#there is some love and peace out there. you will find it. rip | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlesslights · 10 months

Text

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker

9K notes · View notes

lady-ashfade · 4 months

Text

Matching flames

Percy Jackson x Soulmate!Reader

-£ Ask: Percy x reader who's his soul mate and he only finds out when she almost dies (could be trying to save him or just because life as a demigod is hard) @poemfreak306

-£ words: 2k

-£ Warnings: Reader being injured, soulmate au, blood & cuts, reader almost dying, angsty, comfort at the end, cursing?? (You can also imagine any Percy you want in this)

Could you count all the stars in the sky?

It was almost peaceful looking up at the stars, mind going blank and your body numb. they looked so beautiful and you realize you’ve never quite looked closely at them. burning rocks floating in space that somehow was the cause of so many poems and love stories. if only you had noticed it sooner.

Blood leaked out of your side and the hand you placed over it started to give up trying to put pressure on the wound. The monster who chased you for miles had finally got to you after being so close to camp, to being safe and sound, when it’s claws finally got ahold of you. Its sharp nails dragged into your skin ripping your clothes and stained them with the blood immediately pouring out. thankfully you had one stroke of luck when your dagger pierced its heart and it was quick to fall.

Not much time has passed since then, however it was enough time for you to loss too much blood.

Had the stars always been that pretty? Just a thought as your eyes blur and the only thing left to feel was the thoughts in your head. The sweet smile of your moral parent’s smile, how it felt to laugh with friends and how some part of you still felt on fire. The shore of the camp’s lake appeared in your mind, and sand beneath your feet as you look at someone’s figure. The smile on their face was so familiar…Maybe it was death being nice to you.

you tried to keep your eyes open but they were just too heavy. maybe you could just rest for a few minutes. there was a sense of warmth that took over your body once more as your eyes fade closed.

“He’s coming, not long little one.”

the campfire wasn’t his focus at the moment but he found himself staring into it as his thoughts ran wild. he had just back to camp but this year was so much different. there was so much on his mind that he just couldn’t focus on one thing. about his mother, his father and how he still couldn’t believe he was a Demi god. even after a long time it just wasn’t normal to him.

then a hiss leaves his lips as he clings to his side in pain. it was stinging and felt on fire. he knew how being wounded felt like all to well but nothing happened, he was just sitting. then his finger felt funny like pins and needles stabbed him all at once. from his left annabeth looks at him worried and looking of his confused face.

“What’s wrong?” But the boy just stared at himself as the pain faded away but his hand became numb and weird. He spun it around a few times to look over it, checking for anything causing it but found nothing. not even a bug.

it was your smile that popped in his head. the warm shoulder he always laid on, he could hear the laugh you had ringing in his ears. why? his name was called from your soft lips but it wasn’t like normal, he saw your lips with blood from the corner. reaching out to him like he was your only hope.

“Y/n.” He stood up immediately at the image in his head. looking around for you in the crowd of campers he didn’t find you with your siblings or around your friends. annebeth looked at him worried and stood up with him, “what is it?”

he knew those trees. he’s seen then a million times. percy knew the grass, but this was different from actually knowing where you were. something was tugging his body and he didn’t need ask where you were. he knew.

his feet moved on their own and he practically ran where they took him and only thought of you. Annebeth stayed behind and told Mr.d that something might be wrong. Percy felt off and not the normal kind he always did. his body felt weaker like it was losing its life. his chest felt off and his heart filled with sorrow.

so when he found you laying in a pool of your own blood he was quick to fall next to you. “y/n” he called out. he checked for a pulse but couldn’t do it right so he leaned next to your nose and listened for your breathing and thankfully he felt some. his heart was pounding when he saw the cuts on your body making his mind wonder to what could have done it. the camp was just a few feet away and you could have been safe.

“Don’t die,” he begged and places his arm under your head, “this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” his words didn’t make sense to him when he spoke. how was it supposed to be? what was he talking about.

the new light in the sky made him look up to a shooting star shoot cross the sky. it was truly beautiful. something around his finger pulled again and he felt the small feeling of string so when he looked down it was red and tied around him. following the line he found it connected to you. The string of fate.

his string was tied to yours. you were his soulmate.

“no, no” he wrapped another arm under your legs and left you up slightly. he was staring at your face with tears pooling themselves in his eyes. for the first time he was finally seeing you as what you were. his. but how could the gods be so cruel to take you way from him. Percy wouldn’t let that happen. he’d fight hades himself for you back.

“just stay with me.” there he was carrying you passed the camp line to get you to the infirmary. even in the near death you looked stunning as you away did. he was just to stupid to see it before.

when they took you away from him he was quiet and stood outside the door and refused to leave. percy even refused to leave the room at first but was yelled at and pushed out, so he had no choice but to leave your side. how could he just stay outside when he could lose the one person that was supposedly to stay with him, to love him, and who was supposed to be with him always? how could he just sit still when he was going to lose it all?

his friends came to sit with him and offered him some kind words and reassurance but not much helped. he just sat down on a chair with his legs bouncing and hands fiddling with themselves as all he could think is about you. about the cuts on your skin and all the blood.

luckily they had gotten you somewhat healed, making you stable and fine. just had to wait for your body to heal.

“Percy,” annabeth poked his shoulder as he stared at the floor. they had left and he could go in now but he didn’t notice. “you can go in now.” Percy turn quickly to her and then at the door wide open now. so he sprinted up and inside to find you laying on the bed peacefully sleeping. annabeth didn’t follow him in because he needed a moment alone. she’d let him have his moment

Percy sat beside your bed the whole time you slept. he’d fed you. he’d brushed your hair out of your face and watched you closely as if someone was out to get you. his hand was always ready to pull out riptide in case but nothing dangerous ever came. his hand stayed in yours while he whispered for you to wake up and how much he was sorry.

“Should have realized it before,” he whispered as he leaned near you. “gosh, I’m such a idiot.” he sighed to himself and ran his eyes over you.

His hands rubbed your own, “Just wake up and I’ll make up for it. For all the time we lost, just let me love you.” His lips pressed to your head as you continued to sleep unknowing to his words but your body healing by having him close.

two days of not getting much sleep himself you’d waken up. his head resting next to your leg as he sat in a chair with his hand on yours, his hair messy. you didn’t remember coming to the infirmary or how you got here. and not percy holding your hand. but you couldn’t let go off it because it was to comfortable like it was made to fit in yours.

when you moved your body since it felt so stiff from probably not moving in days you’d accidentally woke him up. you felt bad as he shot up quickly and looked around panicked with his hand going to his side, probably reaching for riptide. once his eyes found yours it made your heart sink into your lower stomach. under his eyes were black circles and his eyes looked so painful that it broke you, like he’d been crying. he was paler then normal.

A sad smile broke onto his face, he was relieved to see you awake. He let out a small chuckle as his eyes almost filled with tears when he jumped forward you take your head into his chest as a small hug. “Welcome back,” you froze at his hug but let him have his moment. of course you smiled and wrapped your arms around him too. It was nice.

“Percy, how long was I out…How did I get here?” Pulling himself back with a red tint in his chest he sat back down.

“I found you outside the barrier. Y/n, I thought you were dead, you were barely breathing.” his voice broke. “but I got you here and now you’re awake. not dead,” there was that damn smiling again that pained you, like he was convincing his demons something.

humming and nodding your head along you look at your side to see it healed, lifting up your shirt just a little and saw a scar on your skin. it made you frown knowing how big it would be. “If it means anything, I think you’d look badass.” you put your shirt back down and look at him.

he was trying to make you feel better. “Percy when I was- When I closed my eyes I heard something and my body, well it felt different. Do you know anything about that?” his heart skipped a beat and his eyes slightly going wide.

was it obvious how fluster he was? was his skin as red as a tomato, did he look like a fool? “I have to tell you something.” Percy played with his own hands again and looked away for a second. you swing your legs to the side of the bed to stretch.

“Go ahead.”

You watched him closely and you could see he was working himself up to speak. how his body bounced and twitched, he was turning redder by the second. he was cute. and you yourself found your own cheeks turning hot when you looked at him.

“I saw you at the campfire in my mind. I could feel the pain you felt, or somewhat, like I was dying. my body was pulling me to you and I knew exactly where to find you without having to look.” As he explained you listened carefully and tilted your head to the side.

“then I saw it. The red string of fate tied to my finger. I saw a shooting star, then I saw your string tied to my. And for the first time I saw you for the first time, as my soulmate.”

“Oh.” Damnit. That was bad.

Percy nodded and now started to shut down as he watched you, your brain moving to figure out what to say. he just ruined everything. you wished to not be his soulmate, that was it. he didn’t blame you. Percy brought danger whereever he went.

But that wasn’t it. you had been thinking something else. everything made sense to you now. why you looked at him when no one else was looking. why he made you feel high in the clouds when he was near. and how he just fit so well in your life without trying. “Percy,” you call out to him again and move closer and scoot to the end of the bed with your feet hitting the floor.

you should have known from his eyes. as they look at you now it just hit you like bricks, how they were so powerful. as you take his cheek in your hands his breath hitches and holds in his chest. “i’m glad you’re my soulmate.”

he pulled you close to him and held you so tight in how arms as you giggled at how happy he seemed. his laugh made your stomach fill with butterflies. “I’ll make you happy.” And that you had no doubt about. you pulled back from his grasp and looked at his lips. you needed to kiss him. and Percy knew what you were thinking and wanted the same.

his face moved forward as his kiss captured yours in a soft but passive kiss, his hands moving to wrap themselves around your body as yours wrapped around his neck. it was nice but didn’t end short. after all you both waited for a long time to feel the love of a soulmate and you didn’t know that you craved it this badly.

The stars never lied when it comes to love. And now you knew that he was the burning fire within you.

#percy jackson x you #percy jackson x male reader #Percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #angst to fluff #soulmate au

2K notes · View notes

wintaerbaer · 5 months

Text

seven storms (jjk) (m)

summary: As a young woman of considerable wealth, it has always been your father's expectation that you would marry one of the local aristocrats once you came of age. Your family's stable hand? Certainly not an option.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: forbidden love, angst, a bit of fluff, also a bit of smut

word count: 9.0k

warnings: ambiguous time periods, oc’s mom passed away when she was a child, parental strain and turbulent relationships, it’s not explicitly stated but bang sihyuk is oc’s dad, find the ‘seven’ reference, BRIEF SMUT (in the form of missionary, cowgirl, and implied unprotected, which you should not do)

a/n: this one is for the obs discord server, who came up with this plot and then flattered me until i agreed to write it lol

MASTERLIST // Read on ao3

It begins with a clap of thunder.

The dark clouds had rolled in quickly during your morning ride, the rain holding off on its looming descent even as the wind picks up and throws strands of hair across your face. You try to cling to every minute you have left before the downpour, savoring your alone time and the peaceful quiet of the morning. It may even be worth getting a little wet, you think as you watch the new stable hand effortlessly sling a bay of hale over his shoulder, for the chance to savor every moment of your daily ritual before the weather inevitably forces you back inside.

You love the simple pleasures of fresh air and the soft rustle of the grass.

Jungkook glances at you from afar as he continues his work, and even at this range, you can see his muscles shifting under the fabric of his shirt. It’s been roughly a month since your father hired him to tend the stable on your family’s estate, and while he hasn’t been unpleasant, giving you a friendly but silent nod each day as you prepare for your ride, he’s mostly kept his distance.

Today, however, is a different story entirely as a boom sounds out above your head. Your horse, a young stallion named Bam who is still being broken, startles at the noise and begins to nervously pace, tamping down the dirt under his hooves. The reins wrap tighter around your fingers as you attempt to take firmer control, but when a second crack emanates through the sky, the horse begins to buck in an attempt to throw you off.

The laws of physics cease to exist, time simultaneously speeding up and slowing down as you work to maintain your balance, clenching your muscles around the horse's back. A particularly violent whip of his head rips the reins free, and all you can do is try to flatten yourself to his back and hold on for dear life.

A pair of unfamiliar hands shoots into your peripheral vision, stroking firmly at the stallion's head and neck until he's easing back down, his erratic motions steadying until you can safely sit back up and face your rescuer.

"Are you alright?" His eyes scan your body for injury, moving from your face all the way down to your toes and back up.

You use the time to perform your own appraisal. The first thing you notice is that while he had immediately struck you as handsome when you first saw him around the property, he’s even more attractive up close: all soft eyes, perfect lips, and a tiny scar on his cheek that only adds to his allure. Add to that strong arms, broad shoulders, and a section of clearly-chiseled chest peeking out of his shirt, and you have to admit to yourself that you’re already halfway gone.

“Y/N?” His eyebrows dip as he frowns, clearly suspecting some kind of head injury as a result of your silence.

“You know my name.”

His expression turns quizzical at your bizarre answer. “I work for you. Of course I know your name.”

“You work for my father.”

“And you by extension.”

Your spine stiffens with rebellion. “I have no interest in bossing men around.”

“Why not?” He taps his knuckles on the saddle. “I see you come out to ride every morning. I could certainly tack up a horse for you in advance.”

“Because I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

His perfect lips curl at the edges. “I don’t doubt that.”

Your heart stutters a rhythm behind your ribcage, voice muted by the appearance of a dimple that dips into his left cheek. It’s not often you find yourself speechless, and the sheer unfamiliarity of it has you on the brink of a flight response; you begin to gently guide your horse back towards the stable, Jungkook walking at your side. To your surprise, he doesn’t stay quiet.

“So how long have you been riding?”

You peek down at him, but he’s not looking at you as he scratches the stallion under his muzzle. “Since I was five,” you say. “My father arranged for private instruction after my mother died. Thought I could use the distraction.”

You figured he already knew about your mother’s passing due to her absence from the estate, and his unfazed expression seems to confirm as much. Still, in a gentle voice he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t make her sick.” Another low rumble echoes through the sky, but Jungkook is prepared, already smoothing his hand over the Bam’s neck again. “What about you? How long have you worked with horses?”

He chuckles, and your belly warms. “Since before I could walk. I grew up on a ranch. Have probably spent more time around horses than people—not that I’m complaining.” A shrug pulls his shirt tight across his bulging shoulders. “Animals are better company, in my opinion.”

“You say while striking up conversation with a stranger.”

Pink blooms on his cheeks, but, to his credit, he recovers quickly. “Beautiful women are the exception.”

Heat rises to your own face, and you choose to ignore his comment as much as it has butterflies taking off behind your bellybutton. “I understand what you mean though. That’s why I’m out here every day.”

“You like the outdoors?”

“Very much,” you say. “The smell of the wind, the feeling of the sunshine on my skin and the earth under my shoes. I like to ride down to the sunflower fields and watch how they turn themselves towards the light. There’s a strange sense of kinship there.” You’re not sure what drives you to share all this with a man you’ve just met, but the way he nods along as if he agrees sets your heart at ease. “And the horses are, in fact, good company.”

He laughs again, tipping his head back to look at you. His dark hair brushes his forehead, jaw cutting so sharp a line that the temptation immediately hits to trace it with either your fingers or lips—you’re not sure which. You don’t even care if you’ll bleed.

It strikes you at that moment that you’re in a world of trouble.

The skies open up, the rain instantly pouring down in fat drops as you briskly rush your horse the rest of the way into the stable, Jungkook hot on your heels. You dismount once you’re inside and begin to untack the stallion, moving the reins up and over so you can remove the bridle first. Jungkook quickly steps in to help unhitch the saddle, and while you’d normally be inclined to make a fuss about how you can handle your own gear, you find that you much enjoy his quiet companionship. You like watching the way his gentle hands artfully work to simultaneously manage the equipment and relax the horse, giving the sense that he’s offering assistance only because he loves his work and not to patronize you as a woman (you’ve seen one too many men try to step in because they believe you to be incompetent).

Once Bam has been settled into his stall, you turn back to your companion and are met with big brown eyes already gazing at you, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Thank you for your help today,” you say. “I may be an experienced rider, but that also means I know enough to understand that you likely saved me from an injury earlier. So thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He looks suddenly subdued, nervous now without the horse as a buffer. “And if I may be forward, I hope I made a good first impression. I wouldn’t want a beautiful woman like yourself to think I overstepped.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned beautiful women now. You speak with them a lot?”

“Not recently,” he says, dimple making another appearance. “Only one.” His voice drops a decibel, flirtation giving way to sincerity. “But truly, I do just like to help. I am sure you are perfectly capable, but just because we can do something doesn’t mean we always need to do it alone. If I can help ease a burden, then I would like to do so.”

Warmth floods through you like the rain currently running off the roof, and before you can even think about it any further, you find yourself nodding. “Very well.”

The smile he gives you brightens your day more than a hundred miles of sunflower fields ever could.

“I won’t keep you then.” He begins walking backwards towards the troughs where most of the horses have currently congregated. “But I do very much look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

You do, too. And when you show up to the stable the next morning (and the next, and the next), you already have a horse saddled up for you, a single sunflower resting on the seat.

Raindrops clatter in endless sheets off the metal roof of the stable, the ringing sound blending with the blasts of thunder and lightning overhead to mask your groans as Jungkook steadily thrusts into you.

It’s been three months since your flirtation culminated in you asking him to join you for a ride one morning.

Three months since he accompanied you down to the sunflower fields, pulled you into their depths, and kissed you like his life depended on it.

Three months since the rain became your closest friend, providing you the cover you need for your more intimate moments—such as this evening when you’d arrived at the stables to find him laying down a fresh layer of straw, the flex of his arm insisting that you needed him now.

The patter of the rain ensures his moans are for your ears and your ears alone.

“Do you think the horses mind?” he mumbles into the sensitive skin of your neck as he presses even deeper into you and steals your breath, his hands cupping your ass as he grinds his hips.

“I doubt it,” you gasp, digging your nails into his back. “They’ve kept secrets for me before.”

He laughs, and you relish in the feel of the vibration of his chest pressed to yours, as if the sound is being passed directly from his lungs to your heart. “Am I your secret then?”

“My favorite secret.”

He pulls back to look at you then with wide eyes. You don’t know when it happened, when he became the absolute center of your universe, but you also know that you’ve never been this happy in your life, never felt as whole as you do with him. So you stare at him right back, absorb every angle of his face as he brushes the hair away from your eyes and kisses you with an unusual delicacy in comparison to the rough pace of his hips.

“I love you.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it, but your blood heats as if the words are brand new.

He rises up above you then, leans back so he can bend your knees to your chest and pound into you in earnest, and you’d swear the roof has disappeared and you can see every star in the sky. Galaxies swirl, planets align, and it’s not long before you’re falling over the edge and he’s following you with a deep groan—a harmony to the thunder that surrounds you.

The two of you collapse into a heap, and he pulls you into his side, your cheek pressed to his still-heaving chest. It’s serene, the consonance of his breathing alongside the tapping of the rain and the occasional snuffle from the horses.

“So, the horses are keeping secrets for you, huh?” It’s a quiet question, vulnerable as he gazes at you with tender devotion. The same stars you saw minutes ago twirl in his eyes. “Can I be told one?”

“Are you a horse?”

A breath of a laugh: “Well you’ve certainly ridden me before.”

He has a point there.

You hum to yourself as you think before asking, “What is your dream?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“Answer mine, and I’ll answer yours.”

Calloused fingers trace patterns on your hip, a faraway look taking over his expression as he envisions some distant future. “To own my own farm,” he says. “I want to be my own boss. No more having to serve others.” A smile dances at the corners of his mouth. “And I’d be able to provide for my family—have a few kids and teach them the ropes, just like my dad did with me.”

Your brow dips in confusion. “You won’t inherit your father’s farm?”

“No, it’ll go to my older brother.” He squeezes your hip on a sigh. “If I want my own farm, it’s up to me to earn it.”

“You’ll do it,” you say, and you believe it with every fiber of your heart. “I know you will. You’re the hardest working man I’ve ever met.”

It’s not a lie by any stretch. You’ve spent plenty an afternoon telling your father that you’re going to read out on the veranda as it gives you an inconspicuous way to watch Jungkook work. He’s diligent, tireless, and you’ve often used the need to bring him water as an excuse to go down and spend time with him, seeing the sweat drip off his forehead as he single-handedly trains and cares for the horses.

His eyes become glassy, a gruff clearing of his throat as he pushes the tears back and grazes his lips over yours in a gentle kiss instead. “Thank you.” But before you can deepen the kiss and distract him, he shifts ever so slightly away, a glint in his eye. “Now you.”

You puff a sigh into his chest—bold of you to think you’d be able to sneak one past such an observant stare. Still, your secrets don’t usually come forth easily, buried deep within the cavity of your ribcage so even you don’t have to dwell on them too long.

Something about those doe eyes, though, render you ever vulnerable.

“Mine is similar to yours. I want to be my own boss.”

His brows pull together. “No one would expect a lady like you to work.”

“Not for a job, for my life,” you say, irritation forcing the words from your lips now. “I don’t want my father to dictate the path my life takes. I want to choose it, whatever it is, for myself. To be in charge of my own fate.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, teeth dipping into his lower lip as he considers your words. It’s something else you’ve grown to love about him, the way he stops and thinks before he reacts. So unlike your father who has always been nothing but big emotions and snap judgments.

“What would you choose?” is the question he eventually comes out with, and the pads of his fingers trace the jut of your hipbone like he’s memorizing it.

Well that’s another matter entirely. “I don’t know. Just not what my father wants for me.”

“And what would that be?”

“To marry one of the rich dandies in town,” you blurt, and his hands still. “That’s always been the expectation that’s been set since I was a girl—that my family would arrange a suitable match for me.” You’re practically spitting now, anger simmering through you. “Suitable, of course, meaning wealthy.”

“Is that so bad?” He asks it quietly, insecurity poorly masked in the way his voice trembles ever so slightly. “Some people would do almost anything to be in your position.”

You scoff. “There’s more to life than money.”

“Like what?”

“Fresh air, sunshine, the smell of the morning dew.” You tap his chest with everything you list off, as if they’re all housed within the framework of his torso. “The sound of the rain bouncing off windows, the bright yellow of sunflowers after their first bloom, watching a foal get its legs under it for the first time. Love.” You press your hand to his heart with that one, feeling the strong beat of it under your palm. “That’s the greatest thing.”

He snags your fingers, bringing them to his lips and kissing each one in succession before his hand slips into your hair so he can join his mouth with yours. The kiss is slow, thorough, his tongue trailing along your lower lip with determination as he drags you across his body until you’re straddling him.

“You’re right about that,” he murmurs before gripping your waist tightly so he can push back into you, the rain pouring on and on.

“No!”

Your father stands up so suddenly that his chair topples over with a crash, Jungkook sitting across from him wearing a look of even-keeled surprise; his eyes widen a fraction, but his overall posture remains resolved and confident.

“You dare have the audacity to even ask—“ He chokes on his words, spit flying from the edges of his lips, before pointing a finger towards where you stand stunned in the corner. “And you! You’ve been fraternizing with this riffraff? After everything I’ve taught you? Everything I did to raise you? You go and choose to associate with this—this—“ You’re worried his eyes might fall out of his head with the way they bulge as he grasps for a word, vein in his neck visibly thumping as he finds it. “Lowlife!”

“You’re wrong!” you scream as Jungkook continues to sit quietly at the dinner table. You’ll be damned if you’d just stand by and allow him to be spoken about in that way. “He’s an incredible man. He works hard, he’s respectful, and he loves me, Father. Not because of my money, but because I’m me.” Your steps echo off of the tall, looming arches of the ceiling as you move closer to Jungkook. “And I love him.”

“No, no, absolutely not. You’re only twenty years old. You don’t even know what love is,” your father barks before turning his beady eyes on Jungkook again. “You’ll never marry my daughter. You do not have my permission nor my blessing. That’s final.”

“Father—“

“You’re also fired,” he spits. “You can say goodbye and that’s the end of it. I want you off my property.” Then he’s storming out of the dining room, leaving you and Jungkook in heavy silence.

It’s only a handful of seconds before Jungkook is rising to his feet and striding from the room and out the front door, you hot on his heels. The steady drizzle soaks your clothes in a matter of moments, but you don’t even feel the way they cling to your skin, focused solely on the man in front of you.

“Jungkook!” you call, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t turn to face you until you manage to grab ahold of his hand and tug.

You thought he’d be distressed, angry, perhaps even crying. Instead, you’re met with intensity, a fierce determination simmering under the warm brown of his irises as his gaze bores into yours and almost has you faltering.

“Jungkook, I…” You wring your hands in front of you, watch the rain run in rivulets off the ends of his hair. “We can make it through this. I can convince him—“

“You can’t.”

You huff in frustration. “Then we’ll run away together! I’ll come with you and we’ll—“

“No, Y/N.” He stills the frantic movements of your hands with his own, drawing you towards the warmth of his body until you’re nearly chest-to-chest. “I have no savings right now, no way to support the two of us. We’d be out on the street in a matter of days.” He shakes his head, brushes a kiss to your knuckles. “No. You need to stay here for now. But this isn’t the end of us, I swear to you. I am going to work myself to the bone—until I have nothing left to give. Until I can buy my own farm, my own house, and give you everything you need.” Your foreheads press together, drops of water clinging to his lips and drawing your eye as he speaks. “I will provide for you someday, love you to the best of my ability. Just give me time.”

The heavens open above you, the relentless downpour backed by the cacophony of the skies as you finally move to kiss him. He tastes of rainwater and sweat, the fragrant aroma of sunflowers and nights spent tangled together in the stables. You savor the feel of his lips against yours, commit to memory the way his tongue begs for entrance, the way you grant it with a groan that feels like both a prayer and a curse.

With a final, resounding crack, he’s pulling away as you cling to the rough skin of his fingertips until the very last fraction of a second, arms stretched to their absolute limit. And when he turns his back on you, shirt plastered to his skin, you’d swear you can hear the horses raging in the stable, the rumble of hooves and agitated whinnies ringing in your ears long after he’s disappeared from view.

The first letter comes on a Wednesday roughly six week later, written on carefully folded parchment paper in small, neat handwriting. It surprises you, coming from a man who spends all day tending horses and tossing around hay bales. You receive the letter from the carrier quietly, rushing it up to your room and waiting to read until the concealment of night has fallen and you’re confident your father has gone to bed.

