity!” You scrunch it up in your fist. Whip the paper ball towards the door. “Just get out!”

Finally, Jiwon gets the point. He gives Yoongi one last look (regret? sorrow? who the hell cares) before he whirls around. Even leaves his coffee behind in his haste. The chime goes off and now, you are left alone together.

You both stare out the door for a long minute, neither of you sure how to proceed. Eventually, your fingers stitch together, oddly flustered as you slowly turn to fully face Yoongi. He seems to have recovered from the initial jolt. He’s closed his flabbergasted mouth, opting for a thin-lipped glower instead. Except this one seems directed at you.

You feel like you should say something, but what? The tension nips at your mind, begging to be shattered. Needs to be, if you are going to move forward.

“Yoongi—”

He beats you to it. “You know what? I don’t need your pity either.” Then he disappears into the backroom, door slamming decisively shut.

He just leaves you standing there like a fish caught on a deadly hook, stuck with bleeding thoughts, hands numb, trembling. You weren’t expecting gratitude, no. Still, you didn’t think he would react like… this, either. Not when the other option was to let Jiwon go.

But you don’t see Yoongi again until an hour has passed. Those two lines, spat like poison, become the last words Yoongi says to you for the rest of the night as he stalks, still mute, to the OPEN sign. He whips it CLOSED precisely one second after the proper time and begins the mopping duties without even so much as a glance your way.

You can’t muster the courage to even try knocking on the wall he’s suddenly re-erected between you; all you can do is look down at the change you’re counting and try to not let it get to you.

You finish the evening in this same solitude. The cleaning gets done. The store is locked, shuttered. Eventually, you go your separate ways in the darkness without so much as a wave of acknowledge. Yoongi’s hands remain stuck in his pockets, closed off, while you pick at your nails in nervous habit as you walk away from him.

Tomorrow, Yoongi is back on his regular shift. Meanwhile, you still have two weeks of your night shift trade left to go. That means your paths don’t have any opportunity to cross.

And so, they simply don’t.

To your credit, you try your best not to think about Yoongi. But your mind just keeps playing that scene over and over again, determined to force you to analyze every word, every gesture. And that song is making a comeback on the radio, if only to serve no other purpose than to antagonize you.

Perfect. Just freakin’ perfect.

You make it all of a week.

“Hey Jungkook… Can I ask you something?”

“Always! Shoot.” Jungkook leans against the bar, letting his adorable, earnest smile shine through.

Here goes nothing. “H-Have you spoken to Yoongi at all?” You’re trying your best to keep your voice casual, not wanting to betray the hours of contemplation spent pondering whether or not you should be asking this question in the first place. Clearly, you’ve been real productive these past seven days.

Jungkook doesn’t look surprised at your query. Or maybe he just hides it well. Either way, he nods. “Not much. Just a little bit when our shifts overlap.” His huge eyes may look innocent, but there’s a gleam of mischief as he deliberately refuses to elaborate any further than that.

Brat. He’s not going to make this easy on you. “Is he… Is he okay?”

Jungkook shrugs. “No injuries. He hasn’t gotten into any fistfights.”

“Yah, you know what I mean.” You smack him on the arm.

He laughs, infuriatingly carefree. “Sorry, sorry. But seriously, he just looks normal, maybe a little tired. Then again, I only see him for like half an hour. Not a lot of time to have deep, soul-searching conversations.”

You don’t know what answer you were hoping for, but it still leaves you disappointed. “Hm.”

Hm, indeed. He looks fine, while you’ve been replaying last week over and over again in your mind like a broken record. Cool. That’s totally cool.

“So he hasn’t… talked or asked about me or anything?”

Hoseok, coming up from behind Jungkook, is the one to answer instead. “Well, actually.” It’s comical how your heart soars at that, leaping bounds and valleys from just two words. But you come crashing down when he ultimately ends up shaking his head. “Wait. Sorry, shit. I… can’t tell you.”

Your eyes narrow. “You can’t? So he has said something?”

Hoseok casts his gaze downward. “It’s really not for me to say.” He purposefully smooths out non-existent wrinkles on his apron.

Jungkook’s doe eyes turn on you. “Noona, have you tried just asking him yourself?”

…Kind of. The text you sent a few days, the careful ‘Hey, Yoongi, are you there?’ had gone woefully unanswered. You eventually had to archive the conversation altogether, to prevent your obsessive checking over whether or not he had replied. Altogether, a disaster.

“It’s… It’s fine. It’s whatever,” you end up muttering. Thankfully, the door sounds and you vehemently turn towards the new customer that’s just entered the shop, grateful for the distraction.

You know your coworkers are much too clever to believe your stammered words. But at least they’re kind enough not to probe any further.

It is on a Friday, the last night of your month-long shift swap, that reality smacks you in the face.

Reality is this: you will be forced to face Yoongi in three days, and things remain extremely awkward between you. He is still ignoring you. Not that you can really blame him, after these two weeks to contemplate that decisive moment. While you don’t regret what you said to Jiwon, you probably shouldn’t have stuck your nose into Yoongi’s issue and taken over for him. Should have respected his decision to back off, no matter how unjust.

Which means you should probably apologize.

Just one problem. You hate doing that. Especially to Yoongi.

But you were the one who committed the wrong, so you have to be the one to extend the olive branch. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, nothing like the lattes you prefer but more like a dark roast: rich, full, and awful. That’s how Yoongi had tasted too, his tongue sliding against yours so feverishly like a man possessed. You hadn’t minded the flavor then.

“Hobi, how do you apologize to someone?” You rest your hands on the top of the mop, then your cheek on top of that.

Hoseok tilts his head to the side, a cute “hm?” coming out of his heart-shaped mouth. “Depends on how bad the situation is, I think!”

“Pretty bad, I guess?”

He hums, as if he knows exactly what this is in reference to. Then he raises a finger in triumph, like he’s just discovered the secret to the universe. “Go with a gift! You can never go wrong with a present!”

Hm! You nod approvingly. That’s a perfect idea.

Thus, your Saturday becomes dedicated to making a gift for Yoongi.

Yes, making, because you can’t exactly afford expensive music equipment. You don’t think Yoongi would appreciate a bag of coffee beans from his place of employment. Somehow, a stuffed animal doesn’t seem to fit his aesthetic either; you also really don’t want to add to the clutter of his place. So, your genius mind has settled on creating a mixtape. A playlist full of songs you hope can express how sorry you are, and how you hope to move on from this.

There’s one surprise at the very end of the CD: a piece that’s self produced. It’s just two minutes of you, a shitty phone microphone, and some heartfelt rambling. Look, apologizing is hard, okay? You don’t think you have the gall to do it in person, so this is the next best thing.

The sun is just beginning to set when you reach Yoongi’s apartment, finished present in hand. You’re contemplating whether to knock or just leave the tiny bag you have on the handle. One of these options is easier than the other. But maybe you owe it to him to at least ensure it gets to him.

Your knocks go unanswered.

Eventually, you have to accept that he’s out, a fact that has relief pouring over you. You loop the bag straps around the door. He’ll get it whenever he reaches home, you suppose. And if he chooses to snap it in half without listening to it, well, that’s his prerogative too. You’ve done your part. You’ve been the bigger person.

You manage to get all the way back to your apartment without thinking of the package, blasting music from your headphones to drown out your thoughts. You eat your dinner, watch an episode of the latest KBS drama, water your plants. Hell, you even start actually doing the research for your paper due in three weeks. But throughout it all, you can’t shake the listlessness that sits beneath your skin like an unwanted visitor, ever so often poking you with a sharp stick.

You know too well why it’s there: your damn curiosity that won’t leave you alone.

You want desperately to know if your gift has been received, and how. Will he understand what you’re trying to say? Maybe you should have put your apology at the beginning instead of the end. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone with Super Junior’s Sorry Sorry, even though you needed something in the middle to break up the torrent of sappy songs. Oh god. The what ifs threaten to drive you stark wild for the utter lack of answers. (Though judging by your current state, perhaps they already have.)

“Uggggh, that’s it!” You announce to your succulent, desk chair clattering as you shove viciously to your feet. “I’m going to bed!”

With great, groaning creaks, the elevator doors open on the floor of Yoongi’s apartment. Yoongi drags his exhausted body through them, reeking of smoke, stale cologne, and alcohol, courtesy of the bar he just left. His head is still a little fuzzy, but it’s not too bad. A nice haze. The walk here in the cool night air has already sobered him up some. He just needed to get out of the house. Needed to stop thinking for a while.

But the pressure lingering in his system had refused to budge even after the second shot, fifth drink in total, which was what finally prompted him to get his sorry ass back home. He’s desperate for something to relieve what’s been pent-up, the ugliness building and bubbling uncontrollably inside him these past weeks. Sex distracts him, usually. But a meaningless hookup… that would erase the memories of your pretty mouth on him, the heat of your body tangled up with his. He can’t bring himself to do that. Not that he can admit this, even in his own mind. So, he resigns himself to another night of his fist wrapped around his own length and a mediocre climax.

Yoongi sighs as he rounds the corner, digging in his pocket for his keys. Just as he pulls the ring out, he spots the conspicuous bag tied to his door. Who would be sending gifts like this? Jimin? No, his friend from college is currently out of town, he remembers. But nobody else would leave—he peers inside—a CD of all things, with his name scribbled upon it. This handwriting is familiar, but he can’t quite place it.

He grabs the bag and enters the darkness of his place. He drops his jacket on the couch, then makes his way to his computer. Slides the CD inside the console. Waits.

The first song is something indie, something sorrowful. Yoongi doesn’t recognize it but he gives it a listen. It’s not bad. But the next song is even slower, even sadder. Most definitely not his usual type of music, and for good reason. He cringes at the third piece.

The songs just keep coming, all playing off the same apologetic theme. Whoever put together this playlist has no idea what they’re doing, he thinks. The genres are all over the place, with no coherent flow like a proper mixtape should. They all just happen to contain the word ‘sorry’ in the title or lyrics. “The hell is this,” Yoongi mutters, laughing at the absurdity as he stands up halfway through, deciding to take a shower without even bothering to turn the music off.

Yoongi takes his time beneath the hot water – lets it wash away the grime of the night. It helps remove some of the buzz from his mind. By the time he steps out of the bathroom, he feels almost completely sober. He’s distracted with towelling off his hair; he doesn’t even notice that music is no longer playing until he hears speech.

“...eah, so, I guess what I’m trying to say...”

He freezes.

But that’s your voice.

The voice he hasn’t heard in weeks but could pick out of a crowd in a second. The voice that once hammered on his brain on a daily basis but now douses it in undeniable relief, comfort.

Yoongi is glad no one is around to witness him rushing to the desktop, hurriedly replaying the track that’s currently on. He plugs in his headphones, dragging them over his head even though his hair drips with water.

“Hey, Yoongi.” You sound so uncharacteristically quiet it makes his chest tight. “I-I know you’re trying to avoid me, and I don’t blame you.” He gnaws at his bottom lip as he listens to you explain your thoughts. Even though your tone wavers at certain moments, you just keep pressing on. It makes his chest feel inexplicably tight.

“Yeah, so, I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I won’t interfere with your business again. And I won’t cross the professional lines between us anymore. I hope we can still work together. Okay. That’s, uh, all from me. Goodnight.”

Yoongi sits in the silence for all of three seconds before he hits the back button. Plays it again. Then again.

“God damn it!” He rips off the headphones, surges to his feet. “You’re so damn silly. It’s not your fault! How could any of this be your fault?”

But then whose is it?

Jiwon is the easiest culprit. But he’s apologized. He’s trying to move on, even trying to help Yoongi, even though that’s just salt in the wound. The only person still mired inside this self-made prison is Yoongi. He made his home in these concrete walls, punishing himself, thinking it was the easiest way out. Still bitter and trying to pretend like he can just stay angry forever because the only person it fucked up was himself.

But now it’s affecting you.

Hearing your voice like this, it’s all laid out for him. Reality and truth stab him in the gut, forcing him to finally acknowledge how he’s hurt you, the one person who has nothing to gain from helping him, yet continues to do so again and again.

Yoongi rubs at his temples, regret radiating through him in waves. He should have realized it earlier, if only he could have pulled his head out of his ass. Hearing this, hearing your voice with that undercurrent of worry is like a punch to the gut and to his mind, blasting out any residual hesitancy.

You don’t deserve to sit in this uncertainty and pain of misunderstanding any longer.

A text isn’t enough. Nor is a call. He needs to see you. He needs to see you right now and tell you face to face just how sorry he is. How grateful. And maybe he just wants to see your face, because he kind of misses the way you scold him.

Haphazardly dressed, Yoongi rushes out the door, almost forgetting his keys in his haste. His slides slap against the floor as he frantically dials Namjoon, hoping he’s awake to get the address he so desperately needs. He jams his finger into the elevator call button, silently willing it to come faster.

No more, Yoongi thinks. No more running away from the hard shit, from his feelings. This time, he’s running right towards his future.

The clock blinks 1:00AM when you check it next, still as wide awake as when you shuffled beneath your covers two whole hours ago.

Damn it. It’s a good thing you have tomorrow off, because there’s no way in hell you could wake up at the crack of dawn otherwise. Counting sheep has proven to be useless, especially after you get up to Sheep #482 (it’s a cute one. Okay. They’re all cute.) Doing math equations in your head usually gets you conked out pretty quickly from sheer monotony, but it’s also futile tonight. Your mind is much too alive, active, overactive to let you doze off.

Then you hear the knocking.

Well, it’s more like a clatter. The sound of something hard slamming against your door, followed by a few wimpy taps. Yikes. Are you going to get murdered?

You slip out of bed, pick up your baseball bat. Weapon in hand, you creep towards the entrance, forgetting you’re not even wearing any bottoms. You press silently to the thick wood, maneuver your eye over the peephole to see what crazy bastard is here at this hour.

What you see has you yanking the door open, the bat clattering uselessly to the ground.

“Y-Yoongi?!”

It feels like a lifetime since you’ve last seen him. You didn’t know how much you missed that stupid, irritating, attractive face until it’s in front of you. Doubled over and breathless, hair a wind-blown mess.

“How the hell did you get my address?”

“Namjoon.” Yoongi is panting so hard he can hardly breathe. You swear he’ll keel over in the next minute. You don’t look forward to cleaning his body off your carpet. “Namjoongaveittome.” That’s all he can get out before he takes another gulp of air, face red with strain.

“Jeez, come in so you don’t bother my neighbours with your dying.” You usher him in, watch him stumble to your couch as you flick on a lamp to cast a glow over the room. He’s wearing a plain tee and sweatpants, but it’s the slides on his feet that probably explain his current discomfort. In his hands, he clutches the same bag you left on his doorstep. You try not to think about the implications of that. “Why didn’t you drive or take the bus or something?”

“Bus broke down… halfway. Had to run…”

You shove a glass of water into his hands and he gulps at it. A few droplets leak from his mouth. He wipes it away with the back of his hand. Classy.

“Thanks,” he finally says as his heart seems to stop threatening to jump out of his chest from fatigue, then speeds up again for another reason entirely.

You stare at each other wordlessly for a few beats.

“What’re you doing here, Yoongi?” It comes out in a harsher tone than you’d intended but your heart beats a drum in your chest, a rude rhythm that is mirrored in the trembling of your fingers.

“I should be saying that to you!” Yoongi reacts to the perceived animosity in your voice, lifting the bag and shaking it. “What is this supposed to be, huh?”

You force yourself to focus on fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt. Quelling the unease in your veins. “…Did you listen to it?”

“Yeah, I did.” Yoongi sets the cup on the coffee table with a smack. “First of all, you have awful taste. Secondly, this CD is completely unnecessary.”

“Oh.”

This squeak of a noise is accompanied by the sudden skydive of your heart, right towards the floor. At least that you can hide. But, against your will, disappointment and exhaustion create a cocktail of tears that prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over by the next second. No, no, no, you scold yourself but the lump swelling in your throat refuses to be swallowed down. You hate that more than anything, hate that it makes you look wimpy and weak.

When you turn your head, Yoongi catches sight of the glimmer of wet tears. “Oh, shit.” He throws the bag behind him. Scooting towards you, he puts a warm hand on your shoulder and his voice is right beside your ear and god damn it, why is he getting closer? But even you can hear the panic in his voice when he says, “no, no, oh god. I didn’t mean it like that.” He brushes your hair back to expose your downturned face. “Shit. Please don’t cry. Please.”

“I don’t want to cry either, Yoongi!” Your words sound waterlogged, but you force them out. Hope it’ll make him back off.

Instead his thumb comes beneath your eye to catch the stray tear that leaks out. He wipes it away as he murmurs your name so softly you can scarcely believe the noise came from his lips. “Look at me. Please.”

What can you do but obey? Min Yoongi will be the death of you, you swear it. That sentiment is doubled when you find his eyes and see nothing but sincerity in their darkness. He’s never studied you this way. It steals your breath, renders you in silent anticipation for what comes next.

“Look, I’m a fucking idiot.”

That actually makes you laugh, though it’s somewhat strangled as you wipe away the last of the tears. “Well, we both knew that. But why this time?”

“I… I shouldn’t have ignored you.” He drops his hand from your cheek. It sits against your bare thigh, the skin growing hot where you’re connected. “But I was scared. I felt ashamed and more than a little pissed off that you stood up to Jiwon when I couldn’t.” You say nothing. But that seems to make him even more jittery as he bursts out with, “E-Especially since you’re so god damn perfect all the time!”

“Perfect?” You repeat, bewildered as it couldn’t be further from the truth. “What the hell are you going on about?”

“You know… You just. You have your shit perfectly figured out! It just reminds me that I’m a mess.”

“No, I really don’t. Trust me.” Is that what he’s thought of you this whole time? No wonder he was so irritable. It’s almost laughable. “But Yoongi, why didn’t you confront Jiwon?”

He sighs at that, long and deep. “Just… After the whole incident, I had trouble writing. I had all this anger inside me. I didn’t know what to do with it. I wrote diss tracks but they all sounded unoriginal, whiny. Pop songs were the same. Generic and boring. I kept trying to write something better than ‘We Don’t Talk Together’. I was obsessed.” Yoongi is babbling faster, like a dam finally broken and flooding. You’re not afraid of the waters.

“It was easier for me. Easy to just blame everything on Jiwon, say it’s his fault the songs weren’t coming to me. So when he apologized…” He gives a laugh, but it’s a self-deprecating one. “I’ve spent the past weeks getting to this point, I guess. Of accepting that this shitty thing happened. I think I’m finally ready to move the fuck on. I hated that you made me confront that at the time, though.”

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, unable to resist the opportunity to poke at him. Hey, he made you cry. He deserves it.

“Uh huh.” Yoongi reaches behind his back to find the bag he threw momentarily aside. “So that’s why this CD is unnecessary. You don’t need to apologize to me.” He hands it to you. “Thank you. For helping me out. Even though I don’t deserve it.”

