#this is going to be a long ass process and I wish I could have done it earlier in life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kitten4sannie · 3 months

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ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴘʟᴀʏ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇʀ

ᴍᴀꜱᴋ ᴋɪɴᴋ/ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀʏ ➠ ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ

pairing: intern! jongho x boss! reader (fem)

genre: office au, smut

summary: to relieve some stress after another long day of being the boss, you decide to visit your favorite dom at your local playroom. what you were not expecting, however, was to come face to face with your office’s intern instead.

w.c: 2.8k

warnings: hard (somehow still soft) dom! jongho, sub! reader, established bdsm relationship, jongho wears a teddy bear mask hehe/reader wears a kitty one, pet names (sweetheart, kitty, kitten, are we sensing a pattern here? TT), name calling, praise/degradation, use of hand cuffs, jongho puts reader over his lap ^^, paddling (ass/pussy), spit play, hair pulling, toy usage, strength kink, manhandling, overstim, brief oral (receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: never worked in an office before but this is my ideal office ✨fantasy✨ but also like jongho would be the cutest ??? intern??? he’d just come in and give you a cup of coffee with his sweet little gummy smile ughhhhh :’) enjoy, loves!

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“I’m really sorry to inform you of this right before the weekend starts, Ms. L/N, but we need to see at least a 20% increase in sales by next month,” your higher-up told you through the speaker phone sitting on your desk, almost distracting you from putting on your coat.

“20%, sir?” you replied cordially, trying to dispel the attitude you wanted to give him at that moment.

“20%, Ms. L/N. You’ve been doing quite well this quarter, but my boss is breathing down my neck, asking me for more…I do apologize, but it’s what we need from you.”

You walked around the front of your desk, sitting on the edge of it to process the information, unconsciously reaching underneath the sleeve of your form-fitting blouse to rub at the rope burns still embedded in your skin from your last visit to your local bdsm playroom, wishing you were there again, not having to focus on numbers and percentages, but on the pain and pleasure that was enveloping your body.

“Ms. L/N…?” the man said softly into the speaker when he didn’t get a reply from you.

You came out of your temporary fog, sitting up straight and fixing the hem of your tight skirt, despite no one being there to witness your perfect posture. “I can handle 20%, sir. I’ll get those numbers up for you.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite branch manager, Ms. L/N. Enjoy your weekend. Make sure you unwind,” he said, exchanging goodbyes with you, before he hung up.

You were definitely going to do a bit of unwinding, that was for damn sure.

As you collected both your personal and work items, putting them into your sleek briefcase, your branch’s intern knocked on the thick glass door of your office, allowing you to see his perfectly styled, ink black hair through the section of the door that wasn’t completely opaque.

“Come in, Jongho.”

Once the permission was granted, Jongho entered your space to give you a small wave and a gentle, charming smile, resting his own briefcase against his thigh. “Just thought I would come and check on you, Ms. L/N. It’s already half past 8, you know, and you deserve your weekends more than anybody in this building.”

“Oh, please, it’s off-hours, call me Y/N,” you sighed, wishing you could swap the roles of your position in power, wanting to be the one who was told what to do next. “But, thank you…that means a lot. I always try to cram in as much R&R into my weekends as humanly possible.”

“That’s good to hear, Y/N,” he corrected himself, holding the door open for you, his inviting aura and cologne relaxing your rigid demeanor just a tad. “Shall we go?”

Once inside the sanctity of the elevator, the both of you watched as the bright red numbers on the digital screen slowly counted down.

When you got down to the twenieth floor, you were suddenly reminded of your daunting task, murmuring, “20%…and next month he’ll want 30…that bastard…”

Jongho acknowledged your passive mumbles about the ridiculous increase in sales you had to somehow pull out of your ass, hoping to ease your mind with his straightforward statement, “Hey, no number talk in the elevator, Y/N. That stays in the office.” His gaze softened. “You know better.”

You quieted down, hoping Jongho couldn’t tell how wet you suddenly were, offering him a gentle chuckle. “Right, no more numbers.”

Jongho tilted his head to the side, his gelled, parted hair falling into his eyes a bit. “Tell me, what do you do to unwind, Y/N?”

Your fingers squeezed around the handle of your briefcase. You couldn’t possibly tell him that you enjoyed getting tied up, punished till you were drunk on pleasure, and fucked by masked men and women until you reached your own personal nirvana, now, could you?

“I like to do lots of things,” you began, turning your head to look at him, realizing he was already looking at you, his gaze intense, but grounding. “Anything that doesn’t make me feel like a corporate drone anymore.”

Jongho nodded knowingly. “It’s important to let go from time to time. To relinquish that power you hold.”

You nodded at his words, unconsciously licking at your lips, having to break eye contact with Jongho first, your attention going to the adorably small teddy bear keychain he had on the handle of his briefcase, smiling at it. “What do you do for fun, Jongho?”

The corners of his lips curled into a smile that you weren’t looking at, his eyes returning to the rapidly lowering numbers on the wall, gently cracking his knuckles to fill the brief silence. “These days, I like to do a bit of roleplaying.”

“Like…DND?” you asked, swallowing dryly, the ding of the sliding elevator door about to draw you towards it.

“Something like that,” Jongho replied, his smile now akin more to a smirk, following you out of the elevator into the lobby.

࿏࿏࿏

“Good to see you back, Miss Kitty,” A man with deep-set eyes, plump lips, and short, choppy hair greeted you at the playroom’s lobby, the rest of his features obscured due to the bunny mask he was wearing. He leaned forward against the sleek receptionist desk, resting his chin on his palm as he pulled out a cutely decorated day planner, his tight butler get-up creasing to accommodate his new position. “Who would you like to visit today?”

“The Bear,” you replied instantly, shifting your weight from foot to foot, your own equally tight office ensemble making you feel constricted in the best way. “Is he free right now?”

The handsome bunny butler opened the planner and used a pen with a small plastic bunny at the tip to write in a time and date, drawing a few hearts around the words. “He’s always free for you, Miss Kitty,” he replied smoothly, before walking over to the door with a key and unlocking it for you. He placed another key, this one with the image of a cartoon bear on it into your hand, giving you a suggestive, though cordial smile. “Enjoy your stay.”

Once past the lobby, you were faced by many other rooms and doors, each one presenting you with a cute cartoon caricature of various animals. You immediately walked towards the one that displayed the same bear as the one in your sweaty hand.

Upon unlocking the door, you were met by a familiar setting. Minimalistic bedroom furniture decorated with lace doilies and soft, plush teddy tears filled the inviting space, the only thing keeping it from completely embodying someone’s sweet grandma’s bedroom were the egregious amount of sex toys, paddles, and whips that lined the wall, small plastic teddy bears decorating the handles of some of the items to further complete the cutesy aesthetic.

The only bear that interested you, however, was the one sitting on the edge of the large mattress in a simple black suit that looked a bit too familiar, his large thighs threatening to rip through his perfectly tailored pants, his sleeves rolled up past his thick forearms, his pretty raven hair falling past the sleek plastic of his mask that was complete with teddy bear ears. “It’s such a joy to have you back in my playroom. Now, what are you in the mood for today, kitty cat?” he asked you in a low, calculated tone, licking over the top row of his teeth.

You felt a shiver go up your spine, taking slow steps until you stood in front of him, licking your lips at the sight of his hands settling on his thighs. “To be paddled and fucked raw, sir.”

Jongho nodded his head knowingly, reaching up to stroke the side of your hip. “Mmm…my kitten’s had a rough day, I see. I’ll be sure to take good care of you tonight.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” He stood up, cracking his knuckles out of habit, opening and closing his fists to prepare for what he was about to inflict on you. “If at any time, you want this to stop, you’ll use your voice and tell me to, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, good.” Jongho slowly walked over to the wall, his loafers clacking against the wood floor, picking out a paddle and a few other items amongst the large selection. He twirled the paddle around in his hands, gazing back at you through his mask, piercing you with his dark eyes. He kept his sight on you as he made his way back to the bed, spreading his thighs open when he sat down. “Now, you know the drill, don’t you, kitty?”

You nodded, quickly positioning yourself across his lap, feeling delightfully petite and usable now that you were relinquishing yourself to your dom.

“That’s right, sweetheart, feels so nice being on my lap like this, hm? Your pussy’s dripping for me just from the thought of getting paddled red, isn’t it?” Jongho spoke, his voice coming out slow, draping over you like honey, rubbing the side of your upper thigh in gentle circles, watching the way you squeezed them together.

“Yes, sir,” you answered breathily, squirming around once his hands were on your ass and squeezing it roughly through your thin skirt.

“Did you bring a change of clothes, pet?”

“Yes, s–”

Rip.

Jongho had torn through your designer skirt up the middle with one swift tug, sighing at the sight of your ass squeezing through the torn material, running the edge of the paddle over the exposed skin. “How many, kitten? How many till your ass is raw and red for me?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, your cunt pulsing steadily, knowing what you needed for your own personal satisfaction. “Twenty…”

Jongho’s eyes widened slightly behind his mask, running the broad side of the paddle down your ass, using his other hand to tear open sections of your tights. “Twenty it is, pet.” He then wrapped your hair around his hand to create a makeshift ponytail, pulling it back to watch the way you arched your back for him, your ass raising higher up in the air for his own personal satisfaction. “Time to count.”

Twenty paddles is what you asked for and twenty paddles is what you received, each and every one sending a supreme jolt of pleasure through your body, your fingers squeezing into Jongho’s thick thighs, drool leaving your moaning mouth the second he got to double digits. He rubbed the paddle over your bruising ass in between spanks, rubbing the wetness around your partially clothed cunt from in between your trembling thighs, his cock hard and pressing into your abdomen. “Your pretty pussy deserves to get paddled too, doesn’t it?” he asked you in your ear, squeezing your clit between two fingers, suddenly tearing your panties open, giving him direct access to your dripping cunt, finishing his power move with a direct slap to your slit, making you gasp.

“Six…teen…Please, sir, give it to me,” you requested, looking up at him with shiny eyes through your cat themed mask.

Smack. Rub. Smack. Rub. Smack. Jongho turned your cunt into a puffy, leaking mess with ease, giving you one last, incredibly hard smack on the ass with his paddle, before he reached over for the bubblegum pink toy that was sitting on the bed. “Such a good kitty, taking everything I give you. You need something inside you now, yeah? Something to fill up your tight little cunt?”

A few beads of sweat dripped down your temple past your flushed cheeks. “Twenty…God, yes, please, sir.”

Jongho smiled to himself, suddenly lifting you up and maneuvering your body like you were a simple doll, positioning you on the bed so that your lower half hung in the air along with your gushing cunt, your ankles near your head. He turned the toy on, letting it vibrate inside his calloused hands, too busy sending a few strings of spit directly onto your heat. “Take it nice and deep for me, kitty,” he directed, holding you steady for him, the toy slipping directly into you.

You moaned in response, grasping tightly at the sheets, unable to do anything except take the vibrator as deep as it would go, the ribbed edges of it pleasuring your tight inner walls. “Fuck, gonna cum for you, sir…”

“Not until I tell you to,” Jongho reminded you, relentlessly dragging the toy in and out of you, occasionally taking a break in between thrusts to watch the way your cunt contracted around nothing, taking the opportunity to send a wad of spit inside your hole, plugging you back up with the toy each and every time.

It was when Jongho left the toy fully submerged inside your cunt with the vibration set on max that you were actually going to lose your mind, your fingers digging painfully into your own thighs. “Please, can I cum, sir? I’ve been so good, so good for you,” you babbled, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Yes, sweetheart, you’ve been an absolute doll for me. Now go on and squirt, kitty. Give me your milk.” Jongho removed the toy completely and replaced it with his hot tongue, fucking your hole and rubbing your clit in quick, tight circles until you screamed, your hot arousal spraying onto his face and wetting his hair, some of it dripping down his mask.

“Thank you, sir, thank you so much,” you sighed out, completely melting against the bed, blinking hazily up at him.

“Anytime, doll,” he replied softly, readjusting his mask, a familiar smile gracing his glistening lips.

Once you recovered, you got up onto your knees, pawing at Jongho’s pulsing cock through his work pants. “You still haven’t fucked me raw, yet, sir…”

“And I clearly haven’t done my job,” he began in a low voice, straddling your lap, positioning your wrists above your head, a soft click resounding in both of your ears, having handcuffed you to the bed. “If I had, you would have no memory of anything…” He bent down towards you, his lips ghosting along the skin of your neck, the heavy metallic sound of his belt being popped open filling the silent air next. “…except for me, and pleasure I give you. Isn’t that right, kitty?”

“That’s right, sir,” you purred, spreading your thighs open further for him, encouraging him to grasp and grope at them once he took his aching cock out, letting it sit heavily on your abdomen.

“But does your pretty red cunt remember the shape of my cock, kitten? After all these times I’ve fucked you completely raw and filled you with my load, it’s surely had to, right?” he asked you softly, as though he hadn’t said such a dirty thing to you, spreading you open with two fingers, pushing the head of his cock into your willing hole inch by inch, eventually filling you up to the brim.

You pulled your wrists against your constraints, moaning wantonly, unable to do anything about your current situation except take what you were given, your cunt routinely getting stuffed with Jongho’s thick cock until you were babbling incoherently. “Sir…! So good, your cock, it’s so good!”

“I know it is, kitty,” he nodded, strands of his wet hair occasionally brushing over your face, pulling his hips back and expertly slamming them back into you, forcing a fresh wave of slick out of you, which formed a rim around the base of his throbbing length. “You’re so tight around my cock, so ready to take my cum inside you…”

“Please, please, please…” you whined, tugging and tugging at your restraints, your body pulsing with indescribable pleasure the longer Jongho pumped himself into you like a well-oiled machine, not even realizing when your mask began to fall off your sweaty, flushed face.

Jongho was in the same state as you, overwhelmed with pleasure, his own mask slipping down the slope of his nose, the tie around his head loosening with each deliberate, though sloppy thrust, your slick, joined bodies melding into one over and over. “Cumming, kitten, cumming inside your pretty cunt,” he groaned out, holding your hips with a cement grip, looking deep into your eyes.

And just like that, you both fell apart completely, your overflowing arousal mixing harmoniously with the seemingly endless cumshots Jongho pumped into your clenching cunt, your masks having fallen off long ago. You simply gazed at each other in pure awe, sweat dripping along your flush bodies, the soft click sound of handcuffs being unlocked joining the background noise of pants, moans, and the steady stream of mattress springs squeaking underneath the moving bed.