My Love,

I must admit that I am not quite sure how long it has been since I last saw you. Perhaps only a handful of weeks, surely, but every hour, minute, and second has felt like an eternity. I miss you, sweetheart. I miss the sound of your laugh. I miss the way you’d look each morning, strolling down from the house with a bounce in your step and the early sunshine bouncing off of your hair. Or perhaps you are just that radiant. I would believe it, you know, that light emits from your very smile, and I know I feel warmer whenever I am around you.

Look at me; look at the man you've turned me into. I've always considered myself a simple being, glad to indulge in the dirt and physical labors of the outdoors, and yet you have me waxing poetic like one of the men in those romance novels you would always pretend to read on the veranda. (Yes, my dear, I noticed. Your stares are not so subtle.) I am lovesick, homesick, and it’s all because of you. Because my life truly began the day I looked up and saw Bam struggling with you on his back and just knew I had to help you (tell that dear beast that I miss him by the way).

Now, I must live my life forlorn, but not without purpose. Please know that I am doing everything in my power to get back to you, and I will not rest until I am holding you in my arms again. I have secured a job at a ranch several towns over; it’s good work with decent pay, and every cent that does not go towards the barest necessities is being saved for us. One day, my love. One day we will have a house and a farm, and I will be able to love you openly, with no need for secrets or the cover of rain.

In the meantime, just know how terribly I miss you, and though we are separated by distance, I hold you in my heart each day. On my way each morning from my lodgings to the ranch, I pass by a field of sunflowers. I know it cannot possibly be true, but it feels like every golden face turns towards me as I go, and darling, I’d swear I see you in every one.

One day, my love.

Until then, always yours,

J.K.

It becomes something of a ritual: while you used to spend your days out on the veranda pretending to read so that you could watch Jungkook from afar, you now settle on the front porch with a book each afternoon in the hopes of catching the local mail carrier. Jungkook’s letters come slowly but consistently every couple of weeks, and each time a letter does arrive, you spend the night drafting your own by candlelight to send back to him.

He tells you about his new job, how he’s working on a larger farm now with several other laborers. The veterans are kind to him and teaching him a lot, he says, and it eases the ache in your heart a fraction to know that he seems happy where he is and well taken care of. You write back about your favorite books that you’ve been reading and how the horses have been (you insist that you can tell Bam misses Jungkook too). But both of your letters are saturated with sentiments of love and how dearly you miss each other, reminding yourselves that every day that passes is one day closer to you two being reunited, whenever that may be.

Your father, meanwhile, proceeds as if Jungkook never existed, hiring a new stable hand who begins his work mere days after Jungkook has left. This man is middle aged, gray already streaking through his hair, and you can’t help but feel it’s a deliberate choice on your father’s part lest you fall for another lowly laborer. And though you know it is not his fault, you barely speak with the man outside of a few curt pleasantries when you go for your ride each morning.

You persist in your morning rides out of habit, but you find that they don’t bring you the same kind of joy that they used to. The grass isn’t quite as green, the air is often stifling, and the sunflowers droop where they used to stand tall against the blue skies. On one day, roughly six months after Jungkook’s firing, you’re once again forced back inside early due to rain, the storm dampening your already dreary mood. It takes a turn for the worst when you hear your father call your name the moment you step in the door and plummets entirely off a cliff when you trudge into the dining room to see a man sitting at the table.

Seokjin is not entirely unfamiliar to you—your families run in the same circles after all—but he is ultimately little more than a stranger, the two of you having only exchanged a handful of polite words at dinner parties and the like. All that you truly know of him is that he is the heir to the wealthiest trading company on this side of the country and that his father is expected to transition the entire operation to him over the next few years.

Even so, Seokjin greets you with a sense of intimate familiarity, standing at your approach and brushing his lips against the back of your hand before you can stop him.

“A pleasure to see you, Y/N, as always.”

You know that social etiquette requires you to return the sentiment, but instead, you find yourself looking between Seokjin and your father, trying to figure out his purpose here.

“What is going on?”

Your father grimaces at your rudeness but opts to ignore it. “Seokjin has come here with a rather exciting opportunity, Y/N, if you would take a seat and listen to him.”

However, you remain standing, spine stiff and wary eyes shifting to the man in front of you with his finely tailored clothes and perfectly combed hair. He, for what it’s worth, doesn’t cower under your stony gaze, maintaining an air of utmost confidence as he states, “Y/N, I would like for you to marry me.”

“No.”

Your answer is immediate and blunt, coming so quickly that Seokjin barely reacts—only the tiniest dip of his mouth as if he doesn’t believe he heard you correctly. But your father leaps to his feet, face red with shock and frustration.

“Y/N, you sit down and listen to the man.”

“I don’t need to listen,” you snap. “My answer is no.”

Seokjin registers your words then, face morphing into a deep frown of disbelief as your father hurries to intervene, grabbing you around the arm to pull you out of the dining room and turning on you the moment you are out of earshot.

“Insolent girl! That man will soon be one of the most powerful in the country—nay, the world! Do you understand the opportunity he is offering you? The life he is offering? How dare you refuse him!”

“Whatever life he is offering is one I want no part of,” you argue, pulling your arm from his grasp to wrap them across your chest. “I have no interest in being married to a man like that. I want to be with someone who loves me.”

He goes deathly still for a moment, drawing connections in his head until you see the moment the realization hits him. “This is about that lousy stable boy, isn’t it?”

You say nothing, only hug yourself tighter and try to swallow down the sudden lump in your throat.

“That’s it, yes? You’re still holding onto some hope that he will come back for you and what? The two of you will go off and live in some hovel? What could he possibly offer you?” he snarls. “No, Y/N. That vermin is gone. You have a chance—a real chance—at a future here, and I’ll be damned if I let you throw it away for the idea of some lower class scum.”

As his words sink in, a chill passes through your body that’s quickly replaced with a white-hot anger, your hands dropping to your sides as you straighten your back in defiance.

“Whether Jungkook returns or not,” you assert, “please be assured that I will never, ever, marry one of your suitors. I will die before I become a mere pawn for your business deals.”

Your father stares at you incredulously, eyes practically bursting from his head. “Business deals? I am looking out for you. So that you can live the luxurious life a child of mine deserves.”

“The life I deserve is the one which I want,” you exclaim. “And these rich dullards are not it.”

Final word given, you spin on your heel in emphasis and march off to your room, leaving your father to clumsily patch things up in the dining hall with a humbled and deeply befuddled Seokjin.

The letters stop two years in.

A month passes, then two, then three before you begin to really worry. Another four gone in a blink before you start to consider that you may never actually hear from him again.

For a while, you continue to write to him, thinking that at the very least, if he’s moved to a new job, someone from his old ranch may forward them along if they know where he’s gone to. But after a year of silence transpires, the mail carrier shaking his head at you each day as you rush to meet him outside your house, true dread sets in.

Your address hasn’t changed, which means that he’s stopped writing to you for some reason. Is it possible that he’s moved on? Met another woman perhaps and chosen to settle down? Or…could it be something worse? Your mind hesitates to even go down this path, the terror seeping into your bones, but the thought creeps in late at night when you’re at your most vulnerable that something may have happened to him. Work accidents, illness—any number of dangerous things could have taken him from you without you even knowing. Then again, he sounded healthy in his final letter to you, no word at all of him being ill, and you’d like to think he would’ve arranged for someone to contact you if some tragedy had befallen him.

You conclude, then, that he must have given up. And really, after years of hoping for a shift, for some change in fortune for your futures, you cannot entirely blame him. If anything, you just wish you had seen the signs sooner, sensed some kind of shift in tone that would have prepared you for his sudden silence. His last letter, though, had been much of the same—more updates on his ranching job mixed in with poetic phrases about his love for you. You read it endlessly, poring over the words for some indication that his feelings for you had waned, sitting huddled in a hidden corner of the stables as rain pounds down against the tin roof. Instead, it just makes your heart ache to remind you of love found and lost, his final words haunting you as time continues to drag on to your dismay.

As the months tick by, you keep your promise to your father, steadfastly refusing each suitor that comes to call for you: Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, and even Min Yoongi, who shows up in your dining room every evening for a fortnight before finally accepting your refusal. Meanwhile, you move through your days as if by design, going through the motions without feeling like you’re actually alive. Food is tasteless, your books void of thought, and the skies have certainly lost their color. You find that you actually prefer rainy days now, often taking walks through the drizzle and allowing the droplets of water to slide over your skin and caress you as he once did. Sometimes, it almost makes you feel as if he’s there beside you—memories of thunder and slick kisses enveloping your thoughts and soaking you from the inside out.

No fewer than seven years pass this way, with you haunting the premises of your home while your father begins to complain about you becoming a leech and a burden. You begin to question it yourself, wondering if it may be too much to waste away like this, when, three days after your twenty-seventh birthday, a discovery has you running from your father’s house and never looking back.

It’s another dreary, rainy day, and you, wanting to soak in the full effect of the emblematic weather as it pertains to your mood, have once again parked yourself on the front porch with a book. Your father passed you on his way out earlier, casting a scathing look that you didn’t even bother to grant any attention—you’ve long grown accustomed to his contempt and futile glares.

A little past midday, you glance up at the sound of a person approaching, their footsteps ricocheting off the front steps. Park Jimin comes to a halt under the porch’s cover, gazing at you curiously as if wondering why you are outside in this weather at all. However, if he finds your behavior strange, he doesn’t say anything, a choice which comes of no surprise to you. One of your father’s youngest business partners, you’ve always liked Jimin during the times that you’ve interacted with him. He’s quiet, polite, and has never made an attempt at courting you, always respecting the boundaries that many other young men have tried to cross over the years.

That being said, you’re inclined to at least offer him a greeting, acknowledging his presence with a mannered, “Hello, Mr. Park.”

“Good day,” he responds with a small bow in your direction. “Is your father at home?”

“No, he had to attend a business meeting with Mr. Kim this morning.” You frown as his face falls, a touch of panic widening his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

A delicate finger rises to rub at his temple. “Ah, I’m supposed to be finalizing a contract with Hybe Trading Company later this afternoon,” he says. “Your father told me to come pick up the documents beforehand.”

“He may be back soon,” you guess. Your father didn’t give an indication of exactly when he would return, but you do know his meeting with Kim Taehyung wasn’t supposed to last all day.

“I may not be able to take that risk.” He chews at his lip, thinking. “Is it possible that he left the contracts for me somewhere? Might you be able to check?”

Your jaw drops a fraction at his request—you could count on one hand the number of times that you’ve been in your father’s office. “I don’t think—“

“Please, Y/N,” Jimin begs. “We can’t afford to lose this partnership.”

The desperation in his expression has you acquiescing, and so you lead him inside and tell him to wait in the entryway as you head to your father’s office on the second floor.

The room is arguably the grandest in the house, with magnificent windows that give a full view of the estate’s grounds and tall bookshelves packed with your father’s collection of texts. The finest rugs protect the hardwood under your feet, and at the center of the room sits a monstrous yet beautiful mahogany desk with a plush chair at its back.

You move to the desk first, skimming the documents scattered on top for something that has the trading company’s name on it. But all you see are invoices, shipping records, and maps of different trading routes marked with your father’s notes, and lightly shuffling through the papers comes up fruitless as well.

The first desk drawer you open contains a series of highly-organized ledgers, so you quickly move on to the second, which has the same. The third drawer reveals a reserve of desk and writing supplies, while the fourth, finally, contains a mess of paper.

You rummage through the clutter, still not finding anything that seems to be the contract Jimin is looking for, and are about to give up when a stack of letters buried at the back of the compartment has you freezing, the small, neat handwriting chilling you to the bone.

Pulling the stack out with shaking hands, you quickly realize that there are a few dozen, all postmarked no more than two months apart between each one. Collapsing backwards into the desk chair, you read frantically, quickly realizing just how wrong you were about Jungkook giving up on you:

My Dearest, it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you, but I pray your letters were simply lost in transit…

I’m incredibly pleased to let you know that I’ve received a promotion. The owner of the farm, Mr. Lee, has taken a liking to me and has shifted me to a more considerable role with additional pay. I’m saving every bit I can…

My Love, I miss you deeply. And while your silence pains me to no end, I hope it is a mere misunderstanding. If you do not wish to hear from me ever again, only say the word and I will stop writing to you and remove myself from your life entirely, albeit with a heavy heart…

I still have some ways to go, but my savings are increasing exponentially, and I am learning more than ever. Mr. Lee has been teaching me about the business side of things and helping me make connections. What a wonder to have a boss who fully supports your aspirations! He insists he will be able to help me in my endeavors, and call me naive, but I believe it to be true. Rest assured, love, that I am steadfastly working hard for you, for us, and for our future…

My Darling Y/N, my heart aches to not read your words and hear your thoughts. But since you have not yet rejected me outright, I can only assume that your silence is involuntary or that it comes with deep hesitation. Whatever the reason, please know that I love you, I miss you, and I am not giving up on us unless you tell me so…

And finally, the shortest letter dated almost year back:

Y/N,

I don’t have the words to describe my feelings so I will keep it brief: I did it. If this letter finds its way to you and you wish to find me, I eagerly await you at our home…

The location is scribbled in a tangle of text, his usually neat writing askew as if he was shaking when he wrote it, and the words land with the force of a thousand bricks in your chest—the weight of seven years apart, the agony of your separation, finally culminating in this revelation.

The door to the office bangs open, and you look up, heart already racing with the discovery of the letters, to see your father looming in the doorway, face painted with rage.

“What in the hell are you doing in my private office?!”

You’re on your feet in an instant, storming across the room and shaking the final letter in his face. “What is this?!”

He pales a fraction as he registers what you’re holding before stepping further into the room and slamming the door shut. “I should have burned them,” he sneers. “I did what I did to protect you.”

“From what?” You wave your arms wildly, anger and adrenaline winding their way through your limbs. “From happiness? From a man who has spent years working hard to be able to provide for me?”

“I have worked hard to provide for you! And I will not see my legacy be thrown aside for some silly crush!”

Steeling yourself, you pull in a steadying breath for courage. “Then you won’t.”

“And what does that mean?” your father scoffs, trying to look dismissive and intimidating, yet seeming smaller than you’ve ever seen him.

“You won’t see any of it. I’m leaving.”

“What?”

Time stops for a moment, your declaration holding the air in the room hostage as your father fully absorbs your words.

“You ungrateful idiot girl!” your father suddenly exclaims. “After everything I’ve done for you? Fine then! Go live with the dogs, with the filth and slime you apparently love so dearly. I have had it with your thanklessness and impertinence and will be relieved to have you from my sight.” He steps into your personal space, pointing a finger directly at your face so close that you can feel the heat of his ire radiating off of his hand. “But know this: the second you step out of these doors, you will never be welcomed back. Never.”

You waste only two seconds longer, locked in a stubborn stare-down with your father before you rip your gaze away and tear from the room with Jungkook’s letters still in hand. Rushing to your room, you gather his other letters from your desk and stuff them into a bag along with the modest sum of money you had accumulated in case you ever needed to run.

And then you’re a bird in flight, sweeping down the stairs and out the door with nothing but a simple, “Good day, Mr. Park,” as you pass an absolutely bewildered Jimin in the front hall.

The rain is cold and heavy as it soaks through your clothes and hair almost immediately, but you barely feel it—the freedom in your heart and the scribbled location in your bag more than enough to keep you warm as you charge towards home.

The house is beautiful.

Modest, compared to the mansion you grew up in, sure. But arguably more beautiful—with a compact two stories, white wood, and neatly painted green shutters. There’s a wrap-around porch overlooking the acres upon acres of farmland, and even through the rain falling in sheets and blurring your vision, you spy two rocking chairs sitting side-by-side under the awning.

It’s been a long two weeks of journeying to get to this spot, relying on the kindness of strangers to help you navigate to the location Jungkook had written down. Now, standing at the end of the dirt path leading up to what is presumably your new home, you think that you would do it all again in a heartbeat. The past two weeks, the past seven years, all worth it to experience the hope currently blooming in your chest like the sunflowers you spent so much time admiring in the past.

You’re trudging up the path, the dirt and mud smearing along your shoes, when a darkened figure steps out from the fields to your right, hand raised in greeting.

“Good afternoon, miss. Are you lost? I—” He grinds to a halt like he’s walked straight into a brick wall, eyes wide and lips parted as he absorbs the sight of you soaked and disheveled on his property.

“Y/N?” he says it like a prayer, like he believes you’re some kind of hallucination—a phantom come to haunt him through the haze of rainy memories.

You stare at each other through the downpour, and you find yourself studying him, observing the changes that have taken place in the time you’ve been apart. He’s taller and broader than you remember, shoulders stretching wide and drawing your gaze down towards biceps that protrude below his drenched shirt. The lines of his face have sharpened with age—losing some of the youthful roundness that had endeared him to you so quickly—but he’s still starry-eyed as ever, the charming young man from your memories undoubtedly gazing back at you.

“Jungkook,” you murmur, and the spell is suddenly broken. You surge towards each other, meeting in the middle with a flash of lightning. Your arms go around his shoulders, and Jungkook pulls you into him so desperately and with so much force that he lifts you right off your feet, your mouths coming together with a heated urgency.

He’s everything you’ve dreamed of, every desperate memory you’ve been clinging to come back to life. And with every touch, every pass of his hands over your body, you feel yourself rapidly coming back to life too—joy making its way into your lungs and through your bloodstream for the first time since you were twenty years old and kissing this man in your family’s stables.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips when you finally part. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“You have no idea–”

“I do. Jungkook, I do.”

“You stopped writing—”

“My father,” you rush to say. “He intercepted the letters. I thought you stopped writing. Thought you gave up—”

“Oh, my love, never.” His hands rise to cradle your face. “I never stopped thinking of you. Never stopped dreaming of this.” He kisses you again, slowly this time, savoring every movement of his lips against yours.

You shudder against his chest, the thrill of your reunion rattling your nerves just as a cool wind blows through, and Jungkook pulls back with worry.

“You must be freezing,” he murmurs sweetly. “Come. Let’s get you warmed up inside.”

With an arm wrapped around your waist, as though he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep a hand on you, he guides you the rest of the way to the house, up the front porch steps, and through the front door.

“Welcome home,” Jungkook says.

You’re met first with the smell of pine and cinnamon and an impossibly comforting warmth. The first floor is comprised of a wide-open space, with a small kitchen and dining room to your left and a sitting room to your right that has tall windows and a fireplace that is currently roaring. You move around the room slowly, taking it all in, and when you notice the vase of bright sunflowers sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, you just about melt to the floor.

“I know it’s smaller than you’re used to,” he sheepishly mumbles from the doorway. “But we can expand in the future—”

“It’s perfect, Jungkook.” And it really is, every panel and floorboard evidence of how hard he’s worked, how fiercely your love has endured. “It’s absolutely perfect. I love every bit of it.”

He brightens at that, smile stretching wide. “I’m glad.”

“How did you find it?”

“Well, I bought the property after finally saving enough money. Mr. Lee helped me with the buying process.” He shrugs. “And then I built this.”

You freeze, absolutely stunned. “You what?”

“I built it,” he says simply. “I had some help, of course. But the design is all mine.”

“I…you…” It makes your thoughts spin—the idea that he did all of this. He built a house for you.

“Here, look.” He takes your hand and pulls you into the living room, gesturing at a set of empty shelves against the back wall. “For your books.”

You laugh incredulously, fully overwhelmed at this point. “I didn’t bring any with me.”

“Then we’ll start you a new collection,” he says softly, drawing you towards him.

You reach up to trace his jaw, his brow, his cheekbones—memorizing every line of this beautiful man who dared to make your dreams a reality. “I can’t believe this. Can’t believe you. The things you’ve done.”

“All for you, my love.”

Your heart thumps a steady rhythm in your throat, love and the relief of finally—finally—having him in front of you overpowering your senses until all that exists is you and him; the strain of your former life feels worlds away.

Hands find his chest in a slow migration downwards as the chill of the rain gives way to the heat of the fireplace, and it’s not long before his large hands are wrapping around your hips, a darkness in his irises that wasn’t there a second ago.

“There’s an upstairs, too, I’m assuming?” you whisper, fingers teasing a button on his shirt.

“There is.” He swallows, and you watch the bob of his Adam’s apple like a lure. “Would you like to see it?”

You lean in, skimming your mouth below his without fully joining your lips. “Please.”

Tangling your fingers in his, he practically runs upstairs with you trailing in his wake.

Finally, you think, as he pulls your clothes from your body, climbs over you on the bed, and presses into you with such tender deliberation that you think you’ll combust.

Finally, as you spend the rest of the night wrapped up together, endlessly whispering I love yous back and forth.

Finally, as you wake up in his arms the next day, his face the first thing you see.

Finally, as he pulls out a small box at breakfast, the dainty diamond ring easily the most precious piece of jewelry you’ve ever possessed.

Finally, as he takes you out on the farm and shows you the small field of sunflowers he planted just for you.

Finally, you think, as you sit in one of the rocking chairs on the porch and watch him work from afar. I’m home.

Years Later…

“Mama! Mama look!”

You glance up from your book to where Jungkook and Haneul are currently journeying in the yard. It’s a bright sunny day—the wide expanse of blue sky above unmarred by even a single cloud. Sunshine beams down onto your son’s smiling face where he sits on the back of one of the horses, a too-big cowboy hat on his head and his father at his side for support.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart!” you call. “Just be sure to listen to Papa!”

Jungkook flashes you a grin, the excitement radiating off of him in waves. He’s been talking about teaching Haneul to ride since the day he was born, so you know this means a great deal to him, especially seeing your son’s own energy and enthusiasm. Haneul has always liked the “horsies,” toddling happily around the stables ever since he could walk.

Then again, given who his parents are, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Jungkook and Haneul finish their loop around the yard, and you hear your husband shower the boy with praise as he lifts him off of the horse’s back.

“Again, again!” Haneul cheers, bouncing in place and causing Jungkook to laugh.

“We will! Just let me check on your mother first.”

He moves comfortably, leisurely as he climbs the porch steps and comes to a rest in front of where you sit. Looming over you, he leans in until he can press a gentle kiss to your lips, reverent in his motions.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. His fingers brush lightly over your belly and its new curve.

“I’m alright,” you say, guiding his hand until his palm is resting flat. “This one is kicking up a storm though.”

As if on cue, you feel a tiny jolt—Jungkook giving a breathless chuckle as he feels the jab himself.

“Go easy on your mother,” he says in the direction of your stomach, rubbing a soft circle into your flesh. “No storms. Clear skies and sunshine.” Then his eyes are back on your face. “Speaking of, I have something for you.”

He reaches behind his back and produces a single sunflower, tucking it behind your ear before giving you one more kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.” More than the day you met him. More than the day he left. And more than the day you finally made your way here.

“Now I should get back to Haneul before he starts yelling for me.”

You laugh out the brightest sound that’s ever come from your lungs. “Go.”

A warm breeze ripples through the trees, the sound of your son’s giggles and Jungkook’s cheerful exclamations finding their way back to where you sit.

What a beautiful day, you think, setting down your book and getting up to join your family in the golden sunshine.

a/n: thanks for reading! pls don't forget to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

2K notes · View notes

starglitterz · 4 months

Text

♡ SPICY. // PART TWO

❝ tell me what you see when you look at me, 'cause i am a ten out of ten, honestly. ❞ // attractive things the genshin men do <3

✧ feat ; albedo, dainsleif, gorou, itto, kazuha, lyney, neuvillette, scaramouche, tighnari, zhongli x gn!reader

✧ warning(s) ; fluff, suggestive, (kinda???) modern au for itto, extremely suggestive for itto + neuvi

✧ a/n ; woahhh it's been like ten thousand years since the release of part one but here's part 2 finally ! i doubt anyone was actively waiting for this LOL but regardless i hope you enjoy it!

part one︱part two

✦ as an alchemist, you’d expect ALBEDO to always be in a white lab coat stained with all manner of chemicals, but he’s the opposite – he’s always dressed to the nines in formalwear, with his trademark coat layered on top of it to keep him from freezing in dragonspine. he only ever removes it when he’s visiting you in mondstadt. in the quiet of your peaceful apartment, albedo will be busy preparing dinner, and you feel like a starving victorian man when you see him roll his sleeves up, exposing the rare sight of his pale wrists. his fingers are long and slender too, but there’s something about the way the white fabric of his dress shirts clings to his forearms, emphasising his lean muscle and making you wonder if you’re drooling. you’re pretty sure he’s caught you staring way too many times, but he always just gives you a soft smile – he can’t understand why you’d admire him like this when you’re the one he’s always believed to be a masterpiece.

✦ dating DAINSLEIF is a quiet affair. he’s not one for over-the-top gestures or grand proclamations of his love, but he never fails to make it known that he absolutely adores you with his whole heart. between the two of you, you’re the one who always talks more, always chattering away endlessly about your latest fancy. but no matter what you’re prattling on about, dainsleif will always tilt his head and gaze at you as if you’re giving a speech on the most interesting topic in the world. he’ll even have a small smile gracing his lips, his usually stern expression now softening into one far more gentle. he’ll even nod and ask all the right questions, proving that he was paying attention the entire time. and if you ever feel guilty for talking so much, he’ll instantly reassure you that your voice is music to his ears, and if he could he’d listen to it forever.

✦ some days, it’s like GOROU can’t even believe he’s dating you. he’s just so adorable, getting incredibly flustered whenever you even breathe in his direction. his face turns bright red and he starts stumbling over his words, barely able to string together words into coherent sentences. or if by some miracle he manages to keep his composure, his tail is a dead giveaway – it’ll be wagging at the speed of light whenever you praise him. you could be doing the most mundane tasks like laundry or washing dishes, and he’d still look at you with heart eyes as if you hung the very stars in the sky.

✦ without a doubt, ITTO has no clue how attractive he is. once you move in together, he’ll just always walk around shirtless, even though you squeal in surprise whenever you see him. i mean c’mon, who could blame you? the oni is ripped thanks to all the hours he spends at the gym, and when you see his muscles flexing, showing off the gleaming red tattoos illustrated across his back and torso, you have to excuse yourself because you swear you’re seriously about to start barking. to make things worse, he always pairs it with those stupid baggy grey sweatpants that make you actually want to pounce on him – it’s always a struggle to keep your eyes on his face. you’re beginning to think he knows the effect though, because you always end up in the bedroom together when he wears them.