You set the bag on the table. “Of course, Yoongi. I wouldn’t just abandon you.”

“I know.” He actually smiles, eyes waning as your heart gives an extra loud thud.

The conversation peters out. You sit soaked in tension, unsure what the hell to do now. Especially because you’re hyperaware that his knee is right against yours and it feels like a million degrees, but neither of you are moving away. Your eyes are still locked to his, unfathomable and unyielding as you awkwardly hold wimpy grins. Even in this situation, your mind won’t stop running to inappropriate places, urging you to lean forward and kiss those pink lips.

But how does Yoongi feel?

“I, uh...” Yoongi gives a start as if he’s read your mind, but he doesn’t finish his thought.

“Anyway...” He hangs his head, cuts himself off again. “I was going to say...” Another trailing, unfinished sentence.

“You okay?” You murmur, his apparent nerves soothing your own.

“Agh, damn it. Okay. Here. Just – listen to this, okay?”

Yoongi whips out his phone, taps on the screen a few times before he places it on the table. Seconds later, music starts to play, a song you’ve never heard before. You tap your foot along to the opening synth, feeling the jazzy beat. Then a familiar voice comes on.

“Yoongi, is this you?!” You cry out, immediately reaching for the phone to turn the volume up.

Yoongi nods, saying nothing but his grin grows at how excited you are. You see the flash of gums, recognize it as the smile usually only reserved for customers. God, how your heart continues to flipflop at the sight.

You lean forward, trying to catch the fast-flowing rap. It’s poetic, weaves a story of a couple around the metaphor of a seesaw. A constant back and forth that ends in heartbreak, a dissolving that’s ultimately better for both parties in the end. When it ends, you instantly want to listen to it again – it’s that addicting.

“This is the song I wrote for the competition. I wanted to show you, since… Yeah.”

“Wow, it’s so good, Yoongi. I swear, you’re going to win.” You want to put this song in your music library and play it on repeat until you know every line. You play it again, listen silently as you really absorb the piece. “I really love the lyrics. And how it progresses. Also, how the singer leaves in the end, alone. I think too many songs out there promote the exact opposite message, even if it’s a shitty relationship, ya know?”

Yoongi nods, cheeks slightly flushed, but he looks so pleased. “Actually, this song,” his breath hitches, “I wrote it about you.”

“Me?”

At first, you’re flattered, beaming even. Then you remember the song’s contents.

“Umm... Wait...” You frown. He’s not saying... “You want to ‘put an end’ to us?” Hell, you didn’t even know there was an ‘us’ to be had!

“Ah, no!” Yoongi’s sleepy eyes blow wide, almost comically so with panic. “No. Definitely not.” His hands clench his knees tightly, as if to stop them from shaking. “I... wanna stop this ambiguous back and forth. This seesaw that we’re on. Of not being just coworkers but not really being anything more than that either.”

“...You want to be more?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as if you can scarcely believe it.

“Yes.” He exhales. “I want more. I want to be with you. Try things out with you. See where they go.” He drums his fingers against his leg. “You make me a better person. And I want to be there for you too.” His lips quirk up, not sure what expression to land on in his nervousness. “That is, uh, if you’ll have me.”

He’s adorable. So freaking cute. You never thought you would see Yoongi like this, and it’s just about the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen.

You lean forward and press your lips to his in answer.

Yoongi is soft.

You feel him hesitate for all of a second before he’s kissing you back, really kissing you back with all of his might. It’s sloppy and your rhythm is all off, but the passion that radiates from him pours the sweetest honey into your system to douse you in heat. He scarcely breaks away to breathe as he tilts his head, searching for a better angle to move against your mouth, to reaffirm this is truly happening and not just some fever dream.

His arms wind around your frame, tugging you closer as if he can’t bear to have any space between you while his tongue traces the outline of your lips. You open for him instinctively, unable to refuse any of his silent requests to taste. You’ve both been denied for too long, but time has not made you forget the curve of his mouth, the nibbles he loves to inflict. His breath tickles your skin as you finally find your pace together. A wild beat you thought you’d lost forever but now roars back to life.

That’s why you’re practically scrambling into his lap, shoving him backwards on the couch in your urgency. Having him against you, tongue flicking against yours, wipes away all thoughts save for him and how incredible this feels, how he feels. It makes you greedy for more, especially more of the muted groans of need that you coax from his throat and swallow.

It’s only when you scrunch your fingers around the back of his neck and come away slightly damp that you finally pause. “Ew, you’re all sweaty,” you tease with a cheeky grin.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, damn it.” There’s the Yoongi you know so well.

“Rude.”

“You like me rude.” Just to prove his point, he shifts his hips, grinds his bulge against your needy core. Separated only by thin layers of fabric, you can feel him so well you can’t help but get wetter from the mere promise of him.

“T-That’s a damn lie.” But you’re flustered, distracted by the desire surging through your veins at the danger in his tone. It’s all too easy for you two to bring out the sass in each other, but now it keeps you on your toes, thrill in your system.

“Oh? So you don’t want me to throw you onto the bed and spank you until you come?” He accents his filthy words with hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your jaw, down your neck. This feels right. So fucking right, he wouldn’t stop for the world. He guides your loose top away, sucking wetly at the skin he exposes. Promising much more in the way of dark violet marks, but not giving it just yet.

“Well, I-I’m not saying that...”

That makes him laugh as he digs both hands beneath your ass and hauls you into the air. “That’s what I thought.” Your legs wrap around his hips, arms around his back. Hold him like he’s yours.

Though it’s a short few steps from the couch to bed, Yoongi keeps his mouth on your skin as if he’s mapping – every bit as desperate to know your body as you do his. He runs his tongue along the curve of your shoulder, obeying his instinctual desire to test your tolerance with the occasional bite. He grins at your yelps. You repay him by tugging at his scruff of hair, nails scraping the skin.

When his leg knocks against the bedframe, you expect him to fling you onto the sheets as promised. Instead he bends, lets you tumble down softly before joining you on the mattress with one knee. Yoongi glows in the dim lamplight, fair skin glistening with lingering sweat as he tugs off his shirt. You’ve never seen anything sexier in your life as he crawls between your legs, forcing them to spread with the hands that slide up your thighs.

“You look like you want something,” he utters in a low tone, toying with the seam of your panties. They are unfortunately plain, but he drinks them in as if they’re made of gold. Touches them with none of that delicacy though, as he hooks fingers under the band and threatens to rip.

You shift your hips, needing friction but he just teases you, lets the cotton drag across your skin only for him to pull it infuriatingly back into place. “Are you going to give it to me if I say yes?”

“Maybe, if you’re a good girl.”

Oh god. You’ve never been called that in your life but when he growls it out in that languid, devil-may-care way, you think you might just be whipped. You’d thought Yoongi devastating before, but that was nothing compared to the intimacy dripping from his fingertips as he removes them from your panties, begins the torturous ascent up your waist. Your whines of protest melt into moans when he eases your top over your head, exposing your naked body to him for the first time.

“Oh, fuck.” Yoongi goes blank. He swears every ounce of blood in him rushes to his swollen cock at the sight of you laid out like this, ready and wanting for him. The fantasies he’s conjured in his mind are nothing, crude sketches of the masterpiece that is your body, your smile, you. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.”

The honesty in those whispered, reverent words bolsters the flush creeping beneath your skin. It’s with a smile that you arch into his mouth when he wraps his lips around your nipple in a perfect fit. He sucks hard, noisy and lewd, forcing gasps that make you glad your apartment walls are somewhat thick. But when his tongue swivels amidst the bites he lavishes on your peak, you are reduced to whimpers in his hands. He’s an expert at combining pain with absolute pleasure until your mind is in utter shambles. Shattered even more so when his fingers find your neglected breast, his remaining free hand cupping greedy handfuls of your behind.

When you shift your knee to rub against the pronounced bulge in his sweats, he smacks his palm against your asscheek to a satisfying crack. “Patience is a virtue,” he warns, trailing his tongue to the valley between your breasts. Slathers wet heat on your skin, the curves of your chest even though you’re already burning up from his touch.

But you’re more than willing to play his game. You prove so when you grope his fabric-swaddled cock, massage until you hear the music of his hitched breaths. “I’m not trying to be virtuous.” Then you steal his smirk for your own use while you run fingers along the side of his shaft. His frenulum is sensitive as ever beneath your persistent hand; he bucks when you grind your thumb into the nerves.

“A-Ah!” You yelp when you feel the fresh sting, looking down to find that Yoongi has left his first love bite at the swell of your breast. It blooms in deep, sinful red. Damn if you don’t want him to leave five, ten, twenty more. You want that damnable mouth on you anywhere he can reach until you ache with the reminder of him.

“Thought I told you to be good.” He stares down his nose at you. The act is not nearly as intimidating as it had been in the backroom of the café, but still every bit as arousing. Especially when he pairs it with a sly finger trailing down your slit, the sensation frustratingly dulled by your soaked underwear.

It’s a miracle you can summon the strength to talk back. “Oops. My bad,” you reply in a voice that tells him you’re not sorry in the slightest. Goading Yoongi is a form of art that you have perfected.

Amused and more than a little turned on by your disobedience, he rocks back onto his knees. “On your stomach. Now.”

Oh, yes please. You obey without hesitation, pressing your chest to the warm sheets. You shiver when you feel his hands fit along your waist, as if testing his grip for later use. How hard would he squeeze as he fucks you? As he feeds you every hot inch of his erection, the skin taut and hard for want of your cunt? You tense your thighs in longing, not wanting to wait a second longer to feel him inside you.

But you don’t have a choice.

You lunge forward when the first smack lands on your ass. You cry out, face half-buried in the pillow as pleasure radiates from your burning cheek. Yet you’re still raising your hips for more. You love the pain, addicted to the visceral reaction it beckons from your body.

But your squeal gives Yoongi pause. “Is that too hard?” He asks, breath brushing across your skin.

You throw a coy glance backwards. “Never.”

Your answer is accepted with a second slap, a punishment that makes your body shudder further into your mattress. “My little slut,” Yoongi snarls, enjoying the way the possessive words feel on his tongue. “Bet you’re ruining those panties of yours.”

Smack. Fuck, you swear he’s leaving imprints of his palm behind. You wish you could see.

“Totally soaked.” You rock onto your elbows, push your sore ass into his palm. Hope you can convince him to lose control and just fill you up. “So ready for your cock, Yoongi...”

You don’t see how he squeezes his eyes together, biting back the surge of hormones; they bid him to throw all restraint away to sink into your heat. “Not just yet.” Your undies are tugged down, rendered useless and tossed somewhere onto the floor. Chills run through your spine as you’re bared for the second time tonight. He forces your hips up and before you can even breathe, licks a long stripe across your cunt.

“Oh, fuck.”

You cannot stand Min Yoongi and that devil’s tongue he curls around your clit. He drags the tip across your sensitive bead, understanding where you’re too sensitive and then deliberately stimulating that very spot to make your knees buck. Pleasure floods your body, makes your every limb white hot and weak, a mess for one man. You knew he was dangerous from the very start, but that never could have stopped you. Your body reflects just how hopelessly you’ve fallen, pushed to the brink of climax faster than you’ve ever been before.

“So fucking sweet.” His fingers dig dimples into your ass, spreading you wide so he can have his fill. His tongue glides along your curves, taking his time instead of being so focused on chasing climax as he had that first time. Now he’s hungry for knowledge, for intimacy he can only find with you as his landscape. And if he makes you cum a thousand times in the process of that quest, well. You’ll survive somehow.

When his tongue slips into your heat, you almost lose it. He thrusts it like he fucks: ruthlessly, flawlessly. As if you’re the only thing that matters right now, and his only desire in the world is to have you quivering on his lips. A wish he’s getting twofold.

“Close, so close, Yoongi, ah—”

“Yeah, I can feel it.” He sounds utterly entranced, the drawled words thick with longing. “Want you to cum around my tongue. Can you do that for me?” He poses the question as if you have a choice. As if you can do anything against the onslaught of bliss tangling themselves in your veins, demanding that you release.

All because of that accursed mouth that has you at its mercy, whether between the sheets or out. Too compelling for your weary nerves to resist when his hand whips across your skin and without warning, you’re cumming. Tears prick, rolling down your face as he spanks you again, this time even harder, and your climax becomes unbearable in bliss. You were not prepared for the tsunami it is, crashing onto you, sweeping you away.

“Yoongi!” The name is muffled by the pillow you stuff your face in, muscles screaming at you to stop tensing but you can’t, you goddamn can’t. Crest after crest of sensation radiate through you in time with the throbs of your sodden walls. You swear he grins against your pussy as you rock your hips like you’re in heat. Your skin is so sensitive it almost hurts but you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck me, Yoongi, please, god, I need your cock in me right fucking now.” Your voice is desperate and begging and any other time, you would be mortified but all you can think of now is how you need to be filled. To have every crevice of your throbbing pussy stuffed with Yoongi’s cock so he understands just what he’s done to you. Wrecked you, ruined you for anyone else.

“Oh fuck.” He was not expecting you to turn the tables but here you are, fucked out and still so needy for more. His sweatpants join your panties, cock springing free, the deep-red tip leaking from all it’s been denied. God, how he wants to fuck that pretty whine in your voice into moans.

“All of you, Yoongi. Wanna feel the stretch.” He’s taking too long; you’ve always been impatient.

Yoongi will never forget the sight of you spreading your own cheeks to show him, seduce him with how your cunt drips from anticipation. But it’s the look in your eyes, the affection mingled with the heat that has him plunging half of his cock into you in one stroke.

“So tight for me, h-huh? What a good girl,” Yoongi growls, trying his best not to cum instantly from the way you take him. Just swallow him with such ease, yet still squeeze him like a vice. He’s missed this pussy so much, hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since that night. He’s finished himself countless nights to the memory but now you’re really here; now you cry for him in that tremulous tone that drives him wild.

One of Yoongi’s hands goes as promised on your waist, but the other weaves into your hair to grip at the roots. He doesn’t tug yet, testing your limits, careful to respect them. He’s rewarded with a moan as he bottoms out at the same time he gives his first light tug. Now every thick inch of cock is finally swathed in you, and you are filled to the brim, just like you craved.

“This okay?” He asks, massaging the crook of your perspiration-dotted back with his thumb.

“Mhm...” You slur it like you’re drunk but it’s just the moment, the pleasure forcing you into submission. You love the juxtaposition only Yoongi brings out for you, how he instinctually knows exactly what you seek.

“More?”

You rut into him, feel that friction kindle something indescribable, deeply carnal in your core. “Always.”

It is here that Yoongi realizes how gone he is for you.

You’re incredible. Fucking incredible. He tries to tell you this with every pump he sends into you. So damn hungry but still careful not to pull too hard on your locks even though he thinks you might like that, minx that you are. The gasps just continue to fall from his mouth as he just feels himself drown in you. You fit around him like you were made to take his cock and then some. He wants to give you everything. But first he’ll start with pleasure. Pleasure so intense you’ll forget even your own name.

You’re closer to that goal than he knows. You’re falling into the rough staccato rhythm he sets, bodies slamming together again and again until your mouth feels dry for all the moans you can’t staunch. It sends you soaring: the ache of his fist in your hair, the burn of the stretch that you know will stay with you for hours after. It’s all in service of the inevitable crash that will ruin you.

Yoongi’s thighs have started to burn with strain but he doesn’t dare stop, doesn’t think he could. Not when you’re both teetering on the cusp; ready to fall, not apart, but finally together.

“Y-Yoongi...!” On one particularly hard thrust, you rear up, back pressed firmly against his sweaty chest. He lets go of your hair to curl his arms around you, clutching you as he thrusts upwards to hit your core. You focus on the sole task of breathing. But you fail even that when his fingers find your clit, rough and imprecise in his animalistic movements. It’s still enough.

This is how you cum – speared and full and deliriously sated.

He can’t hold out any longer when you find your peak. His teeth scrape your shoulder, but you can only register pleasure as he grinds out his own orgasm against your ass. You feel him spill deeply inside; it feeds some innate need you didn’t even know you had. Reaching behind, you hold him close as he does you, heartbeats pulsing to the same beat as you let the noises speak for you.

When the high relents, you collapse onto your palms, practically faceplant into your pillow as the aftershocks shudder their way through you. It’s a good few moments before you can roll onto your side, to face Yoongi who has done the same on your right. You feel like a mess, but he looks at you as if he’s never seen anything more stunning in his life.

“I... Wow.”

“Yeah...”

For a minute, all you can do is grin at each other, silly smiles stretched wide across your kiss-bitten lips.

Eventually, Yoongi flips onto his back, chest still heaving. “That was actually meant to be gentler,” he mumbles, staring pointedly at the ceiling. “Since our first time was me getting carried away. And the second.”

“Looks like you just can’t help yourself around me, huh?” You tease, hoping you’ll make him blush, or hit you back with something equally sarcastic.

“Yeah. I really can’t.” He says it so honestly, you melt a little into the sheets.

You shuffle closer to him; he automatically raises his arm to let you in. “Stay over tonight, okay?” You say, kissing his bare chest as you cuddle in. Relish the fact you can just reach out and he’s there. Solid, warm, there. “Not like you have work tomorrow, right?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He kicks the light covers up with a foot, pulls it over your body so you don’t feel the chill even though his body keeps you running hot. You hum as he runs his fingers down your back, rubbing at that sore spot just right. You fall into cozy silence, tracing the contours of his damp torso, running over the curves you couldn’t before.

“On Monday, I’m going to give Mina my two weeks notice.”

Whoa.

You shove up from Yoongi. Turning with utter surprise on your face, you cry, “What?” You unintentionally crush blankets in your fists. “Why?” When you’ve finally worked things out between you?

“As much as I want to stay, I’m… I’m going to try to produce full time.” His eyebrows furrow together. He sucks in a breath. “Being at the café took up all my spare time and while it was a good distraction after the whole thing, I... I don’t need it anymore. I’m going to chase after what I really want to do.” The relief that soaks his voice tells you he’s finally figured it out. “And I’m going to do it on my own. Without Jiwon. Without his help.”

“Oh, Yoongi...” Your heart floods with nervous excitement. You are not really a fan of change, but this is different. This is a step in the direction he was always too afraid to take. You flop back beside him, let him eagerly draw you back into his arms. “I’ll support you as much as I can. I know you can do it, babe.”

“Babe?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t like it?”

“Mmn. Like it... more than I thought I would.” His voice is practically a mumble by the end as he hides embarrassment with a nuzzle into your head.

You’re grinning as the most welcome thought strikes. “Hey, maybe whoever replaces you will finally be on time!”

Yoongi smirks. “Unfortunately, your boyfriend may sometimes still be a little late.”

You tap his cute nose, his squishy cheeks. “Oh, is that what you are now?”

“Yup.” He proceeds to bury his face into your hair, pressing kisses and inhaling the scent he doesn’t think he’ll ever get his fill of. “You’re stuck with me.”