࿏࿏࿏

The elevator took its time lowering you and your intern down to the bottom floor of your shared work space at the end of another tiring performance, regrettably filling a role you wish you could be at the receiving end of instead. The numbers on the small digital screen grew more and more irrevelant the longer you and Jongho shared seemingly polite smiles with one another.

Jongho tilted his head to the side, his hair falling in his face, his eyes containing a sparkle that you were fully aware of. “Are you going to relax again this weekend, Y/N?”

“Mm, yes I definitely need it after my last meeting with my boss,” you sighed out, leaning in his direction, your shoulders touching. “They’re asking for a bigger increase in sales this time…30%, they say.”

“Ahh, ahh,” Jongho tutted softly, shaking his head, the palm of his hand pressing against the small of your back, his dark eyes gleaming. “No numbers, Y/N.”

“No numbers,” you repeated gently, a delightful shiver going up your spine, the ding of the elevator reminding you of where you were currently, and where you would be going very soon. Your eyes began to gleam as well. “Except when I count for you. Right, sir?”

Jongho jingled his little teddy bear key chain around in his hand, his lips curling upwards. “Precisely, kitty cat.”

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 2 months

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hiii i love ur fics idk if ur requests are on rn but can u do a short drabble of the tiktok trend where the guy hasn't ask his gf to be his valentines day so she "put him on sale" as a joke ofc but she's like

BF FOR SALE ($3.50)

- amazing cook

-crusty feet

- will buy anything u want

any character is fine but i would love katsuki or shoto!!

LMFAOOOO this is for sure the funniest ask ive gotten yet😭😭😭 this is so cute !! and very long overdue I apologize writer block devil was rlly kickin my ass😞 valentines been over but yk i had to write this ! i was rlly hesitating between writing for shoto or katsuki and then i realized i could write for BOTH OF THEM!! and so i did ! i tried honoring your request as best i could, hope you like it <3 !

no pronouns mentioned, pure tooth rotting nasty fluff, use of petnames (my love for shoto and sweets, babe and idiot (lol) for katsuki), katsuki is an asshat but when isn’t he, shy katsuki, shoto is a bit of an airhead, kissing, biting, reader is petty asl lol, lemme know if i missed something else !

todoroki shoto ♥︎

“yn, my love.”

“yes, shoto ?”

the corners of shoto’s mouth pull into a tiny frown at the usage of his first name. no baby, no hun, not even sho. just shoto.

“did i do something to upset you ?” he asks carefully from his spot at the foot of your dorm bed he seems to be stuck at, he can’t bring himself to move until he knows if you’re actually mad at him, and he has an inkling you are.

you look up at him for no longer than a second then look back down at your phone screen “what makes you think that ?” you question back nonchalantly.

“you posted something on your tiktok account..” shoto doesn’t have a clue how to have this conversation with you and it makes him a little nervous, he regrets not going to izuku for advice after all.

“mhmmmm~” you hum, urging him to continue knowing damn well you know what he’s going to say. you wanted to hear him say it himself.

you know shoto’s had no previous relationships before you so these type of things probably don’t mean as much to him as they do to you, but doesn’t everyone want their boyfriends to ask them to be their valentine ? you sure do, and your boyfriend hadn’t asked you to be his yet, so as petty as you know you were being at the time you posted the tiktok he’s no doubt here for right now.

shoto feels like a criminal on trial desperately trying to plead his case with you being the judge. tentatively, he asks “ you said you were..putting me up for sale ?”

immediately it’s like a switch had been flipped. you place your phone down onto your bed next to you, shoto wishes he could take your phone’s place. you cross your leg over the other and bring your hands together like a super villain revealing their master plan “yes. yes i did.”

“oh.”

silence. nothing.

shoto tried—he’s trying. he’s trying so insanely hard to make sense of everything that is you but he simply can’t. he breaks eye contact to think of more to ask but his attention is quickly pulled back to you when he hears you whine.

“uuuuughhh shotoooo~” you moan, throwing your head back against the headboard. “you’re not supposed to say ‘oh’ !” you’re face changes from grumpy to deadpan as you lower your voice slightly to try and mimic him. on any other day this would’ve made him laugh but he’s beyond lost at this point. he clears his throat before speaking again.

“ i don’t know what i’m supposed to say—or what i did for you to want to sell me.” he thinks “and for 3 dollars at that.”

you let out a laugh when you process his words and shoto’s shoulders magically feel lighter at the sound. carefully, he slides a little closer to the side of your bed so he can stand at your bedside. little by little. you pretend you don't notice.

"it's what you deserve for not askin' me to be your valentine."

the secret’s finally out and you get to see how the cog wheels in his head are starting to turn in real time, it has you holding back a giggle when he looks up at you like a deer in headlights.

“is that..why you were mad ?” you nod, humming out a playful mhmm

“ya really hurt my feelings you know ? to think my own boyfriend wouldn’t ask me” you clench your fist over your heart and fake sob dramatically.

shoto huffs out a laugh, relieved to see you’re not actually mad, and goes to sit down on your bed. he tentatively reaches for your hand and squeezes it twice when you let him hold it. before bringing it up to his lips and placing a sweet little kiss to it. it feels as if pop rocks are going off inside of you.

“ i’m sorry for not asking you to be my valentine.” he apologizes, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing your hand “ i was thinking i should’ve, but i didn’t want you to think it was weird since we’re already dating.” his thumb goes to run over your fingers “ i was worried me being too intense would scare you off.” he mumbles.

your eyebrows furrow, you lean towards him to make him look at you “ you wouldn’t scare me off, who told you that ?”

“kaminari. he said ‘coming on too strong scares away the babes.’ ” shoto quotes

you sigh. of course it was that bigmouth portable charger filling his head with this stuff.

you pull your hand out of his grasp and he looks up to protest but you grab his face in your hands before he can say anything, you can practically see him start melting at the contact as he blinks at you slowly, he reminds you of a cat.

“sho” you purr, rubbing his cheeks “ rule number one is never ever listening to kaminari’s dating advice. most of the time it is very wrong.” you explain.

shoto presses his mouth to the palm of your hand “yeah, i’m starting to regret that now.” he speaks into it, you snort. he leans in closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips and you reciprocate, pressing a few more kisses on his lips for good measure “ i’m really sorry for not asking you.” he says in between pecks. you hum in response to him placing even more kisses all around your face. “s’okay. i’m also kinda sorry for putting you up for sale.” you say, running your fingers through his hair while he places kisses on your shoulder.

he lifts his head up to look at you then, an eyebrow raised with an amused expression on his face “kinda sorry ?” he asks.

you nod “mhm. kinda sorry.”

he chuckles to himself, then gets up so he can climb into bed next to you. when he’s positioned how he likes it, with his head in your lap while you comb through his hair with your fingers, he sighs peacefully “well, it wasn’t all bad. i’m glad you think i’m a good cook.”

“what about the crusty feet ?”

“i’m choosing to ignore that part.” shoto smirks lightly to himself when he hears you laugh at his joke, clearly proud of himself for it. “and i will buy you anything you want, to make it up to you.”

“i don’t need you to buy me anything, sho” you roll your eyes with a lovesick smile “ all you gotta do is ask.”

he blinks up at you, looks off the the side as if he’s deep in thought, and suddenly gets off your lap to sit right in front of you. you never think you’ll get over how pretty your boyfriend is and being reminded of it with how close he is to you makes you flustered. he leans in to kiss you passionately and you don’t know if it’s the love he pours into it or the lack of air that has you so dizzy, you don’t dwell on it.

when he pulls away he’s looking at you like you hung up the stars in the sky and he simply, almost shyly smiles at you and asks.

“ will you be my valentine ?”

bakugou katsuki ♥︎

you did not expect katsuki to come barging into your dorm room five minutes after you’d posted your tiktok. the loud sound of someone banging on your door and proceeding to let themselves in seconds later causes you to let out a squeak.

in comes katsuki, phone tightly clutched in his hand and the moment his eyes zeroed on you he’s like a bull charging at a red flag. he stands right in front of you, angry frown on display before he shoves his phone in your face.

“explain this. now.” he growls, you have to hold back a laugh, keeping your face as calm as possible you look between him, his screen then back at your phone.

“what’s confusing about it ? i thought i was being pretty straight forward.”

his eye twitches. “why the hell did you put me up for sale ?! and for three dollars and fifty fuckin’ cents ?!” he exclaims, you can’t help the snort that bursts out of you, though katsuki doesn’t look as amused as you are.

“explain.” he deadpans.

“i think you can figure it out.” you shrug back.

he mutters insults to himself that you can’t catch “well obviously fuckin’ not, cus I wouldn’t be askin’ you if i did.” you simply shrug and look back at your phone. “i wrote it in the caption.”

it takes him a second to process then he’s tapping his password and opening the clock app at super sonic speed. his eyebrows furrow and you see him tapping away at his phone. his eyes widen when he reads your caption and he looks down at you with a mix of desperation and disbelief.

“you’re mad cus I didn’t ask you to be my valentine ?” your bratty huff and turn to the side as you shrug again is all the answer he needs. he looks at you for about 5 seconds longer then sighs.

he sits down on your bed and keeps staring. katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things and one of those things is you ignoring him. a warm hand on your ankle startles you and you can’t even ask him what he’s doing before your being yanked towards him. you squeal, almost missing the smirk on his face or the huff of laughter at your reaction. almost though, so you glare at him. katsuki looms over you until your noses almost touch, then you turn away with a huff. he chuckles, pressing his lips to your neck.

“ yer such a baby, y’know that ?” he mumbles, smirking against you neck. you huff but make no effort to shrug him off “ no i’m not, jerk. is it so wrong for me to want my boyfriend to ask me to be his valentine’s ?” you grumble, trying to ignore the feel of his warm lips against your skin, it’s not working so well for you.

“s’not what i’m sayin, sweets” he nips at your earlobe “‘m sayin’ ya coulda just told me ‘stead of bein’ a baby about it.” you can’t tell if this is his way of trying to apologize. either way, you don’t want to give in just yet.

“i’m not supposed to tell you to ask me to be your valentine’s katsuki, that’s not the point~ !” you huff petulantly. you feel a but childish but, c’mon ! it’s a given to have your boyfriend as your valentine and it wouldn’t hurt your demon spawn of a boyfriend to be a little but romantic once in a while.

he playfully rolls his eyes at you “see, what’d i tell you? big baby.” leaning forward he nips at your nose making you groan and trying to push him away with your palm. katsuki being the powerhouse that he is, doesn’t budge. “ i didn’t think to ask ya cus you’re already mine. so why should i need to ask something that’s a given ?”

your heart beats faster at his words and katsuki takes his chance when he feels you loosing up more and more. suddenly he’s got your wrists in his grip, holding them above you and looking down at you with that sickeningly handsome smirk. you’re almost there, he can practically feel it.

“i—i’m..still mad at you” you stutter out weakly, your defenses are down.

“yeah ?” he taunts.

“yeah. apologize.”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes lightheartedly “why should i apologize ? you said my fuckin’ feet stink.”

“ ah, ah, ah.” you tut “don’t put words in my mouth, i said your feet were crusty.”

“yeah, thanks babe. that makes it so much better.” he sasses, you laugh “and i complimented you ! i said you were an amazing cook !”

“yeah but that ain’t a compliment, ‘ts a fact.” he says matter of factly, you’re eyes threaten to get stuck at the back of your skull with how hard you roll them and he snickers.

he dives in and steals a kiss, and then another one when you don’t stop him. when he pulls away to catch his breath, ready to steal another kiss you stop him by placing your hand on his chest. he looks down at you questioningly and you give him a raised brow in response. he groans.

“fine. m’sorry” he concedes quietly

“foooorrr ?” you urge.

he narrows his eyes at you as if saying “don’t push it” but swallows his words down “ for not askin’ you to be my valentine’s or whatever the fuck” he shoves his now hot face into your neck and mumbles “now quit bein’ all pissed at me.”

you’re happy enough with that, so you wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands creeping up his nape and into his hair. he sighs contentedly, clearly enjoying the attention you’re giving him.

“thank you. i’m also sorry for saying you have crusty feet.” hearing him scoff at the accusation makes you giggle “and for putting you up for sale.” he hums, happy with your apology.

“..kinda.”

“oi.” he warns. you giggle in response continuing your ministrations in his hair.

“you still haven’t asked me so..” you trail off. he lifts his head up to look at you with a blond eyebrow raised.

“ does this valentine shit really matter that much to you ?” he asks.

you respond immediately “yes.” nodding aggressively to make your point.

he sighs, shaking his head. he looks at you, then looks off to the side in embarrassment, he can be so cute when he wants to be. steeling his nerves he looks you straight in the eyes. fearless with fierce red cheeks and all.

“b-be my valentine, idiot..”

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reiderwriter · 8 months

Note

i need a very angsty/light fluff with spencer to i can see you by taylor. i love your writing sososo much 💗💗

A/N: I'm not sure I got any light fluff in there but I certainly did make it angst 💀 thank you for the request 💗

W/C: 1.7k

Summary: Six months into your secret relationship, you're beginning to think that maybe Spencer doesn't love you the way you love him

Warnings: toxic relationship, Spencer is an ass and then he's kinda really intense. Inspired by:

Here's my masterlist, and I'm currently working on a request challenge, so feel free to check that out too! 💗

Six months of dating was about as long as you could stand before you knew that it wasn’t going anywhere if things didn’t change.

At first, you’d been on board with Spencer’s suggestion to keep your relationship secret for the first few weeks of dating. It made sense with you both working at the same place and on the same team, and you didn’t want to change the group dynamic. But weeks turned into months, and six months was a long time to wait for public recognition of a relationship that could be so much more than secret looks in the hallways and weekends wrapped up in each other.

Everytime he brushed you off whilst at work, you felt part of your heart cracking. The first time he’d done it was only days after your mutual confessions. You’d been alone in a police precinct on some case or the other, and, needing a moment to process your emotions, you grabbed his hand for support. He’d pulled his from your grip quickly, doing his best not to make the sudden movements, and if was like your world was crashing down on you. You’d confronted him that night in his hotel room, and he’d blown you off again.

“Y/N, we promised that this would stay between us for now. I’m sorry that I can’t be like other partners, and that I can’t give you what you need right now, but we can’t do… we can’t hold hands or kiss or seem any closer than we usually are to the others, okay?” He’d seemed so stressed you’d given in and backed down, but his words still stung.

Months of the same scenarios repeating themselves felt like purgatory though, and you knew that you needed to either cut him loose or make him confess to the others.