✦ KAZUHA is the type of boyfriend who adores casual skinship. wherever you are, he’ll always find some way to touch you – whether it’s an arm wrapped around your waist, his head leaning on your shoulder, his fingers intertwined with yours… the list is endless. but his absolute favourite has to be when you wear shorts. one of his hands somehow always ends up on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. it isn’t necessarily heated, it’s just comforting for him to know you’re there beside him. but you’re aware of his intentions whenever he starts doing it under the table in public, merely tilting his head to give you a playful smirk and a wink that’s imperceptible to anyone else.

✦ the entirety of fontaine knows that LYNEY is a flirtatious rascal. yet with you, he thinks he’s met his match. the two of you are constantly bantering, attempting to outdo one another in gifts and pick-up lines and dates – lynette says you both are more like competitors than partners. however, it’s just the way the both of you show affection. but there’s one move that LYNEY knows will always guarantee him the win. you’ll be chattering away, planning out your next date, and suddenly his magician hands are at your waist, fingers slipping into your belt loops to tug you closer before pressing a mischievous kiss on your lips. your shocked and flustered expression always makes his day.

✦ as the iudex of fontaine, it makes sense that NEUVILLETTE is not one for tomfoolery. but when it comes from you, he always seems to accept whatever pranks or teasing you throw his way. but sometimes, if you’re acting up too much in public, all it takes is one look from him to set you back in line. his dark blue eyes narrow as he glances at you, lifting one brow as if to ask if you’re really willing to keep going like this. that decision is up to you – will you continue misbehaving, crossing the line to see just what he’ll do? or will you be good and quiet down in the hopes that he’ll reward you?

✦ everybody knows that SCARAMOUCHE is a brat. that doesn’t change when he somehow becomes your boyfriend. he likes pushing your buttons, always wondering when you’re going to tip over the edge. even just simple requests will prompt him to reply ‘“oh yeah?” “make me.” “mhmm.”’ and it drives you up the wall. not just because it’s annoying, but also because it’s strangely attractive to see the way he raises his eyebrow and leans back in his seat, a smug smirk playing about his lips. but fear not, the easiest way to get him to behave is just by grabbing his collar and pulling him into a kiss. he’ll be so surprised that he’ll instantly go do whatever you told him to just so that you don’t see his blushing face.

✦ it’s 100% a green flag when men are willing to explain things to you instead of assuming you wouldn’t be able to grasp the concept, and TIGHNARI is a shining example of this. as the chief of the forest rangers, he’s extremely well-versed on everything related to sumeru’s jungles, and this extends to skills outside of foraging, as he’s also talented at cooking and preparing medicines. if you’re curious or eager to learn, he’ll always explain it to you in a way that makes it easy for you to understand, and even if you don’t, he’s very patient, and will answer every single one of your questions no matter how dumb you may think they are until you get it. seeing the proud smile on his face once you successfully achieve whatever he taught you is more than enough incentive for you to rush to learn even more from your beloved boyfriend.

✦ ZHONGLI is the type of lover that comes once in a millenia (which is probably how long he’s been alive too). he’s the whole package; sweet, caring, smart, not to mention handsome! (the only problem is that he’s constantly broke…) you’re lucky to have him as your boyfriend, and the first time you realised this was when the two of you were walking through a busy crowd in liyue’s bustling harbour while trying to run some errands. upon sensing your discomfort at how the strangers were unintentionally jostling you and bumping into the two of you, ZHONGLI wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him to put more space between you and everyone else walking past. once the crowd thins out, he’ll guide you with his hand on the small of your back, the warmth a gentle reminder that he’ll always be there for you.

yeah sorry i deserve to be sent to horny jail for some of these 😭 HAHAHA js be glad cyno was in part one bc the things i want to do to that man... Unspeakable

#✏️ — quill writes !#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #dainsleif x reader #gorou x reader #itto x reader #kazuha x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #tighnari x reader #zhongli x reader #astronetwrk #genshin fluff

1K notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 5 months

Text

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

2K notes · View notes

earthtooz · 1 year

Note

second chance romance with sae. write it.

x : WITH(OUT) :*+ﾟ

in which: after a messy breakup with sae, you find yourself waking up next to him two weeks later, this time just more in love.

warnings: 1.8k words, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, SFW, gn!reader, tooth-rotting fluff with quite a bit of angst, a lot of metaphors here and there i apologise if they don't make sense get on my brainwave (nicely), ooc!sae perhaps uhh lol, bad writing, reblogs appreciated!!

a/n: lets see if tumblr community labels this post... sigh. rip first version u were a champ. this is my official claim to become tumblr's sfw itoshi brothers (separate) writer. i've made progress with rin, it's time to show some (reluctant) love to sae!! i literally only wrote this bc @limitlesshq and i had an agreement.

you wake up due to the rustling beside you, the movement rousing you from your slumber as the world becomes ever so clearer with each millisecond, the drowsy haze wearing off you as you take in your surroundings.

there’s a white ceiling overhead, the mattress beneath you feels like a cloud, and you can’t remember when your sheets turned a shade of gray. no- scratch that, you can’t remember when your mattress became this soft.

hold on.

this wasn’t your room and the mop of magenta hair lying atop your chest is an indicator of such.

you’re in bed with a soccer star who just so happens to be the ex you messily broke up with two weeks ago. he’s wrapped around you like nothing had ever happened; as if you two were still in love and devoted to one another and hadn’t shouted at each other to the point that your throats were sore for a days afterwards.

you needed to get out of here which was something easier said than done. especially when you had itoshi sae lying on top of you, wrapping you in a vice grip as he sunk further and further into your warmth, chest methodically rising up and down. you want to slap him for being so peaceful in this very moment. that should be you but instead, you’re panicking and trying to avoid another messy scene with your ex.

the fact that said-ex was itoshi sae too… goodness what have you gotten yourself into. you should get out of here before it’s too late.

slowly, you begin to shuffle away, trying to pull yourself away from sae’s grasp.

you’re halfway out when you hear the magenta-haired whine quietly, the sound causing you to turn your head and look at him. it’s to your horror that you’re greeted by a pair of hazy, turquoise eyes, still groggily waking up as sae tries to adjust to his bearings. he blinks a few times, waking up a little more with each flutter.

“where are you going?” he asks, voice hoarse from unuse. his arm tightens ever so slightly around you, pulling you back towards him and completely ruining your efforts.

you’re stunned, unsure of how to respond as sae tucks himself into your chest, breathing you in.

you hate the way you feel your heart lurch in your chest, rapidly beating with the urge to be as close as possible to him. this feels like a life you once knew, especially when his fingers start running up and down your spine, nimbly finding their way under your shirt.

“sae,” you breathe out and his ministrations stop, diverting all of his attention upon you. “i have to go.”

he groans his protest, shaking his head. “why?”

“i just have to.”

“no.”

“what?”

“stay.”

“what?”

“did you not hear me? i said stay.”

just to prove his point a little more, he puts even more of his weight on you, tangling his legs with yours as if rooting you to his mattress. ever so demanding, he is.

the breakup was disastrous and entirely hurtful, wrecking you from the inside out when you woke up the next morning registering the previous night. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so heartbroken and it hurt even more with every trace of sae that remained in your apartment. looking back, perhaps it was a little naive to believe that he was the one for you, that he was your endgame and not simply another lesson to heal from. all that time spent in a relationship, crumbled thanks to an argument that lasted for three hours and ended with a decisive slam of his door.

yet just when you thought you were making process on the journey away from him, sae finds a way to pull you back in.

“i can’t stay,” you whisper, voice already a little shaky.

the magenta-haired looks up at you, apathetic eyes boring into yours. “but why?”

“i just- i just can’t. thank you for letting me stay over but i’m going to go home now-”

fingers thread through yours and sae’s hand pulls yours closer towards him. a pair of warm lips press themself to your skin and linger there as if burning and branding you- all of you, as his.

he then kisses each of your fingers delicately and softly. “don’t go,” he mutters between pecks.

you feel a little breathless. like he’s punched your gut with every piece of gentle affection he plants, twisting the knife he had stabbed in your chest two weeks ago deeper and deeper, reopening the raw wound of hurt and pain with unmatched love.

you need to leave before anything else can happen, before you begin breaking down in front of him.

quickly shuffling away from the athlete, you abruptly pull your hand out of his, throwing the covers off of you. however quick you may have been though, sae is undeniably faster, his hands crossing the distance to pull you back. his strength forces you to sit down once more and you bounce a little from the soft impact. he drapes himself around you again, chin resting on your shoulder.

“let me go,” you plead, putting your hands over his wrists as if trying to pry them off but you feel too much for sae to truly try and resist him. his spell, no matter how hard you try to fight back, is just as potent.

you fear that you may never be immune to his poison.

he begins trailing kisses along your skin, uncharacteristically affectionate. “i can’t,” he begins, voice wavering uncharacteristically, traces of heartbreak evident in his tone. this display of emotion shocks you endlessly and you stop fighting against him, freezing when you feel his breath shudder against your skin.

your heart is thumping heavily, causing your chest to clench.

"stop messing around, we-"

"i'm not messing around just stay," he hushes gently, "please."

you feel the world stop for a second. sae? pleading? he knew how to do that? the prospect of sae beseeching for anything was incredibly unfamiliar and the fact that his voice cracked merely proves how entirely unfamiliar the word was in his vocabulary.

the love you feel for him will choke you before heartache does. unbeknownst to you, a tear begins sliding down your cheek and you don’t feel it until it’s halfway down.

“hey, hey, hey,” the magenta-haired mumbles, catching the tear with his thumb. “don’t cry.”

he sounds so tender and doting it hurts. there’s so much love in the way he’s holding you, pressing himself closer to you with each minute as if he hates the idea of being too far away from you, as if he was trying to make sure that you were still the same love of his life from before he hurt you tremendously, as if he was committing you to memory before he does lose you forever.

but he doesn’t want that. he wants to stay with you. sae doesn’t think he can handle another day without you, that’s why he’s so stubborn to keep you here; to put you under his spell again so that you could feel an ounce of the love he has stored for you. so that this love has somewhere to go before it inevitably ruins him, punishing him for being so stupid.

“i’m sorry,” whispers sae hurriedly. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry pretty, don’t cry.”

glancing away from him, you wipe away any remaining tears, inhaling deeply as to try and collect yourself with whatever willpower you had left.

"i need to leave," you murmur, not entirely meaning it.

"no you don't," he answers, entirely meaning it. "just stay until breakfast or something."

wordlessly, you fall back in his grasp, leaning into the athlete when you feel rapid beating against your arm. that’s when you realise that it wasn’t your racing heart… it was his.

giving in to his desires, you tuck your legs back up on the bed and he manoeuvres you, practically cradling you whilst you find solace in his neck with your arms wrapped around his torso. here, you feel whole again.

you’ve lived life with sae and without sae and you now know well enough to prefer the former. something tells you he feels the same too.

“are you going to stay for breakfast?” he asks after a few minutes of simply soaking up the other’s presence. glancing up at him, his expression remains beautifully neutral, illuminated perfectly by the bright morning light that seeps through his windows. he’s radiant, gorgeous as ever.

you hum against his skin. “i’m not too sure. i was going to leave before breakfast.”

“let’s go back to sleep then. i’m not hungry anymore.”

amused by his request, you agree nonetheless and sae is able to move the both of you around to the same positions you had woken up in with you on your back and him on top of you. the soccer player then pulls you closer and throws his leg over your hips- something he does to keep you in your spot so you won’t slip away from him again.

you won’t. you don’t want to leave and live a life without him.

“are we back together?” you hesitantly ask. the question floats into the tranquil air, afraid to break whatever quiet, ecstatic haze you were both in but you need to know.

“will you take me back?” the soccer player counters, surprisingly shy and unsure, so unlike the arrogant sae you’re used to. he’s putting all the cards on your table despite knowing what he wants because although he wants to be with you for eternity and a little longer after that, it’s up to you to decide whether or not he deserves such a paradise.

sae can only hope you’re merciful.

“i want to. i miss ‘us’, i miss you.”

he immediately feels a heavy weight lift itself off and the exhale the magenta-haired lets out communicates his magnitude of relief. fate has saved him today.

“good.” is all he says as your hands rise to the nape of his neck, playing with the hair there. “be here when i wake up.”

“so demanding,” you joke with a smile, “but okay.”

as sae dozes off once more, you take the time to scan around his room once more whilst trying to lull yourself into dreamland as well.

his decor had always been rather plain and it didn’t change until you started dating. remnants of you have been lingering around his place and you’re surprised he didn’t get rid of them the night you left out of rage. a little nanodroid that you gave him of a character from an anime you both like sits on his shelf, there’s that little fake plant on his desk, and there are still photos of you two on his dresser.

he used to only have one pillow and the only reason he bought more was so you could sleep over comfortably. you don’t think too hard about the lingering smell of sae’s shampoo on the pillows that you had previously claimed as ‘yours’.

shifting a little so that you were comfortable, you gaze up at sae’s ceilings once more. a gentle smile makes its way to your face before you doze off peacefully knowing that two hearts have found their way back home.

#tumblr will di3 by my blade.#sae x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock

5K notes · View notes

honnelander · 6 months

Note

OK SO I HAVE THIS IDEA IN MY HEAD AND I HAVE TO TELL YOU, I can't stop laughing imagining that scenario xdxdxdxdxd

Well, then imagine go fish! Sanji takes (Y/N) to meet Zeff and Zeff being the good father he is, "accidentally" spoils the tea in front of everyone because he is so done with the drama around. 😂 😂 😂 😂

UMMM OK I LOVE THISSS!! this technically won't be go fish!Sanji BUT my interpretation of Sanji will pretty much always be like that.

here's Zeff "accidentally" spilling the beans about Sanji's affections for reader: (i can't believe this blew up to like 3k words rip)

masterlist

Zeff wasn't stupid.

He's been around the block a couple of times in his life and when Sanji's semi-regular letters to him had shifted from casual life updates and started to be more and more about details and little interactions he had with you, some girl Zeff had never met before, well, it was easy for the head chef to put two and two together: Sanji was in love.

And he was in love with you.

Now, while Sanji might not technically be his son by birthright, there was no way he didn't consider Sanji to be his own living and breathing kin, especially after everything they've been through together, 'pedigree' rules be damned.

Zeff truly loved that boy. Throughout their time together, he had raised Sanji from being a snotty-nosed brat into the respectable man that he was today and, in Zeff's mind, part of being a respectable man included knowing how to treat a woman properly.

Ever since he was a young boy, Zeff could see that Sanji took a special liking towards girls and then young women. The retired captain had lost count of the number of times he had to berate Sanji into getting back to work and to leave the wooing for after dinner service and his own personal time, but the scoldings never stuck. Sanji would always be Sanji, and that meant the lad had an endless wandering eye and a sharp silver tongue, no matter what.

To say that Zeff was sad to see Sanji go with Luffy that day was an understatement, he was devastated, but he knew, ever since he had held a knife to his throat during their first encounter, that Sanji was meant for bigger things. For things bigger than cooking up the same old dinner specials every night and breaking up drunk pirate fights on the regular. Sanji was bigger than the Baratie, so when Luffy had made his infamous offer to his pseudo-son, a part of Zeff was relieved because that meant that Sanji could finally start living the life he was always meant to live, and that was one of a pirate.

Zeff had also made peace with the very real fact that he might never see or hear from Sanji again. He (and Sanji) knew all too well how quickly something could go from bad to worse to life-threatening in an instant out on the open ocean, and if Luffy was truly determined to find the one piece and have Sanji join his crew, then Zeff knew that seeing him off that day was probably the last time he would ever see his son alive.

So, imagine his surprise when he received his first letter from him.

At first, he thought it was a joke, that one of the line cooks in the kitchen was pulling a cruel prank on him by writing him a fake letter in Sanji's unmistakable handwriting, but when he finally ripped open the envelope and found out that yes, Sanji did, in fact, write him a letter, well... it had actually brought a tear to his eye.

From that point forward, Zeff found himself eagerly awaiting Sanji's letters. He loved to hear all about the outlandish adventures that crew seemed to always find themselves in and it made Zeff nostalgic for his days at sea. There was never any return address, since the crew was constantly on the move, and Zeff expected as such, so he could never send a reply but that didn't mean he wasn't grateful for each and every letter he received.

Zeff should've realized that something was up though when Sanji had first mentioned you in one of his letters. Sanji's letters would come every couple of months and they, surprisingly, never mentioned any young lass or any other pretty girl he would meet during an island visit unless it was a woman they had ended up fighting.

So, when Sanji had first mentioned you to him, saying how you were the newest straw hat to join the crew, Zeff had thought it was just business as usual. However, what wasn't 'just business as usual' was when the rest of the letter had turned into a little biography about you; where you were from, how old you were, what your home life was like, that you had also agreed that 'oregano was for savages', etc., and the letter ended up being nearly ten pages long.

Then, after your 'introduction' in Sanji's letters to him, you were practically the subject of them all going forward, each one getting longer than the last. Gone were the letters detailing Sanji's adventures, and in came the letters describing the interactions you two had or what topics had come up in your conversations with each other.

At first, Zeff thought it was just another one of Sanji's infatuations (the boy was a huge flirt after all) but when more and more details were provided, and the letters started becoming longer, it was obvious to Zeff that Sanji was in love with you.

And why didn't Sanji just admit his feelings to you? He had no clue. Maybe it was partially his fault too, since Zeff never remembered having that 'what to do when you truly love a girl' talk with him, but he had hoped that Sanji would eventually be fed up with all the back and forth between the both of you and finally just confess already, but that declaration of "I confessed my love to her and she reciprocated" line never was brought up in any of the letters.

And Zeff was feeling himself go crazy the longer this went on. The 'drama' that was occurring between you both was driving him nuts and he vowed that if he ever saw Sanji and the rest of the straw hat crew at the Baratie again, that he would confess Sanji's feelings towards you for him. I mean... someone had to.

Then one day his lucky day came.

"Zeff!" a voice called out from the top of the stairs one afternoon before the day's first dinner service, a voice that Zeff thought he would never hear again. "There you are, you old shitbag!"

Immediately, Zeff stopped talking to the wait staff, turning his body to look up at where he heard the voice come from, his hands on his hips, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing: there was Sanji, a huge smile on his face, standing with practically the same crew that he had waved goodbye to nearly two years ago.

"Oi! Sanji!" Zeff yelled out, his own disbelieving smile lighting up his face. "I never thought I'd see your ugly mug around here again."

Sanji laughed at that as he quickly bounded down the stairs, enveloping him in a bear hug. "That makes two of us!" He pulled back, his blue eyes lighting up in pure happiness as he quickly took Zeff in, patting him on the shoulder as he said, "And look at you, you practically look exactly the same as the day I left you."

As Zeff took in Sanji's appearance, he realized that he couldn't say the same about him. Sanji looked older, not in a bad way, but in a more mature way. He looked like he was growing into the man that he was always meant to be.

And Zeff couldn't have been more proud.

"Well, I can't say the same about you little eggplant. You look like a seasoned pirate to me." Both of them dropped their arms off of each other and Zeff put his hands back on his hips. "You keepin' your feet dry?"

Sanji mirrored his pose, a small laugh escaping his lips as he looked down for a second. "Yeah," he said and looked back up at Zeff, a knowing glint in his blue eyes. "Yeah, I am."

Zeff knew right then that everything with his son was alright. "Good."

"Hey, uh, I wanted to introduce you to someone," Sanji started, looking slightly bashful as he looked back down at the floor and put his hands in his pockets. "She's the-"

"Girl from the letters?" Zeff said with a small knowing smile, finding it endearing how his normally smooth-talking son was suddenly acting about this girl. If he didn't know any better, Sanji looked nervous (and Zeff knew he was).

At his words, Sanji's gaze immediately snapped up to meet Zeff's, his eyes becoming slightly wider, a hint of panic within them, as he quickly looked back towards the rest of his crew that had just started to make their way down the stairs and towards them.

"The newest member of our crew," Sanji emphasized loudly, letting out a fake laugh as he looked back at Zeff pointedly.

"Right," Zeff relented with a small disbelieving laugh of his own. "'Newest crewmember'. Got it."

And when Zeff turned his attention towards the straw hats, he immediately knew it was you before you even introduced yourself. Sure, you were the only new face in the small group of familiar faces, but he had to give credit to Sanji, he had definitely captured your looks and essence in his letters.

Zeff's smile widened. You were cute. From just by looking at you, he could tell you were a sweet and kind soul, it was no wonder Sanji loved you. You definitely looked like the type of person who would do all those things that Sanji had spoken about in his letters and he immediately approved of you. If Sanji had stood there and introduced you as his wife instead of 'his newest crewmember', he wouldn't have had any objections to that at all.

"Zeff, this is y/n," Sanji started, gesturing a hand out to you, Zeff noticing the way his son's eyes softened just by looking at you. "And, uh, you already know everyone else."

Zeff looked away from Sanji and down at you, seeing that you already had your hand out to shake his, a nervous smile plastered on your face.

He liked you.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Zeff, sir," you said, shaking his hand. "I've heard so much about you."

Now, even though Sanji had corrected him before about you, it didn't mean Zeff wasn't going to say anything.

"Aw, come on now, the pleasure is all mine little lass," Zeff replied, shaking your smaller hand with his bigger one. "It's nice to finally meet the girl that Sanji raves on about all the time."

From his peripheral, he could see Sanji stiffen.

Your eyes widened, your hand going limp in his as you asked, "Raves on about? Who, me? T-to you?"

Zeff's smile only grew wider and more cheeky. "Oh yeah, all the time," he said casually, as you both dropped hands. He placed his hands on his hips again and nodded towards his son. "You should see just how much of his letters are about you. It's like I get a damn novel every other month about your relationship," he joked.

"Zeff-" Sanji started but Zeff wasn't done.

He was on a roll and nothing was going to stop him. The more he spoke, however, the redder your face became.

"Oh yeah," the head chef continued, "from as much as Sanji talks about the two of you, I thought you two were in a relationship and said 'I love you' to each other already."

After he said that, the room got quiet. You stood there, completely frozen with wide eyes and a flushed face, like a deer in headlights, while Sanji stood as still as a statue. The rest of the straw hats stood quietly behind you three with varying looks of shock and awe on their faces at the display before them.

"Sanji," Luffy said, breaking the awkward silence first. "You love y/n?"

"Luffy!" Nami hissed.

"I knew it!" Usopp loudly and proudly declared, pointing a finger to the sky as he turned and laughed at the rest of the crew. "See, the great captain Usopp always knows the sparks of true love whenever he sees it," he said, hooking his thumbs at the top of his overalls with a grin.

Zoro snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. You wouldn't know what true love looked like even if it smacked you in the face."

"Says the guy who doesn't have a girlfriend," Usopp smugly retorted with a laugh.

Before Zoro could say anything back, Zeff spoke up. "Hey, straw hats," he called, grabbing their attention. "Why don't you lot come into the kitchen and sit at the chef's table? I'll have Patty and the rest of 'em cook you a couple of steaks however you want, on the house. I'll even throw in a couple of beers too."

"I'm in," Zoro said without missing a beat as he started making his way towards the kitchen, not needing to be asked twice.

"Ooo, free beers? Show captain Usopp the way, please," Usopp said, following Zoro through the kitchen doors.

At the mention of meat, Luffy immediately perked up and forgot about the situation before him. "Steaks? Would it be possible to have more than one?"

"Sure," Zeff agreed easily and nodded towards the kitchen. "Eat too many though and I'll have you back on dish duty again to pay your bill."

"Deal," Luffy quickly agreed and followed after his first mate and sharpshooter.

With a shared look, Nami and Zeff started making their way towards the kitchen together, both ignoring you and Sanji.

"How do you like your steak cooked Nami?" Zeff asked conversationally before disappearing behind the kitchen's double doors.

"Medium rare, actually," Nami replied and slipped in after him, leaving you and Sanji all alone in the dining room.

It was quiet for a solid minute, neither one of you moving or making a sound.

"So," you started, clearing your throat and looking over at Sanji. "You, uh... told Zeff about me?"

But Sanji couldn't look at you. In fact, he was looking at everywhere but you. His cheeks were flushed pink and the tips of his ears were red. He looked down at the ground with his hands on his hips.

"Yeah," he said, forcing out a slight laugh that sounded more painful than anything. "I, uh, told him a bit about you. Could you tell?" he asked, a hint of painful and playful sarcasm in his tone.

You couldn't help but laugh at his attempt at a joke. You could feel your heart start to race as you slowly took a couple of steps closer to him. "Yeah, I could tell," you replied playfully. "You really love me, Sanji?" you asked him softly after a beat.

Turning his head to the side, you could see a blush crawl up his neck. It was so cute, you don't think you've ever seen Sanji be this flustered or embarrassed before. "Uh, well," he stammered, "I-I didn't want you to find out like this. I had a plan and everything. But Zeff and his big mouth had to ruin-"

"Sanji," you said simply, cutting him off. "Look at me."

Before obeying your command, Sanji took a deep breath, like he was bracing himself for the inevitable letdown and rejection he was used to receiving from women throughout his life.

When he looked down at you and met your stare, his eyes were filled with apprehension. "Yes?"

You wanted to do nothing in that moment but quelch his fears. "Oh, just come here," you said.

In one swift motion, you grabbed him by his tie and pulled him down into a kiss, capturing his lips with your own. You felt him stiffen in surprise, but once it hit him that you were, indeed, kissing him, he immediately relaxed and put his hands on either side of your face, his fingers entangling themselves into your hair, deepening the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your mouth moving in sync as you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Was this real life?

After a moment, you pulled apart, panting slightly for air. You both looked at each other, faces flushed, neither one of you expecting to share your first kiss in the middle of the empty Baratie dining room.

"I love you too."

The smile that broke out across Sanji's face was brighter than the sun. But before he could say anything, you both could hear Usopp yelling from inside the kitchen.

"Guys! They kissed! See, I told you they would!" He declared loudly before turning away from the small circular window. "Zoro and Nami, you each owe twenty berry! Come on, pay up!" he laughed like a high roller that just won big, making his way back into the kitchen.

At the sound of loud protesting and groaning coming from the kitchen, you giggled, hiding your face in his chest from embarrassment.

"Oh god," you groaned.

"Aw come now, no need to be embarrassed, Madam," Sanji teased. "If they're placing bets on us, might as well give them a show to bet on, yeah?"