You chuckle as you snuggle further into his warm embrace. it just feels right to be here somehow. Ironic, that ‘here’ is pressed up against the man who can get under your skin like no other. Maybe you’re a masochist, but you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be.

Lying here, listening to him slip into slumber, the apprehensive energy in you just melts away despite the feeling that you’re about to embark on a journey that you’re sure will be anything but easy. But as long as you’re with him... You smile. Then you let the anxious thoughts go, finally surrendering to the sleep that his steady rise-and-fall brings.

Turns out, Min Yoongi isn’t the absolute worst after all.

a/n: yeah, i know, who still makes CDs in 2019? :p but sending over a Spotify playlist isn’t nearly as romantic. hehe. thank you for sticking with me until the end of my first series. i learnt so much through writing it and had a ton of fun! please let me know what you think of the ending, yeah? ;) i hope you all enjoyed TES ♡

huge, enourmous thank you to my betas: @hoseoksdior, @sweetlyseokjin, @jiminspjm, @mypurplelamp, @bigtiddiejoon! 💖 this fic would not have come through without their efforts!!

special shoutout to MISS ARI @flowerymoonlight who hyped me TF up & had to survive the snippets i sent her at 2 in the morning. ily babe, you have a special place in my heart ALWAYS.

p.s. you can find more minis of this couple on my masterlist!

#btssmutclub #bts smut #bts reactions #bts imagines #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #coffeehouse au #college au #e2l #rain writes #the early shift #it's ended ahhhh #i can't believe we got here in (mostly) one piece

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cakesunflower · 4 years

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Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 2

A/N: i couldn’t stop myself so uhhh here’s part 2 hehe as i said in the last part, none of this writing would be possible without @bigheadbabybitch hehe happy reading!!

Previous Part: Part 1

Somehow, his eyes always found her. Even in the dark of the club, colored strobe lights flickering to the beat of the deafening music, Calum easily recognized Josie’s approaching figure as she walked up with her arm linked with Luke’s. Calum paused with the glass of his whiskey halfway to his mouth, eyes drinking in the sight of her and the baby pink dress that clung to her skin and left little to the imagination due to the deep V cut down the chest. His grip on the glass tightened, throat drying as he watched the smile light up Josie’s face as she greeted the group they were with, blonde hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders, looking soft enough to make him want to run his fingers through.

Calum’s eyes caught on her legs and lingered, finding it physically painful to not make a guttural sound of enjoyment. He would have allowed himself to stare for a moment longer, to take in her smooth cream colored legs if it hadn’t been for Luke approaching. Shaking away his distracting thoughts, Calum stood up and clasped his hand on Luke’s back, greeting him. The smile he had mustered up probably looked more like a grimace. He knew it to be true because his eyes had already shifted back to Josie and his face fell slightly. Why did he keep staring at her? Her entire presence was magnetic, always tugging him closer.

How could he possibly look away when the gold choker so daintily wrapped around her neck the way he—No. Nope. He would not think about this. He refused to think about this. He refused to think about her, or the way her dress exposed those collarbones and sternum, or how her soft skin seemed to glitter under the rays of blue and purple lights and—Fuck. Why was this so damn difficult? Why couldn’t he just stop?

He had to, especially when Luke sat down on the available seat diagonal of him and would pick up on the way Calum couldn’t seem to stop staring at his sister. Suddenly, his emptying glass of whiskey was more interesting, allowing himself another sip.

“Hey, sorry we’re late,” Josie apologized, and Calum blinked as he looked up at her. He hadn’t noticed that she’d moved to stand right over him on the couch, but her attention was on Crystal, who sat to Calum’s right. He bit the inside of his lips when Josie leaned over his seated figure to grab Crystal’s hand, pursing his mouth as he purposefully dropped his gaze to his glass once more in order to avert from looking in the exposed cut of her dress. It was too tempting. “I had to stay until after closing.”

“It’s fine,” Crystal laughed and Calum clenched his jaw when she scooted away from him, creating some space as she patted it, grinning up at Josie. “Sit! I’ll pour you a drink.”

Calum looked down at the empty space before his gaze flashed up, eyes instantly meeting Josie’s. She pursed her lips, chest sinking with a silent breath she expelled before forcing the awkward smile back on her face, one which Calum swallowed down the lump in his throat to return just as awkwardly, as she reluctantly sat down. It wasn’t too tight of a fit, but it still meant for them to be pressed together, and Calum’s stomach churned at the feel of her side pressed into his.

He straightened where he sat, suddenly feeling as though his leather jacket was a bit too tight. He forced his nerves to calm, but was fruitless when his nose caught a whiff of a familiar strawberry scent. The same strawberry scent that had been on his tongue. . . Fuck. Shit, damn it. Stop thinking about it.

Calum’s throat tightened as Josie took the glass Crystal offered her after pouring her a drink. He snapped his head in Ashton’s direction, who had been sitting to his left, and figured that whatever conversation he was having with Crystal’s mutual friends would be better to tune into. He wasn’t familiar with either of them, but he decided that the subject of The Bachelorette would be a better distraction than Josie’s warm thigh pressed up against his, and the fact that she was still annoyed with him.

He hadn’t missed the way she didn’t greet him, playing it off as accidentally forgetting to do so in the chaotic atmosphere of the bustling club. He wanted to roll his eyes, despite knowing he was somewhat at fault. He contemplated whether or not he should say something. But Calum thought against it, trying not to think of the way their heads were turned away from one another, purposefully keeping conversations with others as a way of keeping their distance.

Even if the heat of their bodies seeped through their clothes and settled in their skin.

Was it all in his head? Calum downed a small glass of whiskey, letting the dull burn get caught in his throat when Josie shifted closer to him, bare thigh pressing into his jean clad one. He could feel her warm skin his through the thick material of the denim. Whether Josie was aware of it or not, she didn’t show, and it only had Calum reaching for the whiskey bottle to refill his glass, hoping the warmth of liquor would overpower the warmth of her body.

Soon enough, everyone was in the mood to get lost in the buzzing dance floor after someone dropped a comment about the DJ playing tracks that were too good not to dance to. Calum would’ve much rather remained seated on the couch, but the entire group they were with had gotten up, save for a couple he wasn’t familiar with. It didn’t help that Luke pulled him off the couch and said, “Come on, let’s get more drinks.” Their table was running empty, and apparently Luke wasn’t patient enough to wait for more bottles to be brought out.

They made their way towards the bar, and how had Calum missed Josie being right with them? He watched her lean forward on the bar, diagonal of him, Luke on his other side as she allowed for her gaze to lock with Calum’s. In the flashing lights of the club, he couldn’t quite get a read on her face, wasn’t too sure what she was thinking—how could he be, when his own thoughts were jumbled? There was a twisting in his stomach, being in the presence of both her and Luke, and Calum wondered if Josie felt as alarmed as he did. Wondered if she also felt that if Luke looked at them a bit too long, he would figure it out.

Drinking probably wouldn’t help his paranoia, yet Calum didn’t protest when Luke ordered a round of Fireball shots from the bartender.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Josie instantly denied, shaking her head vigorously as a grimace replaced her soft features. Her hand waved in the opposite direction as her head, her dancing earrings bobbing from side to side. She stared pointedly at her brother as she raised her glass to finish off the drink she already had. “I can’t drink that—it fucks me up.”

It was when her guilt ridden eyes met his, if only for a split second, that it clicked in Calum’s head. He recalled the last time he had ordered that particular drink. The bitter cinnamon taste that burned his throat that had become a catalyst that night. Cinnamon with a hint of strawberry on his tongue when he—Suddenly he felt his own skin prick with goosebumps at the vivid memory, and despite his racing heart, scoffed with a wicked smirk, “I agree.”

He hadn’t meant to sound patronizing when he said it, and frankly, Calum figured he’d done a good job in covering it up because Luke merely laughed and didn’t bother canceling the order. But Calum’s gaze flickered up to Josie, who definitely heard the implication in the two words he’d spoken, if the way she’d all but choked on her sip was anything to go by.

Josie coughed, back of her hand covering her mouth as from the other side of Calum, Luke’s eyebrows shot up as he asked, “Jesus—you good?”

Calum fought the urge to reach over and rub Josie’s back as she coughed, nodding reassuringly at her brother as she answered, “Yeah.” Her voice was just barely lost over the music playing. She gestured towards her throat, lamely adding, “Went down the wrong way.”

Luke nodded once he was convinced she wasn’t about to choke to death, leaning closer to listen to what Ashton was telling him. Calum, though, caught Josie’s eyes narrowing into a glare at him, a silent annoyance because of his not-so-innocent answer. No one else may have picked up on it, but it was loud and clear to Josie. Just like Calum had hoped. Why he decided to fuck with her just then, he didn’t know. Probably because it served as a minor distraction to the anxieties that swirled in his head.

She wasn’t too happy about it. Calum didn’t entirely care.

The round of shots were placed in front of them, and despite poking fun at Josie’s reaction at the drink of choice, Calum felt a cold sweat drip down his spine as he beheld the all too familiar liquor being lined up in front of him. The memories revolving around this drink of choice had been the same memories that were currently plaguing his mind. Calum noted Josie’s hesitance as she reached for a glass with a slight shakiness of her hand, eyes meeting his. The flashing lights did little to hide the gulp she swallowed, wariness settling into her features.

When Calum remained to be the last one to pick up the glass, Luke nudged him. “Come on, Cal. Take a shot with us.”

He hid his hesitance with a quick grin, offering a tilt of his head as he licked his lips and reached for the remaining glass. “This is exactly how you end up in someone else’s bed.”

Josie was either going to run away or kill him. Calum couldn’t tell which, but judging by the look she was sending his way upon hearing his words over the sound of Post Malone’s music playing, she didn’t appreciate his comment. Calum bit the corner of his lip, the glass held carefully by his fingers, reading Josie’s expression as she silently demanded what the hell he was doing, a warning set in the purse of her lips. Honestly, Calum didn’t know. Distracting himself by bringing up the very situation he was trying to forget about was redundant, to say the least.

He answered her by a subtle shrug and he saw the way her throat worked, attempting to swallow down the nerves he was only bringing up. His own comment was accompanied by a smirk as the boys laughed, enthusiastic in their own agreements, while the heat of Josie’s gaze burned into Calum’s face. Her anger with him was growing, he could feel it in the narrowing of her eyes, looking more annoyed than anxious. Good. He’d rather acknowledge the frustration then let the nerves eat him alive.

So he widened his smirk, quirking an eyebrow at Josie as he coolly asked, “Wouldn’t you agree, Jos?”

There was a presence of a thrill of knowingly trekking into dangerous territory, and Calum’s eyes remained on Josie’s incredulous ones as no one gave her any time to answer, shot glasses clinking together before everyone was pounding back the drink. The cinnamon tasting whiskey burned down his throat familiarly, the taste imbedded in his mind that he would be hard pressed to forget, a breath escaping his parted lips as he put down the glass and caught Josie rolling her lips into her mouth.

And then she smiled, a shadow of a dimple appearing on her cheek as the purple and blue lights splashed across her, and Josie folded her arms on top of the bar and leaned forward. Calum kept his gaze trained on her face, refusing to let himself look down, to stare exactly where she wanted him to. That fucking dress. Her smile was sickly sweet, as was her voice as she said over the music, “Maybe if you’re lucky, you drink enough to forget all about it in the morning.”

Who was she trying to fool? Maybe everyone else, but definitely not him. Calum knew better. Next to him, Luke snorted, raising an eyebrow at his sister as he asked teasingly, “Who’re you trying to forget?”

His heart may have stopped for a moment, stomach clenching, but Calum refused to let it show as he flagged down the bartender. Purposefully watching out for the bartender, Calum ignored the weight of Josie’s gaze on him upon hearing Luke’s question, fighting the smirk that was threatening to tilt his lips. If he asked himself what the hell he was doing, Calum wouldn’t know how to answer. Was he just a masochist or was he still trying to bury his nerves under the thrill of risky conversations that only seemed to further bother Josie? He was being an ass, he knew.

Calum heard Josie scoff before answering, “Too many people.”

As Calum ordered an old fashioned, he tried not to think of how he was stood between the two Hemmings as Luke asked Josie knowingly, “Is Austin one of them?”

Forcing his features to remain neutral proved to be harder than Calum would like, eyebrows lowering and jaw setting as Luke’s words carried over the deafening music. It wasn’t like Calum could distract himself by conversing with someone else; Ashton, Michael, and whoever else they were with were on the dance floor. And Calum still needed his drink. His fingers tapped impatiently on the countertop as Josie let out a sharp breath.

“Yeah, no—what we’re not gonna do is bring him up.” There was an edge in his tone that had Calum looking over at her, a subtle quirk in his eyebrow as she huffed. Clearly the mention of her ex was a sour subject, and he watched as Josie pushed herself away from the bar and looked at the two men looking at her. Dropping her hands from the bar, Josie bid goodbye with a, “I’m gonna go dance,” and without another look towards either of them, turned around and immersed herself into the thrumming crowd.

From his peripheral, Calum saw Luke watch Josie go, turning to face the bar only when she disappeared. The bartender placed Calum’s drink in front of him, and as he took a sip of it, Luke mused, “She sounds pretty worked up over a relationship she ended.”

Calum held the sip in his mouth momentarily, the sweet taste dancing on his tongue as he paused to process Luke’s words. He swallowed before looking at his friend, adapting an attitude that didn’t give away his true interest in the matter. “She ended it?”

Luke nodded, receiving his own drink from the bartender, eyeing the clear vodka before looking at Calum. “Yeah; didn’t end well, either. It’s part of the reason why she decided to move here instead of staying in Davis, since she had a job opportunity there too,” Luke informed him casually, taking a sip of his drink before furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, cocking his head at Calum. “Thought I told you all this.”

Calum’s dark eyes met Luke’s blue, feeling the familiar churn in his stomach as his lips puckered in disagreement. “Nah, first I’m hearing of it.” That was true. And he was trying to process it.

All he knew about Josie’s move to Los Angeles was that it had to do with the job she’d gotten. A cosmetology student working at the best salon in L.A.—no wonder she jumped at the opportunity. And as Luke took a sip of his drink, looking towards the dancing crowd, Calum took a long sip of his own as his thoughts deafened him to the music playing. Of course he knew Josie and Austin had broken up, but he never considered the circumstances of the end of the relationship, had just been. . . Glad that it was over. It wasn’t like he and Josie talked much; he wasn’t someone she would indulge in her relationships to. Still, Calum couldn’t help but think about it more than he should.

“Was the break up that bad?” he found himself asking, dragging Luke’s attention back to him, watching the blonde quirk a curious eyebrow. “Her and Austin’s break up,” Calum clarified. He should not be asking Luke about this. “Was it, like, that bad that she moved here?”

“I’m assuming so,” Luke answered. Then he sighed, shaking his head as he turned to lean his lower back against the bar. His lips twisted to the side, absently staring out at the crowd before he clicked his tongue in pity. “You know her, man. Her track record isn’t the best and being here would give her a fresh start.” He shrugged, glancing at Calum, blue eyes swimming with concern Calum hadn’t expected. “I don’t know; she said she’s swearing off men indefinitely and I’m hoping she sticks to it,” he added with a short chuckle, free hand running through his curls as he smiled wryly.

Calum rolled his lower lip into his mouth, nodding along to Luke’s words as if he understood, but was actually still processing what he heard. He wasn’t sure what he should focus on: the reminder of her so-called track record when it came to relationships or her apparent decision of celibacy. He didn’t quite blame her; Calum knew a number of Josie’s relationships had ended on bad notes, whether she was the one to end them or the guy.

He remembered, particularly when they were in high school and Josie was a sophomore, when Jax Wiley had cheated on her with some senior girl and Josie had been heartbroken. So he and the boys had done whatever they could to cheer her up; taking her out to get food, going to the movies, just spending time with her to help her get her mind off the dick who’d fucked her over.

Luke was right; most of Josie’s relationships ended almost explosively, and every time after, Luke was the one who took care of her. He was a good brother for that. And of course the rest of them helped however they could—Josie had always been like a little sister to them, too.

Well. Up until recently. But Luke didn’t need to know that.

Taking a long sip of his drink, Calum swallowed the drink down, as well as the thoughts pounding around in his head, louder than the music the DJ was spinning. “Never mind,” Luke suddenly spoke up, drawing Calum’s attention to him. His blue eyes were looking ahead, narrowed slightly against the flashing lights as he scoffed lightly. “Don’t think she’s gonna listen to her own advice.” Without even looking at Calum, Luke lifted a finger that held his glass and pointed ahead, jutting his chin slightly in emphasis.

Calum followed his gaze, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at the bustling crowd for a familiar face. He ultimately caught was Luke was looking at, forehead smoothing when his eyes landed on Josie having a bit too much fun with a random guy neither of them recognized. People dancing around her obscured Calum’s view ever so often, but he could see the way the guy’s hands were touching her, pulling her into him, could see the way she was letting him, the smile on her face showing just how much she enjoyed it.

Fuck. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t. But the longer he watched this dude’s hands grip her hips and pull her into him, her own arms raising to go around his neck, the more Calum’s eyes narrowed in vexed irritation, sparking a fire in his chest he knew he wouldn’t be able to put out once lit. None of his business. This was none of his business, despite the way his lips curled in distaste and grip on his glass tightened, hoping taking a sip of his drink and getting drunk would distract him.

“Jesus fu—man, can you go there and break that shit up?” Calum’s head snapped over to Luke, a lot quicker than he’d like, eyebrows shooting up as he watched Luke shake his head. His face scrunched up, turning around so his back was to the crowd, leaning forward with his arms on top of the bar. Calum saw the pleading in Luke’s eyes as he said, “Just—can you dance with her? I’d rather you than some asshole tryna get in her pants.”

Calum bit the tip of his tongue, stinging and sharp, throat briefly closing up at Luke’s words. Suddenly the music was too loud and his heart was skipping every other beat, and Calum didn’t dare look back towards the crowd, instead looking at Luke and forcing out a chuckle. “You sure you’re not being too overprotective?”

Luke twisted his lips to the side, not even bothering to look sheepish. “Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “Or, maybe I’m just making sure she doesn’t, y’know, break her chastity promise.”

Calum’s face scrunched up. “Please don’t say chastity ever again.”

With a roll of his eyes and using his free hand to shove Calum, Luke begged with a raise of his eyebrows, “Please, man. Josie dancing with you is better than some creep.”

The guilt of Luke’s trust in him nauseated Calum more than alcohol ever could.

His blue eyes pleading, Calum knew he didn’t have a good reason to deny Luke of his request. So he downed the rest of his drink and nodded, the heat in his skin rising as Luke clapped his back appreciatively before saying that he was going to go sit back down at their table after spotting Ashton heading that way, too.