You hadn’t reached your tipping point when he’d got shot in the neck and forced you to stand on the sides. Just watching while other agents, agents who had known him longer, sure, but didn’t know how he felt, how he tasted, how his scent was enough to drive you crazy, fawned over him. They didn’t know that you would be so lost without him that you’d have gone insane if that bullet was in a different position. They didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He’d checked up on you in private, of course, but only when he was discharged.

“Spencer, what would you have done if that had been me?” you asked him, when he questioned you. He stood staring at you for a minute, really taking the time to think about the words, think about the scenario you’d just asked him to recreate in his mind. You’d fallen for him because he was so goddamned thoughtful, because he always took the time to think and find the correct answer when he was talking to you.

You wished then that he’d answered quicker. That it would have taken him less time to say that he would have been inconsolable, that he would’ve been lost without you, that he didn’t want to think about that ever happening at all.

He didn’t say any of those things.

“I’d do what you did. I’d have managed.” You’d wanted to scream at him then, but you didn’t. You just climbed into bed beside him and wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could without hurting him. You fell asleep to the image of him being shot playing over and over again.

That had been three months into your relationship, and now with three more months of stolen kisses and antipathy, you’d reached your breaking point. Maybe it was the tension in the office from the latest case, maybe it was the detective openly flirting with you, but you certainly couldn’t control the explosion that had been brewing all this time.

From the beginning of the week, the lead detective on your case had been making it clear and obvious that he wanted to take you out. He was showing such obvious and tempting advances that even members of your team were approaching you in private to ask you to consider. It was hard to explain to Emily and Morgan that you weren’t interested in the man, and when even Garcia started encouraging you on a phone call to go after “Detective Dreamy,” you’d almost burst into tears.

Because throughout the advances, the obvious flirtation and the team banter, your boyfriend had not said a word either way. You weren’t sure what you actually wanted from him, because when he finally did say something, it was like he chose all the wrong words and strung them together in a sentence.

“So how are you enjoying all the attention from Detective McDermot?” he’d asked casually, not glancing up from the pile of documents he was scanning.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Reid?” you snapped. He looked at you in shock, completely oblivious that he’d said anything wrong.

“Aren’t you jealous? Isn’t there some part of you that wants to let him know that I’m taken?” the tears were filling your eyes in rage, and you angrily swiped them away before they fell, not wanting him to use them against you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that it was so upsetting to you. Do you want me to say something to him?”

“Do you want to say something to him? Because it only matters if you actually want to do it.”

“Y/N, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“We’re at work, Reid, you’d do well to remember that. In this office, it’s Agent Y/L/N, right?” you grabbed the file you were working on and left the room, but you weren’t getting away from him that easily.

“Y/N- Agent Y/L/N, wait,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the nearest storage closet.

“We promised each other, we promised that we wouldn’t tell anyone for a while, why are you being like this?” He still had a strong grip on your wrist and the intimate size of the storage closet had forced you together, his body pushing against yours.

“What would you do? What would you do if I went out there and said I’d go on a date with him? Because right now, I’m getting concerned looks thrown at me by every member of the team because there must be something wrong with me if I’m turning him down.” The bitterness of your tone took him by surprise.

“Don’t do that, for gods sake, do not do that Y/N.”

“Give me one good reason. Scratch that, give me one explanation that I can give to get everyone off my back.” You pulled your wrist from his grip now, but he countered by grabbing your hips roughly and forcing you back into the wall, pinning you there. You couldn’t move, and you didn’t want to, intent on hearing his reply.

“You’re mine,” he said it so quietly that had you not been pressed up against the entire length of him, you wouldn’t have heard it. You let out a little giggle at his words.

“Fuck, Spencer, is that it? I’m yours?” you shook your head a little as his grip on you tightened, his head leaning down, forehead resting against yours as you shared in each breath he took in and let out.

“I can see that you don’t want to be in a public relationship with me, Spencer. You don’t want to tell people about us, and that’s… that’s going to have to be enough for me, but I’m not sure how long it’s going to be enough.”

“You don’t want to be with me anymore?” he asked after a minute, taking the time to calm himself before continuing.

“No, God, Spencer, I love you so fucking much, that is not the issue here.”

“Then what is? Because from where I’m standing, you’ve just suggested leaving me, leaving this.”

“You are so fucking self-possessed sometimes,” the words would probably have cut deeper had his lips not been mere centimeters from your own. “I’ll be clear. I love you and I want other people to know that I love you, and that maybe you love me, too.”

“But we talked about this before at the start-”

“And that was six months ago, Spencer. I need more now. And I’m honestly a little hurt that you don’t want more now.”

“I don’t want more?” He seemed genuinely surprised by the suggestion, and the hurt in his eyes stung for the few seconds he let it linger there. Instead of using his words to explain himself, he finally closed the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips into yours fervently.

The kiss was angry, hot. It was the feeling of being deep in an argument and knowing that you still had to fight your way out. Your lips clashed, your mouths opened and your tongues began fighting for dominance as he attempted to push his way inside of you, to make you feel the strength of his emotions that he clearly couldn’t talk through.

After a minute, you pushed him away, panting hard.

“I want more and more of you by the second. I want to wrap you up and possess you, I want to make it so that no one else can even look at you, I want to make it that I am the only person on this planet that can see you, and everytime I think that, I get so scared.” He spits each word at you, still lost in the venom of the moment.

“We fight monsters everyday, and each moment I spend with you, I feel like I can understand them more and more, because I think of you the same way they think about their victims. Does that not terrify you?”

You let your hands trail up his body and into his hair as he talks, feeling vindicated now that he is finally spilling his guts to you.

“So yes, our relationship is private, because if I got the opportunity to possess you in public, I do not know what I would do to anyone who looked at you, even if they are our closest friends.” He dropped his forehead to yours again, somehow heavier this time.

“You’re mine.”

You stood there, still for a minute gathering your thoughts before you spoke again.

“Are you going to tell them or not?” you breathed out, lowly, doing your best to not let your emotions get the better of you.

“We’ve been arguing in this closet for five minutes and twenty eight seconds, Y/N. If they’re good at their jobs, I won’t have to tell them.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds angst #requested

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taexual · 4 months

Text

sleepwalking ● 16 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: fluff (if you squint really really hard), ANGST, strong language, explicit descriptions of violence & the process of cleaning wounds, mentions of loss of consciousness, SLOW BURN

words: 12.2k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 16 ► i’m still your favourite regret, you’re still my weapon of choosing

The performance in Cologne the next day passed by in a blur. Jungkook refused to speak to anyone and only opened his mouth when it was absolutely necessary during the sound check—and even then, most of his vocabulary consisted of grunts or monosyllables.

He wouldn’t have called it sulking—he would have called it existential sorrow—but from the perspective of those around him, that was what this was.

He had dreamed of a happy ending with you. Now, he feared there would be no ending at all. He feared you’d leave and your goodbye would come in a letter. Or maybe just a farewell email.

“I had a wonderful time working with you and I wish you all the best for the future,” would be the last thing you’d write. The last thing you’d say.

You’d leave and he would never see you again.

Although he didn’t talk to you, Jungkook watched you a lot. The band had to do some interviews backstage before the Cologne show, and you were in the room with them, behind the camera. He counted, you only looked at him once.

After the concert, Jungkook took a long shower, but it could not drown his fears. When he returned to the hallway outside the dressing rooms, he saw that the post-show drinks were already finished and everyone had returned to the bus. He’d hoped that would happen. He needed a few more minutes alone.

He entered the changing room with a towel draped over his shoulders and quickly changed his shorts into sweatpants. Just as he pulled his hoodie over his head—somewhat laboriously, as his arms were still damp from the shower—he heard something vibrating against the leather couch in the room.

Confused, he pulled the hoodie on and walked over to the couch. He didn’t recognise the phone, but Taehyung was calling it, so chances were good that the device belonged to Luna. He made a mental note to bring it to her and placed it back on the couch while he packed the rest of his things.

He had just unzipped his bag when he heard the door open and turned his head. His expectant heart immediately jumped over several beats at the possibility that this was you.

But it was the furthest thing from you.

It was Sid.

Sid had many useless, irritating talents, but always finding Jungkook when he was alone, was his most impressive one.

Jungkook started to roll his eyes even before Sid spoke up, but that didn’t deter the older boy from entering the room.

“You’ve been ignoring us the whole day,” Sid said, closing the door behind him. “Well, I don’t care if you ignore everyone else. But you’ve been ignoring me, and I can’t allow that.”

Jungkook threw his jeans and shorts into the bag.

“That is so kind,” he said without looking up. “Did you miss me that much?”

“I did,” Sid said, and even without looking at him, Jungkook knew he had his usual psychotic grin on. Leaning against the dressing table, Sid added, “the clock’s tick-tick-ticking.”

“If you don’t leave me alone right now,” Jungkook retorted, unplugging his charger and packing it, too, “my foot is going to be kick-kick-kicking your ass.”

Sid merely snorted at the threat. “You’re very hostile, you know? It’s just a bet.”

Jungkook scoffed.

He remembered hoping that Sid would eventually forget about the bet if no one mentioned it. How very naive he had been. Sid would never forget. He was like a hateful elephant in this case—he had a flawless memory for anything that benefited him and was constantly at the centre of attention in any room he was in, making it impossible to escape his presence.

Jungkook couldn’t believe that he had once clung to the Katana so tightly that he didn’t even consider the possibility of losing the bet as soon as he made it. It seemed absurd now. What did he want to prove? Nothing made sense to him anymore.

“Is it? Really? Just a bet?” he rebutted, moving closer to Sid with each question. “Because when I told you I wanted to end it, you acted like we signed a fucking contract.”

Sid shrugged, his indifference as irritating as it was insincere.

“A bet’s still a bet,” he replied. “You’ve got to keep your word.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook turned around and grabbed his hairdryer from the table. They had already argued about this before. He didn’t have the energy to keep doing it, and he still had things to pack.

“Get fucked, Sid.”

“Come on,” Sid said, clearly expecting a more grandiose response from him. “You keep saying that. But I’m willing to talk to you here. Tell me what happened.”

Jungkook glared at him through his peripherals. “What the fuck do you mean, what happened?”

“Well, you were acting so bold and confident before,” Sid said in a breathy voice, presumably to imitate Jungkook’s manner of speaking. “You were sure you’d get back together, no problem.”

“No,” Jungkook countered, straightening up. “I was sure we could go on a date, no problem. That was the extent of the bet for me.”

It was bad enough, he knew. But he couldn’t move forward if he didn’t own up to it.

“Aww.” Sid tilted his head sideways and pursed his lips to feign sympathy. “But you couldn’t even do that...”

“I fucking—okay,” Jungkook stopped when he felt his agitation grow. There was a voice in his head—very similar to yours—reminding him that Sid wasn’t worth it. “Get out. I’m serious.”

“Was that all talk?” Sid continued as if the younger boy hadn’t spoken. “Admit it, and maybe we’ll come to a different agreement about the bet.”

“Get,” Jungkook said, gritting his teeth, “out.”

Sid clicked his tongue, but the pleasure that this interaction brought him was prominent in his eyes. Antagonising Jungkook was his favourite part of the day.

“Predictable,” he said. “It seems I overestimated you, after all.”

“What the fuck are you on about now?”

“Well, you know,” Sid continued to spin his webs around Jungkook. “You and your manager. I thought you’d win the bet for sure.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jungkook asked, “yet you still agreed to it?”

Sid’s eye twitched slightly—Jungkook felt a great sense of satisfaction at the sight; it wasn’t often that Sid was forced to question his own logic, however momentarily—but he recovered too quickly.

“I like to gamble.” He shrugged. “What can I say?”

“You can shut up,” Jungkook suggested.

“However, you didn’t manage to do it,” Sid went on. “And I have to say, I am genuinely surprised. Not about you, no. I always knew you were pathetically in love with her, that’s just who you are. No offence, just the truth, really. But she’s just—I mean, come on.” He paused to laugh, one hand on his stomach as if he found himself so amusing that he needed to keep his guts from spilling out. “You fluttered your eyelashes at her once, and she went to Paris with you. She’s that fucking easy.”

Jungkook felt the room still as he lifted his gaze from Sid’s stomach to his eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Sid’s grin was about as wide as the distance from this venue to the nearest hospital, where Jungkook thought he was about to send him.

Sid pushed himself off the table he’d been leaning against and walked over to the rack of clothes next to the couch. Jungkook watched him, stiff and belligerent.

“I thought she was keeping you on a short leash. And don’t blame me. I mean, you always ran after her as soon as she called,” the older boy continued, laughing with a little shake of his head—as if in disbelief. He turned and leisurely strolled back towards Jungkook. “But she—I mean, I get the feeling she doesn’t like me very much, but even I could have taken her out if I wanted to. Honestly, man, I’m surprised you couldn’t do it. She’s that specific type—you know the one—where she’ll say yes to anyone if they just put in enough effort—”

Jungkook’s punch landed right on the side of Sid’s mouth, cutting him off.

Something in Sid’s neck cracked as the blunt force twisted his head to the side. The corner of his mouth was bleeding, but he still had an almost defiant look in his eyes when he turned back to Jungkook. The tips of his fingers were painted scarlet when he pulled them back from his lips.

“I fucking warned you,” Jungkook growled while Sid continued to stare at his hand. “Get your ass out of here right fucking now or I swear they’ll have to carry you out of here in a fucking box.”

Sid spat the blood from his mouth on the floor and glared at Jungkook.

“That the best you can do?” he challenged. “Huh? Maybe that’s why you couldn’t even get someone like her to—”

Jungkook raised his fist again, but Sid had already been anticipating it. He pushed Jungkook’s hand back with his forearm, knocking the younger boy off balance for a moment—it was then that he landed a punch on Jungkook’s left cheekbone.

A sharp pain surged through the side of his face, but Jungkook was wide awake and furious.

In less than a second, he noticed Sid swinging back again—Sid had always been strong but slow—and Jungkook blocked his blow with his left wrist and rammed his shoulder into Sid’s chest, pushing him into the wall and wrapping an arm around him. The older boy thrashed and squirmed with raging strength until he freed one of his hands.

Jungkook tried to pin Sid’s left arm against the wall—he was left-handed if barely even that—but, being the massive pile of unbelievably lucky crap that he was, Sid managed to use his right fist to reach the boy restraining him.

Sid’s unexpected southpaw caught Jungkook just as he was lowering his head to avoid the blow from the older boy’s dominant hand—and his right fist connected with the side of Jungkook’s head, between his eye and temple.