When you peeked up at him, you could see a mischievous glint in his eye as he scanned over your pretty face and back down to your lips before looking back into your eyes. His look made your heart skip a beat.

"Sounds like a plan to me," you answered with a small laugh before you pulled him back down to kiss him all over again.

taglist: @smolracoon25 @shadydeanmuffin @cherrypie5 @sauceonmyshorts @hhighkey @gimmebackmyskeeball @he4vens-ang3l @selcouthaesthetics @chexmixtrys @princettecharlie @amitydoodlez @abracarabbit @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @mischiefmanaged71 @asianfrustration13 @shuujin @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @browneyedhufflepuff @stevenknightmarc @deserticwren

#sanji x reader #opla!sanji x reader #opla!sanji x y/n #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #one piece x reader #sanji fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #one piece #one piece live action #opla #black leg sanji x reader #opla!sanji x you

1K notes · View notes

benkeibear · 7 months

Text

⋆꙳✧༄ Tasty!

❖ Character: Rengoku

❖ Reader: female | AFAB

❖ Wordcount: 1.4k

❖ Summary: Kyojurou comes back from a mission and finds you touching yourself, wanting to help you find release

❖ WARNINGS: sub!reader, masturbation, fingering, oral (reader receiving), slight overstimulation, squirting

꒰ ͜͡➸ Back to Kinktober Masterlist

Kyojurou made sure to kiss your forehead before he left for his mission, hating that he had to leave with the first ray of sunshine but he tried his best not to disturb your peaceful slumber. Your hands held onto his haori in your sleep, not wanting him to leave just yet and it almost broke his heart, carefully removing your hands from the cloth and kissing each of your knuckles. “I promise that I'll be back home as soon as I can, my firefly” he whispered and gave you one last kiss onto your temple before he had to leave. Waking up without your lover felt like getting your heart ripped out each and every time and you knew he could never wait to leave until you're awake to leave, not wanting to see you cry or risk you begging for him to stay home - he hates making you upset after all but so far he always made it back home in one piece.

The time went by slow while your lover was gone, trying to go on with your usual routine got harder day by day, your mind starting to cloud with worry along with a need to be with him again and while doing the laundry you stumbled across one of his haori, laughing softly to yourself when his scent filled your senses, hugging the clothing item close to your chest as if you'd be hugging him. You missed him far too much to toss this haori into the laundry, deciding to wear it yourself in order to feel a little less lonely in this big house while all you did was wait for his return and try not to go crazy.

You don't know when it happened but you found yourself in your shared bed, wearing nothing but his Haori while your hand was working magic on your neglected cunt. Nimble fingers rubbing circles onto your overly sensitive clit before dipping into your wetness just like Kyojurou would but your little fingers could never make you feel just as good, leaving you unsatisfied despite the orgasm that shook your entire body. Desperate for more, you curled your fingers against your sweet spot over and over, using your second hand to play with your little bundle of nerves while moaning his name, imagining it would be him taking care of you after being gone for weeks. Your poor cunt felt so neglected, trying not to touch yourself while he was away, knowing he wants to make love to you the second he's home but this time you just couldn't help yourself, missing his touch far too much.

The moans of his name echoed from the walls alongside the squelching sound of your fingers working you open, unable to hear the way Kyojurou called your name, wondering where you were since you usually jump into his arms the second he opened the door. He was on guard now, fearing something might have happened, not wanting to think of the worst yet as he made his way through the house, checking every room for possible signs of danger when he stopped dead in his tracks in front of your shared bedroom. The heat crept up his neck, his name called out in such lewd ways had him gasping for air and a big smile crept to his face when he opened the door, seeing you on your bed with your legs spread wide, fingers knuckle deep in your dripping wet folds - and is that his Haori?!

“Was I gone too long this time?” He asked, a smirk creeping up on his face despite his eyebrows being knit together in worry. Neglecting you was the last thing he ever wanted, feeling guilty for being gone for weeks at a time but the moment he spoke up, you flinched, trying to cover yourself to regain some decency which made him chuckle. “Hey now, no need to cover yourself for your husband” he said amused and stalked over to where you were laying in long strides just to rip the blanket away from you - the hunger for you clear in his eyes. Kyojurou was aching to touch you as well, seeing you so vulnerable and moaning his name had him hard and leaking with pre cum already as he climbed onto the bed, lips locking in a desperate kiss before taking hold of your hand to lick your fingers clean that we're still coated with your juices. He moaned obscene when your slick melted on his tongue, his eyes locked with yours as he did so. “You're so tasty… can't get enough” he whispered and licked his lips, strong hands already parting your thighs to uncover your glistening folds to his hungry eyes. “Please touch me” you whimpered, desperate to feel his fingers work their magic and you didn't even need to ask twice before you felt two of his thick fingers part your folds and collect some of your slick.

Kyojurou didn't want to tease you, not when you were so desperate for his touch that you needed to please yourself in his absence. A sweet moan of relief escaped your beautiful lips when he finally sunk his fingers into your heat, his eyes closed in delight at the squelching sounds erupting from your cunt. “How many times, firefly? You're so worked up” he asked amused, intense gaze fixed to your face that started to contort in pleasure. “Three” you whimpered, letting him know how many times you've come undone on your own fingers but no matter how many times your fingers coaxed an orgasm out of you, they were nothing in comparison to the ones your husband gave you and he knew.

Thick fingers repeatedly massaged your sweet spot he was all too familiar with as the calloused pad of his thumb made sure to take care of your little clit just the way you liked it, making you squirm and moan in bliss. Before you knew it you started to clench around his fingers, crying out his name “hmm… slow down, too much” you whined, feeling like you would burst at the seams if he keeps going but no matter how much he slowed down, the next time he pushed against your g-spot you screamed in pleasure as clear liquid sprayed all over his eager hand and strong arm, catching both of you off guard but Kyojurou didn't let you close your legs even if that's what you wanted, a look of pure adoration on his face. “Did you just squirt?” He asked amazed, having heard from Tengen that this can happen if the orgasm is intense but all you wanted to do was hide from your lover's intense gaze, whining with his thick fingers still slotted deep inside of you. “Can you do it again?” He asked curious, moving his fingers exactly like before, which had you moaning loudly right away from how sensitive you were now, shaking your head “I-I can't” you whimpered, unsure how to feel about the way you just created a mess on your shared bed but Kyojurou gave you a sweet smile and kissed one of your soft thighs “you can give me another one… you're my good little firefly, aren't you?” He asked in such a sweet way that made it impossible for you to say no and you wanted more, needing more which knew all too well, your walls clenching hard and practically pulling his fingers in so they won't stop caressing your sensitive spots. “That's my wife… my beautiful sunflower” he hummed and replaced the rough pad of his thumb with his skilled tongue, lapping up the juices on your dripping cunt and almost driving you insane with overstimulation but he went oh so slow, making sure to feel the way your sweet spot started to get more and more sensitive to his prodding fingers before speeding up, curling them right against it over and over again until he felt you clench his fingers like a vice, your hands grabbing onto his bicolored hair.

You didn't even give him a chance to pull away, selfishly grinding your core against his face until you exploded again, the liquid splashing right against his tongue and face, making him moan loudly as he ate you out with more vigor this time, not getting enough from your taste. “You're so tasty, firefly. Can you give me one more? Just one?” He almost begged, needing to feel you come undone like this once more, addicted to your sweet moans and your taste. Your poor head was spinning from the intensity this orgasm held but you mindlessly nodded, wanting more than you can handle, more than you thought you'd get when you started playing with your neglected cunt - your husband now made sure you are well taken care of.

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez @planetonet @bitchcraftinc

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro smut #rengoku x reader #rengoku smut #kyojuro rengoku #kny x reader #kny smut #kny kyojuro #—Ryhs Kinktober 2023

2K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 2 months

Text

The Pit

2/2

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.7k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dubious consent. Smut - M/M/F. Forced breeding and kink (but we're soft). Medical inaccuracies. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Misery inspired. Horror-ish. Whump. Caretaking. Imprisonment/kidnapping. Forced comfort. Addiction. Feelings of fear, panic, anxiety, hopelessness. Simon calls the shots.

It’s snowing.

The forest floor is covered in thick, white cotton, heavier than cement. It sticks to your clothes, your knees, soaking you to the bone. You slog through the snow; the forest grows longer. Taller. Trunks of trees enclosing you in a cold grave, a cage.

You have to try. You have to.

The moon illuminates your path, a swath of silver light refracting through weeping frozen branches, their backs bowed with the heft of the snow, cracking and shivering under their burdens.

They’ll snap eventually. They’ll break.

Just like you.

Wolves howl in the distance. It makes no difference; how close they are. You can’t take much more, newly healed leg already spent, lungs heaving for what little air there is in this elevation.

They circle. Blood-soaked maws snap at you, herd you closer and closer to the start, to where it all began, to where it continues to begin, again and again.

The house.

Your knees find ground.

You’d rather die now. Freeze in the snow. Or…

A jaw snaps. You hold out your hands. For freedom. For peace.

The last thing you see is the flash of pearlescent canine, ripping into your flesh.

“Shhh, jus’ a nightmare.” Simon’s thumb works across your brow, concern shining on his face in the dim lighting. You shiver, even in a room like a sauna.

“Did- did I wake you?” He shakes his head. Of course, you didn’t. He’s always awake. He’s always watching.

“Close your eyes.” He tucks you close, blazing heat from his massive, pillowy chest bleeding into your back, your ribcage expanding slowly. It’s rhythm, sick, twisted rhythm, syncing you together, your breathing evening out, steadying in his hold. He reaches for Johnny, who’s curled on his side, and strokes through some long, loved pieces of mohawk. Lips muss your hair. “Sleep, little dove.”

The floorboards in the hallway creak.

They talk to you, whisper about comings and goings, each spot singing a specific frequency just so, hitting the right pitch at the right time, a chorus of shifting weight echoed by hackneyed groaning.

The creaking is didactic in nature. It exists to teach you something, to plainly expose the things you should have been paying attention to all along: footsteps in the morning, in the evening, shuffles versus steps. Schedules, routines, things you didn’t pay close enough attention to, things you didn’t care enough to notice, all laid out very carefully in front of you. The weeping wood of the floor practically begged you to notice, but you were too distracted by the never-ending reminders of your agony, and the cups of tea that made you woozy. You were too busy craning your neck to catch a glimpse of the outside world beyond the window, too preoccupied with trying to stand on your own without vomiting all over the floor (again) to catch what the hallway was trying to say.

If you had listened, you would have stood a chance.

“Alright, here we go.” Johnny murmurs, an arm under your knees, another around your back. When he rises, cradling you into his chest like a child, you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood, desperate to tamp down the whimper that breaks free. “I know, I know. Almost there.” He soothes, lowering you to the couch where the pillows are all placed in very specific positions. One of the goes under your calf, another your knee, and they line the sides of your ribs for your arm to rest elevated, comfortably. He cups your cheek, warm thumb gently moving across your skin, sweet, molasses thick affection, like the cough syrup you used to swallow when you were young. “Do ye want some tea?” Yes. God yes, a thousand times yes. Yes, you want the tea. Yes, you want to fall into the bleak darkness of drugged sleep, the vat of unconscious swallowing you whole every time. You want the buzz of numbness, the shadow of an orphic, endless pit. You want to slink away from everything, from them, from whatever this is, from what’s happened to you.

“Yeah, I-“

“Johnny.” Simon says his name softly from the kitchen. “Let’s wait a bit on the tea.” His brow furrows, light venetian blue eyes tracking across your face. They catch the light just so, sparkling downward, sea foam, sea glass and ocean spray, all mixed together into kaleidoscopes spiraling outward from his pupils, and when he frowns, you swear they darken.

“She’s in pain.” He protests, straightening to full height. There’s something happening above your head, something he concedes to with a sigh, shoulders relaxing, a regretful glance cast your way. “I’ll get ye some naproxen, dove.” He promises with a kiss, and then you’re alone in the living room, unable to move, snuggled against the worn leather couch.

Your leg is in a cast. Paper and glue, you think, makeshift at best, and they both remind you of it all the time, how it’s not medical grade, how you can’t attempt to walk on it, how the bone is incredibly fragile, and will be, for a while. It’s in worse shape than your arm, which at least has a black brace on it, covered from elbow to wrist, immobilized with a dull ache, a pain consistently throbbing, but doesn’t make you cry. Not the way your leg does. Your leg screams with agony, still, pins and needles and buzz saws in your bones, a haunting torment keeping you awake at night, making you second guess your desire to live.

The tea helps though. The tea makes everything less, makes the pain round, instead of sharp, makes the fear feel farther away, instead of right on the tip of your tongue, like a monster on your doorstep.

Simon says your name, broad shoulders stationed in front of the fireplace, glass of water in one hand, two pills in another.

��Do you want to sit up?” You blink at him, and he kneels before you can answer, perching right next to your shoulders. “Open.” You give the pills a dubious glare, unsure, lips zipped tight. It could be the naproxen, but it could be something else.

After all, the tea is not just tea.

He sighs in the same exasperated sentiment, and then his thumb and forefinger are grasping your cheeks, cold shiver erupting down your spine at the contact, and he pushes your mouth ajar. “Don’t be like this, sweet girl. Thought you were going to be good today?” He’s referencing something you remember vaguely, a discussion from last night in the dark, a promise you made when the world was coated in sap and too far warm, sticky like the sweat clinging to your neck-

“Ye dinnae need to cry, little dove. Don’ we take such good care of ye?” Johnny cooed, eager. “Ye just need tae be good for us, and we’ll do everything else.” He was holding you tight, too tight against his skin, heat radiating from him like the sun.

“I don’t understand.” You moaned, unable to move or twist away, trapped in the cage of his arms, Simon sitting prim on the edge of the bed, one hand on your hip.

“You will, in time. By spring, we hope.” Simon told you, dark sympathy in his eyes, words stretching into a mixed-up sentence jumping around in your mind. By… spring? What does that mean? Johnny’s hands roamed over your skin beneath the blankets, stroking across your breast to delicately pinch at your nipple, before dipping further south, slipping into your folds without warning.

“Ah!” You gasped, tense, frozen beneath his touch.

“Shhh.” Simon pats your hip. “Let Johnny put you to sleep, dove. You’ll feel better after a rest.” Johnny’s fingers stuffed in your pussy, thumb dancing across your clit, would lull you into tea addled sleep, and warring emotions swirled in your head. Your desire for this, your acceptance of this, is sick.

You’re sick.

You think of the snow. The reflection on the floor in this room, crystallized shimmer on the ceiling. The sun has been out, and you’re dying, wilting, from not feeling it on your face.

“Tomorrow.” You croak, and Johnny pauses. “Tomorrow can I… can I go outside?”

“Will you be good?” Simon’s thumb rubs at a spot on the corner of your mouth, and you nod.

“Yes… I- fuck.” Johnny’s breath hitches, and your walls clench up tight, squeezing. Small explosions of light dance across your eyes, pain mixed with pleasure, peaks and valleys rolling through your muscles. “Fuck.” A big, scorching hand spreads across your lower belly, just beneath your navel, and pushes.

You come immediately. It’s overwhelming to keep yourself relaxed, to prevent the spike of pain from your injuries, but an orgasm dulls everything else, and you cry with its intensity.

You’re sick.

You don’t miss the way Simon’s hand lingers, how his eyes don’t leave that spot, how Johnny’s hand covers his, and they hold there, lost in their own world for a second.

“If you’re good, sweet girl. We’ll take you outside.” He whispers, arranging limbs and waists and feet to his liking.

You fall asleep dreaming of a blizzard.

The pills go down so easily.

And you suppose they help. For a while, anyway.

Enough time for Johnny to get you set up on the porch, zipped up in their clothes and propped up on a loveseat rocker.

You wonder if they sit out here in the spring. In the summer. Do they drink their tea and eat their biscuits and watch over their domain like kings? It’s so American, so southern, to envision, and you almost laugh at the idea of either of them swapping their black bitterness for something iced and sweet enough to rot the teeth right out of their head.

“Dove? Can ye look towards me?” Johnny sits half on his knee across from you, on another outdoor, plastic chair. He’s got his sketchbook and pencil in hand, excitement brimming from eyes to lips, like a child. Full of wistful bright light, the sun itself.

Simon’s sun, it would seem.

You’ve noticed it, how Simon is the earth, but Johnny is the sun. The whole world, revolving around one ball of light, one eager, wild Scot, a star, the only, in Simon’s sky.

He draws you with efficiency. Moving and directing you just so, not daring to jostle you or cause you discomfort, but still ensuring he gets the best light. The barely-there dew drops of dawn. The glisten of a million frozen crystals at your back.

He handles you like glass. He stares at you like you’re a doll, a fragile one, like you had when you were a girl.

In the quiet moments, which are many, you catch them staring at you. If they’ve brought you down to the living room, they lurk in the kitchen, murmuring to one another in voices too low for you to catch. If you’re in the bedroom, they curl around you like wolf pups, pawing and petting until you’re asleep.

You don’t understand.

They won’t even talk about it with you now. How you came to be here, how they’re insistent you’ll have to stay until spring, when the pass opens.

Their words are a sickness, infecting you, spreading through your system until they’ve touched every piece, inside and out.

It’s madness. The kind of madness that pushed you to the brink already, made you feel like you’re losing touch with reality, with yourself. The kind of insanity that nearly got you killed.

You test the weight. Just barely, just enough that it screams under the pressure.

If you could make it to the door.

If you could make it down the hall.

If you could get out.

You grit your teeth.

The house has been silent for hours. No creaking floorboards. No heavy footsteps. You close your eyes, hold your breath, listening one last time.

They must not be here.

They go out, every once and a while. Bring things back. You’re not sure where, or how.

You shuffle a step, dragging your foot. It’s more a hop, but you use the bed to offset the inevitable thump of your body weight, managing to make it to the end, fingers deathly tight on the wrought iron.

You can do it. You can.

It’s only three, four hops at most to the door. On one leg, in a weakened state, it’s harder than you thought, but when your fingers lay on the door handle, the release of relief in your chest is overwhelming.

Yes! Yes. You can do it. Just-

The knob does not turn. You pull, applying more force, trying to jiggle it, see if maybe it’s stubborn or just old. This cabin is certainly old. Even though it’s been hollowed out anew inside, the bones are ones of a hunting cabin. A long-forgotten place, now housing horrors anew.

You twist and tug again. Every time it doesn’t budge, you try a little harder, each metallic scrap and jangle louder than fireworks.

You tug and you fiddle. You close your eyes and push down the rising panic.

The truth comes rushing over you all at once.

It’s locked. It’s always locked. That’s why Simon ensures it’s shut completely, each time they come and go.

They never intended to take you home. They never are going to give you your phone, or theirs, they’re never going to get you back over the pass.

You’re locked in here. With them.

The tugging becomes something else, something wired and frenetic, until you’re jerking the door handle with all your might, shaking the frame, screaming. The motion destabilizes you, and your lack of strength does you no favors.

Before you can self-correct, you stumble. You fall, instinct forcing your bad leg down, and when you try to catch yourself, you howl so loud you think the mountain shakes.

Your head smacks the frame of the bed on your way down, and then… as always now, everything is dark.

The first time you open your eyes after, Simon is seated in the chair. The same one he was in when they brought you here, severe and terrifying. The room is spinning, and you’re just as nauseous as the first day you laid eyes on him.

“I- I’m sorry.” You croak, but he only shakes his head, rising from his seat without even giving you a second look.

For a fleeting moment, the indifference stings.

“You’ll wear that,” he motions to your foot from the end of the bed, the good one, and you peek down to see a metal shackle clamped around your ankle. “until you can be trusted again.”

Johnny crawls into bed with you at night. He cries, hot tears on his cheeks, and coos over the leg with the break in it, and then over the shackle.

“I told him, ye dinnae mean to be bad.” His fingers shake as he traces your cheek. “Ye just cannae help it. It’s not yer fault, I know dove. Ye dinnae know any better. We have to teach you.”

“Johnny-“ Please. Let me go. Help me.

They all die in your throat when he presses his wet face to your neck like a dog, rutting his hard cock into your hip.“Ye’ll be right as rain by spring, I told him. Gon’ be such a good mum for the bairn, I know ye will.”

The world fades away. The silence suffocates, and you pray to die.

You cry the rest of the night, even when he shucks your pants down and licks your pussy until you’re coming on his tongue. You cry until he falls asleep, and Simon returns, settling in his seat, watching you both.

“How do ye feel about chicken soup tonight?” Johnny draws you back to him, sweet boy smile on his face, and your stomach clenches involuntarily.

Stupid handsome Scot.

You’re sick.

“That’s fine.”

“But do ye like it?” He’s so eager, back straightening with interest, really trying to learn, trying to figure out what you like and dislike, what will earn him your good graces, and what won’t.

You shrug. “Sure, it’s… it’s good.” A thought occurs to you. “Where do you get the chicken?”

“We’ve got ‘em in the barn. Can’t roam in the winter but we keep ‘em warm in there. Along with some ducks. A goat.”

“Farm animals?” “Aye. How else we supposed to make sure you’re healthy?” He waggles his eyebrows. You try not to grimace. “Si slaughters ‘em fresh. Everything tastes better that way.” A soft light shines in his eyes, a wolf’s instinct, and the shudder trembling down your spine makes your hands shake. “Ye cold?” He clocks it immediately, as he he does with every other single thing.

When he gathers you into his arms to bring you inside, tucking you back into the couch, you don’t even argue. You just sit there. Like a doll. Theirs.

Night is the easiest. It’s simple, to give in to your body, let them take over, take control of the parts that have long betrayed you. You close your eyes as they touch you, kiss you, make you come.

You even enjoy it.

That’s the worst part. You like it, when there are hands and fingers and tongues all over your body, like you’re being worshipped, like you’re some sort of god.

You like it, when Johnny gets overexcited and Simon settles him, guides him with a hand on his cock to your entrance, whispering slow in his ear, encouraging him to take his time. You like it, when Johnny’s pulse flutters under his jaw, when Simon holds you steady, when they get lost in each other, in you- you can almost pretend it’s not real, it's some fantasy, from a book, something dark and delicious-

Not your reality.

Tonight, Simon holds you in his lap on the edge of the bed, broken leg lying flat, his elbow crooked under your good knee and wrenched upwards, nearly pressing against your chest. The angle is intense, and Johnny grunts, muscles flexing with every thrust,

“Ah- fuck.” You moan and twitch, locked inside a cage, a confinement, the arms of your captors… your saviors. Simon swirls the pad of a finger over your clit, mouth open on your cheek, teeth nipping over your skin. You clench, Johnny cursing, some bitten off dialect you’re not familiar with, Simon’s voice dripping with smirk.

“Good girl, squeeze our boy, jus’ like that.” He does it on purpose, the talking. Knows how it makes you gush, long ago figured out the way to make your pussy clamp down around whatever he’s got worked inside you, his cock, Johnny’s, fingers, tongues.

Together, you’re an orchestra. Johnny is the strings, the violin, the viola, a cello. He plucks so perfectly, a harmonious blend of beauty spills from his bow, rising in the air until the audience is on their feet. His music trembles. It quivers and cries, like the wail of grief.

Your grief.

You’re the piano. An entire world, nestled in one instrument, but you play off tune, broken and sharp, pitch all a mess- you don’t even belong here.

Simon is the maestro. He directs each note, each melodious ring exactly as he wants it, working the music up to a brilliant crescendo, and it comes crashing like the force of a wave breaking onto sand. He conducts you, Johnny, the day, and night. He orchestrates the flow, lyrical give and take evolving in the house, your captor status slipping farther and farther away each night you take them into your body.

He knows you like it. Knows he’s in the lead, knows they’re winning-

And he doesn’t let up.

“Harder.” He coaches, and Johnny obliges, mouth open in bliss, eyes nearly rolled backwards. His fingers clamp down on your hip, too close, and you hiss in fear, the preparation of pain.

Simon snarls, yanking it away, holding to him tight before discarding it in exchange for the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” Johnny pants. “Sorry, dove.” You want to tell him to fuck off, to tell him you hate them, you hate them both, but you're only able to give them a high pitched moan of pleasure. “I’m gon’ come.” He grunts, and Simon yanks him forward, lips smashing together, tongue snaking messily between teeth.

For too long, the three of you hold fast. Johnny’s reckless, furious thrusts shove you backwards, over and over again. “Pull out.” Simon commands, flat palm on his chest. “Do not, Johnny.” He pushes him away from you like a dog, shoving him backwards with a firm forearm, a piece of rebar turned flesh.

He comes all over your belly, splashing thick white splatter across the mound of your cunt, up past your navel, choking on gasps of breath as Simon heaps praise onto the two of you.

Later, after they’ve bathed you, given you another orgasm, and all are almost tucked in, you whisper in the flickering fire light.

“Can I… can I have some tea?” Simon starts. It’s small, barely visible, but you feel it, in your bones. The echo of him in the room.

He holds your head between two palms, and you wonder if he’ll crush your skull. Decide it was all too much trouble. You’re too sick, feeble in your mind, too weak to survive.

“To sleep?” He asks softly, eyes darting over your shoulder for a split second, heavy with worry.

“Please?” There’s something in his eyes you don’t understand, a whirling mist of hell and desperation, and then it clears, and he motions a go ahead to Johnny.

“Alright, dove.”

The tea settles you into silence. With it, you can exist. You can survive.

It numbs you from the inside out, and as time passes, you feel no pain. You’re tangled in a dark web, a viscous manner of thing weighing you down from all angles. You feel nothing, and days turn to weeks, weeks to a month. Soon, the world is thawing. Snow melt turns to river and mud, greenery fighting for its chance to sprout and survive. Your leg is healing.

Spring comes.

The day you roast a chicken is the day your life ends, for good.

It’s domestic, the act. An olive branch to Simon, who’s angry with you, again. Who’s frustrated, took himself outside to chop wood.

Johnny mopes inside the house.

“I hate it when the two of ye fight.”

“Well, if he wasn’t such a stubborn asshole.” You hold the wooden spoon like a wand before returning it to the cast iron, swirling it around in the mess of butter and onion. “Then there wouldn’t be an issue.” You swallow the sting of his earlier refusal. The quick rejection of your request.