Calum sighed, the sound lost in the loud music, the beat of the drum settling heavily in his heart as he made his way towards the crowd. He clenched his teeth, wanting to put this off. Dancing with Josie was a bad idea. Luke was sending him to serve as a barrier between Josie and some guy she may make a mistake with. But how could Luke know his plan was, in every way, futile?

Calum pressed his teeth together tightly as he made his way through the crowd, feeling the several bodies around him move against him, urging him to turn around and make up some bullshit excuse to Luke as to why he couldn’t do it. But Calum’s gaze soon enough landed on Josie and her male companion, and suddenly that fire he’d felt spark in his chest seemed to flourish, a tightness in his muscles as he hardened himself against the bodies around him, never faltering as he neared them. The longer he watched, the heavier his Doc Marten clad steps felt.

If Josie noticed Calum’s presence, she didn’t indicate it. Her attention was all too focused on moving her hips, pressing herself into the stranger, and Calum had to loosen his jaw in order to relieve the pain that stung his teeth, the heat of the crowd seeping into his bones. Exhaling sharply through his nose, Calum decided to forgo any manners, clasping the back of the guy’s shirt, right at the neck, Calum tugged him backwards, forcing the man to let go of a startled Josie, both now looking at Calum in bewilderment.

“Hey, what the fuck, man?” the man frowned, his height not quite matching up to Calum’s. The three of them stood still in the constantly moving crowd, and Calum knew it would do the guy well to disappear amongst the body in the next few seconds.

“I can take it from here,” Calum said, tone steady and deep, noting the annoyance in Josie’s eyes, not at all masked by the flashing lights, accompanied by incredulity. Calum looked back at the dude, who had yet to move. “Piss off.”

The guy’s frown deepened, looking from Calum to Josie, and Calum figured the man noticed the sudden tension that surrounded them thickly, deciding it wasn’t something he wanted to get involved in. With a scoff and shake of his head, he said, “Whatever, man,” before backing off into the crowd.

Josie didn’t watch him ago, instead kept her gaze trained on Calum with an irritated frown on her face, pink lips thinned. “What the hell was that?” she demanded, the edge in her voice heard over the music.

“I’m on a mission from your brother,” Calum responded, his voice dry and condescending smile enough to tell Josie he didn’t want to be in this position, either. Josie blinked, not expecting that answer as her scowl faltered a bit. His gaze lowered then, taking in the cut of her fitted dress, all too aware that he was shamelessly running his eyes over her. In the thick crowd of the dance floor, guarded from the gazes of his friends, Calum felt too comfortable in doing so.

And that kind of sense of security had Calum’s smile turning into a smirk. The alcohol had allowed him a boldness he wouldn’t normally need help with, and so Calum grasped Josie’s wrist and tugged her towards him. He heard her startled gasp over the music as he turned her around, her back to his chest, and Calum bit his lower lip when Josie’s instant reaction was to melt into him rather than push him away. The warmth of her body was a welcome change, almost comforting as opposed to the heat of everyone around them.

He felt his muscles tense as Josie tilted her head back, resting against his shoulder, and Calum’s heart raced as he brushed his lips against her cheek and trailed to the shell of her ear. “The dress isn’t doing your little path of abstinence any favors.”

Josie’s hands covered Calum’s where they lay on her hips, their bodies slowly beginning to move to the music. Was she feeling as bold as he was, hidden in the buzzing crowd from the eyes of their friends—of her brother? The sight of them dancing together wouldn’t turn heads, Calum knew. Just so long as they didn’t get too close.

Like they already were.

“You and Luke don’t get a say in my decision making, you know,” Josie reminded, and he could see the way her throat worked when he squeezed her hips. She turned then, head tilted back slightly so her gaze met his, eyes glimmering under the lights as her right hand reached up to hook a finger around his chain necklace. Calum pressed his tongue against the back of his lower teeth, heart thrumming as Josie pressed herself against him. Oh, yeah, the thick crowd was providing both of them too much of a sense of security. “I decide who I get to fuck around with.”

Her words had an amused, breathless scoff escaping Calum, unsure when they’d started leaning into one another, his nose just barely brushing hers as he fought to keep familiar images from playing across his mind. It proved to be difficult, what with her body pressed against his, the curves on her figure fitting against him familiarly, hips slotting against his, the tip of her nail teasingly grazing under his chin. “Oh, I know,” Calum responded, voice too quiet amid the music, noting the small smirk curling her lips at the knowing, pointed tone Calum spoke in.

Josie hummed, gaze dropping to his lips briefly. “I know you do,” she said. Letting go of his necklace, Josie pressed her hand to Calum’s chest and pushed him back, raising an eyebrow up at him. “Isn’t that why you were being such a little shit at the bar?”

Calum chuckled, chin lifting as one hand reached up to undo the first two buttons of his shirt, the heat of the crowd getting to him. “Just havin’ a little fun, pretty girl.” It was him being a shit, just like Josie had said, just like he was being now with that term of endearment that had Josie biting her lower lip. He was trying to make light of a situation that sat heavily on both of their minds. Except Calum knew he was being risky in his comments, knew that if Luke listened a bit too closely, he’d pick up on the very thing Calum—and Josie—were trying to mask. Horribly so.

Josie had been watching his fingers work on the buttons, wetting her lips as she let out a breath. “Unbuttoning your shirt isn’t going to have the effect you want it to have on the women here,” she chose to say. Josie tried to keep her voice steady, tried to sound confident and bold, but Calum picked up on the slight falter in her tone.

He looked at her, dropping his hand so he could wrap his arm around her waist. They were barely moving to the music now, stopped amidst the lively crowd of dancing club goers, lost in their own little world without much thought given to anyone else. Smirk widening, Calum leaned towards her, closing the distance, noting the tension in her neck as he murmured, “I’d say it had quite the effect on you, if I’m not mistaken.”

Her eyes were on him, blue looking into brown, and Calum could see she was fighting to maintain their gaze, not wanting to look lower. He knew she wanted to. Josie bit her lower lip, the action stirring something in Calum’s stomach, her whispered voice nearly lost in the music as she said, “This is a bad idea, Calum.”

Her words echoed familiarly in his head, her hands against his chest, not yet pressing. Calum’s heart was pounding as his nose brushed against hers, murmuring, “Isn’t that what we said two months ago?”

Josie’s throat worked, taking a breath as her fingers lightly fisted his shirt. “We also said we’d never bring it up again.”

Calum quirked an eyebrow, vaguely hearing the song turn into the EDM type music he rarely ever listened to. “That was before you decided to move here.”

“Is that what this is about it?” Josie returned with a dry laugh, eyebrows raising as she looked up at him. Except he didn’t see the annoyance in her eyes as he had the other day in the kitchen, only amusement and just a hint of exasperation. “Hard to keep a secret when it’s literally living with your best friend, huh?”

Scoffing, Calum shot her a bemused look. How’d they gone from pressing into each other to rehashing their memories in the middle of a club, Calum had no idea. But he figured this was less risky than the alternative. “What about you?” he retorted with a tilt of his head. “Easy for you to keep a secret when it’s your brother’s best friend?”

Josie let out a breath, looking away from him for a moment, allowing for Calum’s gaze to run along the line of her jaw, curve of her neck, going low, low, low to the cut of her dress. It only served to dry his throat, stir something hungry in the pit of his stomach. Looking back at him with a raise of her eyebrows, Josie said, “I think we can agree that we’re both doing a shit job of never speaking about it again.”

Despite himself, Calum laughed, earning a smile from Josie as he said, “We were kiddin’ ourselves if we thought it’d be that easy.”

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @loveroflrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @meetashthere @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter

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mayonakazkrazy · 4 years

Text

Soooooooo I wanna talk about an Animated Movie

One night recently, I may have been watching a show that started giving me too many... ‘too real life’ vibes, when what i needed in the moment was ‘taking a break to mentally and emotionally recharge’ time. SOOOO to redirect my overstimulated brain I changed over to a ‘safe’ non threatening movie, Monster House.

Spoilers below the cut in a sort of review as well as some random details that i noticed that make me go ‘... well that got real fast...’ and one tangent/character dive i been wanting to get into toward the end.

Also fair warning about my run on sentences... they’re not going anywhere

Monster House is... a CG movie that oddly enough gives off Claymation vibes... at least to me from certain style design choices. I honestly feel that sort of works in it’s favor since the CG of the mid 2000s was.... terrifying if care wasn’t take in the process. Not good if you want you film to be taken seriously, buuut this movie manages to tow the line because a) it IS supposed to be at least a little scary to kids... haunted house? and b) even though the characters take things seriously enough the writing itself doesn’t try TOO hard to pretend it’s more than it is.

As it stands, the movie is Ok - in the best possible vein of ok. Not some epic, groundbreaking thing but I think it warrants being on people’s list of fun movies to play on Halloween. Visually interesting and funny, you can tell that the people who made the movie at least had fun working on it; and cared more about the project than some other kids’ movies that get put out purely for the easy cash grab via paint by numbers. (I found out that this movie was nominated for Best Animated Feature apparently?! like... i like this movie but... i don’t know, i’ll have to see what other movies came out that year cuz while i like it i’d like to reiterate that i don’t know if it’s BEST (animated/kids) movie of the year material...)

I can honestly say that it was at the Start if not ahead of the ‘remember the 80s?’ fad in movies. Again, not to the film’s discredit. It’s less concerned with smacking you over the head with ‘EIGHTIES!’ and is more set in the time period to make things more plausible. Ya got kids running around unattended for hours without parental guidance, and a number of other 80′s tropes that are, easily ignored at worse and make story elements more believable at best. I mean... .when ELSE would you believe that kids could run around basically unattended for HOURS just before Halloween....hell one kid ACTUALLY STEALS an amount of cold medicine that would have you on MULTIPLE investigative lists even 15 years ago. And NOT just because “the parents are just bad parents”... there’s arguably only one ACTUALLY bad parent in the film who’s only mentioned off-hand but i’ll talk about in a little bit. The rest are parents with semi justifiable reasons for either not believing their respective kid about the haunted house or not thinking they’re NOT unattended (ie. someone’s supposed to be babysitting one of these kids but SURPRISE! she’s in the “selfish teen is a disinterested babysitter spending more time talking to or about boys than ACTUALLY doing the job she’s paid to do” trope)

TLDR on that paragraph, this movie spends so little time being WE”RE THE 80′S! that i wasn’t even sure WHEN it was supposed to take place if it wasn’t for the lack of iPhones and the stationwagons all over.

ANYWAY. some details that tend to stand out to me with this movie tend to be the things that we just get to hear about briefly and are arguably meant to encourage conversation if someone NEEDS to know more about it rather than just getting EVERYTHING explained for no good reason. So enjoy me conversing with myself here.

First up, Chowders family life is kind of sad. Like i said earlier there’s only one or two parents to the three main characters of the movie that people would likely consider ACTUALLY bad.

The lead’s, DJ’s, parents go out of town at the start of the movie and could reasonably be expected to think that their kid was being watched by the babysitter (see trope rant above).

The mother of the token female character (Jenny) is Maaayyybe a bad parent but that is to be argued as we only have a few reasons to believe so and some can be explained by the aforementioned 80′s era lack of parental awareness. All we really know is that, this girl is walking around selling candy on her own, gets nearly eaten by the Monster House, and when she calls her mother to tell her about it, the mom doesn’t believe her as no parent ever does about monsters. Sooooo while she does get points off for her kid not even having someone with her during the candy selling, we also don’t hear from or about her again for the rest of the movie until just, coming to pick her up at the end. She get’s a *shrug* on the scale of good or bad parenthood.

Then there’s our secondary male character, Chowder The Dumb One Comic Relief. He’s the one with arguably the most complicated family that we get any insight to. and it’s pretty much just from his off-handed comments on it and a single snipet of a phone call we get to overhear. Literally, what you are about to read, my brain managed to over think from these freakin context clues... SO, it WOULD be SUPER easy to miss what we get about this family and just chalk it up to ‘OH those kids movie parents and their rampant absenteeism and DEATH’ but no. Chowder’s family life is... a little sad if i’m honest. we only hear about 2 calls regarding these kids and their parents. One is when Jenny calls her mom to try to tell on the House for eating her and the other is when Chowder’s dad calls looking for his son. NOW, Chowder himself tells DJ (and the audience) that his Dad is working at a Pharmacy the night Chowder goes over to DJ’s house and nearly gets himself eaten by the Monster House. The boys end up spending the entire night after that, watching the house to see if anybody or anything else gets attacked. Chowder’s dad doesn’t call DJ’s house to find out where his kid is until morning, so we’re lead to believe that his lack of knowledge about the boys’ impromtu sleep-over because he works the graveyard shift (or at least late enough that he would assume Chowder’s in bed until waking the next morning).

The somewhat sad part comes with the second bit of information we get from Chowder after he tells DJ that his dad is at work that evening and it’s, “Mom is at the movies with her personal trainer”. 0.o ooooooh the scandal... i mean, yeah in general cheating spouses isn’t exactly the most uncommon occurance....anywhere. but isn’t it just a little sad that part of the reason that this is not only the reason that Chowder is home alone (making it SUPER easy for him to just leave when DJ calls). But she’s also apparently gone long enough to ALSO be out so late as to not notice that her kid is GONE all night. Looking at it nowadays just... reminds ya WHY there were ads in the 90′s asking parents where their kids were at 10pm.

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

well not about the cheating Chowder’s mom part.

More like the WHOLE thing that got me wanting to type about Monster House in the first place.

A sad story with more potential doom than maybe even the film intended.

YOU SEE

A major plot twist of the movie is WHO is possessing the house. DJ and crew initially believe to be the someone they kind of know - the house’s owner, Mr. Horace Nebbercracker. At first glance, Nebbercracker is obsessively protective of his house, literally the first scene of the film is him SCREAMING in a little girl’s face and confiscating her tricycle when she accidentally ends up on his lawn (again, where are her parents?). He’s literally Mr. “Get off my lawn”.

So it’s not difficult to imagine that he’s the one haunting the place when the house seems to come life immediately after his sudden heart attack. (PS. WTF to the writers cause we AND THE TWO TEENAGED LEADS see the heart attack happen real time and the boys may have even contributed to it!! THERAPY FOR EVERYONE) Especially since Dj’s babysitter invites over her.....boyfriend? maybe. who reaffirms that Mr. Nebbercracker has been screaming at kids and confiscating toys for YEARS. yeah, super easy to see this dude sticking around after death and continuing his time honored tradition of AGGRESSIVELY dealing with trespassers. Only now as a house that WILL eat you just for stepping on the grass.

So as you may have already guessed, this later gets proved to NOT be the case. As Horace ends up returning in the climax alive and well (enough to sneak out of the hospital and steal an ambulance LIKE A BOSS).

Throughout the course of the movie, we and the kids find out that this creepy old man once had a wife but not only is she not around, rumor has it that he ATE her. for some reason. When the kids go into the house to try to ‘kill’ it and stop the house from eating people, they find a bunch of old pictures inside that at least confirm there was a wife at some point. When they end up in the basement among the piles and piles of stuff that’s landed in the yard over the years, the ALSO find a shrine to Mrs. Nebbercracker. Which is also her final resting place (a spot where she was apparently covered completely with cement).

DJ puts 2 and 2 together pretty quick when Mr. Nebbercracker returns and starts trying to calm the house. Mrs. Constance Nebbercracker is the one haunting the place, not Horace. That’s when we unlock Horace’s Tragic Back Story:

Sometime in the 1930′s Horace (a former demolition man) fell in love with Constance. Constance was being exploited as an “attraction” at a circus/freak-show at the time (during the height of just being abnormally tall, short, or obese made you a relevant ‘freak’). This place made her sleep OUTSIDE IN A CAGE and you know people were happily entertaining themselves by throwing things at her and laughing at both her weight ‘freakishness’ and helplessness.

So to follow a simple love story, the sweet skinny boy sneaks her away, his feelings are reciprocated, and the two start their life together. They’ve gotten to that nice, building their own house stage when everything goes terribly wrong.

For me, this is sort of the start of my opinion that... things for the Nebbercrackers weren’t likely to go well anyway. Like we got the impression from their wedding photos that they managed to have SOME normalcy in their honeymoon phase but when we see the beginnings of the house, Horace is JUST THEN taking apart the cage/cart that Constance was kept in. i’m presuming he was originally gonna use the various parts in the house but dear christ that means that not much time may have past between leaving the circus (guess they at least didn’t care enough about her ‘as property’ to keep the couple on the run?) to getting married and going on a vacation to buying the land and beginning construction.

That said, the mid-twentieth century isn’t exactly known for it’s forwardness on mental health, and oooooohhhhh boy, if this poor couple aint a fitting example that “and they lived happily ever after” doesn’t happen often. Halloween happens to come around and kids get up to their traditional mischief by, what else? Egging what little of the Nebbercracker house existed at the time.

(Disclaimer i am an expert in nothing so i may get somethings wrong here but this IS just me hashing out an idea i have) When we first see Constance, we see someone actually throwing food and trash at her while she’s “on display”. And when we see her at the skeleton of the Nebbercracker house, she get VISIBLY upset at the children throwing things at the house, she seeks out her husband telling him that those monsters ‘are attacking [their] house and they’re hurting [her]’. In my mind, she and Horace likely haven’t really dealt with her trauma from the circus. Yes Horace removed her from the bad situation and stopped the trauma, but as of good ole 1935, i doubt they really talked about it much, let alone saw a therapist. Both likely just trying to power forward INTO their future.

Horace’s confusion when Constance becomes triggered by the children throwing things and laughing like assholes shows us that he likely hadn’t seen or had to deal with a situation like this before. He does try to get her to focus on him and remind her that she’s with him and not back at the circus, so maybe he’s had to reassure her (like after a nightmare or maybe he got small panics when in more crowded areas - thus the house that’s likely on the edge of town since they don’t have close neighbors). But the course of events indicates that he’d never seen such a STRONG episode from her.

Perhaps she’d just finally gotten comfortable with being truly free since they could build their own home and so the perceived ‘attack’ on her home became an attack to her safety and happiness. When she goes to her husband, her savior, and (in her eyes) he doesn’t fix it/ he doesn’t get the chance to. When that egg hit HER BODY. it was game over.

Constance tried to take matters into her own hands, remove the ‘threat’ herself.... with the axe Horace was holding. Now it’s a kids movie so no children come even close to getting hurt, but one could take this to mean that, if constance had lived, she may have only gotten more violent as time went on if she didn’t get the help she needed... help Horace may not have been able to give or get for her.

We’ll never know since the way you get a haunted house is... pretty obvious. In a desparate attempt to stop Constance from likely maiming some kids or hurting herself, Horace causes constance to fall into their uncovered basement. As she falls, she tries to grab the cement mixer for stability and ends up dumping the load on top of herself in the basement (making for a VERY creepy site for a shrine). Horace’s guilt compels him to finish the house and he stays there.