“You’re f-fucking embarrassing,” Sid snarled, bloodied and breathless, as Jungkook staggered backwards, dazed from the blow. “Weak fucking piece of sh-shit. Birds of fucking feather, you two—both fucking worthless and—”

Sid inhaled quickly before finishing his sentence—but then he ended up not even finishing his breath.

Aggravated and filled with raw adrenaline, Jungkook delivered a furious uppercut, his fist colliding solidly with Sid’s chin. The older boy was propelled backwards by the force—Jungkook heard the thud as his head hit the wall.

Already groaning, Sid was determined to fight back—never mind that the room was spinning—but Jungkook took advantage of the moment while Sid’s vision was still cloudy and pinned him against the wall with his full weight.

“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up,” he hissed, pressing his forearm against Sid’s neck.

Choking, Sid immediately grabbed Jungkook’s arm to push him off, but Jungkook had a clear strength and fury advantage. He did not budge as the older boy resisted him.

Sid knew this wasn’t a good look for him—he could feel that if Jungkook pushed his forearm into his neck any harder, he’d lift him off the ground. Unable to breathe, the older boy paled, but his eyes were black with rage.

“Face the fff-fuh-fucking facts. You’re weak,” Sid wheezed, livid. There was blood in his mouth and something else that rolled around his tongue when he spoke. “And she’s a f-fucking—”

“One more fucking word,” Jungkook warned, pressing his arm harder into Sid’s throat—the other boy couldn’t even look at him anymore, his head was pushed too far back, “and you’ll have to be fucking dissected to find out what the fuck happened to you.”

Sid gasped for breath but refused to stop speaking. “I—unf—f-fucking—”

“What the fuck—” a shrill, startled voice demanded from behind the two boys, “—is going on?!”

Jungkook jumped—Sid felt his arm shove deeper into his throat and let out a half-stifled cry—and turned to see Luna standing wide-eyed in the doorway of the changing room.

He tore himself away from Sid, who dropped his hands to his knees, panting and clutching his throat before straightening again as though nothing was wrong. But his attempt to inhale properly resulted in another violent coughing fit. He bent over to spit out some blood and something else.

The two boys watched as a tooth rolled into the revolting mixture of spit and blood on the floor. Sid looked appalled as he reached for his mouth again, almost prepared to count all his teeth to check if he’d really lost one or if spare teeth were just something he carried around in his mouth without realising.

“Do I have to ask again?!” Luna cried, too shocked to make sense of what she had the unfortunate luck of interrupting.

“It’s okay, Luna,” Jungkook said, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “Sid was just leaving.”

Sid glared at him, coughed again, and leaned in closer.

“All bark,” he hissed hoarsely. Jungkook could see the small gap next to Sid’s lower canine when he opened his mouth. “No bite.”

“Get fucked,” Jungkook said. “And pack your shit. Don’t come anywhere near me again or you’ll be eating through a fucking straw.”

He watched as Sid narrowed his eyes, fighting a battle within himself. Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, his fists ready to strike if he made another comment or exhibited any signs of even thinking about you.

Finally, Sid turned around and stormed out of the room. As soon as he walked down the corridor without so much as a glance at Luna, she went inside.

Still completely bewildered, she stopped abruptly in the middle of the room. The pool of blood was between her and Jungkook, and they both looked at it for a moment.

“What—” she began, then paused to suppress her disgust as she lifted her gaze from the floor to Jungkook. “What the hell happened here?”

He walked over to one of the cupboards by the window, searching for towels. He needed to clean this up or the venue would report the damages to you.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“You’re bleeding,” Luna said, stepping closer. Jungkook froze as she took one of the towels from him and reached up to his temple. “You’re bleeding so much, in fact, that you might need stitches.”

He shook his head—and then received a punch in the ribs from her. He yelped in surprise and learnt to stand still while she wiped the blood off.

“It’s fine,” he insisted. His temple throbbed with pain, but it still couldn’t compare to the sharp-edged emptiness that he’d felt all day.

“It’s not fine,” Luna said, pulling away. The towel was soaked with blood. Jungkook had to admit that he was surprised he was bleeding so much. Despite the sharpness of Sid’s fists, he had assumed that he’d been merely scratched. “Let me find—”

“No!” His eyes were wide in sudden panic. “Don’t—don’t bring her here. Actually, don’t tell her about the mess here at all. Please?”

Luna watched him for a moment, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion (was he serious?) and eyes bright with pity (what a shame to be so stupid).

“Jungkook,” she said patiently. “You’re going to have bruises all over your face. Probably even a black eye.”

He exhaled and looked down.

He knew he couldn’t keep this from you, but involving you now was the worst possible thing he could do. He was supposed to make things right.

“I know,” he said slowly, “but—I’m… I don’t want this to be another one of my messes that she has to clean up. That would definitely make her give up and go to Reconnaissance.”

Luna lowered her gaze, taking a moment to process the fact that Jungkook knew about the other band, but instead of the hysterics that everyone would have expected from him, he’d been rather composed all day today. Until he got into a fight with Sid, of course.

She tossed the towel onto the puddle of blood on the floor. She had no intention of cleaning it up herself, but she couldn’t stand to look at it.

“Well, have you considered not getting into this mess in the first place?” she asked then.

“Believe it or not, he started it,” Jungkook mumbled as he gathered more towels from the cupboard.

“Does that even matter now?”

Luna had to step back as he bent down to mop the floor. Some blood had already seeped into the wooden floorboards, but Jungkook scrubbed over the stain with the towel anyway.

“No,” he said, concentrating his irritation on the repetitive motions as he wiped the floor. “I guess not.”

“At least let me get some band-aids for you.” She looked around the room. There didn’t seem to be any first-aid kits here, but she had a few band-aids in her bag that she’d left in the waiting area outside. “Although I don’t know if that’s even enough.”

“It is enough,” Jungkook said. “I’m fine. He barely—barely touched me.”

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Luna turned to the door, muttering under her breath, “fucking boys.”

Jungkook couldn’t help a small smile.

“I heard that!” he shouted.

“I wanted you to!” she shouted back without turning around.

He chuckled, then winced at the sharp twinge in his temple. The adrenaline must have worn off, or the pain was getting stronger. He stopped scrubbing the floors, hoping to leave a message for the organisers and personally apologise for the mess later.

Then he crossed his legs on the ground and leaned his head against the wall. For just one second, he closed his eyes and rested.

He made a decision while he did.

He resolved to make sure that Sid wouldn’t come anywhere near him, Rated Riot, or you.

He finally realised that he had friends here—real friends. They had been here all along, the people who loved him. Hoseok, who took care of him when he was hungover. Yoongi, who tried to find help when he thought Jungkook was feeling a little too much. Taehyung, who didn’t leave even after Jungkook admitted how much he’d fucked up. And Luna, who looked about ready to physically beat some sense into him, but still stayed to help him with his wounds. Namjoon, Jimin, Seokjin, and Maggie, too—honestly, the entire team who laughed at his jokes, teased him and always supported him.

Although he was still worried about being alone with his thoughts, Jungkook knew he didn’t need Sid to fill the void. Now he wondered if Sid had always been the void he was trying to escape.

He was determined to prevent history from repeating itself. These people that he’d desperately wanted to call friends had already contributed significantly to your break-up once before, without him realising it.

Well, now he realised it. And he was going to fix it—all of it.

He could start by eliminating the reason why he kept making the same mistakes.

A minute later, Luna returned to the room. The sight of Jungkook sitting on the floor with his eyes closed made her look twice as she felt her heart drop in sudden anxiety.

She thought about turning around and looking for you, because you had a lot more patience to deal with this than she thought she did. But then, she knew that another argument was the last thing you or Jungkook needed right now.

She took a deep breath and approached him.

“Here,” she said as she grabbed another towel and squatted down next to him with the few band-aids that, frankly, seemed meagre when she saw the cuts and bruises on his face up close. “Let me help you.”

Jungkook had only briefly opened his eyes to look at her and then closed them again.

“Thank you,” he said as she wiped more blood from the side of his face before applying the band-aid. She didn’t mean to be gentle. She wanted him to understand how much he’d messed up. But her movements ended up being tentative and careful anyway.

“Don’t thank me,” she said, biting her lip as the blood immediately seeped through the band-aids. They would not hold; they both knew that. She sighed and pulled away from him. “She will see this. You will have to argue with her again. I can’t help you with that.”

He nodded his head once. “I know.”

Luna rose and walked over to the back of the room, considering this. She leaned her hip against the table and looked back at him.

“I don’t, um—okay. For what it’s worth,” she said, resting her hands on the table on either side of her. “I don’t think she’ll quit. Not even over this.”

“You really believe that?” Jungkook asked, opening his eyes. The hope in them was so bright that it was almost blinding.

Luna nodded. “She loves the band too much. Not even you can change that.”

He looked down. That would have to be good enough, he decided—just the fact that you would stay, even if it wasn’t for him. Even if it was despite him.

“I-I hope you’re right,” he said quietly.

“Okay, so now—” Luna jumped onto the table to take a seat, “—tell me what happened with Sid.”

Ordinarily, this would have been a long story. But Jungkook knew Taehyung might have made telling it a bit easier for him.

“Taehyung said you know about the bet?” he asked to be sure.

“Yeah. He told me back in Tilburg after he saw you leave with her to talk. Or, well, he assumed you would talk,” Luna explained. “In any case, you should be grateful that I know my strengths. Otherwise, I’d be punching you, too.”

Considering how much smaller than him Luna was, Jungkook smiled reflexively.

“I appreciate you not doing that,” he said with genuine respect.

“I’ve mentally kicked your ass, though.”

“Well, I deserve that, I guess.”

“So, this was about the bet, then?”

Jungkook sighed. He hadn’t technically allowed Sid to say any additional adjectives after he’d called you “easy,” but even this was too much. Jungkook wasn’t sure if he could talk about it without wanting to rip Sid’s eyes out and feed them to him.

“He was… just riling me up. He said some—some things,” he said, choosing a gentler word, even though several more appropriate expletives came to mind. “And he took it too far. Trust me, he deserved to get hit.”

“Oh, I trust you,” Luna said. “I just don’t think you should have been the one to hit him.”

Jungkook swallowed, feeling a metallic taste in his mouth. It didn’t bother him much. He’d tasted worse in the past few days.

“If I didn’t do it,” he said, “no one else would have.”

“Why are you so sure about that?” Luna asked, her voice less confident.

Most of what she knew about Jungkook and Sid came from questionable fan accounts she’d seen online—the stories she read were almost always outrageous, but now that she’d gotten to know Sid on this tour, she found those accounts much more plausible. Surely then, if Sid was this loathsome to everyone, someone was bound to deck him sooner or later.

“Everyone else is afraid of him,” Jungkook replied.

“And you’re not?” she asked.

The question felt mocking—even though it didn’t sound like that was Luna’s intention.

He thumped his head against the wall. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

The room was silent for a few minutes as Jungkook sat motionless, and Luna’s gaze kept wandering to the pile of towels on the bloodstained floor and then back to his resigned figure against the wall.

“Can I ask you something?” she said then.

His voice was tired. “Yeah.”

“Why did you make this bet in the first place?”

He inhaled, and a sharp, stabbing pain shot up from his lungs to his throat. It probably wasn’t a good sign, but he did not have the energy to worry about it at the moment.

He scratched the uninjured side of his face with his hand—his knuckles bruised and torn—and let his fingers linger there. It was a reflexive reaction, Luna observed, as he tried to hide from her. Or, rather, from her question.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “Sid and Jude were getting in my head about how I was like some—I don’t know, pathetic. They made me feel like I was less of a person because I still had feelings for her.”

“Less of a person,” Luna said, “or less of an asshole that they seem to be trying—and succeeding—to be?”

Jungkook sighed, allowing the pins and needles to settle in his oesophagus. He wanted to say something but swallowed the answer with the bitter taste in his mouth.

“So, you made the bet to prove them wrong?” she asked in response to his silence.

“I—I don’t know,” he said again. He sometimes felt like he was a different person when he was with his friends. And now that he was determined to never see Sid again—but the repercussions of their friendship were still evident—Jungkook didn’t know who he really was anymore. “I think, at first, I agreed to the bet to prove a point.”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “But there was another reason?”

“Yeah, I think that… there was something else,” he said with a slow nod. “I realised later that I might have agreed to the bet because I wanted to win it. Not—not for the money, and not just to prove that I wasn’t pathetic. I just really—I wanted to go on that date with her. I wanted her. And the bet was—it was a kick in my ass to finally act on my feelings.”

Luna’s eyebrows suddenly dropped in disappointment and she turned away to hide her expression, even though Jungkook was too weary to lift his head and look up.

“There were better ways to act on them, you know,” she said. “Less painful ways, too.”

“Oh, I know,” he said with a wry smile. “Unfortunately, I’m fucked up.”

“You… you’re not fucked up,” she said, although to be honest, after learning about the bet, she thought he might be. But now that she saw how much his choices tormented him, she realised that he wasn’t all black and white. He was very, very grey. “You just did a fucked-up thing.”

Jungkook snickered weakly. “That’s nice of you to say. But I was always… I’d always been a problem.”

“Because of your friends?”

“Yeah—well, mostly, yeah. B-but she—” he paused here as another jolt of pain shot through his chest at the mention of you. He filled his lungs completely with another sharp intake of breath, then tried again. “She still—she still loved me. You know? I used to look at my friends and think I had nothing compared to them. But then I met her, and I—I had everything. I didn’t deserve her, but I—she was with me. She wanted to be with me. And she was the one good thing in my life. And I took that for granted. And now that I—now that we… anyway. I blew it. Now I really have nothing. Serves me right, I know. I just wish she wasn’t—I wish I hadn’t hurt her.”

Luna closed her eyes and sighed in response to the endless additions that Jungkook could not seem to control as he spoke.

She felt a little upset, she couldn’t help it. But she also felt a little giddy. She’d never heard Jungkook say these things about you, but she’d suspected that was how he felt all along.

However, she wasn’t one to make empty promises, especially when those promises were not within her control, so she could not say things like ‘you two will be fine’ or ‘you didn’t blow it.’

Honestly, she couldn’t find an appropriate response no matter how much she tried, so for a good minute, the two of them sat in silence.

Then, Jungkook finally raised his eyes from the ground. “Why’d you come here, by the way? I thought everyone was on the bus.”

Luna blinked, remembering suddenly.

“I left my phone here after the show,” she said, instinctively checking her pockets to make sure she really did not have it.