All you wanted was to go on a walk. It’s a beautiful day.

Why must the leash be so tight?

“He’ll be happy ye’re cookin’ again.” Johnny grins wide, pretty face beaming over the counter, and you sigh.

Maybe.

You’re watching out the window when Johnny approaches him in the yard. You can’t make out anything their saying, but the body language paints enough of a picture.

Johnny is rigid, angry.

Simon is calm, placating.

Words are exchanged, brows shifting with sympathy, sweetness.

Johnny erupts with glee. He shines like the sun, and Simon smiles, a real, true smile.

They’re beautiful.

And you’re sick.

The three of you tangle together in the dark. It’s a sailor’s knot, thrice over, difficult to understand which piece is which, where one begins and the other ends.

Simon’s anger is long melted. A glacier, gone leaving only a gash in the rock behind.

It’s this gash, this quiet undercurrent, keeping you focused on the wrong thing, pliable in bed until you realize Johnny is murmuring something in your ear, two arms banded around your waist from where you lay on your back, atop his chest.

“We cannae wait,” His hand strokes over your belly with reverence. The words cut through the thick, heady haze, and you try to twist to look at him. “watch ye get big with our bairn, goin’ be such a good mum.”

“Wh-what?” you choke, tensing. They try to settle you, sweet words and mouths everywhere, but you cannot get away from the fear.

From them.

“You- ahh.” You’re on fire, a finger rubbing your clit, Simon’s width between your thighs. He spears you open on his cock, unrelenting, making you keen and cry, face wet with tears.

“Waited long enough,” He grunts. “Been wastin’ it for months.” He steals your whimpers, swallows them, takes them inside like you take him, like you’ll take him-

“- until you swell. Until you’re heavy, dove, round with us.”

Until you’re forever theirs.

It’s a snarled promise. A prayer. Your eyes find the ceiling, fire flickering in shadow across old texture, and you breathe.

He shoves your knees towards your chest, Johnny still lock tight around your ribs, tongue in the shell of your ear.

“Need to be still, cannae lose a single drop." His palm is searing beneath your navel, and he's practically singing, vibrating. “We love ye so much.”

They’re conducting Beethoven. Ode to Joy.

You’re playing Bach. Come, Sweet Death.

Simon comes in you for the first time, and you come too, clenching down around his cock as he praises you, holding onto him like you can’t let go. Like your body knows. Like you’re craving it.

“Good girl.” He croons, spooning whatever slips free back inside, shoving it deep, wet lips on your own. “Gotta keep me in, dove… jus’ like that, there you go.” You throb, squeezing again, pulsing for him. For the words.

You’re sick.

When they switch positions, and Johnny smiles at you over your knees, his canines shine nearly red in the fire light. Two predators, one prey.

Your heart cannot help but flutter.

Sick.

Eight months prior:

The bar is packed. Summer music festival, the banners say. The park is thriving, alive with melody, musical acts rotating on and off the stage, children running amuck with candies and balloons, families relaxing in lawn chairs.

An Americana tradition.

They sat there themselves, for a while. Watching. Burning desire growing hot under his collar every time he saw a mum and her bairn, a small, precious thing cradled close to a chest, an overexcited five-year-old having a catch with his Da.

Eventually, they retreated to the darkness, hiding away in the one bar in town, it’s small windows and dim light practically a calling card.

And what they found inside, well...

“Hey, what can I get you?” You’re perfect. Sweet and soft, like a dove. Kind faced; kind spoken. You make Johnny’s cock twitch just looking at you, and he pictures you on your back, legs spread wide, exposed for them to feast on. To fill. He can’t wait to taste you, hold you, kiss you, have all his firsts with you.

Will you fight them? Will you squirm? No, you'll be good. You'll be so good for them, their perfect, sweet girl. He knows it.

How did they get so lucky?

Simon tucks his ballcap lower.

“Sorry, there are a million people in here!” You half shout over the raucous noise. “You’ll have to speak up!”

“Just two beers.” His yank accent needs work, but it does fine when there’s one hundred other faces next to his. A sea of forgettable memories.

Just as intended.

Your fingers brush his when you deposit two drafts on the bar top, shooting off a total, and for a lingering second, he stares at you.

Simon caresses the back of his neck, thumb circling a loving touch into his skin.

A warning. A reminder.

Can’t make ourselves stand out. Cannot be remembered.

Johnny peeks at the name tag pinned above your breast, and files it away. Files everything away as they finish their pints, how you scrutinize the crowd, how you’re constantly working, looking for things to do, cleaning. Taking care of everything. The people at the bar, your coworkers.

His heart overflows with love. With warmth, and when they take their leave, he can’t help but look back one more, catching a glimpse of your profile, singing a silent goodbye.

See you soon, dove.

#peaches writes #the pit #ghoap x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish

732 notes · View notes

e-nonsense · 14 days

Text

─── 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩

pairing. prince!jason todd x witch!reader

summary. royal au. bruce doesn’t approve of his son’s relationship with constantine’s pupil/ward , not that jason cares

warnings. pet names: little pet, darling. Tooth rotting fluff i guess?

a/n. fuck writers block. three fits in less than 12 hours? crazy. might make this an au, so feel free to send requests based on this au to find out more

wc. 1.1k not proofread

Jason rolled his eyes as another young woman walked away from him, throughly offended. This had been one of Bruce’s many attempts to find his so a suitable woman— one that wasn’t you.

After Dick had married Princess Koriand'r and left to live with her in her kingdom, Jason had become the sole heir to Bruce’s kingdom. Being the second oldest of his siblings. But before any of that Jason had fallen in love with you.

“Lost young prince?” your voice comes from trees, and Jason glances around frantically. His hunting expedition had gone horribly wrong, a group of trickster illusionists had scared his men and the horses away. Leaving Jason behind.

“Who’s there?” He ask, raising his sword while turning in a circle, his eyes land on you as you step out from the shadows. The sun makes your eyes glow and Jason thinks you’re the most beautiful things he’ll ever see. His guard is lowered, as his eyes scan you up and down, taking in your beauty before moving back to your eyes.

You chuckle and he swears someone had to have casted a love spell on him, he can’t take his eyes of you. “Are you allowed to be this deep in the forest?” You ask and he gulps nervously as you step closer to him, your simple grey dress trailing behind you. “I’m surprised you made it through all the wards I put up around here.”

“Plus the Chimera,” you hum thoughtfully.

“Can you not speak?” You ask, inching closer till you’re in his personal space. “Apologies,” you smile.

“No.. no I can speak.” He whispers, staring down at you before sheathing his sword.

“Oh,” your smile widens. “Well, would you like to join me for tea?” You offer, and Jason knows he should’ve hesitated before nodding but he couldn’t help it. The excitement in your eyes when he agreed would be worth it if you were truly planning on killing him. Either way he let you lead him through the trees to a cottage that past the border of the land of witches and warlocks.

“At least try to entertain the thought, Todd.” Damian scoffed watching as another possible — approved — suitor walked away. “Father has gained many grey hair because of your devotion to the witch.” Truthfully Damian had no problem with you, he thought you were a perfect fit for his brother. Kind, loyal, able to put up with Jason’s moods.

It was just Bruce’s paranoia getting in the way of everyone’s peace. When the king had found out about you, he called in a favour from a warlock to get rid of whatever love spell you placed on his son. Safe to say John Constantine was amused by the request but assured Bruce that there was no spell on Jason and the boy’s infatuation with you was purely Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes at the thought, “or Bruce just needs to get over it.” He retorted, crossing his arms scowling as another pride princess tried to near him. “I’m leaving,” Jason says, looking over at Bruce as he makes his escape.

It didn’t take long for Jason to escape the palace grounds, through he was sure he had ripped his suit jacket, not that he’d see the stupid peace of fabric as he’d already dumped his clothes for a simple white poet shirt and some black riding pants. He rode his stallion to the forest’s entrance, stopping in front of it and trying it’s lead to a flimsy fence.

The prince entered the forest with no care, the protective wards shimmered as he entered, and the path illuminated in the darkness. Something you had done so he wouldn’t lose himself in the woods when he’d run from the palace and seek comfort in your cottage.

He quickly followed the path, passing the border and swiftly making his way to your home. When he arrived Jason knocked on the door softly, waiting for you to answer.

The door is answered a few seconds later, revealing a tall blond. The man groans, rolling his eye, “not you again.” He grumble, a cigarette dangling from his finger as he opens the door properly. “Kid! Your boyfriends here!” John calls out as he swings his coat over his shoulder, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he pats his pockets down looking for a lighter before snorting and lighting it with his fingers.

“Well go on in,” John shrugs, stepping out of the cottage you called home. “Oh, tell her to stop sending her little ravens to check on me, will ya?” John adds before disappearing into the misty pathway.

Jason always wondered how the man never found himself lost, or perhaps John never had somewhere specific he’d ever be going, cant be lost with no destination.

The second Jason stepped into the cottage he was met with the sight of you humming a tune, the same one he heard when the two of you met. Jason smiled, walking closer until he could wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Hi love,” you say as soft spoken as always. His eyes watched as you peeled potatoes before he kissed your cheek gently, “hi sweetheart.” He mumbled in return.

“How was the ball?” You asked, mainly teasing but with some curiosity.

“Missed you,” he huffed like a child, “Bruce is always trying to set me up with princesses. Who wants those snobby little bastards? Not me.” He complained.

“Just because Dick married a princess— who by the way comes from a magical bloodline— he thinks I’m going to do the same. Kori’s nice and all but how is it fair? Just because she’s royalty, its okay that Dick married her.”

You sigh softly, “he’s trying to protect you. People have never trusted those who come from this side of the world, faes, witches, shapeshifters. Sometimes with good reason, not all of us have good intentions.”

“But you do,” Jason retorts. “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met, and i don’t say want anyone that isn’t you…. Is there a way that i could stay here with you?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Not without your father starting a war, we don't want a repeat of 1843.”

Jason groans but understands, Bruce would assume the worst if Jason just disappeared again, especially now that he was with you. He’d assume you’ve kidnapped him or some bullshit to feed his ideals.

“Can i stay for the night then?” He murmurs softy, his nose nudhung your cheek. “I just wanna love you before going back.”

You find your resolve melting away when you meet his eyes, blue and green. “One night, then home.” You nod.

“You are home,” he mumbles in response but doesn’t press further, instead the rest of the night is filled with laughter as you teach him a new recipe he’ll be sure to share with Alfred.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd #jason todd drabble #jason todd oneshot #royal au #witch!reader #jason todd x witch!reader #enzo writes [📝]

455 notes · View notes

littlerequiem · 1 month

Text

— a lesson in dancing ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x gn!reader

Levi doesn't think you should be with an old man like him. You show him otherwise. Or: in a post-war life, Levi learns to dance again.

content — Post-war, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Some internalized ableism from Levi but Reader helps him get through it, Reader is younger than Levi, Slow dancing, Basically a whole lot of comforting Levi in this one (wc: 2.3k). For reference - I headcanon that Levi uses a wheelchair most of the time, but that at home, he'll opt for a cane.

Crossposted on AO3.

“You should find someone younger to be with.”

At first, you aren’t sure if you heard Levi correctly. It’s still early; the sunrise barely reaches the town's tiled roofs. Sparrows nibble around you, scavenging for breakfast. Everything is at a complete standstill.

Then you glance up from this morning’s newspaper. Levi is staring at the youth gathered around the city square.

“What did you say?” you ask.

Levi’s attention settles onto you, a half-lidded stare that’s no less charged than in his prime as the Captain.

“You’re still young," he mutters. "You’re still whole."

Well, if he didn't have your attention before, he certainly has it now.

You place your reading onto the café table, right next to the cup of coffee the waiter just brought. Your fingers linger on the edges of the newspaper, bending the corners with your thumb.

“Levi, I don’t want to be with someone else," you say, slow like you were carefully weighing each syllable with care. "I want to be with you.”

"You say that, but I can’t give you that.”

You frown, following his changing line of sight, back to the youth. In the distance, couples dance, following music coming from an accordion. They step and twirl, a resounding cheer (“ha!”) echoing with every count of twelve.

It brings you straight back to Paradis, to life within the Walls, to evenings spent in dingy taverns. Hange and Miche used to love dancing; they loved to drag you along. You wonder if Levi is thinking about those nights too.

"Are you talking about us dancing?”

The knot in Levi's throat bobs. He swallows it down with an almost bitter expression. “That, and more. Just look at me.”

“I’m looking, Levi.”

If only he knew—you’ve been looking all along.

All these years of fighting side by side, of fighting against titans and humans, of trying to bring peace to the world.

Just to arrive at a time and place where you could look at him.

And the sight grounds you.

Levi's eyes—one milky white and shuttered, the other a deep gray that reminds you of muted skies. His hair, silky black, embellished from the passage of time with strands of silver (like starlight, you think). A pearl-colored scar that twists below his lash line, running across the left side of his face, currently glowing from the dewy morning sun.

Everything about Levi has always been beautiful.

Despite that, you watch Levi retreats in his shell. His expression hardens and his knuckles tighten. It's the same old reaction you've grown accustomed to seeing. Levi did it Then, in Paradis, and he's doing it Now, in this new life.

But you? You rip through it, cut the distance apart. The feet of your chair rattles against the cobblestone of the street as you draw near. By the time you're settled at his side, you’re close enough to count the freckles splattered on the tip of nose.

“Levi, listen to me. You’re enough just the way you are. We can go through life as we please. Isn’t that enough?”

Levi remains silent, setting his posture like iron.

You tug at the hems of his shirt, twirling the fabric around your index. “Hey, c'mon now. Have I ever told you how handsome you are in the early morning?”

“Tch, don’t patronize me. You must want more than to be stuck with an old man like me.”

“What if I like my old man?”

“You should be with someone younger.“

“Who says?”

“I’m saying.”

Levi’s deadpan expression doesn’t falter under your even gaze, but his lower lip opens up slightly, as if he were trying to even out his breathing. A blue vein tenses down his neck. You have the urge to smooth it with the back of your hands.

But you focus on his words instead.

“Levi, where’s all of this coming from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, of course, it matters. If it's making you have these thoughts, it matters.”

Levi's eyes narrow. You sigh.

“Fine, you stubborn man. You wanna know what I see?” you say under your breath.

There’s something vulnerable tied to Levi’s gaze. You hold onto it, sliding your fingers through his hair to brush care into his scalp. Your thumbs linger over the crow’s feet permeating the corner of his eyes. A constellation of wrinkles and spots dust Levi's skin, an aftermath of time and sun exposure. You run a delicate digit over all of it, ending along his scarred lash line.

Levi swallows loudly.

“When I look at you, Levi, I see the pain of someone who was asked to grow up much too fast. I see the face of a man who had to shoulder the weight of survival all by himself. I see the life of a soldier who has fought for peace so that all of them,” your head bobs in the youth’s direction, “now get to enjoy a quiet Saturday morning where they can dance without a care in the world.”

Levi glances over your shoulders, fixing a point like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

You bring your hands along the sides of his jaw, directing his attention back to you. “Levi, you’re everything I want. We fought for a decade to be here. Why can’t you recognize that?”

He attempts to shake his head. “You deserve more.”

“That's for me to decide."

"I disagree."

"You always trusted my judgment as a soldier, so please extend me that same courtesy in this life here. Trust me to know what I want.”

“S’not the same.”

“It is. I dedicated my heart to the Scouts back then, didn’t I? And now I’m dedicating it to you.”

Levi’s ears turn pink, his lips tightening into a pout that cannot be described as anything else but coy. “Tch, don't say shit like this in public.” He attempts to lean away from your touch, but you teasingly play with strands of his hair, coxing him to utter stillness.

You lift a brow.

Levi stays quiet. Your knees bump with his, and you remain close while you watch him think your words over. Somehow, though, you can tell he’s grateful to have you here with him. You’re the one still by his side after all these years of death and pain and misery.

The one who stayed.

And Levi conveys his gratitude by reaching to you at last, slow like he were afraid to be stung. He loops his fingers around your own, his thumb gliding against the pulse point on your wrist. Once he has his hold on you, he doesn't let go, slowly stroking your skin with his thumbs.

You exhale in solace.

“So, what's the verdict?" you murmur. "Should I continue praising you?”

He releases your hands. “Please don’t.”

You chuckle, moving to grab the newspaper once more. Today’s headline talks of peace negotiations, negotiations that are to be handled by Commander Armin Arlert.

“Listen, I meant what I said, Captain," you tell Levi as you smooth over the article, ready to pour your attention onto it. "Like it or not, you’re stuck with me now.”

Levi clears his throat as he takes a sip of tea. “Careful, soldier, that almost sounded like a marriage proposal.”

This time, it’s your turn to get flustered. You hide behind your wall of reading and when you peer over the newspaper, you swear there’s a ghost of a smirk tugging at Levi’s lips.

The evening is setting. Outside, waves crash against the cliffs while seagulls croak in swarms. You don’t pay attention to the noise; you’re inside the little cottage you and Levi share, too busy tweaking the machine Onkyankopon gifted you. It's a vinyl player—a machine which lets you play music records. Admittedly, you aren’t well-versed with these modern inventions, but this one you’re excited to use.

The record you’ve placed into the vinyl player comes from Onkyankopon’s home town. It promises a soothing journey filled with emotional highs—just what you need. With a grin plastered on your face, you press the play button. The tonearm hits the record and a lovely crack sounds across the living room. You lower the volume, and turn around.

“Levi, you coming?”

You hear a grunt in response, echoing across the narrow corridor of the house. “There’s no fire under my ass, is there?”

“Just a very excited me is all.”

Several moments later, Levi walks in, cane in hand. He’s fresh out of the shower. His hair is still wet, bangs clinging to the sides of his forehead, and his cheeks still have that rosy hue that comes from him washing it thoroughly. He’s wearing a freshly ironed shirt, and what Marleyans call jeans (which, incidentally, make his ass look great).

Your stomach flutters.

Levi raises a brow. “What did you want to show me?”

“Oh.” You blink, remembering your plan. “Right. Please, c'mon here.”

He does, walking towards you, something cautiously guarded on his face.

You roll your eyes and shoot him a playful smile. “It’s not a trap, I promise.” Your fingers move to the collar of his gray shirt, feeling the rough fabric of cotton between your fingertips. The color matches his gaze, it brings out the smoothness of his pale skin.

He really is pretty.

You tell him as such.

He scoffs, a lovely pink hue dusting the tips of his ears. “Don’t say shit like that.”

You shrug. “We’re not in public anymore, are we?”

“Spare me.”

“But I like to compliment you."

"That's not my problem."

"Fine, old man. Then I suppose I should show you.”

His eyes narrow, not unkindly or in an annoyed manner, but with the regard of someone who dislikes surprises, who knows you’re up to something.

You detach yourself from him for a moment, striding over to reach for the volume button and turning it up. As soon as the slow violin and piano tug through the air, you turn towards him with a grin.

“Let’s dance,” you announce.

To Levi’s credit, he doesn’t appear all that surprised by this turn of events. Well, he’s known you over a decade, so you suppose he’s learned a thing or two about you.

You take his wooden cane out of his hands, carefully placing it against the wall. For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other from across the small room, admiring one and another. Moonlight trickles into the room, gracing Levi with its touch. His gray stare is aglow, his hair like silver. Like starlight, indeed.

Taking a slow step in his direction, you slide into his arms, and he welcomes you like you were made to belong there all along. You take his invitation with a smile, offering him support for his leg while you bask in the comfort of his embrace. Levi places his left hand over your shoulder, the other finding a home along your ribs, fingers slotting along every bone. Safety. His touch sparks warmth across your body, and you bring your hands to the back of his neck, delicately smoothing his undercut.

“The music is starting,” you murmur into the shell of his ear. Tingles spread through your veins.

“Yeah, it is.”

The music isn’t anything like the one you heard on the square today. This track is slow and intimate, and so, your dancing adapts to it. At first, you take the lead, only taking occasional small steps back, hips swaying with the soft melody. Levi follow closely, so close that you listen to his heartbeat quicken beneath your touch.

Half a minute later, Levi surprises you by carefully taking one of your hands between his own, dragging his thumb over your knuckles. He guides you back into a slow spin, and you feel the air expand in your lungs as you take several steps away from him, watching your two shadows ripple over the silver spotlight. When he tugs you back and your vision spins, you think how perfectly your bodies align together.

“Levi, why are you so good at this?” you chastise playfully.

“Erwin used to make me attend these fancy balls in the Interior,” he says in your ear, the tenor of his voice rumbling against your skin. “I learned there.”

“Huh, that’s true. I remember the tuxedos you and Erwin wore now that you mention it." You chuckle. "You both looked devilishly handsome.”

“We looked like two pretentious snobs, you mean.”

"You say that, but I think Erwin took you along for a reason. We always did get the funding for every expedition.”

“Yeah.” There’s a note of fondness for Erwin and past memories, things you aren't exactly privy to, but that you're glad he gets to cherish all the same.

You come to rest a cheek close to his neck, submerging yourself with the warmth of his skin. “I guess this little dance doesn’t measure up to the lavish balls you’ve attended, right?”

His hand tightens around your own. “No, this is better.”

You smile at his words.

It isn’t until a moment later that you realize the music has stopped, that you’re both still slow dancing to silence. Outside, the sound of waves remains.

Slowly, you untangle yourself from Levi, looking at him like he were the lighthouse guiding you back to shore. Levi’s attention is already fixed on you, his face filled with quiet fondness. There's starlight in his gaze.

“You see," you say. "We can dance, you and I.”

Levi raises a hand towards you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “If we can teach your clumsy ass some rhythm, sure.”

“Hey, don’t be mean.”

Levi snorts, and before you can say anything else, he surprises you by leaning over to press a kiss over your forehead.

And under the moonlight, you watch him at peace, and all feels right.

— Masterlist / Join my taglist / Heart divider by saradika-graphics - the rest is by me.

Tag list: @l3visthighs, @bejewelledd, @nube55, @loyal2rin, @leviisgf, @thephantomtheory, @levilxvr, @halloweenmedic, @notgoodforlife, @sixpennydame, @youre-ackermine, @starrylevi

614 notes · View notes

sim0nril3y · 18 days

Text

Deployment

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: The time has come. It's his first deployment since you've become a couple. The goodbyes are difficult. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), lots of angst, talking of leaving, talking of dying, canon-typical swearing.

One more night. One more night in his arms. What if he didn’t come back? What if he got hurt? What if he went missing? Honestly, you weren’t sure that you could cope with the never knowing what happened. Please, please, let there be some type of miracle that might happen so that Simon wouldn’t have to go. Things had been going so well, it simply wasn’t fair. If only he had any other job in the world. If only he was still a butcher, or something normal like that. Why now?

“Sleep.” Even with his eyes firmly closed Simon commanded you to rest. “You have work tomorrow.” Simon sounded tired, you supposed it was 2am, he had a right to be tired. “I don’t care.” You answered with a sad and quiet tone, eyes fixed on his sleeping frame in the pitch blackness that filled the room. “The morning is going to come whether you sleep or not.”

There was silence for a moment and Simon wondered if you had actually listened and then he heard it. Sniff. Then quiet. Sniff, sniff. Then even more silence before. Hck. Sniff. Sniff. His eyes pried open, adjusting momentarily before finding your face crumbling with emotion, lips firmly frowned and trembling, eyes filling fast with tears that were trickling down your face and soaking the pillow beneath you.

“Babe.” He whispered, reaching out to gently touch your shoulder, squeezing in a comforting way. “Don’t… Don’t bloody cry.” Simon whispered, his own voice a little thicker than usual. “Oi, c’mere.” Then pulling you across the sheets into his arms, holding you to firmly in his strong arms. “You dozy bloody moo…” He whispered, soothingly rubbing your back in small circles as you hiccupped and sobbed into his throat. “I know, I know.”

Honestly, he’d never had to deal with this before. Of course, he’d been around other colleagues and watched how hard it’s been for them to be away from their loved once. For him, it had been a very long time since he’d been in this place before and it was never like he had someone waiting for him to come home. It added an entirely different layer of fear, there was that fear of exposing you to danger but there was always a fear of leaving you. It felt like it hadn’t been that long since he’d learned to love you, allowed himself to let someone new into his life and now there was the possibility it could be all ripped away in an instant. Simon wanted more time, but that wasn’t something he was going to be afforded.

Still, even as your tears flowed Simon just held you, strong and tight in his arms, shushing you and caressing you so gently until your body just succumbed to exhaustion. It brought him pain to think of you being apart from him in mere hours now, sobbing yourself to sleep without his strong arms and his kind words. Fuck, it had never been this hard before.

The following morning Simon was up bright and early to finish his checklist. It seemed that you were restless too and that early awakening lead to you following him around like a lost puppy, eyes watching the clock as if counting down the seconds. “Babe, I’m just going to put some fuel in the car. I’ll be back. I promise.” He’d assured when your eyes had filled with wayward tears as he nabbed his keys. “Sweetheart, can I take a piss in peace, please?” He’d begged as you chased him into the bathroom for the second time that morning. “I’m just going to get a loaf of bread from the other freezer, stay here.” He'd commanded as he unlocked the back door. “Babe, if you wanted to join me in the shower all you had to do was ask…” Simon had purred before you two fell into the steamy shower.

Later that morning you were munching down some toast, eyes fixed firmly on Simon as he made himself a strong tea. It was difficult thinking that tomorrow morning you would be going through this routine on your own. The thought alone was enough for a lump to stick awkwardly in your throat. “Right…” Simon began then, causing you to push down any of those awful feelings and focus. “I’ve left a list of numbers over there…” Turning he held his mug in hand and nodded in the direction of a lonely notepad, it was full of names and phone numbers and occupations. “Reckon they’ll be able to fix any problems you might run into, alright? I’m not gonna be able to be in contact all the time, so I need to know that if there is a problem here, or with you, or with the car that it’ll be covered.”

“Right.” You agreed gently, taking another solemn bite of toast. “Against my better judgement…” Simon continued, stepping across to sit opposite you at the kitchen table. “I’ve added you to my car insurance, use it when you need it, please don’t write it off.” There was almost teasing to his tone. “My driving isn’t that bad…” You grumbled and this only earned a smirk as he took another sip of his tea. “I’ve got all the utilities set up. The mortgage is on direct debit. I’m even paying that kid down the road to come a mow the garden whilst I’m gone, he’s happy to be making a little extra money and it’s one less thing for you to worry about, which means one less thing for me to worry about.” Simon explained.

A frown found your lips. “I’m capable of looking after myself and the house, you know…” Simon lets out a soft sigh then and replies. “I know, babe. I…” He seems to pause, as if taking a moment to find the right words. “I like to know that I’ve covered every possibility at home so I won’t have to worry when I’m out there…” Simon said it like out there was a very distant place, very cold, isolated and very far from you. “Okay?” Silently he was asking you to just trust him and give him these final few hours to make sure everything was set up in a way that gave him comfort, the comfort of knowing that you were safe at home. “Okay.”

The way that you watched the clock on the wall was like you were begging it for more time, making some kind of trade so that Simon wouldn’t need to go. Regardless of what you promised the time still came. There he stood loading his bags into the waiting cab, you stood a couple paces back wanting to give some space. “Let me drive you-” You attempted to persuade. “It’ll be too hard.” Simon answered with finality.

He closed the boot with a shunt and then turned to be looking at you. “It’ll be better to leave you here at home and then call you once I arrive on base. Okay?” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself too. “C’mon now…” He muttered, watching as finally the emotion broke over your face, all that strength crumbled and the tears began to trickle once again. “Oi…” Simon muttered, wrapping you into his warm strong arms. Those same arms you wouldn’t feel again for month. Your last embrace. “It’ll be easier like this. I promise. Easier for you. Easier for me.” Simon whispered, squeezing you so tight in his bulging arms. “I love you.”

It was something so rare and so emotional that you actually gasped, glancing up at him through your watery eyes. “Love you too.” Your words came out less controlled, spoken through a sob. “Love you.” You added, as if to make up for the initial emotional sentiment like Simon might have not been able to hear you over the lump in your throat. “Call me-” “I will.” There was a solid promise.

Then one final kiss. It was searing, his lips pressed against your own so hard that you thought he might bruise you. You never wanted this kiss to end. You didn’t want him to climb into the cab. You didn’t want his promises or his declarations of love and devotion. No, you just wanted him…

A second later Simon detangled you from his arms and climbed into the cab. He knew that one of you had to be strong in this moment and that you were never going to be the one to walk away, so he needed to. Even if it hurt more than being fucking shot Simon needed to step away. He had duty. He had honour. Someday maybe you’d understand, or maybe you never would, but he hoped that at least you’d find some type of normality without him around…

Once he’d arrived on base Simon got back into a routine seamlessly, everyone thought of him as the emotionless and stoic ‘Ghost’. That was all that he wanted to be to these people. The less they knew about his life the better, that way he could shield you from anyone using you against him. He’d never forgive himself… however, there was one person that needed to know. Officially, he needed to speak to Price, if the worst should happen you’d need to know.

It was late. Far too late to be doing all this, but Simon knew that his Captain would still be up. Rapping his knuckles hard against his door a voice called out and in he stepped. John sat at his desk, pouring over paperwork on his desk and gifting Simon a very tired smile as he entered. “Captain.” He kept his voice firm and professional as he entered. “Lieutenant, what do you need?”

For a moment Simon stood quietly, mouth pursed as if he racked his brains for the right words. “My next of kin…” “It’s blank – like we discussed.” About to dismiss him when Simon spoke again. “I need it changed.” John seemed shocked by these words, the argument that they had over not having one and now to have him so quickly change his mind. “What do you need from me?”

John blinked, once then twice before collecting a form from his desk. “Just jot their details down…” Passing over a pen as he watched Simon began to diligently fill in the boxes. His hand-writing was just as he expected, messy and haphazard, but his mind only went to Simon’s homelife… John wondered, did he have someone special? Who was it? What were they like? How long had they known each other? What was the relationship? All these questions that John wanted to ask, but knowing Simon wouldn’t get a single answer. “If I die, tell her.” Yanked back to reality with one simple sentence. “Not some letter. No some top brass. You tell her, Captain.” Sliding the piece of paper back in his direction. “Don’t tell her how - she won’t cope with that.” John nodded. “For fuck sake, don’t show her a body if there is one. She’d never sleep again.”

“Need you to make sure she gets access to my pension. I want every fucking penny of it going to her.” Simon placed down the pen hard on the table. “My house. My car. The shirt off my dead fucking back. I want it all going to her. Okay?” There was desperation in his tone. This was a conversation they were meant to be having 6 weeks ago, with legal and suits around to sign it all off. Not the night before he was going to be put on a plane into a warzone. “Simon-” “John, please…” He didn’t need to see the rest of his face to know that Simon was in anguish, his eyes were enough. “I’ll see that it happens.”

Masterlist | Ask | 10-04-2024

529 notes · View notes

jjkeverlast · 1 year

Text

accidental roommates | jjk (m)

✦ pairing dilf!jk x fem!reader

✦ genre/au's dilf!au, roommate!au, roommates to lovers, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, crack & teeny tiny sentimental angst

✦ summary moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace.

yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate.

✦ word count 14.7k 🌚

✦ author's note oh my god.... can you believe i actually finished this shit? lmao no me neither. i have to thank my amazing co-writer's for this collab @kooktrash & @jeonjcngkook for being extremely helpful when i've been stuck with some scenes! along with my favorite person and hyung @gimmethatagustd who was there whenever i needed to plan some scenes and for reading out my entire outline. also, big thanks to my beta @pjiminbloomx who took her time in listening me rant about this for over a month. i love you jyad. <3333 and just overall every single one of you who have encouraged me about this. i can't believe it got this long BUT hey! it didn't get above 15k which was my maximum for this fic. enjoy this super cracky and long stupid fic with these two idiots. <3

this fic is a part of illicit desires collab! go read the other stories if you're hungry for more dilf jungkook ;)

For the first time since a week ago, you’re finally able to breathe for once. The sigh you let out is comforting and freeing. The awful ruckus of moving has caused you to roam on the streets with a lack of sleep, eye bags that can be caught from miles away and a groggy voice not daring to disappear from your vocals. A mess really. You know it, your ex-roommate Ash knows it too and even though she and her partner are at fault here, it was bound to happen.

You see, Ash had met Lucca through a mutual friend, the mutual friend being you and you were surprised at how well they complimented each other. The night they met was filled with nervous glances and flushed red cheeks due to the excitement. They both deserved each other. So, when they finally announced their relationship with you, you were more than thrilled. Although, after a year of them dating they had come to the conclusion of moving in together, which was a big step for their relationship and a step back for you, due to you ending back to square one and having to find an apartment yourself.

The image of Ash’s expression when she kindly asked you to move within the next month was imprinted in your mind. She didn’t want to kick you out this way, but it was an important and big step into her relationship with Lucca, and the decision needed to be made regardless. You didn’t really have a say in this. Firstly, the apartment was Ash’s and in the end, it is her decision on whom she wants to share it with.

It took you a week. A whole week to find the perfect place for you. The pictures sold the place nicely, the living room looking spacious and decorated firmly with stable furniture and you being desperate to find anything you called the owner. The conversation went great. He was very quick on letting you get the apartment, sending you a confirmation email the day after you had agreed to the deposit. You were doing it, and it felt great.

Although, your lack of sleep had been caused by the last-minute packing, having to clear out your room as quickly as possible. It was mostly because of Lucca themselves, having to move out of their sister’s loft, so the timing was indeed tight. But hey, everything turned out well even though you look like a Yeti who hasn’t been able to find a place to rest. It’s fine really, now you’ll be able to at least lie down before unpacking everything.

With a trembling hand, you manage to push the code in, the door opens and you’re just about to step in when you look up and find a shirtless man in your apartment. You don’t say anything, the both of you staring each other down for a quick second before you manage to close the door, convincing yourself you’re hallucinating.

It’s a thing, Ash told you countless times whenever you managed to withhold an all-nighter in your shared place. First, there’s being overtired where every ounce of energy left bounces like a little child on a trampoline, then there’s the lack of sleep eating you alive although your eyes fail you to shut, being used to staying open, which creates the last step: hallucinations.

Maybe it’s the lack of sex which made you paint a beautifully sculpted man with tattoos only in a towel in front of you. You’re praising your brain for creating such a lively picture that causes you to grin and shake your head before you decide to re-enter.

He’s there again. Your horny hallucination.

The hallucination takes a turn when he screams into your face. ‘’What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!’’ It’s then that you snap yourself back to reality, realizing this indeed is a real person and you’ve managed to scare the shit out of them. The only thing you find yourself doing is screaming back, which turns into violent screaming in unison and by now half of the neighborhood is probably writing a complaint to this very apartment.

‘’What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!’’ You find the courage to finally scream back and the man in front of your eyes squints in discomfort, shaking his head as he swallows your words.

‘’Y-your apartment?’’

You fold your arms, scoffing as your head turns towards the open kitchen. ‘’Yes. Mine.’’

He begins to laugh, his abs tensing along with the rhythm and you hate yourself for growing hot over his upper body.

‘’You’re funny.’’ He points at you and to prove yourself to him, you look for the confirmation email that proves you have the right to own this place.

‘’Here.’’ He steps closer, the scent of his shampoo infiltrating your nostrils and you notice a form of sweet yet musky scent. While you’re too busy trying to ignore the scent, the man in front of you has his full attention on your screen. He smacks his lips, his composure straightening along. ‘’There has to be some sort of mistake.’’

You hum in agreement. How wrong could this possibly go? The only solution that comes to mind like a wave, is to call the owner. You hold a finger up, pausing for whatever word is about to come out from the stranger in front of you while it starts to dial. It quickly gets interrupted, by a voice telling you the number doesn’t exist. You refuse to believe it, so you continue to call three to four times while the man crosses his arms, sighing out loud. It’s at that moment you notice the detailed and colored tattoos covering his arm in a sleeve.

“He’s… he’s not picking up.” The defeat drags itself at your feet. The proof you once had to own this apartment is gone, except the confirmation email but then again there must’ve been some mistake — a big one to say the least.

“Do you honestly believe that?” His tone indicates he’s irritated and the water droplets on his skin have almost dried out — the fact that you notice scares you more than the situation you’re currently met with.

“I mean, clearly, you’ve been scammed.” The words swallow you whole, your composure losing against you and your head drops with your heart. Of course, it was too good to be true, because again since when have you ever been lucky when you’re on your own?

“Fuck.”

It seems as if you’ve lost, but you’re not willing to give up just yet. You spent all of your savings on the deposit and the last thing you’ll do is ask your strict parents for money, which isn’t only super hard but exasperating as well.

‘’Well now that this whole problem is settled, get out.’’ The tone is harsh and you flinch, tears threatening to spill as you slowly walk to the entrance.

‘’Wait—’’ You hold your hands up, your feet freezing down on the tiled floor and the stranger’s expression turns into pure disgust yet confusion. You aren’t really sure, your mind is basically clouded reasons being your lack of sleep. Which currently isn’t helping the situation you’re currently standing in. If only you could snatch it like Margot Robbie snatches bags and watches in ‘Focus’. This reminds you, you should probably watch it again, it was really good and—

‘’Hello?!’’ The sound catches you off guard, your eyes roaming back onto the half-naked stranger whose name still stays unknown.

‘’Just. Please.’’ You’re fucking tired and this was the last thing that needed to be added onto your plate yet you’re still standing, except you’re hopeless and homeless.

‘’Please?! Get. Out.’’

You drop down to your knees, your tears falling freely and you plead.

‘’I have nowhere to go. My old roommate is finally starting a new life with her partner, my parents are fucking strict and are the last I’m calling for help. I’m basically fucking homeless and I just wanted to lay down in my apartment after moving out last minute and sleep.’’ You’re rambling all kinds of nonsense, throwing a whole scene in front of a guy who’s stepped out of the shower. You feel bad but you’re lost. You have nowhere to go.

‘’Seriously, I’m fucked. Help me out, just— just for six months and I’ll be out of your sight.’’ Your voice cracks, every limb that has managed to withhold your posture, collapsing all together into one. You’re done.

A deep sigh catches your attention, your glossy eyes looking up to see a semi-smile resting on the guy’s face. ‘’Six months.’’ He repeats as he traces his fingers on the patterned ink, decorating his arm.

‘’Fine. Just don’t make me regret this. I’m Jungkook by the way.’’ Finally, you discover the name of the pretty stranger.

‘’Thank you. Thank you so much.’’ You’re holding yourself back from hugging him, mostly because of his naked chest and the last thing you need is to feel warm skin on your own. Instead, you introduce yourself and he smiles awkwardly making you reconsider your awful ruckus from before. You basically admitted how fucked your life is at the moment, bringing along the strict parents into the mix and we all know, this won’t end well.

A sudden cry snatches every ounce of your attention, coming from one of the rooms. Has someone been here all this time?

‘’Shit. I think we might’ve woken her up.’’ Her. Great, you’re gonna live with a clingy couple, after having no mercy in showing you were checking him out — multiple times. This is going to be absolute hell.

All while you’re imagining the messy and mostly awkward encounters you’re going to face while living with a couple, you don’t notice Jungkook walking back out accompanied by a certain someone.

‘’A baby?!’’ Great. Not only are you going to live with a couple, but their newborn baby too.

‘’You sound… surprised.’’ He decides to sit down, the baby’s head resting on his bare and tatted shoulder, doe-eyed and mouth agape.

‘’Where’s… where’s your girlfriend?’’ Shit. Are you even listening to yourself? You met this guy not even an hour ago and you’re already invading his private life with intense questions.

‘’Don’t have one. It’s just me and So-ah here.’’ He taps her back, a few burps escaping her as you stay quiet.

The scenery in front of you causes a faint smile to appear on the brim of your lips. If you weren’t determined to own the apartment yourself, you’d let every ounce of you swoon over how careful Jungkook is with his daughter.

Jungkook takes a hold of her, changing positions as she faces him, her eyes as big as his. It’s crazy how alike they look.

Your heart melts into a thick puddle when Jungkook rubs his nose against So-ah’s, a soft giggle sounding like a lullaby escaping her right after.

‘’Oh my god.’’ Jungkook’s mouth drops and before confusion seeps through you he continues. ‘’So-ah you just laughed for the first time.’’ Fuck. You’re so screwed.

‘’She’s adorable.’’ You smile fondly, Jungkook breaking eye contact with his daughter at your comment.

His eyebrows frown, clearing his throat as he shifts in his seat. ‘’Thanks.’’

Okay, there were exactly two things that fumed you over his flat-toned answer. One was that he was still a complete stranger and you’ve always felt somewhat threatened and uncomfortable when people you didn’t know made or said anything that clicked an icky feeling at the pit of your stomach, which quickly turns to irritation. Because here you are being fucking nice and you get this in return? What a fucking asshole. Second, it’s probably an ego thing, thinking he’s hot enough to get away with being quite literally rude. If it weren’t for his sudden act of rudeness towards your very tired Yeti-looking state you might actually grow fond of him, but that is all forgotten now.

You’re getting that fucking apartment.

Working as a kindergarten teacher meant a lot of things. Patience, energy, and consistency. For you to reach there before showing up at work, you’ll need to fuel your body with a smoothie.

The clock hasn’t even turned six when you push the mixer’s button, a loud noise erupts in the quiet apartment. Did you do this on purpose knowing Jungkook isn’t starting work yet? Maybe. Did he notice, is fucking angry and walking up to you at this moment? Very much so.

‘’Seriously? What the fuck?!’’ The shouting from your roommate pleases your early morning state and you force an annoying smile as you greet him with a cheerful good morning.

‘’It’s for work!’’ You push the button for a little longer, his eyes rolling back when So-ah starts crying in the room next to you. The daughter does make you feel an ounce of regret but that’s mostly because you love babies and she’s made a good impression on you already.

Jungkook groans in frustration, his grumpy state returning back to his daughter to soothe her while you hurriedly get to work. Your colleague is probably already there, having a different schedule than you.

Traffic isn’t terrible and you’ve caught onto the lost sleep that vanished during your moving week. As you reach work, Taehyung waves excitedly to you from the entrance, while holding a cup of coffee.

‘’You look awfully happy.’’ Taehyung remarks when you walk past him and inside, re-adjusting a few things before parents begin to arrive with their sunshine of kids.

‘’I am.’’ Your mood definitely has something to do with nailing to piss Jungkook off early in the morning. That’s what he gets for being a complete ass after you’ve embarrassed yourself multiple times and just trying to be kind.

‘’Care to tell me?’’ Taehyung moves his eyebrows, suggesting you got lucky and you quickly shut down the idea, shaking your head no along with you explaining it was an early win for you.

‘’I basically pissed off my roommate this morning. He’s an asshole so he deserved it.’’ You shrug your shoulders, Taehyung following behind you as you both make the place ready, the clock ticking loudly behind you.

‘’Roommate? I thought you had the place all to yourself?’’ Taehyung hadn’t gotten any updates from you since your stressful week, so it made sense for him to be completely lost when you mention Jungkook in the context of your cheerful mood this morning.

‘’I got scammed. But I’m not surprised. I’ve carried bad luck all my life and I blame it on my strict parents.’’ You joke, Taehyung chuckling nervously unsure rather you’re completely kidding or deadly serious. It’s hard to tell.

‘’Scammed, meaning the apartment you thought you had was already occupied?’’ Taehyung has lived in the city all his life, and he has been familiar with the scammers roaming in between others, and cheating the system who carries a blind eye.

‘’Exactly, and here I was thinking shit like that only happens in the movies.’’ You scoff at the ridiculousness of the overall situation. How come you ended here? Not only with a scam, but a buff tatted guy and his baby daughter? Truly fucking wild.

‘’Oh babe, you’d be surprised. So who’s the roommate? An old lady?’’ Taehyung jokes once again, the sounds of chairs clinging against each other roaming in the air, the both of you settling in the common room ready for the children.

‘’I wouldn’t exactly say an old lady…’’ Taehyung’s interest quirks an ounce higher, his movements stopping to a halt, waiting for you to spill.

‘’His name is Jungkook and he has a baby daughter named So-ah.’’ Taehyung’s face drops, eyes wide as his mouth hangs wide because clearly, no old lady is named Jungkook.

‘’If you tell me right now he’s hot, I’m gonna think you’re living out everyone’s fantasy.’’ Taehyung holds up his pointy finger, eyebrow intact with his overall movement and you cringe because you really don’t want to admit Jungkook is hot — even though you ogled his abs for a good 20 minutes the first time you met him.

‘’He’s—’’ You try to form words, your mind flashing images of Jungkook with wet hair, droplets of water covering his abs that tensed whenever he chuckled at your ridiculousness the day you got scammed.

‘’Oh my god… You’re living with a DILF.’’ The term Taehyung uses makes you wheeze, losing composure as you move your body along with the laughter that escapes you.

Taehyung doesn’t get more of a word before the first pair of parents walk in, hand in hand with their child. The day has just begun.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is currently taking care of So-ah. She hasn’t stopped crying since you decided to be annoying and flush down the good morning that Jungkook had anticipated. Maybe he should kick you out because right now his left ear hasn’t stopped ringing while his daughter’s face is almost pure red due to her countless cries.

‘’So-ah, please.’’ Jungkook places her down on his chest, her face rubbing on it, wetting it along, the discomforting sound continuing. Jungkook feels lost and he wants to revenge himself on you because you’re probably dancing at work while he’s here, with dark eye bags and a crying baby under his arm.

Sometimes it makes him wonder if it would be different if So-ah’s mother were still around. Maybe she wouldn’t cry as much. A mother’s touch is important for babies at her age and Jungkook feels guilty. In reality, he just wants So-ah to be okay, to feel understood, and frankly, at the moment understanding her is difficult. He continues to pat her back, rocking her back and forth in his gaming chair, set up by the computer that has an awaiting meeting for him in two hours. He can do this, he’ll just freshen up as soon as she goes back to sleep.

The day spins around faster than possible, the sun already setting behind the building in an orange glow and Taehyung is currently wiping down the mess that was left on the tables since lunch.

‘’So, regarding your dilf, is he single?’’ You’re close to spilling the scene where you asked Jungkook where his partner was only to get a no, which only made you more curious than before. It isn’t likely for you in the span of living to have met a single father. In most cases it’s single mothers, so to say you were surprised was an understatement.

‘’He— Yes, apparently he is.’’ You’re uncertain and Taehyung casually nods at the response, making you reconsider if you’re even allowed to be curious regarding Jungkook’s living situation.

‘’Well, this is the start of a beautiful love story.’’ You stick your tongue out in offense to Taehyung’s joke, while he cracks himself up, his boxy smile on display as well.

‘’You’re the worst.’’ He trails right behind you, as you close down the place and leave it behind for tomorrow.

‘’Right, but if anyone were to ask you’d still point at me for being the best colleague you’ve had.’’ He’s not entirely wrong and you get to prove it to him by remaining silent.

After you and Taehyung part ways, you hurry home in desperation to see if the grumpy expression is still remaining on Jungkook’s face from this morning. To your surprise, it isn’t. You find Jungkook sprawled on the couch, his chest exposed and his baby daughter laying on top of him, both of them breathing in sync.

If Jeon Jungkook didn’t open his mouth from time to time you’d start to like him, because seeing him sleep in complete silence makes him seem… not so bad as you had thought. But then again he was rude even though he certainly helped you out after your scam episode.

You decide to make dinner, leaving the both of them to rest while listening to soothing jazz music. Somehow with time passing by and the smell filtering through the apartment as it cooks, Jungkook stirs awake, So-ah along with him. He manages to push himself upwards, holding onto So-ah and finds you swaying as you cook in the open kitchen.

Memories cloud Jungkook’s mind back when he was still with—

‘’Oh! You’re awake.’’ You had felt a pair of eyes boring at your back, so when you turn to see Jungkook spacing out you make yourself noticeable.

‘’Yeah, smells great by the way.’’ It’s then Jungkook realizes he’s yet to wear a shirt and it’s become an accidental habit of being shirtless in front of you. The last thing he wants is for you to get the wrong signal.

‘’Thank you.’’ You take the compliment lightly, letting it pass by your head so your focus remains on the main goal; having Jungkook willingly move out.

Jungkook is completely oblivious to your plan, although it would make sense if he slowly started to catch on to your smoothie early morning surprise. But for now, you’re hungry and there’s still a good five months left before you leave each other’s sight.

The dinner turns out successful, So-ah doesn’t cry once and both you and Jungkook groan afterward, bloated from overeating. He thanks you before returning back to his room, leaving you to do all the dishes.

Great.

Living with Jungkook had run smoothly, your hopes in gaining the apartment fading the more time went by with him being extremely kind. It hadn’t offended you but you were certain he was rude and didn’t like you. But an early Monday morning, Jungkook proved to you exactly how much that apartment means to you.

You hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep that night, the walls a lot thinner than you had anticipated and So-ah had cried most of the night, not only waking her dad but you as well. Babies are wonderful creatures, but at night it surely paints a different motive than the one you’re being met with during the day.

Blaming Jungkook for your lack of sleep would be rude on your part, so you accept it by making a cup of coffee early morning. It was the next best solution and as you’re sitting on the counter, waiting for the water to boil, Jungkook walks in dressed in black joggers and a white t-shirt.

‘’Morning.’’ You’re holding back from laughing at how alike the both of you look. So-ah really destroyed you for the better. Jungkook joins in on the coffee solution, making his mug ready right next to you in silence.

When the water is ready, you jump down, pouring the warm water after adding a few teaspoons of instant coffee. Jungkook follows you right after, stirring it with his spoon. As you walk towards the refrigerator, Jungkook is quicker than you, pulling the milk out and pouring it into his mug.

‘’Could you pass me the milk?’’ Jungkook grins at your question and it’s then you notice he’s poured the remaining drops, leaving no milk for you. Fucking marvelous.

‘’Better luck next time.’’ He winks at you, slowly walking back to his room as you flick him off without him noticing.

Yeah, you definitely spoke too soon when you even let yourself think Jungkook might be a nice guy. He’s not and he just started a war.

Taehyung notices how different your state is today, the flatlined smile throwing him off guard. Being the good colleague that he is, he makes you sit down as he prepares everything.

‘’I’m not doing this for free, spill.’’ You groan out of tiredness and anger, holding your face that can barely keep up with everything around you.

‘’Fucking… Jungkook.’’ You squint your eyes, already plotting how you’ll manage to rip every part of him apart. Taehyung would lie if he admitted that you in your current state isn’t scaring the shit out of him.

‘’I was beginning to think he was remotely nice, until this morning.’’ Taehyung hums along, uncertain where exactly you’re heading with this conversation. It’s something Taehyung has learned about you in the past years you’ve worked alongside, your conversations always turn in a different direction no matter how precisely you start them.

‘’Taehyung, would you get pissed if someone took the rest of the milk when you’ve already prepared a cup of coffee?’’

‘’He didn’t—’’

Everything makes sense for Taehyung. Jungkook has practically started a war with you because one thing everyone should know when it comes to you is to never mess with your morning coffee. Specifically when you desperately need one.

‘’He surely fucking did.’’ You scoff out of disbelief. ‘’He even laughed when he emptied it.’’ The images flash through your brain once more, a betrayal that has caused a lot of damage to your already ruined morning state due to So-ah.

‘’Go make yourself some coffee, don’t let him get to your head for now. It’s not worth it.’’ Taehyung was right, it would stupid to hold milk accountable for Jungkook and your reasons for despising him. Hopefully, it was a mistake and you’ll return home with a better state of mind, Jungkook leaving you rather at peace.

You follow Taehyung’s instructions, walking inside the semi-small kitchen for staff, and begin making your fuel for the day.

Work turns out easier after you get coffee in your system, Taehyung takes most of the tasks throughout the day to ease down any forms of headaches that might come along due to your lack of sleep. Small moments and gestures like these, remind you how truly lucky you are to have a colleague like Taehyung. He has never made things more difficult, always managing to make everything easy and simple.

As soon as the clock strikes, parents fill up the entrance awaiting their children who are too busy playing outside, enjoying their free time. The sun has already moved down further, creating a beautiful sunset, whose golden rays move along the filled playground that’s messy due to every toy in sight being used throughout the day. The parents were kind enough to teach their kids to always clean up after themselves, leaving the entrance the remaining spot to clean. When you’re about to reach for a broom, Taehyung catches it before you.

‘’Go home. I got this.’’ His voice is stern as if he already knows you’re about to plead to do it yourself.

You let out a sigh, thanking him as many times as you can in the span of you dressing yourself up to go outside. Taehyung brushes you off, a semi-smile resting nicely on his framed face.

The apartment is empty, silent, and dark when you enter. You wonder where Jungkook must’ve gone, the sky from outside already an ounce darker than when you stepped out from work. You’re not too worried, your petty self still being remotely annoyed with the morning incident.

When you walk past the living room, you feel yourself crash down and watching a movie. It’s much needed after today and maybe it’ll slowly lull you to sleep. Since you were little, sleeping at night had always been a difficulty so a distraction in the background could likely push you towards the sleep you’ve been craving.

You settle on watching a crime film that piques your interest on Netflix. You’ve managed to add a bit more lighting inside the apartment, a few lamps surrounding the couch.

The plot starts to reveal itself, leaving you speechless as you bite down on the blanket, eyes fully open, trailing along whenever someone moves on screen. You’re just about to catch a big lead to why the certain murder occurred when Jungkook walks in with So-ah drinking from a bottle.

‘’Oh, hey.’’ You quickly say before averting your attention back on the screen. Jungkook squints his eyes, having trouble seeing the big screen but as soon as he catches on, he tsks.

‘’Wait— Isn’t that the film where the protagonist is actually the killer?’’ The moment Jungkook speaks, a clue leads to having the protagonist on the list of who might’ve done it and now Jeon Jungkook just asked for a ticket to hell.

‘’Are you fucking kidding me?!’’ You exclaim loudly, throwing both hands and arms in the air, frustration seeping through every vein coursing through your body. You’re seeing absolute red.

‘’Oh shit, my bad.’’ You aren’t even glancing towards him, but you can hear the shit eating grin he’s trying to suppress. You close your eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, remembering Taehyung’s words from earlier. It’s not worth it. He’s right, it truly isn’t and you’re being weak by letting small annoying things set you off like a grenade.

You’re not letting him win. Things have only just begun.

Returning the favor with annoying gestures had only turned the next two months into a living hell. The apartment went from walking on a dream to walking on eggshells. It had started with a minor mistake in the early morning with the dreadful lack of sleep and constant bickering. Your dreams of owning the apartment slowly crashing as you’ve been looking for new apartments, wanting to get furthest away from Jeon Jungkook and his annoying behavior.

If it weren’t for Taehyung you would’ve handled the situation differently, but Taehyung has always assured you to stand your ground and not let him get to you. Jungkook has already been kind enough for you to stay, so to make it easier, it’d be best not to mess it up by revenging yourself. But you badly wanted to. Just once. To see Jungkook’s face twist to annoyance in a mere second, while you try your best not to sing happily right after.

Although, the only thing keeping both you and Jungkook on the ground from ripping one's hair out, was So-ah. Her magical baby powers overrule the both of you, and her eyes are wide and full of hope for what’s to come.

When you had first moved in, Jungkook wasn’t exactly fond of you being near his daughter but with time and his suddenly busy schedule, he had you keep an eye out for So-ah who was distracting him too much with her cuteness. So-ah quickly loved your company, your small jokes, and countless attempts in making her giggle. Jungkook couldn’t keep you two away from one another, so he accepted it.

The weekend had finally rolled around and after a week of none other than small bickering and disagreements between you and Jungkook, you were finally at ease in your bedroom. The discussions between you were ridiculous — Taehyung’s words not yours. It could go from a minor detail, like the temperature in the apartment to a full-on debate on whether the film he wants to watch is better than your own choice.

As you’re laying in your bed, you look up at the painted dark blue ceiling, your curtains open, accepting the outside light to shine in. You’ve always loved the natural darkness and how it covers every room differently than if everything is covered, turning to full darkness. You turn constantly, your mind being more awake than you had anticipated. It humors you that you always feel exhausted after speaking with Jungkook, yet here you are alone full of energy.

Tossing and turning continue for what feels like an hour and you decide to give up. Rather than reading a book, you walk out to grab a glass of water, your throat feeling a bit dry. You figure Jungkook isn’t awake at three in the morning, which explains why you don’t put on pants, walking out in nothing but a satin white t-shirt, with black lace underwear.

Even though you don’t like Jungkook, you still show respect to him and his daughter by carefully walking to the kitchen to not make any sounds. The living room has the same light as your bedroom and as you’re about to turn, you bump into Jungkook. His skin feels warm, but you quickly pull away and Jungkook blinks at you with tired eyes.

‘’M’ sorry.’’ His voice is deep, groggy even and you collect the dots that Jeon Jungkook just woke up.

‘’All good.’’

Thankfully, Jungkook is too busy going to the bathroom to notice your sleeping attire that exposes half of your body. You sigh in relief, accidentally catching a glimpse of Jungkook’s ass, being hugged by his boxers as he walks further away from you.

You shake your head, ignoring what your eyes caught onto, focusing solemnly on getting water as planned.

You’re about to drink your last cup when Jungkook walks past you once again. You’re not in the mood to talk to him, so you chug your water wanting to leave the kitchen as quickly as possible. It doesn’t exactly go as planned, the water trickling by the corners of your lips, further down your shirt.

‘’Fuck.’’ You groan, realizing how much you’ve accidentally spilled. The fabric clings onto your breasts and as you’re about to pull on it, you catch Jungkook turning his head quickly from your direction. The action doesn’t throw itself in your head, instead, you become annoyed.

‘’What?’’ Why is he still standing here? Shouldn’t he already be back in his room by now?

‘’J-just grabbing some water.’’ Jungkook mumbles, his voice becoming an ounce lower and somehow it catches your attention that he sounds nervous?

‘’Be my guest.’’ You move further away, trying to cover your lower half who’s exposing too much to your roommate who has managed to piss you off for two months straight with absolutely no reason.

Jungkook keeps his eyes on the sink, although you throw a glance at him and you really wish you hadn’t. His arms are flexing as they hold onto the counter, and the prominent veins and lines of his definite muscles are showcased. You begin to notice each small detail of his tattoos that have managed to flow into one big art piece on his arm.

You’ve been too annoyed with Jungkook to notice the minor details of him. His Adam's apple bops in the rhythm of the gulps he takes, almost inhaling the water quickly. Somehow your body reacts quicker than your mind, shivers coursing through your body the longer you stand and watch Jungkook. The staring gets cut off when Jungkook places the empty cup down on the counter.

He throws a glance your way, your skin already feeling hot by the close space. ‘’Well, goodnight.’’ Jungkook walks past you, your faces inches apart for a split second before he’s gone from your sight.

When you lay back down in your bed, your heart is beating incredibly fast and your body doesn’t stop growing hotter. What is wrong with you? This is Jungkook. As in your roommate, who’s made it his life’s mission in pissing you off and almost made you explode like a grenade for the whole world to see and the neighborhood to hear.

All while you’re wondering why exactly your brain feels fuzzy, Jungkook is freaking out in his room. His dick has managed to betray him. He blames it on his lack of hookups, but deep down he knows it was because of you. His mind had fogged for a minute when he caught a glimpse of what was hiding underneath your t-shirt, but as soon as the water dripped down he didn’t even have to try and guess. He’s angry and frustrated at himself and if it were possible to have a one-on-one fight with his dick, he would’ve. His body had only betrayed him and that made him certain that he had to stay far away from you.

Although, whenever Jungkook closed his eyes he could see your naked thighs, and the black lace seeping through the material of your shirt. He could see the water dripping down your neck, rolling further down your chest and creating a wet patch on your—

This has to stop. Jungkook begins to think of everything that turns him off until his state finally gives in, letting him sleep.

It takes longer for you. Your mind has always loved to play tricks, letting you imagine the what if’s of every situation you’re met with. They’re simple at first, only showcasing what you had seen earlier when your eyes didn’t stop studying every minor detail on Jungkook. But then they turn an ounce wilder. You’re tracing your fingers on the ink, while his arm is holding onto your waist, keeping you close and letting you feel his warm breath against your cheek.

Fuck.

Do you… do you want Jungkook?

Taehyung notices it the moment you step into work, how quiet you are, not daring to meet his eyes when he cheerfully greets you. Something happened and you’re not exactly proud of it.

‘’So, am I gonna have to ask or are you going to tell me what happened?’’ Your eyes pop open, gulping down as you mumble out a weak ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ and quickly move on with your tasks for the day.

Taehyung isn't letting that slide so easily and sooner or later he’ll either find out for himself or you’ll tell him out of panic.

It takes Kim Taehyung exactly four hours to know exactly what has been bothering you and just as you’re about to leave the kindergarten, he decides to bring it up.

‘’You want to fuck him.’’ You stop in your tracks.

Okay, now is the time to use your fifth grade theater skills and act as if Taehyung didn’t speak your thoughts out in the open.

‘’Fuck Jungkook? As in Jeon Jungkook, my annoying roommate who’s made my living situation a living hell the last two months? Oh please.’’

‘’Y/N, you know that doesn’t work on me.’’ You sigh loudly, rolling your eyes.

‘’Fine, fine!’’ You throw your hands in the air, giving up and Taehyung just shakes his head over your dramatic antics.

‘’I thought you, ‘hated his guts’.’’ Taehyung quotes you from the past hundred conversations you’ve had regarding your roommate and the new banter you’ve yet shared before you left for work.

‘’I still do! This will fade, do not worry.’’ Not only are you trying to convince Taehyung, but yourself as well.

Taehyung doesn’t argue with you. You have enough on your plate already and he knows you’re very much conscious of the mess you’ve brought upon yourself.

When you leave work and Taehyung, your phone starts to ring in your pocket and you’re thrilled to see Ash’s name displayed.

‘’Hi!’’ Your friend cheerfully greets you and the conversations immediately flows. She tells you how amazing it’s been living with Lucca and how they’re currently making her favorite dish.

‘’That’s great babe.’’ When she’s about to ask you how your new apartment is, Lucca cuts her off, talking on the phone instead.

‘’Y/N, come over! We have your favorite wine.’’ The offer tempts and you agree, taking transportation towards your old apartment. It doesn’t even faze you to text Jungkook that you’ll come home a bit later, too excited to see your friends again after so long.

Jungkook has just finished changing So-ah’s diaper, when he realizes it’s dark outside and you haven’t come home yet. Just as he begins to worry, he scolds himself internally for worrying about you as if he even cares about you in the first place. You’re doing fine without him. Right?

So-ah grabs Jungkook’s attention when she manages to roll over for the first time and Jungkook cheers her on, grabbing her face to give her kisses everywhere, her small arms flapping excitedly.

‘’Wait, you have a roommate?’’ Lucca asks, as they pour a glass of wine in your almost empty glass. You find yourself sighing whenever Jungkook is mentioned and you quickly see the images of his body against the natural darkness in the kitchen.

‘’Yes, two actually.’’

You spend the following thirty minutes explaining your scam situation, Jungkook and his baby daughter now being your roommates for the next six months. You mention your irritation towards Jungkook due to his annoying antics, and the kitchen encounter.

‘’Woah.’’ Ash’s mouth has gone dry from keeping it open for a while, and Lucca doesn’t hesitate to drink up the rest of the wine in their glass.

The situation is indeed complicated and overwhelming and you chug along with Lucca on the wine while Ash starts coughing.

‘’But listen, just because I’ve thought about it doesn’t mean I would.’’ Excuses, that’s all you can bring to the table and Ash rolls her eyes at your ridiculousness.

‘’Are you fucking kidding me? You haven’t had sex for almost a year. Babe, sorry but you’re gonna cave.’’

Your mouth drops in offense and you turn to get Lucca on your side, but they stay quiet which indicates they agree with every word.

‘’S-seriously? You’re gonna pick Ash’s side over mine?’’ You point at your ex-roommate who smirks, knowing she’s won.

‘’Y/N, you need a distraction.’’ Ash speaks first, holding onto both of your hands for comfort because she’s worried, you can see it in her eyes that slightly crinkle when she speaks.

‘’A distraction?’’

‘’Yes, someone who isn’t Jungkook.’’ Lucca winces at the idea, watching Ash explain an idea that’s nothing but awful and stupid.

‘’Um, maybe this isn’t—’’ Lucca tries to butt in, but Ash is stubborn.

‘’Nonsense. Isn’t your friend Han-bin still single?’’

‘’Well, yes but—’’

‘’Perfect. Y/N, you should go on a date with Han-bin. Not only is he a very sweet guy, but he’s an excellent cook.’’ Ash tries her best to sell Han-bin as best as possible for you, and at this point you’re desperate to try anything. Anything to get Jungkook and his beautiful body out of your mind.

‘’Okay, you can give him my number.’’ Lucca is about to throw a fight with Ash, but you’ve already agreed so there’s no point.

‘’You’re not going to regret this babe.’’ Ash convinces you but deep down your gut feeling shifts uncomfortably at the idea.

Two and a half weeks. That’s how long it takes for you and Han-bin to find some time for the date that he’s planning. The pictures frame him nicely and it’s no lie that the guy is attractive, although your mood is dreading a weird feeling that you can’t exactly pinpoint.

As you walk towards the exit, Jungkook notices how nicely dressed you are. Normally you don’t bother adding a formality to your outfits, but this… this is too classy, just not you.

‘’Going somewhere?’’ You turn your head, Jungkook watching you from the couch as So-ah is laying on his legs, holding onto her dad’s pinky.

‘’Actually, yes I am.’’ You answer confidently, holding tightly onto the strap of your bag. The bag whom your mom gifted you for your eighteenth birthday, when in reality you just wished for Jackson Wang merch. The bag is more expensive than your rent, and you feel weird using it today. Somehow you aren’t that comfortable being yourself yet, also the restaurant Han-bin has picked out is way too expensive for you to just wear your casual attire.

‘’But, I’m gonna be late for my date so I’ll see you later yeah?’’ Jungkook tries not to react to the word date, but his jaw clenched as he tries to force out a fake smile.

‘’Good for you.’’ Jungkook expects you to leave right away, but you catch him by surprise, walking towards him and So-ah.

‘’Bye, pretty.’’ You squish her cheeks softly, as she coos excitedly and Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at the love seeping through the room. His daughter watches you with careful eyes as you remove yourself from the frame, walking towards the front door and Jungkook’s heart doesn’t stop pounding, he thinks he might faint.

You’ve only been gone for an hour and Jungkook can’t stop thinking about you. His mind constantly brings back the small kitchen encounter and how both your faces were inches apart for a split second before he continued to walk towards his room.

He needs to make this stop. He’s here at home groaning and frustrated over you, you who’s currently on a date and having a wonderful time.

‘’So, then my roommate proceeded to drink the same water!’’ Han-bin explains jokingly and you’ve lost track of the many gross experiences he’s had with his four roommates. You’ve lost your appetite halfway through, the gross details clouding your mind, but thankfully it’s that and not Jungkook.

Before you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, Han-bin compliments your hair and you smile at the sincerity of his comment. It makes you realize that Jungkook has never once pointed out something great about you. Wait, why are you even thinking about Jungkook?

There’s only one solution for Jungkook to get you out of his mind. He’s collected the dots and it’s because he hasn’t sex for a year that he’s acting this way. You just managed to set him off. It’s nothing more personal than that.

So, easily he’ll just need to get out there, maybe Jimin would be down to go clubbing tonight, and hopefully Jungkook gets to take someone home. Which explains why he’s now talking to his sister, arranging for her to have So-ah for the weekend. She gladly accepts, her husband shouting nonsense in the background which causes Jungkook to laugh before his sister has to hang up, because her husband is messing up everything in the kitchen.

The date for you might’ve started out a bit weird, but slowly you realize Han-bin is a really nice guy and you enjoy talking to him. The conversation has a good balance, both of you speaking equally about interests, experiences…

‘’Want me to walk you home?’’ Han-bin suggests.

You have a lot on your mind, even though you managed to have a nice evening it doesn’t stop the nonsense that you’ve created for yourself regarding your roommate who you have the hots for.

‘’I’m okay, thank you for tonight Han-bin.’’

It’s a little over midnight when you arrive home. The apartment is dark which is code for bedtime for the whole house. So, you play quietly, tiptoeing to your room and trying your best to not make a sound.

You hear a sudden whine echoing in the apartment, and before you can ask any questions, Jungkook’s name is being moaned loudly and your body freezes in place. You’re stuck. Although, the moans don’t slow down, only increasing — the thin walls doing no favor for you.

Emotions are all over the place. You don’t know if you’re angry, irritated, sad, happy, uncomfortable… you’re just stuck with no words.

As you finally lay down, you squish your third pillow over your head, blocking out the skin slapping sounds and somehow — weirdly — the situation motivates you to get Jeon Jungkook out of your head.

Step one to get Jeon Jungkook out of your head, find a clubbing partner.

‘’Taehyung, shut up you haven’t done anything else than complain about the lack of sex you’ve been experiencing lately.’’ You reason, as you look through your closet for eye-catching clothes that surely will get you laid.

‘’Fuck you, you always know what to say to get me to agree.’’ With a groan Taehyung finally says the magic word, telling you he’ll see you later. This was easier than you had expected.

Step two to get Jeon Jungkook out of your head, find a club loaded with hot people.

Thankfully, Taehyung knows his way around town and the club he’s picked out is perfect. As soon as you both step in, the neon lights catch you off guard along with the hard base and the moving dance floor.

Going out with Taehyung is fun, until he’s shoving his tongue down a guy’s throat. Apparently they met by the bar, and Taehyung being the flirt, persuaded the stranger easily.

Sipping on your straw, you keep your eyes on a lookout for a potential hookup. Most are occupied, either sexting someone or having someone close by. The bartender in front of you notices the wearing frown that covers your beautiful face.

‘’You okay?’’ The unrecognizable voice catches you off guard and when you set eye on the bartender, your mouth tries not to drop.

The bartender is wearing a tight black t-shirt, showcasing his pecs and built shoulders. His hair is long, pulled behind a snapback. He looks at you with a worried expression, holding onto the counter.

‘’I’m okay.’’ You force a smile.

‘’Come on, I can tell something is bothering you. I’m all ears.’’

The offer is kind and just as you’re about to say no, the bartender continues.

‘’Listen, I couldn’t help but notice your friend making out with that guy for the past thirty minutes.’’ You turn around, Taehyung is still going at it and you roll your eyes over your colleague being better than you at getting some.

‘’Yeah, he’s got more luck than myself.’’ You sigh, folding your arms over the counter and the bartender cracks a laugh.

‘’Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get lucky.’’ He winks and your body grows hot.

‘’I’m giving it an hour, or else I’m leaving.’’ You crack, and the bartender raises his eyebrows.

You watch as the bartender walks to the far side of the bar and comes out front to stand right in front of you. He towers over you and you have to lift your head to look into his eyes, watching as they darken. One of his hands snakes around to the small of your back as he pulls you towards him. Your chest is flushed against his own and now you can really feel the hardness of his pecs and your mouth waters. He places his other hand around to the side of your neck, lowering himself closer to your face. His lips ghost your ear, the skin making the slightest contact as he speaks.

"You don't need an hour."

A shiver rakes through your body at the proposition.

"I don't even know your name," you say with a hint of a giggle laced in your tone.

"The name's Namjoon.’’ You nod, tracing your finger on his broad shoulder while his eyes continue to explore every inch of you.

‘’Y/N.’’

His grip tightens on you, and before you get a chance to speak Namjoon beats you to it.

‘’Wanna get out of here?’’

It takes nothing more than for you to drag Namjoon home with you, leaving Taehyung and his hookup behind.

Namjoon is bold that you’re completely blown away by his confidence. He’s managed to make you wet before even reaching your apartment. His words only build up the intensity of the situation and when you finally reach the front door, you look back, Namjoon biting on his lip as he patiently waits.

When the code is pushed in, you grab Namjoon by the collar of his bomber jacket, until you reach your room.

Namjoon doesn’t waste another minute, grabbing you once again by the waist to connect your lips in a needy and passionate kiss. It’s full of tongue, along with lip bites. You whine against them when the tip of his tongue coats your bottom lip as he mischievously smirks.

Your hands tug on his neck, pulling him as close as you can, all while his hands slip under your shirt and roam on your naked back. His hands are slightly cold, sending a shiver. With enough pulling on each other’s clothes in desperation, Namjoon is the first to pull away trying to catch his breath.

‘’Take off your shirt.’’ You don’t hesitate to obey, tugging on your top in a hurry before it lands on your bedroom floor.

Jungkook had just finished a last minute task at work, realizing he had enough time for a game of Overwatch. He’s focused on aiming, the mouse moving at a speed, along with the clicks on his keyboard. Just as he’s about to reach a win, he hears the front door lock.

He removes his headset, in doubt if he should walk out and greet you, ask you about your night with Taehyung or stay and play stubborn. The decision gets made for him, when he hears an unfamiliar voice coming from your room.

Wait.

Namjoon hovers over you, his hands wandering over your upper body, not missing one inch. His warm breath almost swallows you whole as you slowly spread your legs further beneath him.

He catches the signal quickly, moving more downwards, letting his mouth trail wildly on your naked skin. He nips at it softly, before replacing it with a wet kiss.

As he’s reached further down, Namjoon locks eyes with you, supporting both hands on your waist.

‘’Can I eat you out?’’

When Jungkook hears the first moan from your room, he feels instant irritation. In reality, it’s not anything he can actually get mad about, when not even twenty four hours ago, he was knees deep in a stranger. But something ticks in Jungkook when he hears how someone else is making you moan like that.

‘’Ah— Fuck!’’ Your grip tightens on Namjoon’s long dark hair, his tongue rolling over your clit in circles.

Namjoon is making sure you feel every inch of pleasure, taking his time with his mouth and fingers. You’ve forgotten how great it feels, and Namjoon was definitely the right guy to bring home.

His mouth pushes further against your core, lapping his tongue wherever it can reach and your legs begin to shake under his touch. It’s been a while for you, so your body doesn’t hold you back any further from the reaching orgasm, coming from beneath you.

Jungkook has blocked out the sounds from your room with his headphones. The sounds from Overwatch are helping him hear only the gunshots and effects the game carries, yet the sounds don’t stop him from feeling a tinge of jealousy. He doesn’t want to admit it, too stubborn to do so. But the thought of someone making you come this second, settles itself as an uncomfortable pit in his stomach and he grabs his mouse more aggressively, frustration coursing through his veins.

What are you doing to him?

Time passes quickly, both you and Jungkook distancing each other from one another. You barely throw a glance at one another. For example, yesterday when Jungkook passed by the living room, you were sitting in silence as New Girl rolled in the background. He knows you could hear him passing, but you didn’t even bother to acknowledge him. Jungkook wishes deep down that the action didn’t hurt him, but somehow it did and now he can’t be around you for his own well being.

Which results in one month of barely any contact.

Although, it changes the day Jungkook has to go to a meeting. His boss was okay with him bringing So-ah, as Ji-eun didn’t have time to pick her up for a few hours — and he surely didn’t want to ask you.

So-ah behaves, zero disturbance caused to the meeting and Jungkook lets her hold his pinky while his boss throws in the plan for the upcoming year.

When the meeting ends, Jungkook gets a lot of praise from his boss which flusters him as he leaves the building.

‘’Ready to go home So-ah?’’ She responds with her mouth doing all kinds of noises. She’s slowly growing more, and Jungkook is touched of how beautiful his daughter is becoming with each passing day.

Going home doesn’t go as planned. You see, Jungkook had always worked from home, due to his job consisting of mostly online work. So he barely leaves the apartment except for grocery shopping or to meet Jimin. Which is the reason behind his big mistake; forgetting his keys.

It was a new system. The code for opening doors had been dropped after scam episodes had increased. Last month the whole residency got new locks along with a pair of keys.

Jungkook hates himself, because now there’s only one solution and he really doesn’t want to go there.

When he pulls up by the kindergarten, Jungkook mentally prays the interaction won’t be awkward. Not that it hasn’t been awkward the last month, but this is different. He’s about to enter your workplace for a goddamn key, because his ass rushed out the apartment instead of being smart and double checking that he had everything before leaving in a hurry.

You’re gonna hate him for this. He can already imagine the slight frown you’ll have, trying your best not to scold him harshly.

It’s empty when Jungkook walks in, So-ah sitting comfortably in the infant car seat, which Jungkook holds onto tightly.

‘’Hello?’’ He calls out, the hallway completely deserted. That’s until a man peaks his head out, raising both brows.

‘’Hi, can I help you?’’ He walks towards him, drying his hands in what seems to be a cloth.

‘’Hi, yes. I’m looking for Y/N.’’

The man in front of him drops his mouth before it turns to a boxy grin.

‘’Oh my god. Are you Jungkook?’’ The face Jungkook makes, proves the man’s assumption.

‘’Taehyung? Could you help me with— Jungkook?’’ He turns to see you, your brows in a frown as he suspected.

‘’Oh, you’re Taehyung?’’ Jungkook completely ignores your confused state, too excited to meet the Kim Taehyung that his roommate is very fond of.

‘’An honor.’’ Taehyung bows comically, and Jungkook cracks a laugh from the action. Just as Taehyung is about to crouch down to greet So-ah, you step further, meeting Jungkook eye to eye.

‘’Jungkook? What are you doing here?’’ You ask.

Taehyung ignores your question, greeting So-ah gently as Jungkook explains to you the situation. He tries to make himself sound less stupid than he was in the situation, but you don’t seem to buy it.

You sigh, crossing your arms. ‘’How do you even forget a key?’’ Great, you’re starting a fight.

‘’It just happened, now can I borrow yours so I can get home?’’ Jungkook’s tone is a bit snappy, and you notice, quickly fuming on the inside.

Taehyung notices the tension, sending a glance to So-ah that screams ‘am I seeing this too?’ So-ah starts laughing and Taehyung knows internally that she agrees with him. He loves her already.

‘’Fine, just— Don’t let this happen again.’’ You say sternly, before walking away to grab your keys.

‘’Trust me, it won’t.’’ Jungkook rolls his eyes when your back turns.

You aggressively shove the keys in Jungkook’s hand, Taehyung still having a conversation with So-ah throwing funny glances, but neither you nor Jungkook notice, too busy staring each other down.

‘’Great.’’

‘’Great!’’ Jungkook responds more aggressively, saying a calm goodbye to Taehyung who excitedly waves to So-ah. And then he’s out of there faster than lighting.

‘’Jesus, what crawled up your asses?’’ Taehyung asks, scoffing in disbelief.

‘’Nothing. Now come help me with the outdoor tables.’’

He doesn’t ask any further, seeing you really don’t want to talk about it this moment.

Jungkook has already started to cook when you ring the doorbell. He opens, greeting you with the expression he left you with at work.

You return the same energy, not speaking to him as you remove your coat.

You’re about to walk into your bedroom, to avoid Jungkook when So-ah catches your attention in the living room, rolling around on her own and chewing on a toy. She’s too cute to ignore, so you decide to join her, sitting beside her as you squish her cheeks in a playful manner.

‘’Look at you, you’ve grown so much.’’ You can’t believe you’ve been a witness to So-ah’s growth. She’s already able to grab onto things, rolling around and rocking back and forth which is a sign she’ll be able to crawl soon.

As you continue to play with her, letting her explore and sing as she babbles all kinds of nonsense, Jungkook turns to watch the scene.

You’ve always been careful with So-ah, grasping her as your own and caring a lot for her. He’s noticed how So-ah barely cries anymore, being more calm in your presence. He can get used to this, watching you play with his daughter as he cooks for all three of you. He’s at peace, comfortable with everything in front of him and—

The realization hits Jungkook.

He doesn’t hate you.

You don’t know exactly the moment you realized you didn’t hate Jungkook. It just happened. One day you were in the kitchen and he walked past you, minding his own business and you didn’t have any urge to throw a remark. No, you felt at ease, letting your eyes admire him rather than watch him out of spite.

Panic seeped through you when you looked at the overall situation. You don’t hate Jungkook, you’ve thought about fuc— Shit. What does this mean? Do you… do you like him?

That’s crazy, there’s no way you’re possibly liking Jungkook or even starting too. Which is why you agree to go on yet another date with Han-bin. Last time hadn’t turned out that bad. The company was nice, you felt comfortable and yet something just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the gross experiences Han-bin wasn’t so afraid to share with you, or maybe… because he isn’t a certain someone.

No.

You’re going on that date.

The moment you leave the apartment, Jungkook is taking his afternoon nap with So-ah so you don’t bother notifying him where you’re going. There’s a certain ache in your heart the closer you are to the location picked out by Han-bin.

Once again, it’s too fancy for your liking but Han-bin makes the environment comfortable with the company of his wild stories. They’re less gross this time and you find yourself laughing at a few of them.

Time flies rather quickly with Han-bin’s company. If this weren’t a date, you’d be more at ease because Han-bin is a kind person. But dating him might be a stretch for yourself, seeing your mind keeps tracing back to your roommate who probably still hates your guts.

‘’Hey, can I be honest with you?’’ Han-bin throws you off guard with his question, but you nod regardless.

‘’I’ve had a great time hanging out with you but,’’ Han-bin looks at you with a genuine and soft smile, ‘’I don’t really think there’s that spark you know?’’

‘’Spark?’’ Sure, you’ve dated a few people in the past but no one threw the word spark in the conversation. You think it’s cliché, like every romantic comedy who makes the spark obvious from the beginning. The spark that messes with the main character and their love interest, them tumbling against it until they get in a fight or have to share the same bed, which results in them sharing a passionate kiss and one of them magically proclaims the love they’ve always had for that person.

That surely doesn’t exist in real life.

‘’You know, the spark where you know that this person is much more to you. Someone who isn’t just a friend.’’ Han-bin says, his tone laced with hopefulness. It’s then you realize that Han-bin is a romantic, a person who believes in having a special someone for the rest of their life.

‘’Yeah. I’m sure you’ll find that Han-bin. You’re a great guy.’’

‘’Wait, you’re not angry?’’ It’s cute how scared he is to offend you.

‘’No, no of course not. I see where you’re coming from.’’ Han-bin’s shoulders loosen at your words, feeling more at ease since he’s decided to throw it in the conversation.

Before you depart your ways, you both come to an agreement of keeping in touch as friends.

Arriving late at the apartment, you move quietly by the entrance. As you’re reaching your bedroom, Jungkook catches you off guard.

‘’Sorry, did I wake you?’’

Jungkook shakes his head, ‘’you’re all good.’’ He doesn’t deny it and you feel a tinge of guilt, seeing the time is past midnight once again.

You’re about to enter your bedroom door with a simple goodnight, when Jungkook catches you off guard with a question.

‘’Hey, where were you?’’ Jungkook is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed which only showcase more of his prominent chest and his sleeve sneaking out of his loose t-shirt.

‘’On a date.’’ You respond coldly, letting go of the handle.

Jungkook hums, mumbling something along the lines of, ‘’I figured.’’ It throws you off, in a not so cute way.

‘’What’s that supposed to mean?’’ It’s almost as if he spoke in a tone for you to hear on purpose, and you’re falling into his trap.

He shrugs lightly. ‘’Nothing.’’ He’s about to turn around, wearing a smug smile when you continue, setting yourself up for whatever he’s trying to do.

‘’Clearly it was something.’’

‘’Not really.’’ His unbothered attitude sets you off like a grenade, and you’ve finally lost your cool with Jeon Jungkook.

‘’You know what? You drive me fucking nuts!’’ You aren’t bothered to care how much you’ve raised your voice.

‘’You’re always pissing me off! For no fucking reason!?’’ Your face feels hot, the anger spilling out of you.

Jungkook scoffs, unfolding his arms and moving closer to you.

‘’I pissed you off because you started this! With your fucking morning smoothie.’’ He isn’t helping with the noise, raising his voice as much as you.

‘’That was one time. Do you need me to quote every time you’ve managed to throw me off?!’’ Your veins are straining against your neck, giving everything you have into your shouting.

‘’Go ahead!’’

‘’You took the rest of the milk. You spoiled the movie I was currently watching. You threw remarks whenever I did the slightest thing, and now? Now you’re commenting on my date!’’

Jungkook rolls his eyes at your comment, not bothering to answer you. Yet you continue, because you’re fueling on the inside.

‘’You have no rights, when you were fucking someone else!’’ You’ve given the signal that you were somehow affected by it, and Jungkook quickly catches it.

‘’You sound jealous.’’

‘’I’m not.’’ You cross your arms, determined to not let him think otherwise.

‘’Just admit it!’’

Your faces are mere inches apart, both panting at a rapid pace. The whole room is heated and you feel yourself sweat underneath your shirt from all the shouting.

‘’Fuck you.’’ It’s barely a whisper.

Neither of you move. Eyes are wandering on each other’s faces and that’s when you notice Jungkook’s gaze dropping down to your lips.

You’re seeing red, although your body feels heated as you move closer, Jungkook’s breath melting into yours.

Jungkook studies your gaze, before he moves closer, his lips about to brush against yours.

Just as you’re about to lean in yourself, So-ah starts crying next door, snapping the both of you out of your trance.

‘’I– I better…’’ Jungkook starts.

‘’Y-yeah, go ahead.’’ You stutter, moving further away and when Jungkook leaves the hallway, you breathe out.

What the actual fuck.

The following days you avoid Jungkook like the plague. You’ve never been more confused and irritated before. And yet, you can’t stop thinking about it. How close his face was, how his lips were about to seek yours until So-ah started to cry.

Decisions need to be made. You can’t continue on like this. You need to talk to Jungkook, without screaming at him and wanting to rip his face off.

As you’re laying under the covers, your thoughts are spiraling around you. You’re contemplating if you should ask him to talk now, because your mind won’t let you rest if you don’t.

Fuck it.

You get up in a hurry, walking in a straight line directly to Jungkook’s room. After a few minutes of just staring Jungkook’s door down, your body gives in, knocking on his door calmly.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised to see you.

‘’Hey.’’

‘’Hi, can we talk? No fighting, just talk.’’ Jungkook nods, grabbing a hoodie by his desk.

Jungkook doesn’t want to wake up So-ah, so you sit outside, with a cup of tea. It was your idea. Somehow tea always managed to calm down your nerves, and if you wanted to withhold your promise to not fight, you needed to drink some tea along the way.

‘’What did you want to talk about?’’ He sounds nervous, and your mind re-directs you back to when the both of you were about to kiss in the heat of the moment.

Instead of bringing that onto the table, you want to ask Jungkook some things that have never left your mind since you moved in.

‘’It’s more a question.’’ You make it clear and Jungkook turns his head, nodding for you to continue.

‘’What happened? Why is it only you and So-ah?’’

Jungkook lets your question sink in. He’s uncertain if he wants to talk about it, or rather with you. It has somehow been easier for him to distance himself, push you away as much as he could, but that isn’t enough.

You’re still here, sitting next to him as you admire the stars while awaiting his answer.

The silence overflows, the wind curving itself as a comfort blanket around you both as you admire the small lights peaking out in the city.

Jungkook has always been scared of your curious gaze, yet now, it makes sense for him to tell you everything, let his shield down and give you everything that’s needed for you to understand him completely.

It’s what is needed for you to stop fighting and stepping on each other for no reason.

‘’Her name was Seul-ki.’’ You turn, surprised he’s answering your question and you stay quiet, letting Jungkook speak.

‘’She was always selfish. I should’ve known better.’’ Jungkook trails his finger against the mug, images of Seul-ki flooding his mind.

He looks up, meeting your eyes and you smile softly at him. The smile brings an unwanted comfort, but it helps Jungkook to go through with answering your question fully,

‘’So-ah was around one month when Seul-ki got a huge opportunity for her career. She didn’t hesitate to take the chance. But with So-ah, it made it difficult for her to go through with it, so she wanted to give So-ah up for adoption and I just—’’ Jungkook takes a deep breath, slightly beginning to tremble.

‘’I couldn’t. I couldn’t let her do it.’’ Jungkook’s hand trembles against the mug, keeping his emotions locked in, even though they’re close to breaking out.

‘’So, she left us.’’

‘’That must’ve been really hard for you.’’ You’re trying your best not to hold him for comfort, knowing he isn’t exactly fond of you. But something aches in you when you see the tremble he’s currently carrying and how his voice has turned broken.

‘’Yeah.’’ He’s in doubt of what to say. But something in him continues, letting his inner thoughts win him over. Every frustration, pain and heartbreaking moments he’s felt since Seul-ki left.

‘’Sometimes I wonder if I have made the right choice. In the beginning So-ah would cry constantly, she’d be distressed and I couldn’t help because I’m not her mother. Sometimes you just need both of your parents and she— she hasn’t…’’

‘’Jungkook.’’ Your warm hand lands on his, catching him off guard.

‘’You’re an amazing dad. So-ah doesn’t need anyone else. You’re all she needs.’’ Your voice is soothing, melting him softly. He believes every word, trusting you much more than he had anticipated and with the hopeful eyes you’re giving him, he knows he’ll be okay. So-ah and him will be okay, without Seul-ki.

‘’Thank you.’’ Jungkook smiles, the first genuine smile he’s given you since you moved in.

You stay in place, letting the silence sink in between you as the cold wind flows.

The starry night is beautiful, alive even. Sparkling and twinkling above you, reminding you of the beauty behind this earth. As you admire the details, Jungkook looks at you, his heart healing the longer he does and he never wants to let go of this moment.

Everything becomes easier. You and Jungkook don’t fight anymore, instead you talk and grow closer as time passes.

You’re still looking for a new apartment, even though the tension has eased down. A plan is a plan.

Whenever you bring up the apartment search into a conversation between Jungkook and you, his demeanor changes quickly and he immediately shuts himself off. Here you were, thinking he’d be happy that you’re withholding your deal, not irritated.

Instead of letting it get to you, you continue to hang out with Ash and Lucca.

“So, Han-bin was a bad idea.” Ash repeats as you’ve told her how the two dates went.

‘’I already called it the moment you recommended that idea. Like it was the best plan you’ve ever had.’’ Lucca intervenes, crossing their arms. Ash rolls her eyes at her partner, too embarrassed that they might’ve been right.

‘’But, Ash was right. Han-bin is a sweet guy.’’ You say to hopefully cheer up your friend who’s about to mop in a corner. ‘’We even decided to stay friends.’’ With that, Ash excitedly cheers, and it’s probably because she’s a firm believer in friends to lovers and that it’s the most realistic trope there is out there, meaning she thinks in two three months you’ll finally have a spark with Hanbin.

‘’How’s the apartment search going?’’ Lucca directs the conversation somewhere else, mostly to cool down Ash who’s probably planning a pinterest wedding board for you and Hanbin in the future.

‘’It’s going, I think I found a place.’’

The supermarket isn’t as crowded as Jungkook anticipated when he came to the conclusion at the last minute that groceries were needed.

So-ah is clutched tightly onto him, due to the baby sling that Jungkook had mastered the older So-ah got. With her head squished under his chin, Jungkook walks freely, collecting the products at a slow pace.

‘’Jungkook?’’ His eyes avert to the sound, catching Taehyung waving at him.

As Taehyung moves closer, Jungkook places down the item to greet him properly.

‘’Hi So-ah.’’ Jungkook turns so Taehyung can get a better look at her, her eyes turning wide when she sees Taehyung.

‘’She likes you.’’ Jungkook notices and Taehyung squishes her cheek carefully.

‘’The feeling is mutual.’’ He cracks a smile. ‘’How’ve you been? Last time I saw you, you and Y/N were about to bite each other’s faces off.’’ The tone indicates he’s joking, although still curious as to how the relationship stands between the two.

‘’It’s… It’s better.’’ It actually is, and Jungkook’s lips curl into a smile with the memory of your conversation.

‘’That’s great to hear. She’s been super stressed with finding an apartment.’’ The information throws Jungkook off guard. Are you that desperate to leave? Right after he opened up to you?

Taehyung quickly catches how Jungkook’s eyes turn downward, his jaw clenching. He’s uncertain if he should point it out, or leave it as it is.

Thankfully, he gets saved by a call.

‘’Hey, sorry my brother’s calling me. I’ll see you around?’’ Jungkook nods, and Taehyung softly says goodbye to So-ah before leaving with his phone by the ear.

The uncomfortable pit never leaves Jungkook’s stomach after his run-in with Taehyung. He knows that there isn’t much time left, and you had made him the promise to leave the moment it hits six months but now? Now Jungkook isn’t so sure if he even wants you to leave.

The last few weeks are spent on apartment hunting. You’re barely home, too busy being to open houses after work and on the weekends. It’s an easy distraction from your repressed feelings towards Jungkook and it’s exactly what you need. Sooner or later you’ll leave your roommates and start over on your own.

Jungkook has an urge to tell you how he feels, how angry he is that you’re leaving but you keep missing each other. Whenever he passes by your room, he’s close to doing it but then you’re in a hurry to reach the next open house.

If he hadn’t felt anything for you, he’d be extremely grateful that you’re doing all of this. You actually kept your promise and made yourself trustworthy.

But, time is ticking and Jungkook is running out of time. He needs to do something, fast.

The weekend rolls around, and Jimin comes to pick up So-ah for the night.

‘’I owe you big time. Thank you.’’ He hands Jimin an overnight bag, with everything he needs to take care of So-ah.

‘’Don’t mess this up Jungkook.’’ He gives a warning and Jungkook’s palms start to sweat.

‘’I won’t.’’ Jimin leaves quickly after, leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts.

Work runs smoothly for you, Taehyung and you, having fun with the children throughout the day but as soon as the golden sunset comes to view, you’re excited to come home.

Home. Soon that home will turn into a different place and it makes your heart drop by the thought. You’ll miss Jungkook, with his crazy and annoying remarks. You’ll miss So-ah, her galaxy eyes and her curiosity.

But nothing lasts forever.

The apartment feels empty when you walk in. You don’t hear So-ah or Jungkook’s Overwatch that he always forgets to turn off.

When you move to the living room, Jungkook is sitting on the couch, his leg bouncing at a quick pace.

‘’Jungkook?’’ His head snaps up.

‘’Y/N, hi.’’ He gets up, moving closer to you.

‘’Are you okay?’’ He hasn’t stopped rubbing his palm on his neck, a nervous habit you’ve quickly caught onto while living with Jungkook.

‘’I’m fine. I need to say something.’’ His voice is stern and you quickly step back, nodding.

‘’Okay.’’

‘’I don’t want you to leave.’’ Your heart stops at his words.

‘’What? Why?’’

Jungkook steps closer, his breathing uneven as he studies your face. ‘’B-because…’’ The nervous stuttering doesn’t stop and Jungkook closes his eyes for a moment.

‘’Because I–’’

Jungkook doesn’t continue his sentence, pulling you closer by the waist before he lets his lips glide above yours. His lips feel soft, and your breath hitches subtly right as he presses them down to yours.

The kiss is short, Jungkook pulling away just before you have a chance to act upon it yourself.

‘’That’s why.’’ Jungkook doesn’t let his arm fall from your waist, still holding onto you tight.

You don’t respond, instead your hand moves upwards, resting it by his cheek. Jungkook gulps by your action, leaning into your hand for more comfort and you smile softly at him.

‘’I won’t leave.’’ You confirm and Jungkook’s body loosens, melting against yours as he reconnects your lips in yet another kiss.

You clutch yourself to him, as your lips move in sync, giving each other every comfort needed.

Neither of you move away, letting the kiss grow heated. When Jungkook slips his tongue past your lips, you’re almost drowning in his touch. He’s careful, teasing you along the way while giving you a taste of himself. You’re just about to pull him further in when he stops, leaning his forehead against yours.

‘’Do you want to—’’

‘’Stop? No.’’ You hover your lips above his, before you whisper. ‘’Please, don’t stop.’’

You’ve waited too long for this, and now that you finally have Jungkook you don’t ever want this moment to stop.

Jungkook’s demeanor changes completely, his softness somehow disappearing and an ache begins to grow between your legs on what’s to come.

He turns you both around, pushing you down on the sofa. Jungkook continues to kiss you, his hand wandering on your breasts, before it drags further down, grabbing your thigh softly.

You offer to touch him everywhere, starting by his back. Your hands slip through his t-shirt to roam on the naked skin. It feels delicate against your palm the further you drag it upwards to his nape.

Jungkook’s breathing changes due to your touch, his lips moving further down, reaching your neck. His tongue traces patterns, letting you feel the wet sensation while your hold on Jungkook tightens.

It doesn’t exactly click for you that Jungkook is hovering above you, giving you his time with his tongue on your neck. And it only excites you more that it’s finally happening.

‘’Jungkook.’’ You murmur under your breath, bucking your hips forward in hopes of grazing yourself against his bulge.

He groans against your neck at your neediness, giving you a small bite which makes you gasp.

‘’You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this.’’ He says softly, his words trail gently on your skin, and you smile from the confirmation he just gave you.

When he reaches your waistband, you grab ahold of his cheek.

‘’What are you doing?’’ It’s not that you don’t want to, of course you do. You haven’t thought about anything else for the past three months of living with Jungkook but you’re nervous.

‘’Let me make you feel good. Can I?’’ You gulp, nodding nervously, letting him have his way with you.

Jungkook doesn’t even struggle when he takes off your pants, removing them perfectly and it almost makes you crack up at how ideal it was.

Your grin is exchanged with a frown of pleasure when Jungkook traces his fingers on the fabric of your thong. He’s making you work for it and frankly, you don’t mind.

The pad of his fingers press down on your clit, making your breath hitch by the sensation. You feel everything yet nothing and it makes your body buck into his hand. Jungkook smirks by the sudden action, continuing to tease you with his fingers until you’ll plead.

The touching continues, a few presses once in a while making you hiss. He hasn’t dared to move beneath the fabric and your patience is running on a thin thread.

Without thinking further, you grab ahold of his wrist. You’re done with his teasing. It’s unfair that he’s here, taking his time with you when you’ve both been longing for this exact moment.

‘’Jeon Jungkook.’’ He grins at the use of his full name and you want to throw a fit.

‘’I’ll stop, I promise.’’ He pecks your lips, and considering you trust him, you let go of his wrist.

Some things truly never change.

He keeps his word, removing the fabric instead of teasing you further. The cool air hits your core, making you shudder before Jungkook can continue. His palm keeps itself rested on your thigh, while his tattooed hand comes in contact with your slit.

The first few strokes are slow, collecting some of your arousal and spreading it all over. Jungkook’s mouth is agape, eyes heavy as he watches your exposed heat and his fingers decorating it with slow movements.

‘’Fuck, baby.’’ Jungkook breathes out, stunned to have you like this.

The nickname causes your cheeks to heat up, flustered by such.

No warnings, and Jungkook inserts both fingers slowly, stretching you with ease. The feeling causes you to moan, as you’re too entranced by the pleasure.

There’s something about the way Jungkook works with his fingers that almost sends you into orbit. The way he gently curls them, making them pet on your g-spot whenever he manages to get his fingers all the way inside. The way his thumb traces circles on your clit, increasing the feelings evoking.

When you begin to feel overwhelmed, you grab onto Jungkook’s forearm, pressing down. Jungkook is even more determined to make you come, maintaining the same pace.

You feel the familiar pit in your stomach, forming as time passes. Although, Jungkook has a lot more on his sleeve than just touching you.

Being too focused on the thrill of the situation, you don’t notice Jungkook crouching down. It’s first when he replaces his thumb with his tongue that you’re aware of the what he’s doing. Your legs are shaking beside him, feeling yourself get much closer and Jungkook wants nothing more than to taste you.

To his luck, your body shudders followed by a high pitched moan as you finish. Jungkook pecks your clit, before moving upwards to face you. Your breathing is uneven, your whole body warm and you’re smiling softly at him.

When Jungkook pecks your lips, you take him by surprise, grabbing onto his cock through the material. He groans against your lips, astonished by your bold move. You don’t stop, pumping him while your tongues consume one another.

Jungkook is already hard. He’s been ever since you laid beneath him, spreading your legs out for him. Even though Jungkook is enjoying your touch, he’s impatient.

‘’Stay here.’’ Before you can even question anything, Jungkook runs out directly to his room. He quickly returns, with a condom in hand. When he’s about to lay down, you push both of his shoulders, making him land in an upright position.

You straddle him, wrapping both arms around his neck. ‘’Come on big boy, show me what you got.’’ Maybe you’re saying this because you know Jungkook will absolutely fall into your trap and amaze you.

‘’I’ll show you.’’ His gaze is intense, yet he’s already fiddling with his pants, desperate to get them off. You aren’t exactly helping, grinding down on the material of his pants, which gets him distracted.

‘’Y/N, please.’’ You’re suppressing a smile, commanding either way and lifting your hips to help him get his pants off quicker. You aren’t exactly better yourself, wanting nothing more than for Jungkook to fuck you.

Jungkook is quick on his feet, rolling the condom with ease before gently pressing into you. Your knees sink further down, inviting more of him in and the unfamiliar stretch feels pleasant. When your knees have sunk fully down, you take a moment to adapt.

‘’Shit.’’ Jungkook moans, mind spinning at how nicely you wrap around him.

You start bucking your hips, a hiss leaving your mouth as you ride him tenderly.

‘’Fucking hell,’’ Jungkook curses, his eyes now roaming your body and how smoothly you move above him. He takes the chance of grabbing your ass tightly, making you jerk your hips out of the sudden control Jungkook is regaining.

His eyes avert downwards, watching how your bodies dissolve and how he disappears inside of you.

The movement of your hips slow down, your body still processing your orgasm from earlier which had somewhat made you exhausted.

Jungkook helps you, grabbing onto your hips, leaving you to sit still while he bucks his hips at a much faster pace. Your moans are clogged, too stunned to process the feeling of his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

‘’Fuck—’’ You breathe out, clutching yourself onto Jungkook who isn’t slowing down. He’s surely showing you everything he’s got and you’re already close.

With no warning, you tense above him, your orgasm washing over you, filling your body with warmth. Jungkook follows soon after, giving one last thrust as he moans against your neck.

The both of you stay put, trying to regulate your breathing.

‘’Was that good enough for you?’’ Jungkook asks between pants and you slap him lightly on the shoulder, because he knows it was better than good enough.

‘’Oh my god! Jungkook hurry!’’ You scream excitedly, still holding onto So-ah who’s standing on two feet, ready to take her first step.

‘’Don’t let her walk!’’ Jungkook screams from the bathroom, finishing up his shower after his workout from earlier. You roll your eyes, holding tightly onto So-ah who’s trying to move out of your grasp to walk.

Jungkook runs out quickly not long after, in only a towel because moments like these are rare and there’s no way he’s about to miss out on his daughter walking for the first time.

‘’Okay, come here So-ah.’’ Jungkook kneels, spreading his arms open for his daughter and she screams softly, wobbling towards her dad but managing two steps in before Jungkook has to sweep her in.

You clap excitedly at So-ah having taken her first step and you catch Jungkook’s eyes watering.

‘’So-ah, you did it.’’ Jungkook kisses her on the cheek.

Moments like these are only the beginning for the three of you, and you’re thrilled.

perma taglist;

@sailoryooons @yoongukie-ff @kookstempo @jinsquishes @moonbeamjin @sugarwithtea @gimmethatagustd @sxtaep @here4btsfics @saweetspoiled @chaoticabstractism @ruinsofangels @pamzn @hollyweird0 @ellesalazar @dunixxd @aliceisabelx @copycat-namjesus @vsnnstuff @parkdatjimin @codeinebelle @wolfvmin @shimisushi @hobiiihope @synnfulqt @theladyblue @burnahtsw @bellaiscool @valkyrie418 @diorjgguk @guk97butterfly @tornparts @koostarcandy @starling7 @squishyfor7 @moonchildjooniee

[ if your tag doesn't work nor show that means i either can't find your username or can't tag you, sorry :( ]

taglist for this fic;

@blueberrysoda @cupidguk @weirdorathexplora @purpleguk @exactlygreatcoffee @minnie-mouser22 @bangtans-momma @royallyjjk @iceykoo @tae-hibiscus @happygolucky7777 @taeslarityy @jeonzll @errewaythings @kmadelin @bloopkook @anjcrbnll @literaturenutz @absolutelyjeons @strawberrysweetness @jungkookminthairwhen @sincerelyflora @twilight-loveer @heartjiminie @outro-kook @blueberrysungie @r0ttenbeans @koo-kz @allfryou @takochelle @kookies-n-spice @bighitbabie @jjkreblog @queenmasterxx

#jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook au #dilf jungkook #dilf smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook one shot #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #bts jungkook smut #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fic #bts smut

3K notes · View notes