Now such a violent, angry moment right before death MEANS THAT SOMETHIN’S GETTING HAUNTED. SO Constance’s spirit possesses the house and begins “defending” itself from the people of the growing town that happen to get too close. ESPECIALLY on Halloween... ya know one of the nights where EVERYBODY goes out and willingly approaches people’s front doors.

Throughout the rest of the flashback we Mr. Nebbercracker trying to keep people away with more and more desperation. Likely because DJ and Chowder haven’t witnessed the first of Constance’s victims. As the movie’s climax pics up we see how Horace talks to the house, trying to placate the angry spirit by taking care of the house and trying to be the first responder when someone enters the lawn before Constance gets to use HER WAY.

From here, Horace’s relationship with the House begins to look...pretty abusive actually. When he gets back home from the hospital he’s grumpy to the kids, but then we see him pause, he’s apprehensive as he turns to get back to the house. From the expressions the house is given and the way Mr Nebbercracker responds, it’s TELLING him to get HOME NOW. He’s timid, and fearful, and the kids begin to get the idea that if he goes into the house now, he may not come out again. And when the house LITERALLY GETS UP AND STARTS CHASING PEOPLE, he’s desperate. He tries soothing her, he tries to redirect her away from the targets of her anger - the kids.

Can you just imagine the 45 years leading up to this? Horace having to isolate himself from the whole town until it’s just him and this angry house under the pretext of “IF YOU DO NOT DEFEND HOUSE THEN THE HOUSE WILL DO IT”. He even get’s the heart breaking line of “then i’ll have nobody”. Like so many victims that feel they CAN’T leave their homes. I like to imagine that the house is PRIMARILY motivated by the rage and fear that was driving Constance in her final moments but like... what if she hadn’t? Even if she didn’t kill those kids from 45 years ago, would they have been able to get her the help she needed? Like so many back in those days, Constance and Horace likely would’ve only had the option to self medicate or get her institutionalized (ie. Imprisoned again). Would that have devolved into Constance manipulating Horace with things like “i won’t make it without you” and similar tactics. Would have maybe gone the other way? with Constance still not technically being free because Horace would (intentionally or unintentionally) encourage her dependence on him...

Anyway, when pleading to the house to just leave the children alone fails, he makes the decision to stop her. with dynamite from his Demo days.

Constance does not take this well.

From there we get the exciting confrontation where the main characters destroy the house WITHOUT the self-sacrifice that Mr. Nebbercracker may have been planning. We even get a nice little moment where constance’s spirit (unattached to the destroyed house) get’s to move on after a quick goodbye to Horace. And now we get our kids movie happy ending with DJ, Chowder, and Jenny helping Mr. Nebbercracker begin redistributing the pile of toys still in what’s left of the basement to trick-or-treaters and the living things that the house ate somehow climb out of whatever pocket dimension they were trapped in. Nobody seems to question why Nebbercracker’s house is just a crater now....and that this old man that left the hospital without a discharge is now homeless....

Buuuuuuuut i’ve been typing for like 2 hours now. I still have thoughts about other side characters and maybe more exploring the dynamics of technically being in a relationship with a haunted house. buuuuut i need to sleep.

Stay nerdy fellow overthinkers.

#Monster House #movie rant #overthinking to the max #long #rambly

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jofabray · 4 years

Text

Punishment || Jolia 08.30

Tagging: Jo Fabray and DJ Berry( @submissivedjberry)

Date: August 30

Location: Jo’s Suite

Summary: Consequences

Jo was...there weren't words. Incandescent with rage didn't begin to cover it. Archer had run his stupid mouth to someone she cared about, and in the process dragged in someone she cared about even more. And rather than putting a stop to it, his "dom" had mouthed off to her, refused a title, and then let things escalate even further. And now she was in the position of having to punish DJ for doing the right thing, and it made her more furious than she'd ever been. But the Headmaster had been involved, and there simply wasn't any choice left. Stepping into the bedroom, she let out a calming breath and closed the door. "Dalia," she spoke in a shaky voice. "I need your consent before we go any further tonight. And if y'all never want to see me again when we're done, I'll understand that. But we need to get this done."

The night had gone from perfect to terrible in what felt like a matter of moments. And she couldn't help but feel like everything was tumbling down around her. Jo was angry. Extremely enraged. And part of that was directed at DJ and she hated every second of it. She was kneeling in the bedroom, head down as tears streamed down her cheeks. She was angry and hurt and scared. This would be her first punishment at the Institute. But more than that her first punishment with Jo. And it felt like a serious one. The words "never see me again" caused a sharp inhale of breath as she felt her heart ache terribly. She was about to just consent when the conversation they had had before came into her mind. "May I know what that punishment it, please, Miss Jo?" Her eyes hadn't left the floor and her voice was trembling but she was doing her best.

"You may. And good girl for askin', because I should have told you." She could so easily slide back into an hour before, when things were easy and simple. "Tonight was a mess, from the top to the bottom. What it was not was your fault. So if that thought is in your head, I'd like to pry it out right now. This punishment is not for speakin' up for your friend. It is not for standin' up to Archer for sayin' something disgusting. It's certainly not for standin' up to Ryder, who couldn't just let a situation that was already defused burn itself out. I am proud of you. Y'all are a good friend, and a brave woman. And there's nothing wrong with those qualities." Jo sighed. "The reason I need to punish you tonight is that I was tryin' to put out fires before the smoke caught the attention of people we didn't need lookin' at us. As such, I gave you direct orders. To stop talkin', to stop engagin', and to walk away. More than once, in fact. And ya didn't. You disobeyed me. Very publicly. And kept getting involved. And like I said - you were doin' the right thing, so do not confuse what this punishment is about." Taking a seat on the bed, she reached out and laid a hand on DJ's shoulder. "Your punishment will be fifteen open handed spanks, fifteen spanks with a paddle, and ten with a cane. When the spanking is completed I want y'all to kneel in the corner for fifteen minutes and think about what happened tonight, and why I have to punish you. After that, I will provide aftercare and y'all can decide if you want to be with me tonight. Will you consent?"

The tears felt like they would never stop as she kept staring down at her thighs. She felt like she could be sick. Felt like at any moment everything she had been working towards could just tumble around her and there would be nothing that she could do to stop it. She listened as Jo spoke, though the words were slightly drowned out by the unease, worry, and anger that she still felt. She already felt so tired and the punishment hadn't even begun. Her body trembled as Jo explained why she was being punished. She said time and time again that she respected her Domme. That she cared about her. That she wanted to be hers. And the one time that Jo had given her a blatant, public, order she had ignored it. A sob ripped from her lips. She really wasn't worthy of Jo. The night had just proved it. She had half a mind to pull away from the hand on her shoulder but she didn't want to do that. If this was one of the last caring touches that she would get, she wanted to enjoy it. "I consent, Miss."

The sob split her to her soul, and Jo struggled to breathe. This wasn't what she'd wanted to be. This Domme. She was caring. She looked after people under her orders, made sure that they were healthy and taken care of. And that she'd managed to make DJ produce that sound made a lie of everything she believed she was. It made her Russell. And the thought of it made her blood run cold. "That's my girl," she nodded. DJ was scared and hurt, but she was brave enough to accept her punishment without complaint. "Collect my paddle and one of the canes from the toy chest and hand them to me. Then strip, please, and lay down over my lap." Once DJ was in position, warm against her, Jo ran a hand gently across her ass. "Y'all don't have to count, or thank me. If ya need something to bite down on, just say so." Trying desperately to shake the worry about what she was doing, Jo breathed out. "We'll begin now. Deep breaths." Bringing her hand down produced a solid smack that sounded much too loud in the quiet room. She added four more, leaving them ten to go, and paused to check on DJ.

She stood up slowly and moved to the toy chest. She dug through until she found exactly what she needed and then made her way back. She got to her knees and presented the items to the Domme before standing to remove her clothing. She folded them carefully and then placed herself over the Domme's lap. The tears hadn't stopped falling and she was sure that they wouldn't anytime soon. Especially not throughout the punishment itself. She tried to breath deeply but it was far from even and that was a challenge for her. But she wasn't going to make Jo stop. She deserved this. And she would take her punishment. And hopefully somehow convince Jo that she was good enough to stay. The smacks against her ass were far from the enjoyable ones they had had in the past and she gasped sharply with each smack.

As the delicate skin of DJ's ass began to redden, Jo had to fight every instinct. Every single part of her wanted to end what they were doing, to call the punishment complete and simply resume their lives. But this mattered. And it was important. And she needed to know that a punishment could be administered without turning her into the monster that she always feared she might be. Because if there was a hint of that, even one, then she could never trust herself with a submissive again. Not for a single minute. There was no sign from DJ that things had to stop, and so Jo administered the next five. Giving Dalia a short time to breathe, Jo shook out her wrist and counted out the last five. DJ's skin looked red but not overly so, and there was no broken skin or blood vessels that she could see. So far, so good. She could hear her girl crying, the breath catching in her throat, and Jo set a hand on her lower back. "Catch your breath for me, Dalia. Take your time. Ya don't have to talk, but when you're ready put your right hand up for me and we'll move onto the paddle."

While not counting outloud, she did count within her head to ket her know where they were at. She needed something to keep her grounded and that was the only thing that felt like it would do the job. The sound of her first name coming from Jo caused another sob to burst from her, her skin flushed with embarrassment. DJ didn't take much time to catch her breath. It wasn't like she could really catch her breath with the tears falling anyway. And the faster they moved onto the next, the faster they could be done. The fast DJ could prove to Jo that she could follow instructions. Her right hand lifted long enough for Jo to let her know that she had noticed before her hand dropped down again, eyes shut tight. After the paddle came the cane and she really wasn't looking forward to that. The first swat of her as with the paddle caused her to jump slightly, her teeth finding her bottom lip.

Jo's hands busied themselves in the blankets as DJ recovered, trying to keep from stroking her hair or patting her back. This had to be separated from their usual interactions, and that meant no pet names and no comfort until it was over. Because if a punishment bled into a real and emotional conversation then it would do precisely no good for either of them. The spanks with the paddle were quicker. Jo wanted the punishment over with, and lingering between the blows would only make the pain worse. Five on one side were followed by five on the other, and the last five spread between them. "Very good," she murmured, looking down at the now angrily red skin of DJ's ass. "You're taking your punishment well, and we're almost through here. I know we haven't used a cane before, but I will keep you safe even in a punishment. Y'all have my word. Again - when you're ready, raise your hand for me."

DJ was glad that Jo hadn't taken her time with the paddle. Her ass was stinging, and each hit with the paddle causing her body to jerk with the force. She was just glad that currently the pain, at least physical, wasn't anything worse than what she had experienced before. The emotional pain though, she could do without that. Her body trembled at the thought of the cane. She didn't want it. She just wanted to curl up into a ball and be done. This wasn't how Jo was supposed to be touching her that night. She had fucked everything up. She had been bad. Her arm lifted again before it dropped back down, her hands curling into fists as her teeth cut into her bottom lip slightly.

Jo was inexperienced with the cane. She knew the basics, had held one and swung one, but hadn't actually used it in a scene. The only reason she'd included it in the punishment was that she'd promised a punishment that was appropriate for the crime, and that punishment needed to be more severe than something that they'd do in a play session. She was cold all over, her heart hammering in her chest, and as she hefted the cane she prayed that she could be the Domme she wanted and not the Domme she feared becoming. With a careful, mechanically precise swing, she brought it down across DJ's ass. It left an angry red mark, but she gave it a careful once over to be sure that the damage wasn't excessive in any way. Satisfied of that Jo strung four more of them together, allowed a very short pause for DJ to breathe, and finished them up as quickly as possible before tossing it aside like the cane was hot and burning her hands. "You did very well, Dalia. Really, really well. You're taking your punishment so well for me. Stay here with me in my lap until you feel ready to go and kneel - there's no rush, and I'm not going to make you go before you're ready."

The sharp hit of the cane to her ass was one that brought out a yelp as her hands reached to grab onto nothing. She couldn't hold onto Jo, couldn't hold onto the bed, and so her hands curled into fists again as the cane was brought down again and again. The cane had brought a deeper and more unforgiving pain and each hit had her squirming, but not in a fun way. When Jo took a pause between each set of hits, DJ sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, the slight metallic taste of blood surprising her. The last five hits of the cane were a painful blur and she was left with a red and bruising ass, a mess of tears and snot on her face, a bloody lip, and a huge knot in her stomach. When Jo said she could stay there until she was ready to move, DJ's lip trembled. She didn't want to wait too long and upset her. But if this was going to be the last time she could be close to her, she was trying to experience every moment. When she felt like she had waited almost too long, DJ rolled off of Jo, hiding her face as she moved to the corner and knelt down. She rubbed at her face but it did no good as the tears hadn't stopped. So she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the wall.

"Good girl," Jo's voice broke. "Fifteen minutes. I'll be right here with you the whole time." She set her clock to buzz when the time was up and buried her face in her hands, trying valiantly to breathe and coming up short. She'd been reasonable, she hoped, in both the punishment and the force applied, but she couldn't help the gnawing sensation that if she looked in the mirror she'd see someone else's reflection. The one person she couldn't stand to become. As DJ knelt and the minutes ticked by, her breathing turned more and more shallow until she felt as if she couldn't get enough oxygen in her lungs. All she could do was try not to pass out, not when DJ's safety was at stake. After what seemed like an eternity, her clock began to buzz. "Punishment is over now, darlin' girl." With its end came the return of her nicknames. "When you're ready, come back over to me and we'll get your aftercare taken care of. But it's over, and you're forgiven, and that's all."

All she could think about during the kneeling portion of her punishment was that Jo was going to leave her. She had proven that she didn't deserve her and now she would lose the best thing that had ever happened to her. She felt like she was going to be sick. The return of the nickname almost hurt more than it helped, not sure of its meaning. She needed to stay kneeling for a few moments after Jo told her that the punishment was over. Her bottom lip was still trembling and the world still felt like it was tilted on its axis. She wiped at her face again and then slowly moved to kneel in front of Jo again. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth again, trying to sooth the sting.

Jo took in the sight of her, and the world went an ugly shade of grey around the edges. DJ looked exactly like she'd feared. Bloody, blotchy, and frightened. She really was the awful Dominant she'd feared. Tears slid down her cheeks as she tried to find her voice. "Good girl. I am so proud. I'm going to get a warm towel to clean up your face," her voice sounded like it was coming from a long, long way away. "I'll get your lip fixed up, and then put some cream on your..." she trailed off, chest hitching as she struggled to breathe. "Put some cream on your butt. Okay? I just need to go to the bathroom, I'll only be gone for a second." Assuming, of course, that she didn't stand up and immediately pass out.

Jo looked so sad. So scared. And DJ hated that she had done that to hear. Seeing Jo sitting there, looking like that, just absolutely broke her heart in two. All she heard when Jo was speaking was her saying that she was leaving. And that caused panic to well up within her as she reached out to grab Jo's pants before her hand ripped back. She hadn't been told she could touch. "No..no. Please, don't leave me. Stay. Please. I'm sorry. I'll be better. I'll do better. I'll do anything you want. Don't leave me. Please." She felt her breathing become shorter and sharper as she stared up at the Domme. "I can't lose you."

Jo's eyes widened. She should have realized what it might sound like in DJ's emotional state, and it was just one more failure to tack onto her list for the night. "Whoa - whoa, darlin', it's okay. It's alright. My darlin' girl, I'm not leavin' you. I just wanted to get the first aid kit. C'mere," she gestured, patting her lap. "C'mere, I've got ya. My girl, I'm not leavin' unless that's what you want." Helping DJ carefully into her, Jo began to cry in earnest. She'd never felt so awful in her life. "Not leavin'. I swear it."

She straddled the Domme, doing her best not to put any pressure on her as as she wrapped her arms around the blonde and nuzzled into the Domme's neck. She felt bad that she was making a mess, but she also needed to be close. She needed to be reminded that Jo was there, that she wasn't going anywhere, that she didn't want to leave her. DJ wasn't sure how Jo could still want her after she had blatantly disrespected her, but she didn't want to convince her that she should leave, because she would probably easily be able to do so. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't mean....I was so bad to you."

"There we go," Jo murmured through her tears. "My girl. My darlin'." She couldn't quite string a thought together, at least until DJ tried to apologize. "Hey, no," she shook her head. "Y'all weren't bad to me. Made a mistake, sure. But if ya were bad you wouldn't care about that." Her breathing was labored, but she needed to talk. "You're a good girl, darlin'. My good girl. Ya made a mistake, you took your punishment, and now it's over. No more apologies. No more hurt. I've got ya. If that's what you want." The alternative scared her more than anything, but it had to be presented as an option. It felt for all the world like she'd beaten and bloodied someone she was meant to look after, and so Jo needed to know that leaving wasn't what DJ was after.

"Y-yours." She responded, her grip tight and unrelenting. She needed this closeness more than anything else. When Jo offered the option of her leaving, she shook hear head fervently. "I'm yours. I don't want to be anything but yours. I'm sorry I didn't listen. I was just so m-mad. But I should have listened to you and followed your orders. And I just screwed everything up. Wh-what if they think I'm not a good sub and I don't deserve a dominant now?" Her breathing starting to hitch again as the panic welled. What if she had just ruined their chances of a trial claim? The only thing she had been aiming towards.

Jo wept again, this time with relief. "Then y'all are mine, darlin'. All mine." She kissed her wet cheek and pressed their heads together. "I know ya were. I know it wasn't on purpose, and that y'all weren't tryin' to undermine me or make me look bad." When DJ began to panic once more, Jo took one of her hands to rest it on her heart. "Breathe with me, okay? Nice and slow." Ironically Jo's own heart was pounding so fast she wondered if she was having some kind of cardiac event, but she could fake slow breathing for at least long enough. "They won't think that. The Headmaster, he..." she shut her eyes, trying to work through everything in her head. "He thought I handled myself well. I promised that I'd look after your punishment. That's all we need to do. They know that everyone has to learn. And nobody goes through this without gettin' punished. We're gonna be okay."

Her eyes closed as the Domme pressed their foreheads together and she let out a shaky breath. She couldn't breathe properly. Felt like she hadn't breathed properly in an hour and she didn't know how to make it ease. She tried to follow her Domme's breathing as she modeled what DJ should be doing. She listened to Jo's words, breathing shakily. "But that says something about you. Not about me. I was bad. I should have just...stopped when you told me. I don't...I don't know why I didnt." She pulled back to look at her Domme, swallowing harshly. "I wasn't who you deserve."

"Because you were angry, and you were upset. Not only had one person hurt your friend, two people had." Looking into her eyes, Jo reached up to brush hair from her face. "Darlin' girl. I want you to hear this. I don't want a perfect submissive. Because there's no such thing. I want a human bein'. Humans make mistakes. They do the wrong thing. They say the wrong thing. Bein' in a claim means that when that happens, I n-need to punish you. But when I do, the punishment happens and then it's over. I'm not upset with you, my girl. I'm upset with me."