“Oh.” He pointed to the opposite side of the room. “I think I heard it vibrate. On the couch.”

“Ah.” She pushed herself off the table. “Thanks.”

He watched through his eyelashes as she picked up her phone. One of his eyelids was dropping and he was afraid to blink.

When Luna glanced at the screen—and probably saw the missed call from Taehyung—Jungkook said, “you should go.”

She turned around and took in the scene in the room once more.

It was miserable here. Jungkook looked miserable.

“I’m sorry I can’t say anything encouraging,” she said, biting her lip. “She’s my friend. And you’ve done a—well, this isn’t good.”

Jungkook nodded and swallowed, but it didn’t soothe his dry throat. “I know.”

“I’d like to help, but I—I’m always going to be on her side.”

“Of course. I understand.”

Luna sighed, because he had claimed he understood, but still looked as if happiness was a concept he’d never experienced in his life.

“I just—I don’t know what to tell you before I go,” she admitted. She knew she didn’t owe him anything, but leaving him here in this state didn’t feel right, either. She had always been compassionate, but the intensity of it surprised her this time. “I don’t know what she’ll do. A-about you, I mean. Not about Reconnaissance.”

Jungkook considered this. The side of his head felt torn and cracked. The poor band-aids were already dark red.

“What would you do?” he asked.

Luna raised her eyebrows at the abrupt question. “Me?”

“If you were her,” Jungkook explained. “Or if I were Taehyung.”

She licked her lips, taking a moment to choose her next words.

“Jungkook,” she said. “No offence, but Taehyung would never do something so stupid.”

A defeated, humourless smile appeared on his lips. “Yeah. You’re right. He wouldn’t.”

As soon as the tiniest glimmer of hope in his eyes dimmed, his voice sounded as if it was coming from somewhere underground.

God, Luna thought. Now the room was even more dreary.

Even though she was going to support whatever decision you would make about this, she couldn’t just leave without saying anything to him. Having no one on his side while he tried to redeem himself was unfair.

Advice, she figured, had to be the best thing she could offer him right now.

“Listen,” she said with a determined inhale. “I can’t judge what I would do if I were her because I don’t share her memories. I don’t know what happened between you all those years ago. Or even what’s happening now. But… if I were you, I’d give her some time.”

Jungkook nodded, looking at her with what he hoped was a grateful smile.

“Interestingly enough, that’s what your boyfriend told me,” he said.

“Yeah? Well, he gives great advice.”

The corners of his lips stretched further. “Matching set, you two.”

Luna slid her phone into her pocket and grabbed her bag, zipping up the pocket where she had kept the band-aids.

“Just be careful, okay?” she said. “We’re leaving for the airport soon, so don’t stay here too long. Don’t make her look for you. I’ll, um—I’ll try to do damage control.”

“Okay. Thank—”

Before Jungkook could finish, the door of the changing room opened wider, diverting their attention.

They both turned to look with very different expressions on their faces—Luna was already scowling, thinking that Sid had come back. Jungkook, on the other hand, appeared absolutely terrified, thinking that it was you, about to witness him sitting on the bloody floor—literally—with band-aids on his face.

“Oh,” a gasp left Minjun’s lips as he stopped in the doorway. “Sorry, I was—”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook said, immensely relieved. “You can come in.”

“Hold on,” Luna warned. Minjun remained frozen under her gaze. “Will I have to intervene? Because I think we’ve spilt enough blood already.”

Minjun raised his eyebrows. “Whose blood?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Jungkook said to the girl. “Thank you, Luna.”

She watched the two of them for another minute until Jungkook nodded reassuringly again. Hesitantly, she nodded back and gave Minjun a pointed look.

“Okay. But you watch your hands,” she warned. “He has to be on stage tomorrow.”

“I—I mean no harm.” Minjun raised both hands, taken aback by her hostility. “I don’t know what happened here, but I’m—I come in peace.”

“Good,” Luna said with a firm nod. She glanced back over her shoulder at Jungkook. “I’ll see you later. Put some ice on your eye when you get back on the bus. It won’t do much for the colour, but it might help with the swelling.”

“Will do,” he said and called out as she exited the room, “thank you again!”

After Luna had left, Minjun entered the room and closed the door behind him. Only then he noticed the bloody towels and the dirty floor. Squinting, he leant forward a little and detected something else between the towels.

“So,” he said, straightening. “What the fuck happened and whose tooth is that on the floor?”

Jungkook snorted. “Sid’s.”

Minjun’s face lit up with childlike glee. “No fucking way! Did you do it?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said with a grin that made him look vaguely menacing, considering how bruised and battered his face was.

“Awesome, man,” Minjun said, coming closer to pat him on the back before squatting next to him.

“He deserved it.”

“I don’t even care, to be honest. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah. Well.” Jungkook lifted a hand to gesture at his own face. “He’s landed some good ones, too.”

Minjun observed his bruises and the bloody band-aids that seemed quite small for a normal cut, but remained remarkably resilient on his fresh wounds.

“You’ll live,” he concluded.

Jungkook turned to him. A little awkwardly, he asked, “why, um… why are you here?”

“Ah.” Minjun reached into his pocket for something. “Here.”

Jungkook immediately recognised the keys to his Katana in his friend’s palm.

Speechless for a minute, he just stared at Minjun’s hand without moving. He had a feeling—against his better judgement—that this was a trap. That by taking the keys, he’d sign something else to the devil.

“What—?” he tried to ask.

“Take it,” Minjun urged, wishing to relieve himself of the unwanted weight of the keys in his hand.

“But the bet—”

“Fuck the bet,” he said, waving his palm up and down when Jungkook still didn’t reach for it. “It went too far.”

“Sid,” Jungkook began, hesitation and doubt evident in every centimetre of his face, “didn’t agree to this.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure Sid’s mother didn’t agree to give birth to a fucking clown, but shit happens,” Minjun countered. “Take the damn keys.”

Jungkook finally extended his shaking hand and felt the familiar cold metal under his fingertips. He paused before pulling back with the keys.

The Katana was his. But instead of relief, he felt a new weight in his chest.

“Why?” he asked, looking down at the key ring, adorned with a gaudy, jewelled pendant with the initials “JK.” It was a trinket you had bought him during a drunken escapade at a local fair. He still remembered your delighted squeal when you spotted the two letters in one of the jewellery stands.

“Because this is stupid and pointless,” Minjun said. His legs had gone numb, so he mirrored Jungkook’s position and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. “Some fucking bet is not worth ruining your relationship over.”

With a small smile on his face—because they were two miserable losers, hanging out on the floor of his band’s changing room—Jungkook clutched the keys and pushed them into his own pocket.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier,” Minjun said. “I was afraid, I guess. Of what Sid would do if I went against his wishes. But then I… came to pick you up from that hotel bar in Tilburg—”

“That was you?” Jungkook cut him off. He had been wondering how he ended up back on the tour bus.

“Yeah,” Minjun replied. “You called me and asked to take the bike back to the rental shop because you couldn’t do it anymore. Man, I swear, I thought you were on some bridge, the way you phrased it.”

Jungkook looked away. He was not in a good place when he called his friend, and alcohol must have exaggerated it. “Sorry.”

“You still looked worse than I expected when I got there,” Minjun continued. “I thought I might have to take you to a hospital to have your stomach pumped, and I don’t fucking speak Dutch. Nor did I know where a fucking hospital was in Tilburg.”

Jungkook laughed at his rising tone, and Minjun smiled, too.

The smile turned ironic, however, when he added, “you threw up on my shoes.”

Jungkook, who never got drunk enough to experience a hangover the next day, let alone throw up, raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I don’t remember that,” he said, meaning that it didn’t happen.

Minjun ignored the dismissive tone in his voice—he had a ruined pair of Converse to prove his accusation.

“Lucky you then,” he retorted. “You regained some colour after that, though. But you wouldn’t stop talking about her. It was like—like you couldn’t understand anything of what was happening, but you could still remember her. It hit me then, how little the bet really mattered. I mean, I always thought it was stupid, but that night, I—I saw what you were feeling. You regretted everything. I wanted to give you the keys right then, but you looked like you couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror, so I just dropped you off on the bus. One of your—Hoseok was awake. He thanked me.”

Jungkook needed a minute to reflect on the conversation he’d had with Hoseok later that same morning.

“He didn’t tell me,” he said.

Minjun shrugged. “He had nothing to thank me for, anyway. I’m your friend. Sorry I didn’t act like it before.”

This was the first time that one of his friends had apologised to him, and Jungkook recognised the significance of the moment. He realised with blinding clarity that out of the three people he had invited as his personal guests on this tour, there was only one he truly wanted to stay here.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, a little overwhelmed. “I’m—thanks for doing this now.”

Minjun nodded and the two of them shared a moment of comfortable silence. But Jungkook couldn’t quiet his thoughts—Sid wasn’t here, but he still couldn’t shake his presence.

“There was something that Sid said to me today,” he spoke up. “I-I think he likes her.”

“What?” Minjun was surprised. He glanced back at the tooth on the floor in front of him. “What’d he say?”

“He—just some shit.” Jungkook looked down and pulled on a loose thread on his sweatpants. “About how he could have convinced her to date him.”

Minjun blinked in another wave of surprise. He had a very different understanding of what Sid felt for you and Jungkook, but now he was confused.

“He’s just trying to get under your skin,” he tried to rationalise.

“No, but think about it,” Jungkook said. “Why else would he go to such great lengths to persuade me to participate in this bet? To force me to continue it after I’d clearly won?”

Again, Minjun needed a minute to find a response.

Jungkook clicked his tongue and looked away. “See, you can’t disagree.”

“I mean…” Minjun bit the corner of his lower lip. “I guess it makes sense, but—”

“I know that she wouldn’t consider him in a million years,” Jungkook added. “I’m not even thinking about that, I’m just… wow. How fucking stupid. He ruined this for himself and for me.”

His friend sighed. He didn’t want to keep talking about this. “Yeah.”

“And I let him,” Jungkook finished.

“Yeah,” Minjun repeated. “He deserved getting his tooth knocked out. And you deserve the swollen eye.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips. He wasn’t going to disagree, and Minjun smiled in relief when he saw the humour in his friend’s eyes.

This had to happen, Minjun thought. Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to move on if he had not found another way to prove that his own self—and his relationship with you—was the one thing he would never lose, no matter how hard Sid tried.

“What, um,” Jungkook asked after a minute, “what are you going to do when Sid asks about the keys after the bet is over?”

Minjun, feeling much more relaxed, merely shrugged. “Knock another one of his teeth out?”

Jungkook laughed and smacked his friend on the shoulder, despite the pain in his head when he moved.

“Oh, come on,” Minjun said, grinning. “He still has, like, fifteen left.”

“I’m sure he has more left. Implants or not.”

“Now, see, implants are harder to knock out. We’d have to meet and discuss the logistics of that. Perhaps attack in secret.”

Jungkook laughed again, and Minjun joined in, too.

They both felt significantly better.

However, Jungkook still had a lot of things to take care of as soon as he got up from the floor.

He should have told you about the bet earlier, but he hadn’t. All he could do now was make amends for a lapse in judgement with terrible consequences.

No.

There would be no consequences. He would make sure to never hurt you again.

And he’d begin by following through with his plan.

Jungkook asked Minjun to give him some time alone and found his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants. He dialled Seokjin’s number, and Seokjin referred him to the Head of Security on tour, Mick.

Mick was lovely. He fostered pets and looked after injured animals in his cabin on the edge of the forest, where he lived with his three dogs. Jungkook had visited him once and felt very much like he imagined Harry Potter to feel when he saw Hagrid’s hut for the first time.

Mick was also three times larger than Jungkook. His primary responsibility on tour was preventing intoxicated individuals from climbing onto the stage and ensuring trespassers did not decide to have an excursion on the band’s tour bus.

Now, Jungkook decided as he spelled Sid’s name to Mick over the phone, Mick was going to make sure that Isidore Hamlet Mercer-Hastings—a name that likely had Shakespeare himself rolling in his grave—could not enter any venue where Rated Riot was scheduled to perform.

It wasn’t quite as dramatic as a restraining order, Jungkook supposed. But blacklisting Sid from his gigs seemed like a good start.

Half an hour later, Jungkook had barricaded himself behind the curtains in his bunk. He was fully awake but he didn’t want you to see what he looked like.

Naturally, you had assumed he was sleeping and had no reason to talk to him anyway, so you kept yourself busy with an e-book in your bunk as the bus made its way to the airport.

Then, most unfortunately, your relative peace was disturbed when you received a text message from Nick Zhou. It was as if he could sense the terrible turmoil in your mind and your heart, and he wanted to add more fuel to the fire.

Things like that happened sometimes, you thought. Coincidences—unless you decided to treat them as signs.

Nick had sent you a picture of the perfectly green palm trees visible through a window. You zoomed in and assumed that he had taken the picture somewhere in Australia, where Reconnaissance were currently on tour.

In the text below, Nick said, “new album in progress. Would be nice to have you with us when we put it out!”

Anxious suddenly, you considered putting your phone away and just carrying on with your e-book. But your uncertainty was relentless—maybe if you replied to him, you’d gain a clearer understanding of what you should do.

You typed back, “hope you’re having fun! I’m still thinking about it.”

Then you exhaled and tossed your phone to the farthest corner of your bunk so as not to be bothered in case it vibrated again. Texting him back didn’t work. You felt just as tense as before.

You exhaled and attempted to keep reading, but silence was simply not meant for you today.

With the flight to Manchester only five hours away, Luna decided it was a good time to discuss with you what had happened in the changing room.

“Hey,” she whispered as she crept up to your bunk, moving stealthily and quietly as if she were a secret agent on a mission.

You looked up at her from your screen. “Hi.”

She wanted to talk to you, but now that she was doing it—or getting to it—she didn’t quite know how to proceed; or even where to begin, actually.

“So, um,” she said, sitting down on your bunk and taking her time to find a comfortable position. You put your tablet away and watched her. “I wanted to check up on you a little.”

You smirked. “Yeah? But not a lot?”

“Not yet.” She smiled at your teasing question. “You’re not critical, but I do think I have some cause for concern.”

You pulled yourself up and pushed a pillow behind your back to sit straighter. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you and Jungkook seem to be avoiding each other.”

You regarded her for a minute until you reached the inevitable conclusion—you suspected it yesterday, and now Luna’s knowing gaze fully convinced you that it was true.

“You know about the bet,” you said.