Her eyes fluttered closed when Jo's fingers moved hair away from her face. Her eyes opened when Jo began to speak to her again and she swallowed. Her mind knew all of these things, but her heart was having a difficult time remembering it, especially with the look on Jo's face. She furrowed her eyebrows when Jo said that she was mad at herself, shaking her head. "Why...why are you upset with yourself, Miss?" The tears had slowed and she whiped at her face again, trying to chill out at least a little bit.

Jo's mouth opened and closed a few times, and tears spilled from her eyes as she tried to say what was on her mind. "Because I scare myself," she finally whispered. "Because I look at your face right now and you're bloody and sad and scared and all I c-c-" wincing, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and tried to find her voice. "All I can think is that ya look like I must have looked, or like Mama must have looked, when Daddy took after us. I'm afraid that I don't know how to punish you when I have to without making it worse than it's supposed to be. And I'm angry at myself for making ya look like that and feel that way."

She shook her head and she tangled her fingers in her Domme's hair. "You aren't your father. I did something bad. And you needed to punish me for it. You gave me chances and I didn't listen. My lip is my fault. Not yours. I bit into it when I was trying not to make a lot of noise. So please don't worry about it. And the tears...you didn't hurt my ass more than I deserved. I was just...really upset that I made you have to do this. I didn't want to lose you." She breathed, nails scratching along her Domme's scalp. She needed the attention and care just as much as DJ did in that moment. And she hoped she could do it for her. "I still want you. Always. As long as you want me."

Burying her face in her girl's neck, Jo let some of the tears out and felt some of the tension drain from her as DJ's fingers worked their magic against her head. Her chest loosened a little and breathing started to become easier, and she was once again incredibly grateful for the submissive in her arms. They had found each other at the right time and the right place, and without her Jo knew she wouldn't be half the dominant she was. "You're never going to lose me," she promised, lips moving against DJ's skin. "I'm always going to want you. And I want to put my collar around your neck for the rest of our lives. A punishment don't change that. A bad night or a bad day don't either. You're my girl."

She breathed out slowly at the feeling of Jo's lips moving against her neck, letting the words soothe the ache in her chest. There was a lot that she needed to work through. But Jo still wanted her and that was everything that she could have asked for. "Yours. And you're my Domme. The only one that I'll ever have. The only one I'll ever truly want." There was always the possibility that Jo could find someone the way that things had happened with Nate and his boyfriend. But until that became a thing, DJ's entire focus was Jo. And getting better. And being someone that Jo could be proud of.

"I'm your Domme," Jo confirmed, confidence in her voice for the first time that night. "I will never share y'all with anyone. I don't want to, and I never will. I want your heart, your mind and your spirit to be with me always, and I'm never gonna think anyone else is worthy of you. They may get to scene with you, they may get to take up some of your time. But they don't get you. I do. And I am so damn proud to know that."

She hummed at her words. "You don't want to share me with anyone at all, my Miss?" She questioned, toying with her hair as she tried to breathe. The panic and tension and begun to break and what she was left was exhaustion and a need to be hugged and told that everything would be okay. "You have my heart. You have my soul. You have every part of me. Even the silly parts that get me in trouble."

"No, my darlin' girl. Not anyone. And if that was ever gonna change, we would have a good long talk about it before it ever did." She couldn't imagine sharing DJ, because even the thought of it made her tense. "I love your silly parts," Jo promised. "All of your parts. They're all wonderful parts." Her grip tightened around DJ, just a little. "And you're not in trouble anymore. You've had your punishment. And now I'm goin' to take care of you. For the rest of our time together, you're not gonna have to think about this. I'm gonna make ya a cup of my famous hot chocolate with the very last of my mix, and put marshmallows in it, and we're gonna find something fun to put on TV to watch together. But before we do that, we need to do your aftercare. Make sure y'all are going to heal up properly."

"Nice, long talk before anything like that happens. Okay. I can deal with that." She said with a soft nod of her head. "Okay, I'll try to stop talking about it." If Jo didn't want to discuss it anymore then DJ would keep her mouth shut. Not doing so had gotten her in a lot of trouble and she didn't want a consecutive punishment. "You love that hot chocolate though, Miss. I don't want to take it from you." DJ expressed, biting down on her bottom lip. She nodded when Jo said that they needed to do aftercare. She didn't want to move away from her, but she was ready to have the cream. She eased off of her Domme and carefully laid down on her stomach on the bed with a soft sigh.

“I didn’t say that, darlin’ girl. If there are things on your mind and ya haven’t been ordered otherwise, you can talk to me about anything. Whenever you want.” The protest made her smile, and she kissed DJ’s temple. “It’s worth it if it can make tonight better, my girl. Because ya mean more to me than any cup of cocoa.” When DJ got off of her Jo headed for the bathroom and found the first aid kit, carrying it back into the bedroom and hissing under her breath at how reddened Dalia’s skin was. “This is gonna smart, darlin’. But it’ll be worth it. Just tell me if you need to stop.”

"Okay. Do you...do you mind if we do the teasing and denial another time, my Miss? I'm just not sure I feel up to it." She would do it if Jo really wanted, but she didn't know if she could handle doing it and making another mistake. "We could share a cup of hot chocolate, my Miss. Because it's been a hard day for you too. And you should get to have your favorite hot chocolate. And I don't think any kisses from me will do it justice." She mused with a slight smile. "Miss...may I please have a cloth to wash my face too?" She questioned as she heard Jo walk back into the room. She should have asked before she left, but she hadn't thought of it. "It's okay...I'm ready." She uttered, gripping the bed sheets tightly.

“I don’t mind a single bit. And you are such a good girl for askin’. It’s not what I want either - right now I just wanna hold ya.” Her girl really was the sweetest girl, and she couldn’t help but steal one more kiss. “That is a fair deal, darlin’ - although you’d be surprised what your kisses can do.” DJ’s request was smart, but one she was already thinking of when it was asked. “We’ll get your face cleaned up next,” she promised. “I want to have a look at your lip.” Gently, she began rubbing a calming salve into DJ’s skin.

"Thank you, Miss Jo." DJ said very appreciative. As lips pressed to her own, DJ breathed out shakily. She had been worried she would never get another kiss. She nodded when Jo said they would clean her face after they checked out her ass, sighing deeply. She didn't think her lip was too bad, but she wasn't going to argue about having it get checked out. She winced as Jo let the salve rub into her skin, trying not to cry out. She didn't want her Domme feeling worse than she already did.

"You're so welcome, darlin' girl. I always want to know if somethin' we've planned is more than you can take, or y'all just aren't in the mood for it. The teasin' and denial is meant to be fun, and tonight it wouldn't be for either of us, so we're not gonna do that. Instead we're gonna take tonight and just make it ours." She could see the tension in DJ's body as she was touched, and it hurt to watch - but this part would make things better, and they both had to suffer through it to come out the other side. "I've got ya," she promised softly. "Won't be but a minute. Two shakes of a lamb's tail, as Mama used to say." It was a stupidly southern expression, but Jo wanted to talk. To let DJ hear her voice and know that everything was going to be all right. "I'd offer to sing while I do this, but I think we both know that'd be an awful plan. Only make ya feel worse."

"I know it has to be done. I'm okay. I can handle it." She giggled softly when Jo spoke about being willing to sing for her and she shook her head. "It wouldn't make me feel worse. But I do just like hearing you talk to me. Your voice is soothing just as it is. Because it's the voice of my Domme. The one who makes everything better." She breathed out slowly. Her eyes were shut as she gripped the bed sheets, waiting for it to be over.

"I know ya can, darlin'. My girl can handle anythin', because she's brave and courageous and wonderful in every way." Hearing DJ's laugh after the night they'd had was the most wonderful thing she'd experienced in a long while. "You're sweet to say so." Her explanation of why she liked hearing Jo talk brought fresh tears to her eyes, but they were happy ones. "I will always try to make everythin' better, my girl. Always." She kept rubbing in the salve, changing conversation topics. "What do y'all think the first thing we should do in Bay is? I want to show you the hotel, but that can wait. I think I vote for me takin' you home. To the little place we're gonna buy. I know just the spot, right on the water and peaceful as can be. We'll sit on the dock and sip our hot chocolate and listen to the waves roll in, and we won't have to worry about a thing. Not ever." She finished up the last of the salve and put a comforting hand on DJ's back. "When you feel up to it, let's go check out your lip."

"You think very highly of me and I don't think that I deserve it. But you're really sweet to me to say so." The submissive mused. She hummed. "I know you will. I trust you." DJ said quietly. "That sounds perfect. I love the idea of living on the water, Domina. But I'm going to need to kiss you lots in our new home before we go and sit on the dock. But then we can do that. Because that sounds so peaceful." DJ breathed, letting the picture that Jo was painting form behind her eyelids. She took a few moments and then eased herself up, licking at her bottom lip. "Ready."

"Then I'm just going to have to work hard to convince y'all that you do, my girl. Because you deserve everythin' that I can give ya, the whole world if I could." Being trusted - after everything that had happened - was a better feeling than she could have imagined. She knew that they had hurt to work through still, both of them, but they had come so far. DJ had taken a punishment and known it wasn't the end of the world. Jo had given one, and not turned into her father. And those were huge steps forward for the both of them, working through issues that might have caused more trouble down the line. "You make an excellent point, darlin' girl. We'll need to at least kiss in every room of the house before we go and kiss outside. It's goin' to be peaceful, and calm, and no one's ever gonna trouble us there. Just us and the fish." Once DJ was sat up, Jo wet a cloth with some clean water and began to slowly brush her face clean. It hurt, it ached, just how beautiful DJ was. When the cloth reached her lip her motions became slow, small, and deliberate. "I don't...think it's going to need anythin'," she murmured. "But I still feel like I should do something to help it."

"I'm really just glad that you feel that way about me. And that tonight didn't change that." The night was painful and overwhelming, but it had made her much more confident in the relationship she had with Jo. She grinned when Jo mentioned that they would have to kiss in every room of the house before they went outside and she nodded. "And you should definitely fuck me...at least once...in every room before we have some fun outside." She suggested. Her eyes fell shut and she let the vloth move over her face. It was simple and yet felt so intimate. When Jo said that she still felt like she should do something to help it, she leaned forward. "Can I have another kiss please? I think that would help a lot." DJ mused gently, quirking her eyebrow. She was sure that it would sting. But it would be worth it to have Jo's lips on her own, no matter how briefly.

Jo's eyes widened. "Tonight didn't change a thing, my girl. Punishments are somethin' that'll happen sometimes, as much as we both wish otherwise. Tonight we learned we can get through them, and we can bend without breakin'. They will never change the way I feel about y'all. Ever." She grinned widely at DJ's suggestion, giving her an eager nod. "That is one hell of an idea, darlin'. We need to write that one down and make sure that it's the very first thing we do, soon as the door is locked behind us." Despite everything, all of the fear and the hurt, Jo giggled at DJ's suggestion. "I mean if it would help, who am I to say no?" Leaning in, she pressed her lips - gently - against Dalia's with all of the love and tenderness that her girl made her feel.

"Thank you for saying that. Because that makes me feel so good. And so...safe." She assured, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I'm very excited for that day. Because that will be so very fun." The giggle from the Domme was so perfect. She loved having that affect on the blonde. As lips pressed against her own, she moaned softly. There was a slight sting against her lip, but it was so very worth it. When she pulled back, she grinned cheekily and rubbed the back of her neck. "Much better." She paused. "Can I please put on my robe, my Miss?" DJ asked, feeling a little bit vulnerable and a little bit chilled.

"That's all I want, DJ. For y'all to feel safe when you're with me. To feel safe knowin' that I'll always look out for you. No matter what, for now and always." Jo nodded eager agreement. "Oh, it truly will. That's gonna be the most amazin' day, and I plan on wearing you out in every possible way," she promised. Her reaction to the kiss produced another, louder giggle. "Then I'm happy to have given it to you, darlin' girl." She pulled back a little, wanting to give DJ room to get up. "Go right ahead - anything you want to put on right now that won't cause y'all more pain, please do that."

She eased off the bed and then moved to grab her robe. She wrapped it around herself and hummed softly as the warmth and comfort surrounded her. She then nodded. "I'm ready for the hot chocolate and cuddles if you are, Miss." She was glad that Jo had agreed to split the last bit of hot chocolate mix, because she didn't want her Domme to have to miss out on something that she really liked. Especially because it was one of the first things that Jo had talked to her about when she had come over.

Jo watched, keeping an eye on DJ to make sure that they'd taken enough time to let her recover from the pain. There was no wobble in her step, though, and no immediate cause for alarm, so she got up as well and smiled. "I'm very ready, darlin' girl. Let's go make us some of the world's best chocolate, and then I'm plannin' on cuddling y'all like there's no tomorrow."

#thread: punishment

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smallmediumproblems · 5 years

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Big List of Podcast Recs

I felt a need to share. I’m going to skip over Penumbra and all the Nightvale Presents shows simply because I feel like everyone has either heard of or tried them at this point. I’m also going to assume that if you’re near my blog you listen to the Magnus Archives and at least one other Rusty Quill podcast, so, if you don’t, do that. Do that right now. Tags used as follows: Completed (💯), Is it gay (🌈)

I put the full descriptions under a cut so it doesn’t clog your dash but here’s the short list:

Note: These are mostly in alphabetic order except for Wolf 359, which is at the top because it is one of my all-time favorites. As much as I love all the other podcasts on this list, I would recommend it over any one of them.

Wolf 359 (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, comedy, mystery elements

The Alexandria Archives - Mild horror, comedy, fantasy

Archive 81 (🌈) - Horror, sci-fi/fantasy, adventure and some dark comedy

Ars Paradoxica (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, comedy, political thriller, drama

Arden (💯) - Comedy, “true” crime mystery

Blackwood (💯) - Mystery, mild horror

The Bridge (🌈I think, don’t exactly remember) - Horror, mystery, light comedy

The Bright Sessions (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, drama, occasional suspense

Congeria (💯) - Thriller, mystery

Death by Dying (💯) - Dark comedy, fantasy, mystery

Girl in Space - Sci-fi, comedy, drama

LifeAfter (💯) - Sci-fi, mystery, drama

The Message (💯) - Sci-fi, mystery

Midnight Marinara - Horror

Our Fair City (💯) - Sci-fi, comedy, drama, horror elements

The White Vault (💯) - Horror, found audio

Wooden Overcoats (🌈) - Comedy, drama, more comedy, seriously this show is really funny

Wolf 359 (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, comedy, mystery elements

In the deepest reaches of space, research ship Hephaestus is staffed by a hapless communications officer, his uptight boss, a computer program with a chip on her shoulder, and a doctor with the worst bedside manner possible. Do they get along? Absolutely not. Are they an effective team? Also no. Is it funny to listen to them try? Most definitely.

The Alexandria Archives - Mild horror, comedy, fantasy

A college radio host chronicles the misadventures of her variously occult peers. Features “selections from the archives,” short-format scary stories that, while lightly referencing a consistent lore, mostly stand on their own.

Archive 81 (🌈) - Horror, sci-fi/fantasy, adventure and some dark comedy

A newly-hired archivist at a shady government facility stumbles across an entire parallel dimension’s worth of occult magic, science fiction, and high conspiracy. His bosses suck, but the monsters are surprisingly chill, which is good for our archivist, because he seems to be one of them.

Ars Paradoxica (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, comedy, political thriller, drama

Time travel shenanigans set in America during the Cold War, following the misadventures of the scientist who accidentally invented the technology and brought it back in time from the 21st century. I’d say she struggles to fit in despite her incessant wise-cracking and thirst for pop-culture, but she makes absolutely no attempts to stifle either, ever, under any circumstance.

Arden (💯) - Comedy, “true” crime mystery

An overzealous journalist and a private investigator with a flair for the dramatic try their hand at a true crime podcast, investigating the closed murder of a teenaged celebrity. Their biggest challenge lies in putting aside their personal differences and putting up with the bizarre whims of their boss, who is both obscenely wealthy and absolutely out of touch with reality.

Blackwood (💯) - Mystery, mild horror

A crack team of teenaged detectives investigate a cryptid from their hometown, but uncover a much larger mystery that they are all much closer to than they first realized.

The Bridge - Horror, mystery, light comedy

A remote outpost providing traffic reports and sweet, sweet tunes for the trans-Atlantic highway (which is a thing) is staffed exclusively by people with dark and mysterious pasts. Especially the DJ. Features eldritch sea monsters, a scary amusement park, and what I’m pretty sure are ghosts.

The Bright Sessions (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, drama, occasional suspense

Plenty of people lead healthier lives thanks to their friendly neighborhood therapist. Some of those people have superpowers. Granted, that’s not the only reason they’re there, but it helps to have a specialist.

Congeria (💯) - Thriller, mystery

A private investigator is called on to find a missing girl who isn’t what she seems, facing off against mad scientists, rogue assassins, and a death cult who are after the same target.

Death by Dying (💯) - Dark comedy, fantasy, mystery

The obituary writer of Crestfall, Idaho finds himself doing a good deal of detective work for his job, both to satisfy his own curiosity and to ease the minds of his surviving clients. Fortunately, Death herself is there to help.

Girl in Space - Sci-fi, comedy, drama

After being stranded alone on a research vessel for most of her adult life, the surviving scientist of an apparently doomed mission is accosted by the outside world in just the worst way possible. She’s forced to simultaneously confront a corrupt paramilitary complex, navigate unstructured social interactions, and uncover the mystery of how exactly her former crewmates - who happen to have been her parents - met their demise.

LifeAfter (💯) - Sci-fi, mystery, drama

A young software engineer is coerced into committing corporate espionage by the digitally recreated ghost of his dead girlfriend. Unsurprisingly, greater things are afoot, and he grapples with the decision of whether to dig further or keep his head down.

The Message (💯) - Sci-fi, mystery

A team of scientists try to decipher the meaning of a mysterious signal from outer space. A little later than any of them would have liked, they discover that exposure to the signal can cause devastating brain damage, meaning that they have to work under quarantine and on a bit of a time crunch.

Midnight Marinara - Horror

Dramatic readings of a broad variety of creepypasta and similar internet horror. The twist is, they’re adapted to real-time narratives in the style of your favorite radio shows; no narrators here!

Our Fair City (💯) - Sci-fi, comedy, drama, horror elements

In the distant future, in the city of Hartford, Connecticut, mankind - or, at least, as much of mankind will fit into Hartford, Connecticut - lives in a gothic, campy, 1950′s-style steampunk dystopia that is about to be turned upside down. The city struggles not to collapse under the weight of its several mad scientists, a rebellion led by plumbers, and no fewer than three separate apocalypses.

The White Vault (💯) - Horror, found audio

A repair team heads to Outpost Fristed, located in the most remote portion of the polar icecap. The darkness that they find there threatens to destroy them in every conceivable way.

Wooden Overcoats (🌈) - Comedy, drama, more comedy

A funeral home director struggles to keep his spot on the island of Piffling Vale against the competition of a second funeral home that has just opened up. His nemesis is handsome, charming, and all-around almost irrationally likable, but our hero is ready to pull out the stops on as many hare-brained schemes as it takes to beat him.

Honorable mentions:

Bubble (Lighthearted sci-fi comedy)

King Falls AM (Drama, comedy, mystery, sci-fi)

Mabel (Fantasy, suspense, romance??)🌈

Spines (Horror/sci-fi, mystery)🌈

Within the Wires (Sci-fi, horror elements, suspense, romance)🌈

#podcast recs #podcasts #guys hey listen #listen #they're good dogs bront #i mean podcasts

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Undone, Chapter 8 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 8 of UNDONE, our Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link the previous chapters.This is a repost from AO3/RGF - once we’re caught up, new chapters will go up.

Summary: Courtney tries to come to terms with her feelings, while Bianca suffers from the blues.

TW: This story deals with themes of emotional abuse, and since that can be subtle, we’re going to keep a general TW on all of the chapters, even when it seems like it doesn’t apply.

***

“Good morning!” Kim sings, as Courtney walks into the kitchen. “Didja sleep well, sis?”

Courtney grabs the tea kettle from the stove to pour herself a cup.

“Not especially.”

“Sorry, love.” Kim holds out a plate with toast and jam. “And I’m sorry for giving you shit last night. You’re just so much fun to tease.”

Courtney sighs, leaning back against the fridge and taking a slice.

“It’s alright. You were...less off base than I let on.”

“I know,” Kim smirks.

“Cunt,” Courtney laughs, mouth full.

Kim finishes her juice and sets the glass in the sink.

“Runs in the family. Are you sure it’s still cool that I take your car?” Kim asks.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I can uber to work; it’s not far.”

“Awesome. I’ll be back Sunday, then,” Kim says, grabbing the keys, her purse and a small rolling suitcase. “In the meantime, if you feel like inviting any sexy Latina women over, you know…”

“Get out of here!” Courtney exclaims, laughing, shoving her towards the door.

***

Courtney groans in frustration, tossing her phone over onto her heap of clothes in the corner.

“That little twat isn’t bothering you again, is she?” Bianca asks her. “Turn.”

Courtney obeys, answering, “No. I think you scared her away for good. Thank god.”

“Excellent. So what’s the problem?” She unzips Courtney’s dress, taking it over to the sewing machine to make the alterations.

“Well...I’m trying to find some...uh...company, for tonight, and none of my regulars are available, and the idea of prowling around a bar is just not very appealing.”

Bianca opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by Adore opening the door to the trailer, asking, “is Gary still in here?”

“No, he's in makeup,” Bianca says.

“Cool.”

She starts to leave but Courtney calls out, “Wait!”

“Yes?” Adore turns back around as Courtney runs to the door, arms over her bare chest. “Nice panties.”

“Are you still dating that DJ?” Courtney asks Adore quietly. Bianca slows down the sewing, pretending not to listen in.

“No, why?” Adore responds.

Courtney gives her puppy eyes.

“Oh.” Adore grins. “DTF, huh?”

“Yes please.”

“Can we go in your hot tub?” Adore bargains.

“Whatever gets you in the mood, peaches.” Courtney flutters her lashes.

“You know,” Adore laughs, “You're my most generous booty call.”

Courtney sticks her tongue out as Adore lets the screen door fall closed, backing down the steps.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Delano!”

“Later bitch!”

Courtney walks back over to perch on the stool while Bianca keeps sewing.

“Wow,” Bianca says under her breath, turning the dress over to examine the seams.

“What?”

“Just...that was very...uh...direct.”

“Welcome to friends with benefits,” Courtney laughs.

Bianca shakes her head. “You’re out of control.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I just mean...like, you are constantly coming here with stories about all these different girls. You’re definitely pulling more tail than the brosin Jared’s office.”

“Well, sure, I would hope so, because I’m guessing by your tone that that’s quite a low bar to clear.”

Bianca laughs uncomfortably.

“And anyway, I think you have a very warped perspective about what life is like for a single person. You said you’ve been with your husband since you were what, 18?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you havenoidea what it’s like to have to chase downother human beings to sleep with. It is fucking exhausting. I will bet you anything that you have more than double the amount of sex as me. Maybe triple.”

“Not a chance!”

“Well, why don’t we do the math?”

“Sure...” Bianca agrees.

“Okay, so, how often do you and Jared have sex? Roughly, how many time a week?”

“Uhhh...I dunno, maybe... four? Five?”

“Four or five?!”

“Is that bad?”

“No, it’s...holy shit. Cheers, Jared.” Courtney shakes her head.

Bianca giggles, slightly self-conscious.

“Alright, well, let me break down my wild and crazy single person sex life for you. I go out once or twice a week. I bring someone home with me...maybe 1 in 3 of those times, if I’m lucky. So I’m fucking another human maybe twice a month? Four times, tops. The rest of the time, I take care of my own business, with help from some very top of the line vibrators.”

Bianca closes her eyes.

“Is there anything you don’t feel the need to share?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing, nevermind.”

“Anyway...I assume with your Ivy League education that you’re following the math here.”

“Wow.” Bianca looks at her. “I guess so.”

“Really, four or five?” Courtney shakes her head in amazement.

“Well...we aretrying to have a baby,” Bianca says.

“Okay, but that only explains a few days a month.”

“Right, but Jared’s philosophy is that ovulation days are Game Days, and the rest of the month is like, practice, keeping in good form, so we’re in peak condition for Game Day.” Bianca says all of this matter-of-factly, with a slightly amused tone, clearly not buying it 100%, but pretending to. She removes the dress from the machine, clipping a few loose threads and handing it back over.

“Ahh, I see. What about your period?” Courtney slips the dress over her head and turns around so that Bianca can zip her up.

“Off season.”

Courtney laughs.

“Well, B, this sounds like a winning formula. I wish you guys lots of success for getting those swimmers past the goal line, into the...hoop? I don’t really do sports metaphors, sorry.”

“Thanks anyway,” Bianca says, helping her into her jacket, chuckling.

***

“Holy shit,” Adore pants, sprawled out on her back. “What the fuck got into you?”

“I’m sorry,” Courtney says. “I didn’t mean to get so aggressive.” She rolls over, propping her head up with a pillow.

“I mean, I didn’t realize we were having a competition, but you definitely won. I think I’m gonna have bruises tomorrow, though.

“You’re so dramatic. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Ummm, tell that to my poor battered pussy,” Adore counters.

Courtney rolls her eyes. “Then why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

“Well...I liked it.” Adore flashes an impish grin and Courtney laughs, nudging her affectionately with her foot.

“You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah. So...what’s your problem? Why all the pent-up rage?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe...I guess I kind of got into it with Kimmy last night.” Courtney examines her nails.

“About?”

“She was kind of giving me shit about Bianca. And I got all defensive because, you know, I just...I don’t see it ever happening.”

“I dunno about that,” Adore says, chuckling.

“But Adore, be realistic. I mean, she’s married, and she wants a family, with her husband, and...you know, it is what it is. But god, she’s so hot, I can’t stand it sometimes…”

“I don’t understand you, this is totally your wheelhouse. Just be like,” Adore puts on an exaggerated Australian accent, “Hello Bianca, are ya keen? Care for a root? Cause I’d really like to fuck your brains out, how’s that? Oh these? Just my tits, I thought I’d have them out today. So are we on?”

“Would you please stop, I don’t sound like that. You sound like the crocodile hunter imitating Ja’mie or something.”

“Well, you could learn a lot from Ja’mie. She’s got more balls than you.”

Courtney sighs, closing her eyes and smiling dreamily. “She’s just so beautiful. Have you ever seen anyone that beautiful?”

“Well, yeah, I have a mirror, so…” Adore tongue pops.

Courtney rolls her eyes.

“I’m kidding,” Adore says. “And I guess she’s cute...in that like, grown-up Bratz doll, painted, uber-femme kinda way. She’s definitely got great tits.”

“Grown up Bratz doll,” Courtney repeats, chuckling, then says, “You know who she reminds me of? Remember in The Little Mermaid, that scene when-”

“My favorite movie, go on-”

“When Ursula turns into that like, sexy girl, and tries to steal Eric from Ariel?” Courtney raises her eyebrows.

“Omigod. Vanessa.” Adore begins to laugh.

“Yes! Vanessa! Blue eyes, dark hair, that evil glint in her eye…”

“She is a little bit evil. I’ve noticed that too,” Adore nods.

“No! Not evil, but, like...impish. Mischievous. And those cute dimples. And that body…Ughhhhh!”

“Girl, you need a cold shower.”

“I need a lobotomy.”

“Or that,” Adore agrees. “You know what I wonder...What’s the husband like?”

Courtney shrugs, eyes slightly unfocused.

“I’ve never met him.”

“Well, okay, but I’m sure you stalked her social media. You must know what he looks like…”

“I mean, of course…” She hugs a pillow to her chest.

“...And?”

“And what?”

Adore cups her hands around her mouth and speaks loudly through them.

“What does he look like?”

“I...I dunno. He’s...like, if you went to the husband factory and ordered the Ivy League model with a cheekbone upgrade, he’s what would pop out of the machine. He’s basically a Ken doll.”

“Hmm. So she’s got a type,” Adore muses thoughtfully.

Courtney raises the pillow and smacks Adore in the face, making her shriek with laughter.

***

Bianca looks up from her sewing machine. “So how was your night?”

“Pretty good,” Courtney says, perched on the stool, swinging her legs.

Bianca raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, looking back down.

“What?”

“No, nothing. I’m just bracing myself.”

“Bracing yourself for what?”

“Details about your little rendez-vous.”

Courtney smirks, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Oh, so you want details, eh? Didn’t realize you were so thirsty for smut-”

“No, I didn’t say I wanteddetails, but that’s never stopped you before,” Bianca replies with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Well...” Courtney begins, then pauses.

Bianca looks up, soft blue eyes meeting Courtney’s green ones. She can feel her heart begin to race, her abdomen tightening.

“Yeah?”

“...I don’t want to torture you,” Courtney continues, “So, I’ll just let you imagine this one.”

Bianca exhales, forcing a scoff.

“Oh...shut up.”

Courtney giggles, twirling on the stool, feeling a slight release of the tension that had been building up over the last few days. She exhales, letting her head fall backwards, enjoying the dizziness that comes over her as she spins, not unlike the feeling of being on a dance floor after your second or third cocktail.

“I do have one question.”

Bianca’s voice brings her back to the moment and she puts a foot down to stop the stool.

“Yes?” she asks, with a coy flutter of her lashes.

“Don’t get excited, it’s not a sex question.”

“Oh.”

“Just like...the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.” Bianca pauses, then continues carefully, “I just...always thought that was a thing guys made up so that they didn’t have to commit. What exactly are you getting out of that?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“No. You’re good friends, so you obviously get along. And you sleep together. Why not just date? What am I missing?”

“You can like someone, and enjoy sleeping with them, and still know that they aren’t the right romantic match for you. I love Adore. I mean, you know her, she’s fun, and we totally get along, but…it takes a lot for me to want to be in a relationship. I’d much rather be independent than try to force something with someone that isn’t right for me. And with Adore...there’s not that fire, that...you know?”

Bianca listens, wondering how anyone could be with Courtney and not have fire. She’s nothing butfire.

“I mean it’s always just been too easy. There’s no burning passion, or...or sense of adventure. It’s just...nice. Which is great, but...that’s it...” Courtney trails off, trying to read the ambiguous expression on Bianca’s face.

“I see.” It’s taking all of Bianca’s mental strength not to imagine exactly the kind of “burning passion” it would take to satisfy her. Nails dig in her hands under the sewing table, willing herself to erase the torrid images flashing through her mind. Back arched, toes curled, mouth open in a desperate moan...

“For either of us!” Courtney continues quickly. “Which is why, you know, we don’t hook up too often. Or, we’ll get lazy and stop looking for the real deal. She agrees with me; we’ve talked about it.”

“Wait, you’ve actually talked about this?” Bianca is snapped out of her fantasies by surprise, caught off guard. “So then it’s more than just sex?”

Courtney looks at her for a moment before answering, suddenly conscious of how very deeply curious she’s been. Almost invested. But she shakes that thought and smiles.

“Well, yeah. She’s not just a trick, she’s my friend. And she agrees. But then, she’s kind of lazier than me so sometimes she’s like ‘sure, right, but on the other hand, who needs epic passion when you’ve got Netflix?’”

Bianca laughs.

“She sounds like Jared. We should fix them up.”

“Now, I’ve know never met him, but something tells me that he wouldn’t be her type,” Courtney replies.

“I dunno, he’s kinda pretty,” Bianca says. “A wig and a wonderbra, she might not know.”

“Well…” Courtney taps her chin thoughtfully. “She does like a strap-on.”

Bianca’s eyes bulge as she gapes at Courtney, lips parted in disbelief.

“What, you thought it was the other way around?” Courtney asks sweetly.

“I...I...shut up!” Bianca finally stammers out.

Courtney winks smugly and then bursts out laughing, immensely proud of herself.

***

“Don’t get me wrong...your dogs are super fucking cool, but I just think it’s a little weird that you always have them at the table with us,” Adore says.

“Why?” Bianca responds. “We let you sit at the table.”

Adore laughs, spitting out some of her roast beef.

“Case in point…”

Courtney bites down on a carrot stick, thoughtfully scratching Sammy behind the ears.

“Hey, are you guys doing anything next Saturday?” she asks.

“Why?” Adore asks suspiciously. “Not another lame west side art gallery opening again...because I toldSasha-“

“No, not that. So...I have this friend-”

“Hard to believe, but go on…” Bianca interrupts.

“Ahem. My dear, dear friend Alexis is hosting this like, cabaret-style performance night at the Rockwell and she asked me to do a few numbers. I was wondering if you guys might want to come. No pressure.”

“You sing?” Bianca asks.

“Mostly for a lark, but yeah.” Courtney chews her lip. “It’s really no big deal. Although, if it helps, the other performers are actual professionals. Frankly, I’m not sure what the fuck I’m doing in this line-up except maybe she’s being nice.”

“Maybe she thinks you’ll look good on the posters,” Adore offers.

“Thanks.”

“You’re such a little twat,” Bianca tells her.

“Yeah, well, this is total false modesty. Her voice is fucking awesome. I’ll be there, obviously, and you should come too. Wear something low cut and I’ll buy you a drink.” Adore winks.

“Stop that,” Bianca says. “I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“Oh, you are not. Maybe like, a slutty golddigging stepmom.”

“There’s an image,” Courtney laughs.

“Why slutty? Why can’t I be a classy golddigger?”

“My dad’s lazy, so he goes for very whoreish women. It’s kind of the reason my mom kicked him out.”

“Sounds like a real catch.”

“Hey, you picked him...Mommy.” Adore winks again, licking her lips.

“You’re a sick fuck.” Bianca shakes her head.

“I know, right?” Adore grins charmingly, resting her head on Courtney’s shoulder.

“By the way, I’ve seen her dad...I don’t think he’s your cup of tea,” Courtney adds.

“Good to know. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called a golddigger though.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah. Jared’s mom had it out for me from the beginning. And then, like, we were engaged for almost nine years, and the entire time, she was fighting about this insane pre-nup that she wanted me to sign. Newsflash, Linda: I’m not in this for the beach house on the Cape. I’d actually rather slit my own wrists then spend a summer with your racist garbage friends in Chatham.”

“What a bitch!” Adore exclaims.

“Pretty much,” Bianca shrugs, tapping her French tips on the table. “But, joke’s on her. Because maybe if she wasn’t such an asshole back when we first hooked up, her son wouldn’t have been so gung-ho about marrying me in the first place.” She takes a long sip of her Diet Coke as Adore laughs uproariously.

“You get that Hamptons house, bitch!” Adore cheers, lifting her cup in a toast.

“Cape Cod,” Bianca corrects her.

“Right, whatever...same thing, though, amiright?”

Bianca laughs, nodding.

“Pretty much the same thing.”

“White people suck,” Adore proclaims, then looks at Courtney and adds, “No offense, boo.”

“Full offense, boo,” Bianca says. “This SoulCycle vegan Coachella cunt? She’s so part of the problem.”

“I hate Coachella,” Courtney says simply, staring her down.

“But you love Burning Man,” Adore says, and Bianca bursts out laughing again.

“White people suck,” she concludes. “But joke’s on them. Because even though they hate me, they won’t possibly be able to hate their little brown dimpled grandkids.”

Courtney scrutinizes her carefully, wondering exactly how much pain hides beneath that tough exterior. Bianca looks up and catches her eye, giving her a softer smile than she expects. She returns it happily, waving Sammy’s paw at her with a light giggle.

***

“Hey, so, about Saturday...seriously, no obligation if you’re busy,” Courtney says, sticking her head into Bianca’s trailer after checking out with Jamie.

“Oh. Yeah, no, I’m not busy.”

“Or, like, If you’re not up for it. I know you’ve got other things going on, so-”

“No, that’s…” Bianca waves her hand. “It sounds fun. I’m excited to hear you sing.”

She smiles, flashing her dimples, and Courtney feels a tingle of nervous energy in her belly. It’s been awhile since she’s gotten onstage, and she’s used to that rush of butterflies, but suddenly there’s a whole new level of anxiety. Suddenly, she has this inescapable feeling that no matter how big the crowd is, she’s going to be performing for an audience of one.

***

Bianca follows the waitress into the Rockwell’s performance space, quickly realizing that her reserved seat is with Adore and a bunch of people she’s never seen. And of course, Adore is already looking a little tipsy. Fantastic.

“Heeey Sugar Tits!” Adore slings an arm around her. “You smell good.”

“Wish I could say the same. You do know the drought’s over, right? We can bathe every day now.” Bianca wrinkles her nose.

Shea laughs, flagging the server.

“Okay, New Girl is funny. What’s your name, and what are you drinking?”

“Bianca, and…” she scans the menu quickly. “Uhhh...Ravenswood, I guess?”

“Put it on my tab,” Shea tells the server, then extends her hand to Bianca. “I’m Shea. How do you know our messy little bitch here? Adore, stop groping her, Jesus!”

Adore crosses her arms, pouting.

“Spoilsport.”

“I work with her and Court on Silver Screens,” Bianca laughs, straightening Adore’s hat for her. “And thank you.”

“Ohhh, got it,” Shea says, suddenly realizing who Bianca is. The breeder. She pinches Sasha’s thigh under the table, and her girlfriend turns around, having been fully engrossed in a pretentious conversation with Naomi at the next table about whether the collection at The Broad was still relevant since they opened the previous year.

After a few rounds of drinks and some shared appetizers, Bianca finds herself warming quite a bit to Courtney’s friends, especially Shea. There’s something about the Chicagoan that reminds her of her friends back home - well, the ones smart enough to get out of Gretna, that is.