Luna looked around. No one on the bus appeared to be listening. Nearly everyone that she could see either had headphones on, or had their curtains drawn.

She glanced back at you and settled her gaze on the corner of your dark brown blanket.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I found out about it at the same time as you, more or less. Jungkook had, um—he’d talked to Taehyung before he told you.”

“Ah,” you said. “Well, that’s—I’m glad we all know, then.”

Luna noted the imperceptible look in your eyes. She wasn’t sure if you’d meant what you said.

Really, you weren’t sure, either. On the one hand, you were relieved that you wouldn’t have to retell what had happened to your friend. You weren’t sure you’d manage.

But on the other hand, the fact that other people knew about the bet did not feel particularly comforting—because this was one of the situations that you’d been desperate to avoid: your relationship with Jungkook getting so out of hand that the people around you began to talk about it.

However, you had been thinking a lot in the last few days and you realised that learning about the bet had helped you find some relief, too.

There was something bothering you for weeks now, something that was off in your surroundings, and now you finally knew what it was. It felt like a crooked picture frame on the wall. Like a non-alphabetical arrangement of books on a shelf. Like a bet about your relationship.

And now that you knew, the world had realigned again. You would have been able to breathe easier if you weren’t so embarrassed that other members of your team also knew about it.

“Well, aside from that,” Luna went on, keeping a careful eye on any changes in your expression. “I talked to Jungkook today. And I’m not defending him—”

“If you say ‘but’ next,” you interrupted, “that will negate your point, you know.”

“However,” Luna said instead and you rolled your eyes. “I think the bet is only half the picture. I mean, it’s shit. He fucked up. But I think that he’s been with you because he really wanted to be. Not because of the bet.”

If you had shaken your head any more vigorously, it might have flown off. Luna was slightly annoyed by your adamant rejection of everything she was saying—which made it easier for her to tell you the news.

“He fought Sid,” she said.

You frowned. “So?”

“Knocked his tooth out, I think.”

Your frown turned into shock as your eyebrows shot up nearly all the way to your hairline. When Luna said that they fought, you obviously did not expect it to be a physical altercation.

“They fought?” you repeated.

“Yeah. Because Sid can’t keep his mouth shut,” she said. “Jungkook loathes the guy. I don’t know what sort of friendship they had before, but there’s none of that left. If I hadn’t walked in, I don’t know—I mean, he—he hates him.” Luna swallowed here, figuring that additional details might make it harder for her to make her point. “But more than that, it looked to me like Jungkook just hates himself. Now, what you want to do next, that’s up to you. I just wanted to tell you what I thought. I talked to him. He was miserable.”

“Well.” You swallowed. “He lost the bet.”

“Not about the bet. He has feelings for you. Real feelings.”

“How—”

“Don’t ask me how I know that,” she cut you off before you could ask exactly that. “These things you can just see. And it’s especially obvious in him. Because, look… Here are the facts. He had the option to keep the bet a secret from you. Or he could have gotten back together with you and won the bet. If not, he could have waited for this to pass, or until his friends told you. But he was the one who told you that he fucked up. That’s got to count for something. It’s okay if it’s not enough. But it—well, it sort of feels like a start. Because he finally got it through his thick head that this is what matters. You. He loves you.”

Your skin shivered—an automatic reaction to these words—but you scoffed. “And knocking out Sid’s tooth is a way to show it.”

Luna groaned and was about to protest, but you stopped her by shaking your head again.

“Luna—I mean—thank you, but… this is the same shit again,” you said. “The exact same shit that made us break up the first time. Except now, there’s so much more at stake. It’s no longer just about us.”

“Is it?” she asked. “Is it, really? I mean, I understand why you would think that, considering your—uh, your job. But it’s… Really, it’s just you. The two of you. As it’s always been.”

You sighed and pulled the sleeves of your turtleneck down until you could hide your fists in them. You kept your gaze on the blanket beneath you—undoubtedly disagreeing with her again—and Luna let out a soft, tired breath.

“I’m—whatever you do next, I’ll be on your side,” she said. “If you walk away, I walk away. It’s simple. I just think it’d do you two good to talk this out. When you’re ready. So that you would know what you’re walking away from.”

You were starting to shake your head again, but stopped abruptly, realising the futility of it. You weren’t actually disagreeing with Luna’s point, after all.

“It would be good,” you said. “But I don’t want to talk to him about this. This was a mistake from the very beginning.”

“So… what, then?” she asked, worried about the burden of even more unresolved feelings that you would have to carry around every day if you allowed this to linger. If this became another thing that you never talked to anyone about. “You think you can just go back to the way things were?”

“No,” you said. “Because I’m still very annoyed. But after that, then yeah. Ideally.”

Luna tried to conceal her skepticism, but it was evident in the way she sucked in her lips and nodded her head. “Okay.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for the optimism?”

She sighed and turned to face you again.

“I get it,” she said. “I understand why you don’t want to see him right now. But I also… kind of understand why he did what he did.”

Your eyebrows rose again. “Why he made the bet?”

“No,” she said, raising her index finger and closing her eyes to emphasise her point. “Not that. That I don’t understand. I meant the fight with Sid. Sid is a big reason why you’re in this situation and Jungkook had no other choice left. He got into that fight because he’s shit at choosing friends, but he loves you.”

You ran your tongue over your lips and looked back down at your blanket. “I don’t know which one of those things outweighs the other one.”

“Yeah, well, think about that,” she said. “Then talk to him.”

You were both aware that giving this advice was much easier than actually following it, and a silent minute passed without either of you looking at each other as you pondered the future.

“Nick texted me,” you said suddenly. You hadn’t realised how much his message weighed on you until you told her. “Just to check in. And, uh, to remind me of his—his offer.”

Luna did not like this, and she was glad you weren’t looking at her and didn’t see the expression on her face.

“What did you tell him?” she asked.

“I told him I’m still thinking about it.”

You felt Luna shifting her weight and fidgeting on the bunk next to you. She was uncomfortable, you could tell.

“You’re, uh… you’re really thinking about this, then?” she asked.

You threw your head back and rested it on the pillow. “I’m thinking about a lot these days.”

“Well, that’s—that’s good. Right?” she said, quietly hoping that your contemplations would eventually lead you to a decision that would cause you less suffering. She didn’t think leaving Rated Riot was that decision. You had made a family here. “Take your time with these things. Really think them through. Avoid everyone for a short while if that’s what you need.”

“Hmm. How can I avoid everyone, though?” you asked dryly. “If Jungkook got into a fight, I need to see him.”

“Ah.” Luna finally looked at you, feeling guilty somehow, as if she was the one who had punched him. “Yeah, that’s probably true. He, um—it’s not a disaster, but he did miss a couple of, uh—”

“Is he bleeding?” you asked, appreciating her effort to convey the situation without causing you alarm, but also without downplaying it.

“Well, not anymore,” she said. “At least, he wasn’t the last time I saw him. There is a, um—a black eye situation, though.”

You groaned and dropped your hands on the mattress in irritation.

“Fuck—you see? He’s doing it again. Leaving me no choice but to—oh, fuck it.” You slapped your hands on your knees and sat up straight. “He’ll have to wait until we arrive at the airport. I’m done jumping at the slightest sound he makes, manager or not.”

“I agree with that,” Luna said. “But I see that you don’t really mean it.”

You closed your eyes. “I have to mean it. I know it’s my job, and I know Jungkook never forced me into anything I didn’t consent to, but he just—this whole time, he acted like he was genuine when he was just doing what he always does. Playing along with Sid’s sick little games. Maybe he deserves to bleed a little for that.”

Luna was about to argue, but only nodded. She was very glad you were talking about this, even though you had dismissed everything she’d told you about Jungkook’s feelings.

She knew that you needed more time. You’d heard her. You just had to be in the right frame of mind to believe her.

She knew you’d get there, just as she knew Jungkook was not going to give up on you.

“Yeah,” Luna finally said. “He can wait. Do you... want to talk about it? About what he did?”

You looked murderous. “Absolutely not.”

She expected as much.

“Well, in that case,” she pulled her phone out, “you want to see something that Crowley did to my mum’s curtains? She took a video to show me.”

Your tension seemed to fade straight away. Luna’s troublemaker cat—named aptly after a Supernatural character with a redemption arc that Crowley, the cat, could only dream about—had never failed to ease your mind.

You needed some time alone. And you were very happy to be alone with her as she stretched out on the mattress next to you and played the video on her phone.

You caught glimpses of Jungkook and his heavy sunglasses on the way to your gate at the airport, but you didn’t have the time to check how bad he looked. The other Rated Riot members had already smacked him on the back of his head after they saw his band-aids, so you decided to wait until you could talk to him in private.

About an hour later, you spotted him going to the men’s room. You waited a few minutes and stood up, too.

The restroom was empty except for the two of you, and you quietly placed your carry-on bag on the ground next to the door. Jungkook hadn’t even noticed you enter.

“There you are,” you announced from the doorway.

Jungkook flinched and splashed himself as he washed his hands in front of the wall-sized mirror.

“You were—were you looking for me?” he asked. The automatic sink stopped and he moved his hands back under the faucet to get the water running again.

“I’ve been informed you have a black eye,” you said, coming closer. “I wanted to check the damage myself.”

The side of his face that was visible to you showed no signs of injury, but when you looked at his reflection in the mirror, you saw the red and purple bruises on the side of his face, concealed by a few persistent band-aids.

Jungkook swallowed and shook his hands several times to dry them. Then, he stepped back, allowing you to examine him. “Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” you repeated. His gaze remained fixed on yours as you scanned his features. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“Not really,” he said. “Want to tell me if you’re leaving to work with Reconnaissance?”

“Not really.”

He pursed his lips. “Well, then. Can I ask—”

“No,” you said immediately. He stopped speaking and clenched his jaw.

You were contemplating if you should have taken him to the hospital before the flight. You were also thinking about what to do with his bruises tomorrow since he had a performance, and appearing on stage with a black eye did not seem particularly professional.

“Does it hurt?” you asked. “These band-aids—did you change them?”

“No,” he said. It wasn’t clear which question he was responding to, but his answer seemed to fit both.

“You need to change them,” you said. “And clean the wounds properly.”

“I’m not going to a hospital.”

You sighed. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not that bad,” he said.

You looked back at the band-aids on the side of his face. They remained on his skin through the sheer force of will. Cuts and bruises peeked from underneath the dried blood.

“It looks bad with band-aids on,” you said. “I can only imagine what it looks like without.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Luna said so.”

You knew right away that this was impossible; Luna would have known better.

“She said no such thing,” you replied.

“Okay, maybe she didn’t,” he conceded with a quiet groan. “But I’m still not going to the hospital.”

The irony of the moment—and how you’d insisted that you were okay a few days ago, just like he was doing now—was completely lost on you. You felt exhausted.

“Why…” you started to say, then sighed as you brought your fingers over your closed eyes. “Why are you making me do this?”

“Do what?”

“Clean your self-destructive wounds.”

“They’re not self-destructive—”

“Really?” Your eyes shot open, ablaze with agitation. “So, getting punched by Sid was, what? A fight for dominance that you’d planned in advance?”

He cleared his throat with indignation and continued his previous statement, “and I’m not making you clean my wounds. I’m fine.”

“Sit down,” you said, turning to grab your carry-on bag. “You’re not fine.”

Awkwardly swaying in the same spot, Jungkook looked around. “Where do you want me to sit? We’re in a public bathroom.”

“Jesus, Jungkook!” you groaned irritably. You were too tired to think of every little detail, every action, and reaction. You just wanted to take a nap on the plane. “I don’t care. Sit on the floor. Or on the toilet.”

“Neither seems sterile…”

“Good thing you didn’t get punched in the ass, then.”

He huffed but still went into one of the cubicles, lowered the toilet lid with a scrunched nose and sat down on it.

He leaned over to hold the door open with his hand until you entered a few minutes later. Before either of you could grasp how small the space was now that you were in the closed cubicle, you took out the antiseptic spray from your amateur medical kit and grabbed a cotton pad. By that point, Jungkook was too worried about what you’d do to think about how close you were.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked.

Concerned, he watched you pull a blue latex glove on one of your hands and spray the antiseptic into the air, aiming it at the floor to test it.

“No,” you admitted, taking a step towards him and stopping between his legs. With your gloved hand, you carefully peeled off the heavy band-aids from his face and tossed them into an empty plastic bag you’d brought for this specific purpose. “But neither did you when you picked a fight with Sid, so I think we’re even.”

He grimaced as the exposed lacerations on his skin immediately began to sting. “W-what makes you think I was the one who started that fight?”

“The fact that you won’t tell me what it was about,” you replied, bending your knees slightly to inspect his face. You were willing to help him look after his wounds, but changing the bandages was as far as you’d go—if he needed stitches, you’d drag him to the nearest emergency room.

“You know what it was about,” he mumbled, staring at the floor.

“I don’t.”

He didn’t want to say it. You knew he didn’t want to say it—that was why you were making him do it.

“It started about the bet,” he admitted finally. “But then he… said some things I didn’t like. Not that I liked what he said about the bet, either. But I got myself into that mess, so I—”

“What did he say?” you asked, interrupting his diversion.

You covered his left eye with a cotton pad to protect it, shook the bottle of antiseptic a few times, and sprayed it on the exposed wounds.

Jungkook winced as he felt the stinging pain grow sharper. He clutched the lid of the toilet seat, forgetting all about how he’d avoided touching it before.

“Just… some bullshit about you,” he said through clenched teeth.

Surprised, you pulled back to look at him. “He said something about me?”

“Yeah. So I socked him in the cheek.”

You watched him for a quiet minute.

Honestly, if Sid had said something about you, you probably would have punched him yourself if Jungkook hadn’t. But the way Jungkook phrased this—and this whole situation, in general—was so ridiculous that you had to bite the inside of your cheek to maintain a straight face.

“In the mouth,” you corrected. “Or so I hear.”

Jungkook couldn’t subdue the smile on his lips at the amusement that you tried very hard to hide. So, you knew about Sid’s tooth then.

“That was after he wouldn’t stop talking,” he said.

“Ah. Well,” you returned to work and gently patted his cheek with the cotton pad to remove the excess antiseptic, “I appreciate you defending my honour.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

You scoffed. “What do you want me to do? Jump on your white horse and ride off into the sunset with you?”

The light-hearted tone of your voice suddenly amplified your close proximity—he felt his legs tremble slightly as you stood between them to reach his face better. He wanted to reach out and wrap himself around you, to thank you, and to apologise again.

Instead, he cleared his throat and lowered his gaze.

“Well, that’d be nice,” he muttered. Then, added louder, “or, at the very least, you could stop burning me.”

“I’m disinfecting,” you said as you leaned in again, checking if the spray had absorbed into his bruises yet. His breath caught in his throat. You added, “I think.”

Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever felt a longing so intense that it could overshadow all physical pain.

“You think,” he repeated breathlessly. “Th—that’s reassuring.”

“It’s what my mum used to use when my brother and I would get cuts or scratches, and things like that,” you explained defensively. “Of course, this is hardly a scratch in your case, but I have nothing better to offer.”

He didn’t mean to come across as accusatory. He didn’t know what he was saying at all. You still smelled like apples. He was afraid he would pass out.

“This is fine,” he said.

He knew that you were already doing more than your job description entailed and your personal relationship permitted, and he was grateful for it. He hadn’t meant to cause you any additional problems, and he wanted to inform you of the steps he’d taken to fix the ones he’d already caused.

He waited until you had finished searching through your medical kit before speaking again.

“I, um—I banned Sid from Rated Riot shows,” he said.

You turned to look at him so quickly that a tired muscle in your neck spasmed in protest. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Mick will take care of it if he shows up.”

“Mick—you banned Sid?”

“I banned Sid,” he repeated slowly, giving you a minute to process the news. “It’s done. I don’t—I never should have brought him to Europe with me.”

You straightened and attempted to compose yourself, but your mind was suddenly bombarding you with question marks and software errors every time you tried to form a coherent thought.

“Well, that’s—that’s right,” you finally said, clearing your throat. “And it’s about time you realised that.”

You didn’t know what else to say. Congratulating him right now, considering the repercussions of his last confrontation with Sid, seemed in poor taste.

Not to mention, you were a little confounded. After your last argument outside the bus, you’d expected a lot of drunk nights and a lot of new mayhem that you would have to put back in order. You weren’t expecting mature decisions.

Jungkook didn’t notice the utter shock in your voice, however, because his pulse tried to deafen him with a dreadful paranoia, telling him that this was too little and too late.

Notenough-notenough-notenough, the beat of his heart echoed in his ears.

“I know,” Jungkook said, louder than he’d intended. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

You pulled out a new cotton pad and mumbled something under your breath.

Jungkook gazed up at you as you hovered over him with your medical kit. “Can I—can I ask you something, though?”

You gently wiped the side of his temple where the antiseptic had dripped, all while trying to calm down the chaos in your mind. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Reconnaissance?”

There was a long pause as you returned to your kit—more for the purpose of giving yourself some time to think rather than out of necessity.

“I don’t know,” you finally said. “I wasn’t seriously considering it, and it never came up in a casual conversation.”

“We spent three days in Amsterdam, just the two of us,” he said. “How could it not come up?”

You gave him a look. “Really? You think you can ask me that when you knew—and participated—in the bet for weeks before telling me about it?”

Jungkook looked down. “It wasn’t weeks...”

“Well, fantastic.”

Unsettled by your sarcasm, he added, “and I told you, eventually.”

“No, I actually guessed it before you told me,” you said with one hand on your hip as you gazed at the restroom wall behind him, deep in thought. “I told you that you were only acting like that because of some external force. And you really were doing it to win a—”

“No.” He shook his head so fiercely that you almost worried he’d injure himself more. “The bet gave me a push. But I wanted you all along, and—”

“No,” you disagreed, turning away to throw the used cotton pads into the plastic bag. “You—just—just don’t.”

He already knew that this would be the wrong thing to say before he even said it. He simply couldn’t control himself—but he tried to now.

“I’m just—I’m trying to say that this hurt me, too,” he said slowly. “You’re—you might leave to work with a different band. A-and I was the only one who didn’t know about that.”

“I—”

“I know,” he continued louder, “that this is not the same as what I did. It’s not even close. But I still—I feel like this should have been something you talked to me about.”

You sighed and grabbed a glass bottle of iodine-based ointment from your bag. “It probably was.”

“Are you really considering it?” he asked. “Leaving, I mean.”

So much had changed since you told Maggie and Luna that you’d stay, and repeated the same to Yoongi and Namjoon.

All you could say to Jungkook now was a dejected, “I don’t know.”

The tight grip of pain around his chest did not ease, but he didn’t expect it to. Not yet, at least.

“I’m truly sorry,” he said, lifting his gaze. Both of you quickly averted your eyes as if the eye contact burnt. “For this and… for everything.”

You nodded in acknowledgement of the apology but did not reply to it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Reconnaissance,” you said instead. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

He nodded back and you continued to work in silence. You were glad that your current task required your full attention, so you did not have to linger on how wounded he looked—not just physically, but somehow intrinsically, too. If you glanced at him, all the tears and cuts and bruises on his heart would have been as visible as they were on his face.

You applied the ointment to his temple now that the antiseptic had dried—and Jungkook clenched his teeth again, keeping the painful hiss contained. The ointment was probably excessive, and it might dye his skin an odd shade of purple, but you didn’t know what else to do.

When you looked closer, his cuts didn’t appear deep enough to require stitches, so all you could do at the moment was ensure they didn’t become infected – and this questionable procedure should have accomplished that.

You pressed some gauze to the more severe wounds and bandaged them—as much as you could. You used smaller band-aids for the less serious cuts. Then, you stepped back to look.

This would need work. He looked like he slammed the side of his head into a wall and a toddler had attempted to provide first aid.

“This should hold for now before I come up with something else,” you said. “I have to go. I’ll need to find a way to incorporate this,” you gestured around his face, “into your look for tomorrow’s show.”

You turned to push the cubicle door open, then stopped short when you felt his cold, tentative fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Wait,” he said, releasing your hand as soon as he noticed you looking down at his grip. “Just… just tell me what’s going to happen.”

“With your face?” you asked with a confused frown. “It’s going to hurt for a while probably, but it—”

“With us,” he cut you off.

You looked away, maintaining your posture even as your heart refused to listen to your mind and proceeded to pound furiously in your chest.

“There’s no ‘us’,” you said.

“You can’t say that.” He stood up and suddenly reduced the empty space between you in the cubicle. “Not after everything that happened.”

‘Everything that happened’ seemed to have a bitter flavour—he could see the distaste on your face as your tongue prodded your cheek.

“It was obviously a mistake,” you said.

You remembered it all, you knew what it meant. But you didn’t want to trust any of the moments in your memory.

Jungkook could taste your bitterness in his own mouth.

You added ruthlessly, “and it’s over.”

“What’s over?” he asked. He tried to place a hand on his hip, but his trembling fingers slid down his hoodie and his hand dropped to his side.

“Whatever this is,” you said, and each of your following words felt like a new scratch deep inside of him. “Whatever you were doing to win your bet, and whatever I was stupidly playing along with.”

There was nothing but a few breaths separating the two of you in this cubicle, yet you may as well have been in a different orbit entirely. Desperate, Jungkook raised his hands to the back of his head and intertwined his fingers.

“I wasn’t—it wasn’t because of the bet,” he protested—not for the first time. With one more shake of your head, you turned around and pushed the door of the cubicle open. “Look, wait! I’m sorr—”

“It’s over, Jungkook,” you said, pausing halfway. “Stop.”

“How can it—I don’t—just—just tell me this one thing, okay? Before you go,” he pleaded, following you out of the cubicle and watching you toss your medical kit into your carry-on.

There was a hint of sadness in your eyes when you looked up. “What?”

“If there was no bet, wou—would you have agreed to be with me again?”

Your pulse reverberated in your mind, shrieking and piercing, as you shook your head and turned away.

“If there was no bet,” you said, “you wouldn’t have even wanted to be with me again.”

For a minute, you both watched the floor in thick, pain-coated silence. It consumed you, this otherworldly quietness—your thoughts stilled, even your bodies seemed to pause and wait.

That wasn’t true, Jungkook wanted to say—and should have said. But he was so tired of saying things and having to defend them, to prove he meant them.

He wondered if there was anything he could say to you from this point on that you would believe. He loved you so much—he’s never loved anyone else, the very idea of it did not seem possible—yet he made you think he wasn’t serious.

He watched you leave—again—and felt his chest shrink to accommodate the slowing of his heartbeat—again, again—as he struggled to inhale, let alone open his mouth—again, again, again—realising, slowly, that there might not be enough words in existence to fix this.

“I love you,” he still tried, but the restroom door had already closed and he wasn’t sure if you’d heard him. Or if it made a difference if you did.

There was something very ironic about the plans you had for the rest of the day once the plane landed in Manchester.

The concert was originally scheduled for tomorrow, but the venue had suffered a flood from a broken pipe a few nights ago, causing everything that the organisers had promised you to be ruined. They tried to fix it, but they needed some more time. You found out on the plane that the concert would have to be postponed until the day after tomorrow.

To make matters worse, Ren, the bassist of Poison Tongue—Rated Riot’s opening act—had broken his foot at the airport (you were afraid to ask how) and was hospitalised, rendering the band incapable of performing. You needed to find a replacement on extremely short notice.

This was a crisis, but only another one of many. You hadn’t slept at all on the plane, but despite your pounding headache, you were grateful for a chance to keep busy, and you had a precise plan of action.

You would find the venue staff and direct them to Seokjin—after checking if Seokjin was even here.

Next, you would make sure the equipment arrived safely and unpacking it at the damaged venue did not pose any risk to your team.

After that, you would seek Maggie’s help with an online ad for a new opening act.

Then, you would call the label and sweet-talk them before the inevitable black-eye pictures.

You would also devise a plan to handle the aforementioned black eye, which, hopefully, will have improved by the time of the concert.

And, most importantly, you would avoid Jungkook.

Really, the plan was almost foolproof. You figured your to-do list would continue to expand, even after you completed certain tasks, so you essentially had no chance of being left alone with your thoughts or accidentally running into him.

But then, on your way out of the band’s dressing room, you noticed that your surroundings were spinning more than usual. It happened occasionally, this abrupt lightheadedness after you stood up too quickly. But this time, it persisted even after you crossed the corridor.

You tried to tell yourself that this wasn’t anything new, you were just overwhelmed. This had to be the stress—you hadn’t slept and you had so much to do that it was normal to feel dizzy.

You kept walking. Until you had to trace your hand along the patterns of the wallpaper on the wall to stay steady. Until the edges of your vision blurred. Until the wet floorboards beneath your feet wobbled. Until the room grew dark.

You thought you could feel yourself leaning against the wall and slowly lowering your body to the floor. You thought you could feel the damp floor under your fingertips. You thought you could hear someone’s voice in the distance.

For a split moment before you collapsed, it occurred to you that you were really very tired. And that Jungkook had warned you about having another fainting spell if you weren’t careful.

But then your heart rate restricted the flow of blood to your brain, and there was not a single conscious thought left in your vacant mind.

As it happened sometimes—coincidences, unless you treated them as signs—Jungkook was the one who found you.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “blood sport”

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nervoushottee · 6 months

Text

A Shot of Whiskey | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Smut

Summary: [1.2k] You didn't think Joel would take you up on your offer. But here you were getting fucked in the bathroom stall of the bar.

Warnings: (EXPLICIT MNDI 18+.) SMUT SMUT, sir kink, praise, pet names like "good girl, pretty girl, darlin', my girl." Fucking filth honeslty.

Notes: Heyyyy Hotteesssss! Long time no seeee. I've been working at my new job and getting settled. Listen yall. I've never written Smut before. I've only read it, but I don't know what came over me (I'm ovulating and feral) but I wrote this all in one sitting. I hope this is good

I hope you enjoy! Comments and reblogs are ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

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You didn’t think Joel was going to take up on your offer.

You were a bit tipsy. Not really. Only having a few shots of whiskey to warm your chest. But it was just enough to give you the confidence to approach the big man that you’d been eyeing since he arrived in Jackson. You thought he would’ve kindly redirected your attraction to him, like he had done with Janice. The poor woman's cheeks were cherry red out of embarrassment but Joel brushed off with his gruff southern hospitality. “No harm done darlin’.” is what Janice told you he said when you were working a shift at the bar.

You wished he could call you that. You wish he could call you a lot of things. You were hoping he would with the way you had been flirting with him quietly at the bar. You were off work, only really coming to help cheer Janice up who had already picked up another guy at the dance floor.

You thought he wasn’t going to act on your very horny request. But here you both were, in a bathroom stall at the bar. Joel fucking you with his hand covering your mouth to hide your moans. Your legs wrapped around his waist as tightly as your body could let you.

He was going at such a sickly sweet pace. A nice rhythm that hit the right spot at the exact right time. Having you moan and whimper into his hand louder when he added a bit more pressure.

“Right there darlin’?” he questions.

You whimper again at the name, nodding softly against his hand. Clenching against his cock caused him to groan into your neck, rutting into you at a faster pace. His warm breath against your skin, the grip he had against your ass. The two of you being pressed up against each other, The cool touch of the stall against your back. Every feeling, every sound was making it even harder for you not to come too quick.

You wanted this to last as long as it could. You didn’t know if this was just a fluke. Probably a one time thing. You assumed that the glass of liquor Joel was sipping when you spoke to him was the only persuasion to fuck you right now. Let alone in the bathroom of Jackson’s most popular bar.

Joel removes his hand against your mouth, causing you to let out a sigh that came out as a moan. He shushes you, slowing his pace. Moving his head to look at you. “We got to be quiet baby, don’t want them hearin’ you make all those pretty noises for me.”

You nod your head quickly, your eyes hooded and glossed over as you stare at him.

“They’re just for you.” you say softly, a moan coming out near the end when Joel hits that spot deep within you.

His eyes light up at your words with a smirk that turns into a smile. “Yeah? That right? All for me darlin’?” he says to you. Each question he asks you makes him speed up his pace in fucking you. Your head hitting the back of the stall in process. You didn’t care. You would’nt give two shits if the fucking bar was on fire and everyone had to evacuate. You wouldn’t be leaving until Joel fucking Miller made you come at least once in this bathroom stall.

“Yes sir.” you pant. Feeling the delicious pressure slowly building inside you.

“Fuck.” he moans, going at even faster pace that makes you cry out. He places one of his hands at the back of your head to keep it from knocking against the hard surface.

The sounds you too were making were so deliciously sinful. The echo of his dick going inside you, skin smacking together in the process. You heavy breathing saying a multitudes of “fuck, yes, more, and please Joel” coming out your mouth. His constant groans and praises. “Good girl- that’s it, fuck you’re so good.”

You didn’t care if the whole bar heard you at this point. Something deep inside you even wanted them to hear you. Granted you’d probably get fired from this job but it’d all be worth it because of how good you were getting fucked.

“You’re doing so good for me, my girl. Clenchin’ on my dick like that, fuck you’re so tight. You want me to keep going? You want me to fuck you harder so the whole bar can hear you screaming my name? Calling me sir all nice and pretty like the good girl you are. Being so good to me let me fuck you like this all nice and filthy in this stall? You want to come, my pretty girl? Are you gonna give it to me baby?” Joel fucks at a relenting pace as he talks to you, never stopping for a second. His praises shoot right up your spine down to your throbbing pussy.

You reach down beneath the two of you to messily rub against your puffed clit. You shriek at the sudden feeling of additional pleasure. “Oh fuck!” you scream. Joel hums at your response, kissing your neck, licking his tongue down to your collarbone. “You got it my pretty girl. My good girl.”

“I’m so close Joel. I’m so close.” You rush out and say.

“I know my girl, I know. I got it.” He says to you, moving to watch you. Your eyes nearly closed with how fucked out you were.

“Give it to me baby. Let me feel you come on my cock. I want it so bad, be a good girl and come for me.” He praises and begs you all at the same time, watching you so intently.

“Fuck I’m coming- I’m comingg, fuckfuckfuck.” you shriek loudly, your orgasm washing over you and hitting you like a truck.

“That’s it.” Joel groans loudly, feeling you clench against him, as he fucks you even faster. His pace turning sloppy and rushed as he chases his own orgasm. “My good girl, you feel so good clenchin’ around me. Fuck.”

With a few more strokes, Joel comes inside you. He moans against you, as his forehead press against yours. The two of you slowly come down from your high. Joel kissing your neck repeatedly, lickling the salty sweat against you.

You come down from your high and you're finally able to hear what’s happening outside the bathroom. Sounds like a country song playing with the community singing and clapping loudly. Probably a line dance or something of the sort.

A blessing that the activities going on were so loud. Because there was no way in hell that you and Joel were quiet and you told him as such. “Good thing it’s so loud out there. There’s no way I could’ve been as quiet as you wanted with how you were fucking me like that.” You say to him breathly. Still haven’t caught your breath after what you too just did.

Joel lets out a hefty chuckle. Still panting with you also. “Lucky us.”

Neither of you had moved from your position. Your legs still wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck. His, still on your ass and thighs holding you up. His dick slowly softens inside you. The feeling of him slowly dripping out of you.

“How about we go back out there and you get me a drink?” you question.

“Yes ma’am.” he responds without hesitation.

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

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE ALWAYS APPERCIATED

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel smut #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction

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lynnlovesthestars · 14 days

Note

Could I request headcanons for Harleep, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with kind and patient gn s/o? This is quite self-indulgent of me because I have been told I'm too nice & so patient so I'm curious how they would react XD

first of all sorry for being so late, but my small brain has to process things multiple times to make sense, so i wrote this like... 5 times? So it takes me a while, but i hope that waiting was worth it.

Also i saw you sent a second ask to see if i recieved this one, so ill put dammon and rolan there cause this is starting to get a bit long:3<3 thank you so much for your patience!:3

Taglist: @sessils @spacebarbarianweird

Headcanon: BG3 men with kind and patient s/o. (pt. 1)

Zevlor:

Zevlor is emotionally a wreck already, he considers kindness a virtue and it definitely makes him swoon when he notices you put extra care in making sure he's treated with kindness. At the end of the day, he basically got bullied on all fronts when all he really wants is to prove himself worthy of the title he carried for so long.

Zevlor has a short temper too, and he appreciates so much your effort and patience in dealing with his outbursts, whether they are of rage- not towards you of course- or of sadness, you offer always a shoulder for him and he cherishes it so much.

He is lowkey jealous when he notices that your kindness is not mostly exclusive to him, he has learned that people can abuse one's patience and care, and 1. he doesn't want you to get hurt, 2. he wishes your kindness was maybe reserved to him. Call him selfish, but after being deprived of it for so long, he is hesitant to let go of it.

Astarion:

Initially he would be very wary, in his experience being nice always lead to him getting hurt, so why would he trust someone who's default reply is kindness? At the end of the day the last time someone was '''''kind''''' to him, he was turned in a vampire spawn, so he takes it extra slow, he has just regained control over himself, he won't blindly accept kindness. He's lowkey afraid you are just part of a bigger scheme that will bite him in the ass and leave him shackled and caged again.

Once he gets accustomed to your kindness and finally accepts it, he revels in the kindness you offer and your patience, especially the smallest gestures like opening a door for him. He will literally melt for it, he's already smitten, your kindness leaves him like mush in your hands.

Nevetheless every good side, comes with a negative one. He is dead afraid your kindness will bring you to get hurt. He often reminds you to be weary and keep all your kindness for people you trust (HIM), rather than going around and helping every lost soul that asks for help. He will fight you on this a few times- especially if you do get hurt or it is obvious you are about to- he will not bite his tongue and keep it for himself, and that's one of the moments when he's glad you are patient.

You understand where it comes from and you try your best to find a solution that would make both happy. Your patience of course doesn't stop there, he knows he's an handful: he carries an heavy trauma baggage and he has a feisty personality, yet you always show him you don't mind, that you are there for him and that he can take all the time of the universe to sort his problems out.

Wyll:

Wyll would find it so endearing, how you are ready to go to someone's aid, you stop on your tracks to support someone in need, and he would love seeing you being kind to everyone. It's probably one of the reasons why he falls in love with you. Unlike Astarion he encourages you to be kind to everyone, cause he considers it a virtue, he incourages you to be the best version of yourself, and he reminds you that if you do get hurt, he will be there to pick up the pieces.

As far as patience goes, he's grateful to the moon and back, he knows he is an handful, especially if he doesn't break his pact with Mizora and has to leave more times than ever. He makes sure once he's back though that he makes up for lost time, whether it is with gifts or by taking care of you.

Haarlep:

Harleep is so used to Raphael that honestly he's taken aback at first, living in the hells means that kindness is hard to come by and around Raphael? It's either a trick or a miracle, so he brushes it off, not repelled like Astarion would, but definitely not eager like Wyll either.. he would be probably the one that takes it as it is, just.. that. But when he gets used to it? He becomes unsufferable. So unsufferable that he goes around demanding Raphael to be treated with kindness and patience! He purrs whenever you are nice even the smallest, thanking you and praising you like a goddess. He even tries to be nice himself- to you only- and despite it has to be and effort, since he has never been exposed to much kindness, he does become a little more mindful, even asking before taking your form or just with small acts of services.

One time Rapahel makes sure to send a message to you through him. "Tav, Raphael asked you stop being nice to me, cause if i demand it from him as well, he's going to turn me into fertilizer", message delivered with a pout that begs exactly the opposite.

Harleep is another that is deeply afraid of your kindness. Let's be real, you can defend yourself as much as you want, but people tend to use people and your kindness is one of those characteristics evil people would pry on- he knows well since its literally part of what he does, and a facet of what Raphael does as well. He probably scolds you a lot for this reason, he does it in a sweet way- don't get me wrong- he sugarcoats the shit out of it, but he will let you know when you are about to get in peril or you are too careless with your kindness.

Gale:

Gale is touched by your kindness, already from the first days after meeting him.

You had helped him out of his blotched portal, you fed him artifacts, you didn't question his secrets or push him to reveal anything, and he doesn't give that for granted. Once he's closer to you, and he learns that you are unconditionally kind to everyone, he's scared.

He starts warning you to be a little less nice, to use your judgement before you blindly trust a stranger, but he doesn't push it past a warning. As much as he wants to protect you, he doesn't want to take away your chance to grow from your errors.

In matter of your patience he's so grateful, he spends days thanking you when he's still afflicted with the orb condition, he cooks as a form of apology or thanks depending what he did, he gets baths started for you, he's treating you as a queen/ king. He alread would do it, but with you? He's even more protective, he almost feels like he has to match your kindness and patience with as much attentions he can muster.

Halsin:

Halsin is a fair man you think he wishes everyone was kind, but he actually wants you to be fair, he wants you to be mindful of who you give kindness to, he wants you to be a reasonable judge rather than unconditionally nice cause it is the way of the nature as well. Nature is not only nurturing and lush, it's also the poisonous vipers and herbs.

Does he appreciate when you are kind? Absolutely, he thinks it's the best gift Silvanus has ever bestowed him, but it doesn't take away the fact that he wants you to be treated kindly as well, so the moment someone crosses the line and starts abusing your kindness or becomes rude, he's definitely stepping in to s h a m e the other person. "You are lucky you have met Tav, cause they are kind, but nature wouldn't be so understanding and patient" He says it with a rage you rarely see in his eyes.

He will do his best to remind you to surely practice kindness but also to be mindful who you help and who you are kind to, cause there's always rotten that can harm you, and lowkey if you get hurt he will invite you to take back what you gave.

Despite this Halsin considers kindness the bare minimum a person should be, and what stops him from encouraging you to be kinder, its just the knowledge that you might get hurt.

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rivatar · 28 days

Text

Quick Sex

Day 3 of Pandora’s Bloody Moon

Pairing: Dilf!Jake!Sully x fem!omatikaya!reader

W/c: 970

Warnings/content: MDNI, smut & quick sex obvi, p in v, cream pie, secret sex

A/n: I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 🤭🤭

“Hey guys, can I borrow Y/N for a second?” Jake steps in out of no where and holds his hand out for you since you were sat on the ground criss cross. You were in a circle with a group of friends your age, you all were tasked with carving out arrows for the warriors.

“Of course, Ma’Olo’eyktan. We don’t mind picking up her slack,” one of the young men joked nicely and everyone giggled. But truthfully, no one tells the Olo’eyktan ‘no’ so although they didn’t know why he was taking you, no one asked questions or dared to object.

“She won’t be gone long! And don’t worry, she’s not in trouble,” Jake joked playfully in response. After helping you off the ground he placed his hand on your back, ushering you away with him.

You both didn’t say a word as you were walking, still seeing a few Na’vi here and there but working your way out of the busy village and into the dense forest. The tension was thick in the air though, both of you wanting to speak to the other but not wanting to raise any suspicions amongst the villagers.

Jake looked around, checking and making sure no one was watching as you slipped into the forest further and further until eventually none of them could be seen or heard. You stayed silent, waiting for Jake to deem it safe and following his lead. He finally cornered you against a tree.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” he growled desperately and grabbed your face to kiss you hungrily. “Been thinking about this sweet pussy all day, couldn’t wait a second longer” he murmured on your mouth between kisses.

You and Jake have been sneaking off for about 3 months now. The first time, you both agreed it was a mistake and it would never happen again. But after getting a taste of each other, it was too hard to stop and never have it again. So this has become a routine for you guys. Sneaking off and fucking like animals while keeping it a secret from everyone else.

You kissed him back fervently, missing him just as badly.

You pulled back just enough to talk. “I can’t be gone too long or my friends will get suspicious, Jake” you reasoned with him while you clung onto each other desperately, panting and excited like you were both horny little teenagers again.

“I know, I know, let’s make it quick, then I’ll let ya go back, ‘mkay?”

You nodded enthusiastically, trusting him and also not wanting to wait any longer.

Your lips crashed onto each others again. While sloppily making out, you both hastily untied your loincloths, speeding up the process to get to what you really wanted.

Discarding the item to the ground, his lips left yours and he quickly hooked his hands under the back of your thighs to hoist you up against the tree. He swiftly positioned his hard cock against your entrance, wasting no time on foreplay. It was okay though because you were already soaked.

He slipped in with ease and groaned, his hands were holding your ass and lowering you down on his length until you fully engulfed him.

“Shit—you been thinking about this too, huh? Wet as fuck,” He gritted out

“Yes Jake, please give it to me!” You whined desperately.

“Your wish is my command,” he grinned with lust in his eyes.

He immediately set a hard and fast pace. You couldn’t get enough of each other, and each time you had a fuck session you just wanted more, harder, faster.

“Oh fuck! Jakeee!” You cried out to him, tossing your head back as he rutted into you like there was no tomorrow. Your tits bounced to his rhythm and your ass smacked his pelvis so hard it almost hurt.

He swiftly moved one hand to cover over your mouth. “Quiet, girl. Fuck- you trying to let everyone know?”

He kept bouncing you up and down on his dick and you moaned on his hand, making a ‘mmm’ sound and not holding yourself back. A tear fell down your cheek and your eyes rolled back at how good he was fucking the shit out of you.

“Come on baby, cum for me so I can fill you up,” he panted in your ear making it twitch from his hot breath.

The coil in the bottom of your belly was tightening more and more and you knew you would only have a few more seconds of heaven. He removed his hand from covering your mouth.

“Gonna cummm,” you whined.

“C’mon babe, cum on my cock,” he grunted and pleaded because he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his own orgasm back much longer.

The coil suddenly snapped and you released on him, coating his dick in your thick cum gushing out.

He covered your mouth again as you screamed out in pleasure.

“Atta girl, just like that,” he praised and his own release followed, filling you up to the brim as his cock twitched inside you.

You both recovered, heavily breathing as your hearts calmed down.

“You are really something, you know that?” He asked you while still holding you up against the tree, sweat beading down his wrinkled forehead.

“Mhmm,” you smiled deliriously. You were too far gone to think at the moment.

He slowly pulled out and lowered you to the ground. He hurriedly did his best to clean you both off with some leaves, it would have to work for the time being.

He motioned for you to come on and you did so.

“Get back to work,” he winked and smacked your ass playfully as the two of you parted ways so no one would notice you were together. You just smiled cheekily and rolled your eyes.

Taglist: @teyamshuman @hidden-snow @ikeyniofthetayrangi @bambithewriter @neteyamssyulang @professional-yapper @nonamevenus

#PandorasBloodyMoon #avatar smut #avatar fanfiction #jake sully #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar #james cameron avatar #dilf jake sully smut #jake sully x na'vi reader #jake sully x you #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #dilf jake sully #dilf jake sully x reader

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chokepoet · 8 months

Text

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

#this used to be 10k words lol #I’ve rewritten it soooo many times #Roman Roy #Succession #Succession HBO #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader #roman roy one shot #roman roy fanfic #roman roy imagine #succession smut #succession fanfic #succession imagine #succession one shot #mine #can’t believe I’m following up kittens & perverts w/ this filth lmao #it still doesn’t feel perfect but she’s about to confiscate the phone from me if I keep rewriting this lol #cruelty & empathy

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