The easy camaraderie continues as the lights dim and Alexis, the MC for the evening, steps out. She’s obviously good friends with the girls, since they are on their feet screaming for her, and their enthusiasm is infectious. And well founded, Bianca realizes, once she begins to sing a throaty rendition of Cabaretto get the crowd going.

The next performer is wonderful, a Broadway actress with a fabulous range and impressive resume. Courtney wasn’t lying about the line-up. Bianca is on her fourth glass of wine, feeling uncharacteristically relaxed, when Alexis introduces Courtney, giving the audience a kind of warning.

“If you’ve never seen our next performer...it might be hard to focus on her singing, because...well, you’ll see.” Alexis gestures to some tables in the front. “You folks are in the swooning section, I’m afraid.”

Sasha whistles and Alexis continues, “Please show a lot of love to the stunning, talented, and all around extraordinary...Ms. Courtney Hamilton!”

Bianca claps and cheers along with the group as Courtney steps onto the bright lights of the stage, and that’s when it feels like all the air is sucked out of her lungs. She’s used to the blonde being stunning, in a kind of easy, effortless way - the kind of beauty that’s annoying, because she doesn’t have to try, and so she doesn’t try. But tonight…

The woman standing on stage is the most breathtaking bombshell that Bianca has ever seen. Everything about her is sheer perfection, from the crown of her glossy blonde hair to the tip of her stiletto heel. As she steps forward, nodding her head gratefully at the applause, the high slit of her dress falls away and Alexis winks at someone in the front row of the audience.

“Told ya.”

There’s a gentle chuckle and Adore wolf whistles. Bianca gulps, sending up a silent prayer to get through this evening with her wits about her.

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #courtney act #bitney #adore delano #adorney #shea coulee #oc #lesbian au #slow burn #fluff #angst #undone #stephanie #veronica #tw emotional abuse

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dj-yukio · 5 years

Text

Regular Day

Part 2 of Faction 63: HUNT

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19102432/chapters/45631711#workskin

By the time the boss gets to the table, it’s evident to all present to the meeting that she did not have a good night. The boss’ yellow eyes seem to lack lustre, her hair is in a frenzy in comparison to her usually neat hairstyle, and she’s still in pyjamas, with one slipper on, the other barefooted. To add to that observation, it seemed as though that Kurotsuno herself hadn’t even noticed that she looks like a mess in the morning, but no one mentions the wardrobe malfunction as she sits down at the head of the table and reaches out for the list that is in the hands of their communications manager, Met.

Of course no one mentions it. This is how their boss looks like almost everyday.

“Mm... let’s see...” Her eyes squint as she reads the contents of the list. Once she seems to gets the general idea, she rattles off the commands. “Met, the phones, take down the orders and compile them. Get their address this time, we don’t want a repeat of last time. Bis, Reina, body management as usual. Expect a large quantity because someone ordered fifty human sets today. I’ll be meeting with RIDE to discuss the transportation. And Hanten, I need you to work overtime again.”

“Again?” The snark in Hanten’s voice isn’t lost on Kurotsuno, who proceeds to glare at her. “What for?”

Of all the people in the room, it was said that only Hanten was capable of rivalling Kurotsuno’s authority. Despite being the right hand of their boss, they might as well have been on the same level of influence in their faction. That was evident in how the boss and right hand stared at each other before Kurotsuno eventually backed down and pushed her fingers against her temples.

“Firstly, I need you to deliver the goods here, all fifty of them. As per normal. Secondly, I need you to accompany me to F35. It’s going to be a long day whether we like it or not.”

A grunt of dissatisfaction, but Kurotsuno would gladly take that over more complaints. Honestly, she doesn’t even blame her for those complaints. The week has been busy, more so on Hanten’s side as she needs to do her job with no witnesses. It’s not easy trying to catch every single one and lug them around, which actually makes her job harder than most would expect. Come to think of it, the last time she managed to do her job quickly was thanks to the fact that she found out a few apartments were hosting sleepovers, but even that resulted in someone falling out of the window and attracting attention, and Hanten barely managed to take all the corpses before more people were to storm the building. In contrast, she had been having an endless number of meetings, with the occasional battle of wills and mindsets, to which her right hand still has to drag herself out to accompany her even if she’s not participating in the dialogue.

A voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “But anyway, why the sudden spike?” All eyes turned to Bis who folded her arms in response. “I mean, fifty in a day is a bit excessive. That’s a load of sets to deal with. Who ordered them?”

Met shuffled the papers in her hands before tapping at something on the folder. “Another world, actually! Ooh, I haven’t gotten someone from there onto my show before, but I heard that they were real upset when the peace treaty got signed.”

“I thought they banned-bannedthis because they wanted peace?” Bis looks understandably confused, after all, it’s not in the hands of the youth to understand what goes on in the minds of odd adults. “What’s with all the rule breaking? It’s not just two worlds with the issue, it’s almost all of them.”

Silence follows. Definitely, at the back of most of their minds, they know the answer. The whole thing was a facade, and the people in power don’t exactly want to give up on having those customs, and those not in positions refuse to let go of historical baggages.

It’s Reina that lifts the atmosphere back up. “Regardless, if they never had this issue, we wouldn’t be here profiting from it.” Then a thought strikes her, and a frown forms. “Actually, why is human meat banned? Our faction... we deal with angels, demons and other species, but mainly humans. Aren’t only the gods and devils in charge of all this?”

“Oh! The leader in Mogeko Castle changed, and they human, so... yeah.” Met gives a weak shrug in response before looking at the two demons. “Think it was that girl we saw the other time, Yonaka, was it-“

Kurotsuno slams the documents down, the otehr hand rubbing her eyes.

“Enough. We’ve already discussed the basics of our duties, so let’s get on with it. Maybe we can rest early. Maybe. End of meeting.”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘meeting adjo-‘“

“Meeting end. Now move, before it’s not just the meetings that end.”

Met nods quickly before scampering off, and the two yokai follow behind. The grumpy demon yawns before getting up, picking up her jacket which she had set on the chair prior to the meeting before heading to the door when a hand grabs onto her arm.

“Hanten, while you’re out, I need a coffee, preferably before the meeting.”

She blinks, before a small grin appears on her face. “A coffee? Sure you don’t want tea or chocolate or something else?”

Kurotsuno pinches her nose before glaring at her best friend for knowing her too damn well. “Whatever. The usual.”

She can almost taste the air of cockiness when Hanten shrugs. “Ah, the usual. Got it. Would you like me to repeat the order to make sure I get it right?”

“...no.”

——————————

Information is vital, especially regarding news of how hard law enforcement intends to crackdown on the underworld. It’s almost like a currency, and no one knows that better than Met.

That’s why she enjoys being a DJ. It’s like killing two birds with one stone, being able to occasionally get outsider information from her listeners as well as host her own show to keep a facade up. It wouldn’t do for people to one day question how her friends and her sustain themselves. Questioning would lead to rumours, rumours would lead to investigations, investigations would eventually uncover lie after lie that they could possibly throw out, and that wouldn’t do for them.

But regardless, she’s not heading to her studio to host her show. Instead, she heads to a bar, a small business that is run by another faction’s member, specifically faction 44. INFO, as inconspicuous as its name is, truly deserves that number for its symbolism of ‘double death’. Pretty accurate since the dirt they had could ruin some people’s lives, she thinks.

Luckily, they don’t have much blackmail material against them, if they have at all, but that’s not important anyway. The bar’s relatively empty, and she waves to the bartender who has a piece of paper stuck to his face. She has always been curious why he would do that, but then again, the topic was somehow always avoided in their casual conversations.

“Hey Maekami!” Within seconds, she’s beside him, poking his tail. It’s fascinating, she thinks, what with how they move and function depending on the differences in their shapes. Demons are fascinating in that aspect. “Got anything new for me?”

He gently pushes her away before moving closer to the storage room. “Please refrain from touching my tail, miss Met. And yes, there are a few letters and magazines. Would you like a drink?”

“Yep. Jus’ spill all the tea!”

Even though his face is hidden behind a piece of paper, from how he stands there and seemingly stares at her is telling enough to know that he’s confused. Then he regains his composure before shaking his head. “It would be a waste of a drink to do that. Would you rather spill water instead?”

Evidently her meaning flew over his head, but before she could correct him, a large stack of magazines appeared before her. Or at least, that was what it looked like from afar. To most, it would have looked like the bartender just gave a weeks worth of porno to a teenage girl that had been left behind by the more perverted customers, but to those in the know, most of the content in the magazines had been edited to contain other non-pornography related passages, the only thing remaining being the photos.

Not that Met minded. It was better to have pictures of ladies in compromising positions with the text beside them than to have to read all the information on plain paper in a folder. Besides, the more decent demons wouldn’t even look her way if they thought it was porn.

Her phone started buzzing halfway through that thought, and she fished it out of her pocket to look as a barrage of notifications started coming in from unknown numbers.

Another day of work again.

——————————

Bis sighed for almost the hundredth time as she plunged her dagger into the cold skin protecting the precious organs they need to harvest. It doesn’t help that the basement is freezing, meant to keep the goods as fresh as they can be for transportation, but then again the young yokai is used to death, and she’s experienced with dealing with the unnatural chills that occur while she prepares them.

It’s better to think of the humans that she cuts up as a lower species, not even worth her time to give them a small funeral. Even if she’d wanted to, she doesn’t think that it’d be good for her name to dig a hole and pour symbolic sticks and stones into it, not with a ghost who continuously mistakes her as a dog. Not that it really matters at the end of the day, although Bis would fight to the end of her life to argue about the distinction.

The delicate organs sit on the table now, its host now almost completely hollowed out. Almost like clockwork, she picks each one up and places them into separate containers, transparent for all to see aside from the opaque labels. Intestines, kidneys and stomach are some of the few she just throws in without questioning. The blackened heart and destroyed lungs make her pause to think for a bit before she tosses them into their jars as well. It’s none of her business to deal with separating them. If she did that for all of their victims, it would take much longer to fill up the orders. That’s why they have a morgue filled with corpses that are slowly mummifying from the cold, and that’s why she deals with them as fast as she can in order of those killed less recently than others first.

Bis can almost see her breath as she breaths out, but she holds on for a while more as she starts to cut off the goods’ limbs. They’re brittle, but it makes them even easier to break off, and before she knows it, she’s managed to toss them into a bag before she finally runs up the stairs to the warm house.

It’s a welcome feeling of warmth, and Reina barely glances at her before holding out some drink towards her, which she accepts gratefully before sipping it.

——————————

It was by luck that there were people trekking a mountainous path.

It was with greater luck that she found a tour bus travelling up the same mountain.

Hanten grinned as she watched the bus fall off the cliff, crashing into the forest below. Not that she had much of a hand in it, apart from her breaking off the mountain and dropping it on them. There would be survivors, she guessed, but she figured she would give them a head start to run whilst she cleared up the bloody mess she had accidentally made. It really wasn’t her intention, but the way they had screamed once she twisted their companions head off really excited her that she couldn’t help but up the stakes and break off their legs from their bodies one by one.

Once that was taken care of, she flew down, landing behind a tree before emerging to the group of humans who had pulled themselves out of the crash site as she had expected. Her horns and tail were already out of sight, hidden away once she had suppressed her power, but once they started to notice her, her eyes darted around and she started counting.

“Hey! Girl! Oh god, you’re covered with blood! Are you alright?”

There had been five on the mountain, and she had gotten thirty during the night and the early morning. Now there was about ten to twelve, and there was bound to be more in the bus. All in all, this would have to be the last act the demon needed to put on for the day. She pretended to be light headed, and watched as the crowd made their way towards her and surrounded her, trying to help the ‘badly injured’ girl.

“It’s okay, we’ve got a first- first aid kit, and there’s an ambulance coming, so- so just hold on, kid.

Of course, they’d thought she was one of them. Once they couldn’t see any differences, there was no reason to suspect the blood covered girl was bloody for any other reason other than from the accident. What she was doing now was getting as many people as she could around her so that she didn’t have to waste too much energy. And at last, she heard a signal.

“Eh? There’s... there’s no injury? But... how?”

Everybody around them who heard went silent and moved closer to the paramedic and her, wondering what was going on. All the sitting ducks were coming closer to observe this strange miracle. Humans. Always so trusting and helpful in times of crises.

Hanten grinned.

With one swing of her arm, the sword she had summoned sliced through the crowd. They didn’t even get to scream before being swallowed by her shadow, leaving a large pool of blood behind. She dipped her finger into it before swiping it on her clothes. Now wasn’t a good time to get a snack, not when she had more important matters to attend to. No matter how tired she was. She had been at this for the whole day, with only sheer luck getting her through the quota required.

Looking back at the mess, she figured that it was a good thing that this place was quite secluded. It wouldn’t do for her to be discovered by unwanted parties, especially if she didn’t want to get nagged by Kurotsuno.

Speaking of Kurotsuno...

She looked up, trying to figure out how much time she had left before the meeting. The sun was already at the horizon, colouring the skies a bright orange, and a low grumble escaped her.

She really ought to have set an alarm.

The meeting was in the evening. In less than thirty minutes. If she was fast, she could make it back to the mansion in at best fifteen minutes. But since she still had to get the damned coffee, which no doubt had a long line waiting, probably twenty minutes if she rushed.

Hanten huffed. Forget the nagging, she was going to get scolded.

——————————

It was sort of boring having to repeatedly go through folder after folder.

Sort the folders. Read the folders’ content. Deal with said content. Attend to issues in the faction. Account for everything.

Kurotsuno huffed as she tried to think of how to formally address each of the more important letters. As much as it sounded like an easy job, it was anything but. Maintaining formalities and a low profile was much more difficult than even she would have expected. If they, they being her mostly, messed up at one part, it was difficult to guarantee that some of those opposing them wouldn’t take the opportunity to destroy them.

Regardless, the more she focused on her work, the faster time seemed to pass, which was a pleasant surprise when she looked up and noticed that it was already afternoon. Close to 6, even. Almost time for the meeting.

And she waited.

Slowly, the clock’s short hand pointed at 6 fully.

Kurotsuno clenched her fist. Where was that idiot? This wasn’t the first time that she was late. Did she not care about punctuality?

The clock ticked on, and she sighed before she pulled out her phone. No point in stressing over such a trivial thing. Sure, Hanten was always late for these events. Slacking off no doubt, but she would always make it back in the nick of time. That was at least something, if not the only thing, that was almost guaranteed.

But she was so giving her a piece of mind once they came back from this meeting—

The door creaked as it swung open.

“Coffee’s here.”

Kurotsuno looked up from her phone as her second in command brushed past her to place the iced drink on the table, looking worse for wear. Her clothes were entirely stained with blood, not to mention how disheveled she looked after having been out for most of the day.

And she came back just ten minutes before the arranged meeting time.

“You’re late. Very. Late.”

“Are you going to say something else?”

“...just hurry up and change. I’ll settle this issue with you later.”

Plus she stank of sweat. Disgusting. If she was anyone other than her right hand, she would have stabbed them for just daring to enter her study in such a state. Instead, Kurotsuno sighed as she reached out into one of her drawers to pull out a towel along with a set of spare clothing and threw it, hitting Hanten square in the face as she noticed the projectile a little too late. She had planned for such an issue a while ago, storing some clothing to save time since there was nothing she could do that would force the demon before her to clean up faster anyway, so she might as well just calm down and wait——

The cup of iced drink looked drastically different from what she had been expecting. “You didn’t get my usual order? What’s this?”

She received a glare which disappeared once Hanten pulled off her shirt, to which Kurotsuno responded by turning away. “I was in a rush. It’s just a regular mocha. Extra sweet.”

That made sense, and she poked the second bag that had been next to her drink. It looked like cans, four in total, though she couldn’t quite make out what sort of contents they held. “And what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“The bag next to the the coffee. What are those cans?”

A pause. “Energy drinks.”

“Four cans?”

“Watch me.”

“Are you that tire—“

The cans clinked against each other before she heard a hiss, and Kurotsuno took that as the signal that she could look back. As she had expected, Hanten was now chugging one of said energy drinks, looking much more presentable in a suit compared to the sweat drenched shirt she had been wearing previously that was now on the floor.

Kurotsuno sighed before reaching out to pull Hanten along.

“Let’s go, you oaf.”

“Mmm-Ack!”

Now that they were ready, she stepped out of the study, drink in one hand and Hanten’s tie in the other, leading her right hand out of the room to go for the meeting thankfully not too far away. They would be late, but at least it wouldn’t be too late as she had been expecting.

Then her phone buzzed.

A message from Reina who was accounting for their stock.

“Also, you’re four short. Work on it later.”

A loud indignant cry followed.

Such was a day of work in their faction.

#obsolete dream #kurotsuno #hanten (mogeko)#met (mogeko)#bis (obsolete dream)#reina (obsolete dream)#Mafia AU #mogeko

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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

Note

Ever since I got this idea I haven't been able to stop thinking about Dante being a stripper cowboy 😳😳 Maybe smol shy S/O was dragged by her friends into a strip club when she caught the attention the attention of a certain red devil? 👀🌹 I have a mighty need for some Dante erotica, I'm sorry 😅

Howdy Howdy,

Partner, there’s no need to apologize. If anything, I’m sorry this request was sitting in my inbox for more than a week. I was watching as many male stripper movies as I could find to make this accurate. Here’s a fully written work to make up for the wait.

Part II is in the making, I couldn’t fit all that raunchiness into one chapter. For my male and gender-neutral readers, I’ll do my best to write inclusive installments that make you feel sexy and well-loved by this stripper cowboy. All readers deserve a lap dance.

Yours,

Rodeo

Can You Touch This?-Cowboy!Stripper! Dante/Reader-(PART I)(AFAB! READER)

Tags/Warnings: 18+, AFAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Magic Mike!Au, Erotica, Minors Do Not Try It.

Read It On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256070/chapters/69242487

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club.

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building.

So when you couldn’t hear your own thoughts due to the overbearing bass in the room you were in, you realized you should’ve known better. The blindfold and earmuffs were taken off and you opened your eyes to a neon-lit room with the most hard-cut abs right in your face.

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?”

“Okay, first of all (Y/N). It’s a male strip club. Second, come on! I know you want to touch some diamond abs!” One of your friends exclaimed as they threw bills at one very tan and very oiled up man named Diego. The box from before landed on your lap, and you unwrapped it to find a giant stack of dollar bills.

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!”

The orange thong-wearing male with the most defined quads you had ever glanced at winked at your friend and opted to dance on someone else. Clutching your drink, you swallowed thickly as other males who clearly went to the gym every other hour thrust their hips proactively at you.

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin.

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor.

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot.

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar.

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar in your heels. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home.

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence.

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled.

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I’m Dante.”

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled.

“Nice name for a nice lady. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded.