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cinnaminsvga · 28 days

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Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits.

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country.

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend.

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly.

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank).

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored.

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that.

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was.

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment.

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage.

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction.

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!”

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?”

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks.

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding.

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone.

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still.

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him.

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident.

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way.

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture.

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you.

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture.

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat.

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk.

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence.

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away.

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door.

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice.

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off.

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note.

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you.

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole.

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero.

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation.

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you.

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”?

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot.

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly.

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute.

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night.

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?”

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically.

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying.

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason.

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching.

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding.

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly.

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face.

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you.

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text.

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time.

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy.

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense.

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him.

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement.

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him.

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same.

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray.

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him.

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream.

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name?

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers.

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform.

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?”

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful.

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything.

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight.

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom.

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through.

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do?

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought.

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift.

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance.

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage.

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology.

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years.

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug.

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache.

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor.

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well.

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers.

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten.

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him.

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him.

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick.

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses.

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer.

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you.

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears.

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant.

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder.

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back.

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky.

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought.

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster.

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one.

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook.

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind.

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you.

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs.

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again.

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out.

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you.

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent.

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix.

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it.

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow.

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles.

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter.

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope.

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that.

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears.

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer.

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too.

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers.

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare.

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind.

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class.

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel.

But you do know, the universe responds.

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond?

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing.

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation.

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat.

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance?

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air.

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you.

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door.

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic

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txt-trash · 9 months

Text

clever girl | choi soobin

summary: you’ve only ever viewed choi soobin as your rival in school. he was cute and sweet at times but for the most part he usually acted cold toward you—or at least tried to. out of nowhere you hear about his grades dropping and in an effort to save your only motivation to push yourself harder, you accept his persistent offer to tutor him. you quickly learn he had an ulterior motive to always get you to spend time with him and despite how mean you think you might be, Soobin loved it.

➣ college au, smüt, fluff, enemies to lovers [but it’s one-sided]

➣ academic rival!soobin x f!reader [she/her, afab]

➣ 13.8k words

warnings: smut. oc is kinda mean to soobin. soft jealousy scenes. soobin asks oc to tutor him. really clingy. super cute. the smut is… nashty lowkey. heavy on foreplay. oral [both receiving]. handjöb. oc sits on his face. virgin soobin/experienced oc. oc gets jealous at times too. oc is kinda possessive. sub/dom themes but I swear soobin is a switch. breastplay. missionary. no condom. a lot of plot. multiple orgasm. soobin got that cream im sorry. soobin is a known perv. oc got big boobs. soobin is very obviously a boob guy. oc is lowkey dom, aftercare bc soobin cries. oc calls him a perv, dirty talk. soobin is best boy but also brattiest boy.

You never considered yourself a particularly smart person. You weren’t gifted — as teachers would say — but you weren’t dumb either. You rode the fine line of somewhere in between but you also studied your ass off to get good grades so you could get a scholarship to the college of your dreams. It’s for that reason specifically that Choi Soobin drives you absolutely insane.

You’ve known him for two years but not close enough to consider him a friend. If anything you consider him the opposite of a friend. For the past two years he’s been your number one contender in class. He’s really smart, like book smart but lately he’s been plummeting his grades and that only seems to piss you off more. He’s the reason why you would push yourself so hard to be number one but now that he’s barely trying it’s not as fun. You’re a competitive person.

So, when he approached you today asking you if you could please tutor him you seriously stopped to think about it. If you tutored him then you could possibly have your competition back but tutoring him would also mean having to help him and he did not need your help. You knew he was smart enough to learn things on his own and he’s just in some sort of stump.

“Why don’t you hire one of those expensive tutors I know you can afford?” You asked him after pondering on it for damn near two minutes. You stood just outside the library where he had practically ambushed you before you could make it inside the building.

Soobin was one of those rich guys you weren’t so fond of. He had money, he didn’t have to work hard to get good grades and he could afford to go to any school he wants to while you have to work double as hard to do anything. Or course it’s not his fault but for him to ask you to tutor him when you know for a fact he doesn’t need you to just really bothers you.

He looked a bit lost by what you said, looking a bit bored like you’re the one holding him up instead of the other way around, “I don’t know, I figured you could help me out since we’re in the same major.”

You huffed out in annoyance, “Am I going to get paid?”

His eyes widened just slightly but you couldn’t if he was in surprise or in disbelief, “I guess, however much you want, I need the help.”

A small sigh left your lips as you rolled your eyes, “No you don’t, but whatever, if you pay me, I’ll think about it.”

“Can I get your number then?” Soobin asked, already taking his phone out. You didn’t say anything as you typed in your number and before he could say anything else, you left for the library.

He watched you leave without a smile on his face, keeping up his unamused act until you turned your back to him and his lips couldn’t help but curl up in a smile. Soobin knows it’s a bit weird for him to ask you to tutor him. You’re just one year younger than him but you take most of the same classes so he figured you were his best option.

And also… maybe he dropped his grades on purpose to have an excuse to talk to you but that’s something he’ll never admit to your face.

It all started two years ago. He had already been in school for a year or so and he was just soaring by. You were right when you said he could just hire some expensive tutor to help him but he never really needed it. He was book smart even though sometimes he lacked common sense in the real world. Growing up he had it all, tutors, piano lessons, private schooling, et cetera. He was a smart kid all the way until his third year of University.

Well… he’s still smart but things are different now. He’s spent the last two years practically racing you in classes you shared to do better like that would impress you but it didn’t work. Then, he tried being cold to you like you were to him but he could never do it right. It only seemed to push you away and after a while he realized the only reason why he did it was because he wanted to get a rise out of you. You just won’t notice him no matter how hard he tries to get you to and if this is the only way he’ll get you to talk to him more then he’s going to do it.

“So, did it work?” Kai asked, walking up behind Soobin and scaring the life out of him. Soobin released a loud yell that heads turning in his direction but he barely notice as he whipped around to face his friend, “Did what work?”

“Your little scheme to get Y/n to talk to you,” Kai said as he walked toward the library with Soobin on his tail, “What scheme?”

Kai stopped and gave him that look that told Soobin the gig was up, “You’ve been working on this for weeks now, you think I wouldn’t notice? You used to tutor me and now you’re saying you need to get tutored by the one person who seems to want nothing to do with you?”

Soobin cut in front of him to reach the door first as he swung it open, “No clue what you’re talking about. I’ve been struggling in class lately, probably stress over the internship this summer.”

“Right…” Kai rolled his eyes following his friend into the library, “Or the stress of getting ignored by Y/n no matter how hard you try. It’s been two years, pack it up already.”

“How do you know Y/n ignores me?” He asked getting into the elevator with his friend to get to the next level where more computers and desks were. Kai shrugs, “I mean it’s pretty obvious.”

It took days for you to get back to him and he waited anxiously to see what you would say. He didn’t want to blow up your phone because he had a cold image to uphold but every time his phone dinged he checked if it was you. By the third day he had almost given up hope until the simple text you sent nearly made him burst into a million fireworks.

you: meet me outside the library tomorrow

He got there earlier than intended but he acted like he didn’t. He had done at least two laps around the tall building just waiting for you to arrive and when you did, you said nothing to him. You only walked into the building and headed straight to the elevators like he wasn’t even there.

“It’s raining.”

Jesus Christ.

So stupid, Soobin thought as he turned away from you. This is what happens when he tries to make small talk with someone who sort of hates him. He still doesn’t get why you don’t like him much but he assumes it has something to do with your grades. You’re both art majors and have to take similar prerequisites so you see each other a lot. You’re both also at the top of the department and practically battling for the same summer internship so he thought taking a step back might’ve made you happier but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

You looked at him for a second and when he wondered if you would say something you just looked back down at your phone like he wasn’t even there. This elevator ride felt like it would never end. He knows it’s only been a few seconds but it feels so suffocating.

“Did you change up your hair? It looks good,” he said cautiously and you finally looked at him again. He didn’t expect a thank you or anything but maybe a smile.

All he got was; “Why are you talking to me?”

“It was like this last time we talked,” you finally said and looked forward again.

The elevator dinged and he released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in until he was off. The two of you walked down the hall with you a couple paces ahead of him in complete silence.

Suddenly you turned around to face him as he stumbled back a step in surprise when you said, “I like the black hair, it’s different from the blonde.”

He absentmindedly touched his hair as a smile grew on his face, “Thank you.”

Your brows furrowed, surprised that he was even smiling at you. Usually he acts just as cold to you as you do to him and that’s why you barely acknowledge him nowadays. You knew he wasn’t a bad guy but he always had a smug face when he came out on top in class and it drove you insane. He would even laugh sometimes when you would stumble over your words during a presentation and make fun of you, not even caring if you heard or not.

Of course you didn’t know he was giggling because he found you so cute even when you made mistakes.

Soobin happily followed you to an empty table, just happy to be there and ignored the hand you had outstretched to motion for him to sit across from you just so he could sit next to you instead.

You just looked at him unamused as his smile dropped, “What? How am I supposed to see what we’re doing if I’m sitting all the way over there?”

You released a sigh, “Alright, did you bring your last exam?”

Soobin nodded his head, reaching into his huge backpack to retrieve his laptop and work. He quickly opened his laptop and got onto the school website app to find his most recent Psychology exam. He knew you were in that class too even if you took it at different times [he only signed up because of you and got the time wrong].

You looked at his laptop where a fat 65/100 score was typed in red that made you gasp, “Soobin?! How?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, “I’ve been stressed, can’t pay attention well.”

Soobin was looking at you with soft eyes, unable to help himself from looking over what you wore today. He hasn’t seen you all day aJust as you opened your mouth to scold him, a high pitched feminine voice cut you off, “Binnie?”

You both turned in your seats, a cute brunette with hair just above her shoulders dressed in a cute coquette style smiled at him sweetly, “I thought I recognized you.”

You knew her well too, you used to call her Soobin’s little sidekick in a class you shared last semester. She always followed him around complimenting him over every little thing he did and laughing at all his jokes, even the ones that weren’t funny.

“Hi Jia,” Soobin said as he looked back down at his laptop. Jia smiled before sliding her gaze over to you, “Hi Y/n.”

“Hey.”

She cleared her throat, “So, Soobin, good thing I found you, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’re free any time soon.”

“Um,” Soobin look at you, “For what?”

“Oh!” Jia blushed, “Um, I’ve been having software problems and I know you’re a game wizard so I figured you might know how to fix it.”

She already had her laptop out and you watched as she pulled up a chair from a different table to sit on his other side and he looked just as taken back to be sandwiched between the two of you now. Soobin didn’t say anything as he took her laptop once she showed him what’s wrong and he hurried to fix it. His lips were parted in concentration yet his dimples still showed and you couldn’t help but look at him over. You never once thought Soobin was ugly, he had to be one of the most attractive guys you’ve ever seen but you would never even think about it. If anything it’s a bit too late to imagine you and Soobin being anything more than rivals or even tutor and student. It would just be too much.

She smiled leaning into him, "Thanks, it's like you're the only one who knows how to fix it."

"Then you should probably learn how to do it yourself for when he’s not around," you responded out of the blue, flashing Jia a tight smile, "I could teach you but it's just a troubleshooting problem and it doesn’t take a brainiac to figure that out."

"I'd rather have Soobin teach me," Jia smiled looking back at Soobin who looked down at his own laptop to hide the fact that he was furiously blushing at how snappy you sounded. You smiled watching him ignore her, the jealous immature side happy he's not giving her much attention but you couldn’t understand why.

“You hear that Soobin?" You asked, nudging him with your knee, he released a breath stopping what he was doing and waiting for you to talk. Just like that, he didn't ignore you at this moment. "Jia wants you to teach her how to fix her own laptop, she’s taking advantage of your kindness, y’know."

Jia went to argue but the damage had been done. Soobin wouldn’t disagree with you, maybe you were right. He did always get bothered by all the girls who asked him to help them with something and he always felt bad saying no. In the end, half of the girls would use it to flirt with him and compliment him every chance they had and it made him uncomfortable.

Even if what you had said was a bit of a lie and probably more beneficial to you than him, Soobin was on your side — even if you sounded a bit mean, "Sorry I'm too busy but if you take it to the tech lab I'm sure they'll help you."

"He's too busy," you repeated smugly looking up at her again. You’re telling "Oh, I understand," Jia sighed, "Soobin are you doing anything? Maybe we can meet up and do some work."

You couldn’t help but scoff, Soobin immediately looked at you as you moved just a fraction away from. You looked annoyed and he knew it was once again because of him. He asked you to tutor him and yet here you are having to watch another girl try and take him away.

"Um, I don’t know, I’m kinda doing something with Y/n right now and I don’t know how long it’ll be," Soobin said mindlessly, eyes glancing in your direction like you would reward him for being blunt, he turned to you, "Can we continue?"

You stared at him in surprise. This is not how you expected this moment to go. You were almost certain that was thrilled at the idea of ending this and leaving with someone he appears to be close to. Sure, you watched him tell her he was busy but she kept pushing and you assumed he would just go with it instead. You were also being a little rude and she was his friend right, why else would they have looked so close last semester? You assumed he would’ve been annoyed by the way you responded to her and would want to end this study session before it could even start.

“I don’t know,” you said, sounding a bit more harsh than you expected, “Do you want to?”

Soobin looked genuinely caught off guard that you would even think that. Why would he not want to? He’s been thinking about this for weeks, he’s worked for this — or well stopped putting in the work so you could tutor him. Do you think he’s going to want to leave to hang out with Jia?

“Yes,” Soobin said looking all doe eyed and you’ve never seen him make that face to you. You looked to Jia, “So, can we finish studying or is there anything else you want to tell Soobin?”

She stared down at you with a glare but you didn’t budge, looking at her unimpressed and not intimidated at all. All you wanted to do was finish this study session, get paid, and go home. Why were they making this so complicated? Was it even worth all this trouble when you haven’t even gotten to reviewing his answers yet.

The more you thought about it the more you realized it was actually really annoying. Would you have to go through this every time you study in the library? Would some girl with a fat crush on Soomin come and try and take him away? Did you really want to put up with that?

Soobin practically jumped in his seat when you stood up, “It’s getting late and we haven’t even started, let’s just try this again some other time, I guess.”

“Y/n!” Soobin’s voice was a little too loud for the people in the library and a few felt perfectly fine telling him to shut up as he ran to the stairs completely forgetting Jin was standing there waiting on him.

The elevator came to a stop on the first floor and you swung your backpack onto your shoulders, head down as you caught up on your notifications. You barely made it past the elevator doors when you bumped into a very hard service. A strong arm grabbed you from the waist as you nearly stumbled back, your phone unfortunately did not have the luck of having someone grab it before it fell. Your hands clung to the shirt of the person and you finally got a good look at him, annoyed huff leaving your lips, “Soobin!?”

“What?” Play it cool, Soobin “I was coming to see where you went after ditching me up there.”

“I literally said we could do it some other day,” you released a sigh as you picked your phone up and shook his hands off your waist. Soobin loomed over your shoulder, “Damn, your screens cracked, when did that happen?”

He wasn’t thinking straight when he said that, all common sense completely left his body as he looked at your phone with pity, only snapping out of his thoughts when he felt you turn your head to look at him. It was then that he realized just how close the two of you were with him leaning down to look over your shoulder. He couldn’t help but attempt a smile noticing just how close your lips are to his and you smelled so goo—

“About two seconds ago, Soobin,” your voice was laced with sarcasm that had goosebumps raising on his skin at how annoyed you sounded, “When you bumped into me, remember?”

He blinked once in realization, feeling his cheeks heat up, “I did that?”

A tired sigh left your lips as you decided to ignore him. You weren’t sure if he was playing dumb to get on your nerves or if he actually was clueless but now you were more annoyed than before. You don’t have the money nor the time to get your screen fixed and you definitely can’t afford a new one.

“I’m going home,” you mumbled as you turned away from him, “Go find another tutor, probably Jia will help—“

“I don’t want to,” Soobin’s deep voice cut you off as he followed you out the door into the outside, “I want you to tutor me, Y/n. I’m sorry about your phone, I’ll fix it but don’t take back your word, you already agreed.”

You groaned, “Ugh, Soobin there’s so many girls who’ll tutor you and for free, you don’t need me and besides, we can’t study in the library if someone is going to interrupt.”

“Y/n it’s been one day,” Soobin said harshly, “Did Jia bother you that much?”

Soobin couldn’t help but feel hopeful and he wasn’t sure why. He knows you don’t like him so there’s no way you were jealous but to see you act just a little possessive over him made him blush. He liked it. He liked it a lot and he was determined to make you admit it any way you can. He watched you roll your eyes, expression laced with attitude, “I don’t care about Jia, Soobin, but if I’m trying to help your studies I’m not interested in others tagging along.”

He couldn’t help but bite his lip as he tilted his head to the side curiously, “So you want me to yourself?”

Once again you rolled your eyes, turning your back to him, “I’m leaving.”

“No,” Soobin grabbed at your wrist softly, “I’m kidding, come on, let’s figure something out, yeah?”

“Like?” You asked, still not sure why you’re willing to put yourself through this when you don’t even like him that much. You watched as his shoulder rose and dropped in a shrug, biting his lip in thought and you released a small sigh to let him know you were running out of patience. He looked down, “I don’t know, maybe we could go somewhere that it’s just us two.”

You could barely understand him from the way he mumbled but once you processed what he said, you just nodded, “Alright, I’ll go to your place tomorrow.”

“Really?” He asked, clearly thrilled at the idea but trying to play it off. You just nodded and he finally let you leave.

What were you getting yourself involved with him?

Soobin couldn’t sleep all night. He went to his classes looking like a complete zombie and for once he had an actual reason for not paying much attention. As much as he wanted to see you all day you made him wait till late because you had work after your last class. It only made him more anxious and he cleaned around his apartment twice, just to be sure you didn’t think he was messy even if he kind of was. The entire time this all happened, his friend watched him from the comfort of Soobin’s bed.

“So what makes you think Y/n would even want to hang out in your bedroom?” Taehyun asked as he watched his friend go crazy. Soobin was acting like he was preparing a date, he saw him put on Chanel perfume about three times, each time saying he couldn’t remember if he put any on. He even styled his hair on.y to mess it up and restyle it differently.

Soobin shrugged, “I don’t know, but my desk is here, Y/n might.”

Taehyun just nodded, not seeming fully convinced but went along with it anyway, “Wishful thinking, bin, wishful thinking, and just speak your truth, what’s the real reason why you want to be in your room instead out in the living room?”

He smirked watching the way Soobin’s face flushed red, “Privacy.”

He chuckled, “From who?”

Soobin didn’t answer him and it only made Taehyun smile in amusement, “I love you, but it’s never going to happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Soobin asked as he checked his phone, already smiling at the text you sent a few minutes ago that said you were already on your way.

soobin: ok just lmk

soobin: I’ll come down if u want

You didn’t respond but he didn’t expect you to, he only just sent the message but he still found himself waiting for those three dots to pop up on the message thread.

“I’m talking about how badly you want to hook up with Y/n,” Taehyun said, making Soobin look up at him completely shocked.

“I hate Y/n,” obviously he didn’t but he didn’t like the idea of his friends knowing he liked you without knowing how you felt and he had a reason for this. If they knew he liked you despite how mean you were to him, they would think he’s a masochist… it’s better they think he hates you too but apparently he wasn’t fooling anyone considering Kai caught on pretty quickly too.

Taehyun let out a laugh, one of those really loud and obnoxious laughs that told Soobin he was actually very amused by whatever was happening. He went as far as wiping away his cheek like a tear had fallen and said, “Good one, almost believed you there.

“I’m serious,” Soobin said as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, fixing a wrinkle in his shirt, “Y/n is mean to me, why would I like her?”

“I wanna know why too,” Taehyun said as he rolled onto his stomach only making himself more comfortable on the bed, “I mean, she’s hot, but she’s mean—wait a second, you like that she’s mean, huh?”

Taehyun was just teasing him at this point and when Soobin refused to respond, his eyes only widened, “Oh my god! You like that Y/n’s mean to you, are you a perv, Hyung?”

He was only teasing, he swears it. He doesn’t care what his friend is into, what he likes is totally up to him but it’s just fun to poke fun at him when he gets so flustered about it. He doesn’t blame Soobin for liking you, like he said, he can agree that you’re attractive, but you’ve blown Soobin off for three years. Did he really like you enough to keep up his charades and if so did he really go as far as failing his classes just to get you to talk to him? God, what will you do to Soobin once you find out?

“I’m not a perv!” Soobin yelled, a little louder than expected. He’s really not. He’s not a perv… he’s just… he just likes you. Yes, he likes that you’re a little mean to him, yes he likes when you scold him, yes he likes pushing your buttons and yes he especially liked it when you do it and he can see down your shirt or look at the squishiness of your thighs but… but he’s not a perv!

Okay, maybe he’s imagined what it’s like to feel under your shirt and has struggled to pay attention to anything but the sight of you in a short skirt but that doesn’t make him a perv, he’s just an easily distracted guy…

Before Taehyun could rebut, a loud knock was heard on the front door that had both of their eyes widening in surprise. Soobin was practically sprinting toward the door as his friend gathered his things to leave. He meant to leave before you were here but clearly time passed by way too fast and now he’s getting ready to leave just as Soobin was opening the door to you.

You looked at Taehyun curiously as he ran past you and out the door, yelling, “Hi Y/n! Bye Y/n!”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you let yourself into Soobin’s apartment, “What’s up with him? Why’d he leave in a hurry?”

“Uh,” Soobin gave you a blank expression that sort of reminded you of a confused bunny and you watched him scratch the back of his head in thought, “You said no distractions and… and he would be a distraction, right?”

“I guess,” you took the chance to look around his apartment, it was huge, way bigger than your apartment and it was so painfully obvious that he came from money. He had a grand piano in the corner for fuck’s sake. There was even a chandelier hanging above the dining table and a fireplace by the tv. Too distracted to notice Soobin move behind you, you nearly hit him in self defense when he began to pull on your backpack to take it off your shoulders. Without bothering with a thank you, you headed toward his marble dining table waiting for him to follow but he just stood in place.

“We’re studying in my room,” Soobin said in voice that radiated confidence, completely opposite of the desperate tone he used to prove to Taehyun that he was not a perv. He had an act to play, he assumed you liked mean guys. He’s heard of some of the guys you used to talk to and they all had one thing in common… they were intimidating and Soobin didn’t feel like that at all so he had to play the part.

You didn’t even question it as you followed him into his room, eyes immediately zoning in on the white cage set on its own stand, two different levels to it and a small hedgehog inside. Soobin cleared his throat awkwardly, “That’s Odi, he’s a hood boy.”

Fuck, Soobin thought, why would he say that about a damn hedgehog?

“Cute,”you said coolly as you took the main desk chair, making him have to pull up a smaller chair next to you. You thought Odi was cute after he called him a good boy? Or did him calling Odi a good boy not affect your thoughts on the hedgehog? Oh god, his mind was completely scrambled.

Soobin didn’t have to be asked this time to show you his most recent exam. He knew it was what you were going to ask to see first and he wanted to show you that he could be a very good listener. He looked to you to see how you would react to his quick obedience but you barely even blinked as you pulled it toward you. You pursed your lips in thought and he watched your mouth closely. Your lips looked so soft, so plump and smooth with light lip balm on them.

He wondered how soft they would be in a kiss. Were you a good kisser? Would you think he’s a good kisser? How far would the two of you go or would it just be kissing? He would someday like to get to a point where he can openly adore you because there’s just so much from your pretty hair to your pretty legs and everything in between.

He had a dirty secret that’s not so much of a secret considering his thoughts from earlier but… he can’t help but always notice your breasts—after your cute annoyed face of course—he wasn’t a complete bimbo. He respects you, he can’t just immediately look at your boobs despite the fact that today you were a low cut fitted shirt. He tried paying more attention to your face as it looked like you were about to talk but his eyes couldn’t help but slowly trail down your neck to your collarbone until he saw just the smallest hint of cleavag—

“Are you listening?” He snapped his gaze back to yours looking completely red handed as he nodded his head, clearly not listening.

You released a sigh as you looked at him in thought. Soobin was smart, you knew how smart he was so why did he seem so clueless right now?it’s like he had no thoughts in that cute head of his an—did you just consider him cute?

You blinked in surprise at your own thoughts and just as you were going to ask him to repeat what you said, you saw in real time the way his gaze seem to drop once more and you finally understood what was going on.

Soobin was trying so hard not to stare and failing yet the attempt was cute, especially when he seemed to let his lower jaw go slack and lips part slightly at the sight. Normally you would immediately be disgusted but it’s Soobin… he’s annoying and a know-it-all but just look at that brain empty expression of his, not caring at all now if he gets caught.

Without thinking you dropped a hand to his thigh, squeezing slightly and making his gaze return to yours, “What did I say?”

“What?” Soobin asked, shaking his head like he was snapping out of a trance, the cold and deep voice was back. You rolled your eyes, “You said you were listening so I’m asking you to repeat what I said.”

You’ll admit this was all a bit out of character but you just had to see if you were right… was Soobin really staring at your cleavage openly, and if so, how did you feel about it?

“Um…” Soobin looked down at your hand, “Um…”

“Um?” You repeated sarcastically, “Can you focus? If not, I’m going home.”

“Yah!” Soobin whined with a low groan, “Stop saying that, you already agreed to tutor me, stop trying to back ou—“

“Then pay attention!” You said back and he practically stomped his foot in a tantrum, just wanting to argue now.

“I’m trying but you—you’re,” he groaned in frustration as the words died in his throat and with a defeated sigh, he mumbled, “I’m sorry… I wasn’t listening.”

You smiled proudly, not at all in a rush to figure out what had him so distracted, and instead said, “Good boy, don’t you feel better being honest?”

The words just slipped and you didn’t think much of them as you went back to the laptop, already writing down answers to the questions he got wrong, meanwhile Soobin is trying to calm the painful red blush in his cheeks.

There was a small sphere in the palm of your hand, it was a shade of dark blue with a white swirl on it and it matched the same one Yeonjun held in his hand. You’ve shared one class with him in the last two years and it’s in the one you’re currently in. The two of you have never spoken a single word to each other and the semester started six weeks ago. He looked just as surprised to realize his partner was chosen randomly by a stupid marble.

He released a small nervous chuckle, clearly just caught off guard by this. He’s almost a 100% certain you’re like the only person in class that he hasn’t spoken to. Now, that didn’t mean he didn’t notice you, you were pretty and never talking to you really did make you seem a bit mysterious to him. He cleared his throat, “Alright, when should we get started?”

You checked the time on your phone, you were supposed to be meeting Soobin soon to study at his place but you’ve just been completely blindsided by this sudden partner project in class. You only had about a week to turn in the research paper and you had to work a couple nights this week. You agreed to study with Soobin on days you didn’t work but now with this on the table, you seriously don't know what to do. Well, obviously you have to do the assignment but you don’t know how to tell Soobin. If you just sent him a text about it you’re pretty positive he will just blow up your phone nonstop because for some reason he desperately needs you to continue these study sessions.

“When are you free?” You asked him trying to figure out what time would work best for you to work on this. You were only getting tomorrow to do research in class and after that the two of you are basically on your own as the unit confíes on in class.

Class has just ended so the two of you walked together outside of the room trying to figure out when would work best. It was hard to ignore the looks you received from some of your other classmates and you knew why. Yeonjun was attractive, really attractive and he was popular too.

Yeonjun brought his phone out too, checking his schedule, leaning a little closer to talk to you, “Um, I could do… well I work tomorrow after class… are you free later to get started?”

Soobin had a smile on his face that he knew soon he would need to drop it, he couldn’t let you know how excited he was to see you right now. He was in a good mood, anytime someone said hi to him he was quick to say it back but if a girl tried stopping him to talk he would excuse himself saying he had to go somewhere.

His class ended a little earlier today so instead of waiting in the parking lot for you, he went to your last class.

Just as he turned the corner, his smile seemed to fall without his control anyway. Standing just a few feet away from him he found you and you looked so pretty today in a pair of jeans that hugged your curves just the way he liked it and… and you were standing with Choi Yeonjun.

He watched you smile at whatever Yeonjun said and he debated if he should just wait. He could wait, of course he can and honestly it’s what he should do. You’re just talking to another guy and it’s not like you’re flirting, right? It shouldn’t even matter to him, you’re not dating—you don’t even like him! So why does he feel bothered?

“Hey,” Soobin’s deep voice surprised you as he came up behind you, so close that you felt him press against your backpack, just looming over you with a hardened gaze. You looked back at him, “Hey.”

“Are you ready?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and he couldn’t help but shift his gaze toward Yeonjun, who he definitely wasn’t happy to see was just standing there.

You looked at him apologetically, “I don’t know if I can make it tonight. We just got assigned this project and we don’t have time to do it in class so…”

Your words slowly died down as you watched his facial expression change. His lips turned downward and eyes seemed to sadden, “What?”

You looked at Yeonjun, “I’ll see you in the library.”

He took the hint and left you alone with Soobin who loomed over you with his height looking like a kicked puppy. You’re not sure why this expression really bothered you and you’re feeling really guilty now even if it wasn’t completely your fault. You found yourself saying, “I’m sorry.”

“But we agreed to meet up today,” Soobin said.

“I’m sorry but we want to get at least the outline finish—“

“Then what about after?” He rushed to ask. You looked at him apologetically, “It depends on what time we get done.”

You’re not even sure why the look on his face was making you feel bad but it was. The two of you didn’t even start to get along till just a couple weeks ago and sometimes he’s just so different from the cold side you’re used to. Sometimes he gives you snippets of how desperate he might be to see you but you can’t help but always brush it off. You just can’t tell what’s the real side of him and you’re starting to be affected by his cuter clingier side even if you couldn’t understand it.

“I’ll be waiting,” Soobin said, rushing away because he didn’t know what else to do. He was leaving before you could say that you can’t keep any promises. You rolled your eyes at how pushy he was but part of you smiled, shaking your head in disbelief and clearly amused.

Soobin didn’t lie either. He waited at home playing video games and checking his phone every couple minutes. He would occasionally send you a text, just a little reminder that you can’t forget him.

soobin: what time do u think u’ll be done ☺️

you: I don’t know yet soobin

soobin: :(

*five minutes later*

soobin: almost done?

you: not yet

soobin: 🥺 well hurry

you: …

soobin: 😞

*twenty minutes later*

soobin: 😞

you: what’s wrong

soobin: nothing :)

soobin: did you forget?

you: ?

soobin: study time?

you: no, I didn’t forget

Listen, the texts were annoying. They were so annoying because you and Yeonjun were trying to finish up the rough draft for your outline but Soobin just kept sending you text after text. It was annoying but…

It was pretty fucking cute. Ugh, he was just being clingy and though you found it annoying it was also so cute and it had you hurrying up your time with Yeonjun so you could text Soobin.

you: just finished

soobin: ok 🥰hurry

That’s how you found yourself sitting across from Soobin in his overly large living room trying to talk to him but his eyes were just straying away from your eyes. It wasn’t his fault though, like he said earlier, you just looked so pretty. Your shirt was fitted today and like usual he can’t seem to get over your chest. All of you really, your pretty face, pretty voice, pretty laugh and smile… your boobs and your butt and your cold attitude, it all just turned him into mush.

“Hey,” your voice scared him out of his gaze and he looked up at you blankly and clearly caught off guard, “Can you look at me when I’m talking to you?”

“Okay,” he nodded his head obediently, “Sorry.”

“You don’t even have your backpack,” you said as he looked down at his lap, “You were blowing up my phone the entire time I was with Yeonjun and you’re not even ready to study.”

“I know,” he gulped, eyes unable to help themselves from slowly looking down to your cleavage again. “I’m sorry.”

You released an annoyed groan, grabbing his shirt suddenly and shaking him, “Are you?”

“Yes,” Soobin nodded, “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again Y/n, I’ll be good, I promise.”

“So next time I’m doing schoolwork with Yeonjun what are you going to do?” You asked.

He released a sudden huff that made it clear he was less than happy to say this but said it anyway, “I’ll wait patiently for you to finish.”

Nodding your head you turned toward the small coffee table where your laptop was, “Kay, go get your bag so we can start reviewing this.”

Soobin jumped to his feet, running away with a smile, “So you’re not mad at me?”

“No,” you said feeling him practically squeal next to you, making you only the more confused but couldn’t help yourself from saying, “It was annoying in a cute way.”

Soobin bit back the urge to smile and did as told. When he came out he had a white bag in hand that he handed you watching your eyebrows scrunch together cutely as you asked, “What’s this?”

“New phone,” Soobin said casually and your eyes widened in disbelief.

“Soobin, why would you get me—“

“Because I broke yours,” Soobin said helping you open the box, “I already called your service and asked if you would be able to add your line to it and they said yes. I can drive you if you want me to.”

You shook your head no, “This is crazy, you didn’t have to do that! I could still use my phone, it was just the screen.”

“But,” Soobin looked down, “But it’s a gift from me to you, can’t you just take it?”

“Soobin…”

“Soobin is so cute,” your friend Yuna said one night as you got to Beomgyu’s house for a party.

You’ve been filling your friends in on your past two weeks with Soobin and it was all a surprise to them. You seemed to despise Soobin for some time and suddenly you’re all about hanging out with him. Even Soobin seemed to always act cold around you so for you to tell them that he’s been surprisingly clingy is in fact very cute.

“He probably likes you,” Beomgyu said with a shrug of his shoulders that had you spitting out your drink in shock. It’s not like you hadn’t wondered the same thing but for a while you wondered if you had just been reading too much into it and then you felt stupid for even thinking about it. Beomgyu bringing it up so suddenly shocked you, maybe it wasn’t all in your head.

“You think?” You asked genuinely and Beomgyu laughed out loud.

“Are you kidding?” Beomgyu asked, “He’s been staring at you since he got here and I bet you he’s been trying to think up an excuse to talk to you.”

“I’ve known him for like three years now, there’s just no way, I’m not even nice to him,” you said as you looked around for Soobin only to find him already looking at you as he talked a

To some of his own friends. He gave you a big and energetic wave that had you lifting your hand to wave back too. You smiled a little when he did and Yuna sighed, “You like him too, huh? I mean he’s cute—“

“No! No, I don’t,” you cleared your throat awkwardly, “I mean… even if I did, would it even matter? He thinks I’m mean, right? It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

They both gave you a blank stare and just as you were going to respond, an arm came around your shoulders as a low voice said, “What are we talking about?”

You said a quick hello to him as your friends started talking, “Soobin and Y/n got a thing for each other and neither one of them will admit it.”

“That’s not tru—“

“Oh, yeah, it is,” Yeonjun said with a laugh, “You should’ve seen the look he gave me when we were talking the other day and yesterday he ignored me when I tried saying hi. I even told him he can have you back because our project was over and he just ignored me!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “That doesn’t mean he likes me, we’ve just been studying…”

Soobin was not a mean person, he swears it. He’s really nice and gentle and he would never dislike anyone without a reason. He’s too shy for confrontation yet right now he would really love to go up to you and just pull Yeonjun’s arm away from your shoulders. You’re done with your project so why is he s next to you and why is he touching you? Soobin hasn’t even had the chance to hold you so why does he get to? He watched closely as you talked to your friends and Beomgyu trying to make sure Yeonjun wouldn’t try anything. He let Yeonjun take your attention away from him pretty much all last week so why is he still around you? It wasn’t fair, Soobin should be the one next to you. He was such a good listener this week, after you got him in trouble and he promised to be good, he did just that. He only sent you two texts throughout your time with Yeonjun and he didn’t even bother you in class!

“Who are you staring at and are they hot?”

Soobin jumped in surprise, drink spilling down the front of his shirt as he whipped around to find Kai standing there laughing.

“What?” Soobin asked as he looked down at his wet shirt. Kai just sighed, “Nevermind, go clean your shirt.”

If Soobin was mean, he would’ve smacked the kid upside the head but he was nice and nice people only attack with pillows and there’s no pillows close enough to use. He’ll get Kai back soon, just not now, now he has to clean his shirt. He looked back to you and Yeonjun as if making sure there wasn’t any funny business and practically ran to go clean himself off.

He skipped past the line to the bathroom and walked down to the end of the hall where he knew Beomgyu’s room was. His friend was throwing the party anyway and though the room was off limits, he would understand. Soobin rummaged through his closet and went straight to his bathroom so he could at least wipe off some of the intense smell of alcohol, hurrying himself along so he can watch Yeonjun.

The music from the party was loud enough for him to hear a muffled version of it even hidden away in Beongyu’s bathroom and that made him feel nervous. While he’s in here cleaning off the stench of liquor, you were probably out there surrounded by guys hitting on yo—“Ow!”

Soobin’s head whipped back with a loud thud and his hands immediately flew to his nose as pain shot right through it. The person who pushed the door open stood there in shock, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Bin?”

A pool of red began to fill his cupped hands and he moved over the bathroom sink with a groan. You visibly cringed as he moved around you and reached for the toilet paper as you stood there shocked, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I—oh my god.”

He finally looked over at you, heart racing as he pulled the paper towel away, blood beginning to dribble again, “Y/n?”

“Soobin, I’m sorry, I saw you come over here and I wanted to sneak up on you but,” your face cringed, “Soobin please, you’re still bleeding.”

“Oh right,” Soobin held the paper towel to his nose again.

“It’s a lot of blood,” you said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

“It’s fine, this happens all the time,” he waved you off with a bloody hand and you bit down on your bottom lip looking hurt, “No it doesn’t, I’m so sorry.”

You sniffled a bit as you looked at your reflection in the mirror while Soobin carefully wiped off whatever mess was left until it was all clean. You struggled to look at him and his red nose even if he was completely clean but he didn’t even notice. He was more excited that you came to see him instead of staying out there with other guys, “So you wanted to sneak up on me?”

“Well you had been staring at me all night and I was just gonna see if you would say hello. I should’ve just waited outside, this is awkward right?” You were rambling a bit but he just smiled lovingly.

He shook his head no as the two of you left the bathroom, “No, not awkward, right? I wanted to say hi but you were busy.”

“Busy?” Your brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean?”

You weren’t busy, you were just talking to your friends. Nothing you talked about was serious or anything you just talked about Soobin, he could’ve said hi at any time. Soobin’s smile dropped, going serious for a moment, “Yes you were, with Yeonjun, I saw.”

You blinked in thought, “We were just talking, you could’ve come over any time.”

He released a deep sigh, looking around the dark bedroom happy that it was just two despite the dozens of people out there getting drunk with loud music. Letting his gaze fall back on you, he made a small pout, “Well, how was I supposed to know that? Last time you got me in trouble for not leaving you alone when you’re with Yeonjun an—“

“Soobin, that was just when we were studying, I didn’t realize you were thinking I meant all the time,” you said apologetically. Soobin stepped closer to you, “I was just trying to be good and listen. If I knew then I would have pulled you away the second I saw Yeonjun even come close to you!”

You looked genuinely taken back by his tone, if you didn’t know any better you would say that he almost sounded jealous. Even the look in his eye made it seem like he wasn’t happy and you weren’t used to this at all. The other day when you talked to Yeonjun for the first time, Soobin stormed up to you and took you by surprise when he appeared behind you, so close that you felt his breath on your shoulder.

Now you’re starting to see that it was possibly all because of jealousy.

“Are you jealous of Yeonjun?” You asked him and he audibly scoffed.

He was not jealous of Yeonjun. He didn’t think Yeonjun was better than him, if anything he thought they were pretty much on the same level of attractiveness. Yeonjun was more extroverted than he was but Soobin wasn’t worried about that. He didn’t feel so insecure over things like that so no, he’s not jealous.

He’s possessive. Soobin knows you aren’t dating and he knows that you probably still don’t like him yet but… but you’re his. He’s already called dibs, he’s already put in so much work to make that happen. Obviously he’s not going to be happy if your attention strays away from him, he wants you looking at him and thinking about him all the time, the way he does about you.

“No,” Soobin finally said, “But… but you’re… yknow, you’re mi—“

“Why are you in my shirt?” Beomgyu asked as his bedroom door opened and he stood in the entrance. He looked between you in surprise, “Wait, am I interrupting something?”

You stood there in shock, you weren’t sure what he was about to say but part of you also felt like you had an idea. It really did seem like you had an idea. After all your friends have basically instilled it in your head that he might like you it wasn’t hard to guess what he was going to say but you just can’t bring yourself to fully believe it yet. He was so nice, you can see it now so you just felt bad to think that he might like you after you were mean to him at times. To make things worse, he seemed to be totally okay with you always snapping on him or just ignoring him and you just felt bad because you were genuinely starting to fall for him and you can admit that now.

Soobin shook his head no. He had been watching you the entire time and he can just tell you’re overwhelmed by something right now. He just smiled cutely, “I had to borrow your shirt because mine got wet, sorry?”

You looked up at him, and he smiled wider, eyes crinkling, “I think I’m gonna head home now but I’ll text you.”

Soobin said goodbye to you and Beomgyu and before you could make your leave, Beomgyu pulled you back in, “What happened? What were you guys doing? Were you making out? Ew, oh my god please don’t tell me if you did anything on my bed.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, clearly thrown off, “No, we were just talking, if you hadn’t interrupted then I would have known what he was going to say.”

He gasped, “I didn’t interrupt, you’re in my room, remember? And why didn’t you just go with him, you like him too.”

You bit your lip, “How do I tell him? I just missed my chance.”

“I don’t know, you’ll probably just have to show him.”

When Monday came you went over to Soobin’s place for your usual study lessons. After the party the two of you have been texting but it wasn't about anything deep. It’s like you were tip toeing around a possible confession that neither of you wanted to do through text. After your last class he invited you over with the intention to just be straight forward and hope that you would want him but he’s still a little scared.

If you tell him you hate him he thinks he might cry so he’s been trying to seem cool and collected this entire time.

He fidgeted in his desk chair as he watched you take your laptop out. With a clear of his throat he stood up, “Um, do you want water? I can get us some.”

“Sure, where is your textbook? I forgot mine.”

He pointed to his backpack and let you get it as he left for the kitchen. Without a single thought, you reached for his huge backpack in search of a familiar textbook. Once you found the book you pulled it out of his overly stuffed bag accidentally bringing a few papers with it too and as you looked them over, your eyes widened.

CHOI SOOBIN

SCORE: 65

You didn’t think about it for a second, he’s been showing his assignment scores and it has been improving little by little bit as you took a closer look you could clearly see a layer of whiteout and the score 98, crossed off. It made your brows furrow in confusion and you looked at the pages finding answers erased and replaced with wrong ones crossed out in red.

It’s like he was purposely grading himself bad and as you put the papers back away you realized why. He asked you to tutor him and you never understood that. He was always smarter than you so you couldn’t wrap your head around why he asked you of all people to help him. Even when it came down to the actual study sessions, Soobin always got things right away and very rarely struggled to find an answer but then he would come to you and quickly show you his bad score and ask for your help again.

Sometimes, studying was the last thing on his agenda when he was with you and you always found him distracted and not fully listening so now you know he’s been lying to you. He lied to get you to study with him yet all you’ve seen was him stare at your boobs, get clingy, and pretend to get bad grades.

Was all this just a little scheme to get you to hang out with him? If that’s the case then did he really like you and expect you never to find out?

Sure, you’ve come to realize that you like him too but for him to go this far just for you to talk to him… well, you’re not all that happy about it. Did he expect you never to find out and now that you have what was your plan?

Soobin came in with a smile on his face, “I brought snacks.”

“Mhm,” you said, moving to sit on his bed and away from his backpack, “Let’s work on the bed today, I wanna get comfortable.”

He watched you make yourself on his bed and all he could focus on was the way your skirt fluttered around your legs exposing more of your thighs and when he looked up at you, your eyes were already on him, catching him red handed in the act of checking you out. This time around you smirked a bit now knowing that he’s been lying this whole time just to get you to hang out with him. It was cute and he was cute so you can’t be mad but at the same time, he was very bold in getting mad when you had to study with Yeonjun, made you feel guilty too. You gotta let him know you know about his lie but you’re working up a plan.

It’s not no surprise that he likes you, that has become painfully obvious and you like him too but you want to get him in trouble. He lied and he thought you would never find out. How long did he plan on keeping this up? He’s gotta get in trouble, right? Maybe a little teasing, just to see if this really was all just to study or for him to get a good look at you when you’re alone together. It’s not like you never noticed the way his eyes would trace down your body while you’re trying to do homework.

If you’re going to tell him you know about his lie, you’re going to make it fun.

“O—okay,” Soobin stuttered as he sat down with a foot of space between you, “I mean, yeah cool.”

You smiled at his awkwardness, now you can see that he’s not as cold as he wants to to think he is and it only makes him look cuter.

The two of you studied for a bit, you couldn’t come right out and tell him you knew the truth, where was the fun in that? You had to play along a bit and see how he would take it so that’s what you did.

“Soobin, you keep getting the answer wrong and I’m starting to get annoyed,” you said as you watched him hesitate over the right answer before choosing the wrong one, eyes sliding over to look at you every now and then. You were wearing a low cut top again and matched with your miniskirt it was getting hard for him to not get distracted and the two of you are alone in his bed… he just can’t focus.

“Sorry, Y/n,” his eyes lingered on your thighs a little longer than usual and you subconsciously unwrapped them a little, the small gap from where the skirt ended and what covered your underwear, slowly widened. You released a heavy sigh, “Why are you so distracted?”

At that his eyes seemed to fall toward your cleavage, catching himself in the act of staring and looked back down, “I don’t know.”

You had to bite back a smirk and without any hesitation, you moved closer to his side, “Do I need to punish you? Will that get you to pay attention?”

You were half joking but tempted to see what he would say and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he seemed to become mush at your words, “H-how?”

You released a deep sigh, “How? That’s the wrong answer, I shouldn’t have to punish you. You should say, ‘Okay, Y/n, I’ll pay attention.’ What are you? A perv?”

Soobin went quiet at that and for a second you thought you might’ve said the wrong thing. His face flushed red and he looked down at his lap sadly but before you could apologize for asking him that, he said, “Maybe.”

“Maybe? So you’re a perv?” Your brows raised in surprise, “You want me to punish you?”

He gave a subtle nod of his head making you grow quiet, well this just got interesting. With a huff, pretending to be annoyed, you shifted even closer taking his hand in yours and pulling it to write on his paper with yours over his, “Start writing.”

“What am I writing?”

“Write: I am a liar and a perv,” you said jokingly and he looked up at you cutely so you helped him write, “I lied to Y/n about needing help, and I can’t stop staring at her boobs.”

His hand froze up mid sentence, “Y/n, how’d you find out?”

You smiled, he didn’t even bother hiding it this time, “Because I found your exam scores, you’ve been lying to me Soobin, after telling me nonstop how good you are,” you said with a stern voice.

“Are you mad?” He asked shyly. You released a sigh, pretending to contemplate, “Maybe? Are you going to listen and pay attention from now on?”

He nodded his head, watching curiously as you moved to sit behind him, turning to stare at you but you snapped your fingers forcing him to look forward again. You scooted close until your legs were spread around his big frame with your breasts pressed against his back that had his breath hitching in surprise. They already felt squishy and your arms moved to hug his waist. Soobin sucked in a breath when your hands rested on his thighs and he immediately looked down, already feeling himself begin to fidget in excitement and nervousness.

“I want you to read the question, and tell me the answer, I know you know it,” you said, making him nod his head, throat too dry to give you a verbal response, “But since you’re a perv, I’m not going to make it easy for you, I’m gonna touch you and if you stop, I stop, got it?”

As if to further explain what you meant, your hand moved toward his groin area making him breath heavier, “Mhm.”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes,” he sighed, “I’ll listen.”

His head tilted to the side when you began to teasingly touch the zipper, slowly pulling it down and undoing the button of his jeans, “Start reading.”

Soobin swallowed dryly, unable to help himself from thinking about the fact that you’re brakes today, he could practically feel your nipples against his back and when your hand ran over the expanse of his growing length, he couldn’t find the right word. You were a little surprised to feel his immediate response to your touch, already feeling him harden before you even did anything and you smiled, “I said, start reading.”

“Mhm,” he hummed with a nod of his head, blinking to try and collect his thoughts, “First question, When a gene is expressed, it means that the protein—ohh.”

His breath hitched in surprise as your hand wrapped around his clothed cock feeling him just continue to get more erecting. You even gave it a little squeeze, “Did I say stop? No, so keep going.”

“Mhm, protein that it codes for is being made by transcription and translation…” his word slowly when your thumb circled around his tip, still not touching him under his briefs, teasing him, “Imagine two genes in a eukaryote. One is gene X. The other is gene A—Y/n, I can’t focus.”

“So did you lie to me again?” You asked, finally sneaking your hand under the waistband or his briefs, “You said you would listen and pay attention.”

Your fingers wrapped around his thick length giving him a soft and teasing stroke, feeling his dick twitch instantly as he nodded his head. The words were bef ninny to get blurry when your palm hugged the head of his cock, twisting your wrist and smearing it in his own precum, surprised that it was already leaking. Soobin licked his dry lips trying to focus again, “In the cells you are studying, gene X is being expressed, and gene A is not being expressed—oh my god.”

He stopped when he felt you lean further against him, soft lips pressing a gentle kiss against his neck, fingers brushing along the underside of his tip and he couldn’t help but buck his hips just a little. You pulled his cock out of his underwear, “You still haven’t even finished reading the first question.”

“I’m trying,” he released a moan, “But it’s so hard, Y/n.”

You glanced down at his dick over his shoulder, nearly joking and asking if he meant his dick or the action. The head was red with need and precum leaked from the tip with a thick vein nearly throbbing everytime your hand stroked him. You gave him a small squeeze hearing him moan freely, “Keep going.”

With an annoyed groan he nodded, still waiting a moment when you began to pump his length using his own excess precum to lubricate him for an easier slide. He attempted to pick up where he left off, “—and gene A is not being expressed—ngh. Which prediction below is most likely true in these cells?”

You kissed his neck again, “Now what’s the answer?”

He released a throaty moan that made you suck harshly against his neck with the vibrations of it, stroking faster, squeezing at his base and flicking your wrist around his tip, unable to ignore the way he raised his hips to fuck into your fist. You put your legs on to of his lap to keep him from bucking, holding him in place, “I’m waiting.”

His head lolled to the side, hissing in pain when you stopped, tightening your fist and looked at him expectantly. He had to use his stupid brain, “Ugh, i—it’s B. There are more activa—oh my god—activators for gene X than for gene A.”

Your tongue licked a long stripe toward his ear, sucking on his ear lobe as you said, “Good boy, Soobin, next one.”

“Mhm,” he whined, feeling his heart leap at the name, “Good boy,” he repeated to himself. Unable to help himself he turned his head to look at you, big sparkly eyes staring into yours and without much thought, you leaned forward, letting your tongue slide into his mouth, never once stopping the jerking of his cock until finally… you felt it.

It was a complete overflow of warmth, thick and creamy cum that wouldn’t stop leaking from his tip as he threw his head back with a loud moan, hips lifting up even with your legs holding him down. It felt never ending, your fist was completely covered in his cum and it drenched his jeans and boxers, you were genuinely surprised. You didn’t know someone could cum this much from a simple handjob.

Soobin released a dry groan as you finally freed yourself from the absolute puddle of cum, looking down at the white cream that coated your fingers, letting him go and watching him fall limp against you. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath and he looked absolutely fucked out that you allowed him to lie down as you pushed the textbooks off the bed, wiping your hand against his own jeans, tugging them off, “Soobin.”

“Mm,” he hummed, looking completely zoned out but let you undress him. You clicked your tongue, climbing on top of his spent cock watching it twitch with life as you sat down, “Did I tell you to cum, bunny?”

His lip quivered as he looked at you, wordlessly shaking his head no. You released a deep sigh, “So you weren’t listening? Is that good or bad?”

“Bad,” he said sadly, “B—but I couldn’t Y/n, I—“

“You what?” You asked teaching for the end of your shirt, “You just thought to cum soon, like a dumb virgin?”

He stayed quiet, watching and feeling completely hypnotized by the sight of your bare breasts for his eyes only, finally. They were just how he imagined, big and soft with nipples he could see harden under his intense gaze. He was so lost in the sight that he absentmindedly said, “Yes.”

You seemed to stop as you flung your shirt to the floor, only wearing your small miniskirt, “Yes what?”

“Dumb virgin—“

“What?” You asked suddenly watching his face redden and you felt goosebumps raise on your skin, “Are you saying… are you a virgin?”

He nodded blankly, eyes on your boobs and nothing else, his cock coming back to life, “Mhm.”

“Oh my god,” you nearly jumped off his lap but his hands moved so fast to hold you by the waist and stop you. Your eyes widened, “Soobin, I—are you—oh my god, is this your first time getting a handjob?”

He blushed, nodding his head shyly, hands unable to stop themselves from sliding up your sides until they were just under the curves of your tits, thumbs nearly touching, “Yes and my first kiss, bu—“

“I am so sorry,” you tried to move but his hands were suddenly cupping your breasts, a blank expression on his face as he stared at them in awe, catching a feel while you tried apologizing, “Soobin, we shouldn’t. I—I—“

“I want to,” Soobin groaned, thumbs running over your nipples, “Please Y/n, I want you so fucking bad. I think about you all the time, I think about this all the time.”

You couldn’t help but grind against his naked cock at his words, “You do?”

His big hands felt good as they groped you, “All the time.”

It didn’t take you long to realize what he meant, a small smile on your face, “When you touch yourself?”

He nodded, releasing a quiet whisper as your nipples became hard pebbles that he couldn’t help but pinch, you smiled, grinding on his fat spent cock, “When you watch porn?”

Once again he nodded.

“When else?”

“Whenever you leave here,” he confessed, completely hypnotized by the bounce of your tits when you grind on his dick, “I tried using a flesh light but I’m too big, it always rips an—“

Now he was blabbing but it made you so fucking horny. He was big, too big to be a virgin and the territorial side of you was taking over. You’re the only one who’s made this big, stupid cock cum and holy shit, he came so much just from a handjob!

Feeling a bit more confident, he tilted his head cutely, looking up at you, “You’ve got big boobs, Y/n.”

“I kno—“

“Can I kiss em?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and a wicked smirk came to your face, shimmying up his torso, “No.”

His jaw dropped sadly, “Bu—“

“I got something better you can kiss,” you said seductively and he looked up at you with the cutest doe eyes you’ve ever seen. How could you ever dislike him? Just look at him.

“Really?” He looked down at the space between your legs, a thin thong right there between your folds and he could make out a wet spot. Licking his lips his big hands found your thighs, taking the honor to help you move up, “I’ve never, y’know…”

“I know, bunny,” you said even as he moved you closer and closer to your head with anticipation, “I’ll talk you through it bu—Soobin!”

A small squeal left your lips as he nearly knocked you forward, face between your legs, “Wait, I’m heavy, don’t do that unless you want me to suffocate you.”

Soobin wasn’t listening, his face was already against your pussy, nose brushing over the soaked fabric of your underwear, “Is okay, I want you to.”

He licks the wet spot on your underwear, lapping at the puddle with a moan, “Smells so good, Y/n, love it.”

You softly tugged his hair, leaning more and more of your weight onto his face and rocking, “Careful, okay? If it’s too much just tell me to stop.”

Soobin nodded his head against your clit, giving you a thumbs up before he completely yanked at your frail panties making you gasp as he tore into them. You yelled his name once more and he made a pout, “Sorry, they were in my way.”

“Slow down Binnie,” you reminded him, for a guy who’s never done it he seemed so experienced. Maybe it was all the porn he watched. You didn’t have much time to dwell on it as his tongue began lapping between your hole and your clit, sucking on it like it was a fucking lollipop, swirling his tongue around it hungrily. It’s not his fault. If you weren’t so pretty with such big boobies and a big brain and a cute laugh… he wouldn’t be so eager. He felt the moment your strength dissipated, hips no longer hovering and practically suffocated him, and he loved it.

He got sloppy, wanting to stick his tongue into your cunt as far as it could go, bunny eyes staring up as you rode his face now, losing yourself to the feeling, “Oh my god.”

Soobin began a repetitive motion with his tongue against your clit, before fucking you with it, he spread your ass with his big hands but his eyes were on the way your tit juggled with each breath you took and he imagined your clit was a nipple. His cock twitched at the thought, legs moving restless against the bed as he tried finding his own release but he jumped bucked his hips into the air.

You were so close, so so so close, moaning like a bitch in heat and accidentally tugging on his hair too hard, but he didn’t mind one bit. He liked it, it egged him on and he made out with your pussy so good that you couldn’t hold back, cum spilling into his open mouth with your thighs clenching around his head. A low moan fell from his lips and as you tried coming down from your heavy orgasm, his own cock released another stream of cum. You turned to look at it, a puddle of white coating his stomach, culling untouched.

Your jaw dropped as he let you go and before you could offer up a break, he was flipping you onto your back, head immediately going between your breasts.

“Fuck,” you breathed out as his mouth attached itself to your left tit like he wanted to swallow them whole. His mouth was covered in your cum and some drool. His cock lay perfectly between your folds and you just felt how hard he was, bringing your hands to his hair, coddling him, “You love my boobs, don’t you?”

At the feel of your hands in his hair, he groans, teeth gently nipping at the hard buds, “Mhm. Love ‘em.”

“I know, that’s why you always stare at them, naughty bunny,” you teased, feeling his shaky inhale. He kissed your tits and sucked on your nipples as his erecting cock jumped your folds, “Not naughty.”

“Really?” You asked, biting back a moan when he shook his head against your boob just soaking in the softness of them against your cheek, “Just being a perv then?”

“Mm,” Soobin moaned, “Wan’ fuck you, Y/n, baby.”

Your brows raised in surprise as the pet name fell from your lips already feeling his hand sink down toward his cock while tonguing at your sensitive nipple. You couldn’t help yourself at this point, stroking your fingers gently over his nipples, smiling as he shudders at the feel, cock slippery in his hands as you said, “Fuck me then.”

With a quick nod he lined himself up, missing your hole a few times till you offered him help and moaned. His body fell against yours, not sure what to do as the tightness of your pussy completely overwhelmed him, face between your tits, tongue trying to lick you even if he was so far away. He whined, “Y/n, Y-Y/n, help—“

His words died when you grabbed his hips, guiding them back before thrusting them into your own pussy until he got the rhythm. You didn’t even think twice about the fact that you weren’t using a condom. You were on birth control and though it wasn’t fully effective it was safer than not having anything and clearly it was too late. You didn’t expect the virgin to have condoms anyway.

“It’s okay, baby, nice and slow—fuck, Bin,” you moaned softly. Where did this new Soobin come from? He was fucking you now at a steady pace dragging his stupidly fat cock out till only his tip was in and drawing his hips forward till he impaled you. His mouth lazily kissed at your breasts before moving up your neck, humping his cock into your stretched out cunt with moans falling from his lips repeatedly.

Soobin was gasping for air and his grunts became louder and louder, slamming into you like his life depended on it, “So good.”

“Yeah?” You asked, clinging to him, “Love your first pussy?”

He kissed you nastily. Tongue down your throat and you could still taste your cum but it only made you moan. He was fucking you roughly, nails digging into your plump hips making sure you couldn’t escape his brutal thrusts even if you wanted to. It was his turn to lose control and fuck, he was so close.

It was a scene out of a porn video, it reeked of sex and his bed sheets were completely ruined. His stomach was covered in his cum that just soaked yours from the way he rutted himself against you and it was just nasty and horny. You hugged him close, legs wrapping around him, tits pressed against his chest, “I’m close, bunny, you gonna cum for me?”

“Mhm,” he whined fucking you so good you were seeing stars. His dick was just so big and the girth on it was insane, he impaled you over and over again, “Gonna cum.”

You know you should tell him to pull out. It’s the right thing to do but…

But…

Hot ropes of his creamy cum filled your cunt suddenly with a cry as his body shook against yours. Despite cumming twice already it felt never ending and you couldn’t help yourself. The stimulation was just too much, his cock still thrusting into the wet space between your thighs.

Soobin sniffled, face between your breasts, clinging to you so hard you had to practically pull at his hair, “Soobin, bunny, I know it was a lot but you have to move.”

He shook his head, you could hear his sniffles get louder, “Don’t wanna.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, pouting when you found his reddened eyes, “I need to clean up.”

He shook his head cutely but he knew better. He slowly pulled out, watching with starry eyes as globs of cum left your pussy, an urge to finger it back into you strong but he let you sit up in shock at the mess.

“Did you lie to me again?” You asked jokingly but it went right over his head even as you said, “You don’t fuck like a virgin.”

“No! I didn’t! You’re my first, I promise,” he basically followed you out of bed, “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going to,” you assure him, “But I need to use the bathroom.”

“You’ll come back, right?”

You smiled, “I can’t just stay in there, can I? Lay down, I’ll help you clean up next.”

He nodded his head tiredly, doing just what you asked as he yawned.

Once you were done, hoping you got most of it out you opened the door to his bathroom, nearly screaming when you found him standing just on the other side of it. You gasped, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he sniffles and it looks like he’s been crying, “Sorry.”

“What for?” You asked, trying to lead him back to his bed feeling sad. What happened? You’re not used to Soobin like this. You laid him down and joined him, “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry for lying—I—I—I just like you so much and—and,” he struggled with words and you pulled him in for a hug, his head immediately on your chest.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay, I promise,” you said, “I like you too, why don’t you try and get some sleep? It was a lot for your first time, I’m sorry.”

“I liked it,” he said with a content sigh, “Promise you won’t leave?”

“I promise,” you said brushing his hair back but he wouldn’t budge.

“Pinky swear?” He asked hopeful that you smiled.

“I pinky swear,” you said, kissing the tip of his nose, “We’ve gotta talk anyway.”

He pouted once more, “About? Y-you don’t like me?”

“Binnie, I already told you I do,” you said softly, feeling him relax, “But we need to talk about what to do, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, finally relaxing against you, “Want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Aren’t I too mean, though?”

“Yes,” he said cutely, “But I like it.”

::.

ok this took me forever 😭😭sorry friends but I hope it was worth it.

taglist: @laylasbunbunny @bangchansbae

#choi soobin #soobin #soobin smut #soobin fluff #soobin fic #soobin oneshot #soobin fanfic #soobin imagines #soobin x y/n #Soobin angst #txt smut #txt soobin #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt post #choi yeonjun #kang taehyun #hueningkai #choi beomgyu

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 10 months

Note

Hi hii-! If it isn't a bother can i request either the dorm leaders + Jamil or the first years with an Mc who is basically like Mei from turning red with the whole turning into a Giant red panda and all? You can decide if they're gonna be yandere or nah i just wanna see how they would react to mc suddenly turning into a red panda whenever they get overwhelmed by their emotions ehe

Turning Red Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

When you came to their world to be the magicless prefect they know and love Grim is expected to be the only furry member of Ramshackle. They are soon proven wrong when you finally lose it. All the overblots, the stress, the mysteriously creepy gifts addressed to you. You’re hairs bright red color was nothing more than a random trait until you turned into a giant red panda:

Vil Schoenheit

“Well darling, this is unexpected…”

He’s genuinely surprised

But he can make this work

Being a connoisseur of working under pressure

He knows exactly how to calm you

Even when you're a giant panda

Some things may have to change like the amount of the sleeping potion he will give you

But know worries he can adapt

And with your newfound fame who better to preen you for your upcoming career

“Trust me, dear, this is my territory. So leave your cute paws in my hands.”

Kalim Al Asim

“Sooooo Fluffffy!!!!”

He’s so obsessed with shoving his face in your fur

And if you let him ride you, he’s on cloud 9

Your even cuter than you were before

But this is because your stressed!?!

Well as your future husband bestest friend he’s going to change that

So stay in Scarabia don’t even worry about going back to Ramshackle

He wants you to get used to living in luxury anyway

He’s more than happy to have you and Grim stay

Especially when you’re transforming into a panda

“Come on (Y/n)! You shouldn’t have to be stressed to bring out the panda!”

Azul Ashengrotto

“Well, we all have our…vices.”

This complicates things

How’s he supposed to turn you into a mermaid now?!

But it's fine

Hey, if you’ve made money on this before

He’s more than happy to get a piece of the pie

Granted he’s not exactly pleased that this is a stress response

Whoever’s the cause of that stress he’ll politely intercede

With a contract that will have their lively hood on the line

“Just know that once you sign my contract all your cares and worries and you+ will be mine to take care of.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“I see, we both seem to have our own reactions to stress.”

He’s oddly elated

He loves you deeply obsessively

So he will not tolerate anyone speaking negatively

Anyone

He’s offing everyone’s heads that he sees talking badly about your latest change

He relates and he wants to help

Funnily enough his fiery reaction to things you consider stressful has you relaxing if only to calm him down

And he’ll never admit it but he’s found you 10x more attractive when you angrily panda out

Leona Kingscholar

“See? I warned you not to bother them us. It’s not my fault your body will be in shreds.”

All the more reason to stay napping with him

But when you panda out he prefers to sit back and enjoy

He doesn’t really bother doing anything unless it's calming you down

And hiring a crew to clean up after you

He only is bothered by it when you don’t immediately yield to his control

Well other than your turning into a panda you’re still just a magicless prefect

That’s why it should be easier to keep you under his control

That or you’re going to be stressed with how many of your friends start avoiding you

Malleus Draconia

“What a marvelous trait!”

His heart is already set on you

But what is this?

This insatiable desire to rub his face into your fur and carry you around in your giant form?

“Is this…the fabled…cuteness?”

If anyone’s going to forget that they very well bring armageddon from cuteness aggression it's him

And because you being you have already fueled his emotions the electrical tempest that plagues NRC

He just reacts even worse when others have the same appreciation for your panda perfection

But only he is going ableto monopolize it

After all you don’t want the entire island falling into a sleep-like death right?

Jamil Viper

“So your emotions are tied to your panda and when it comes out?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s really cute That’s inconvenient.”

He’s pleased you most likely rely on him to assuage yourself from freaking out

And boy does he have so much more power

While your under his spell he might as well advise you to ask him on a date

Or forget about that missing student

Idia Shroud

“Whoa (Y/n)’s cuteness stats just upped themselves 40%!”

He’ll make even more merch

But he’s not selling it

There for him to squeeze and cuddle and pretend to make out with

Even better if you panda out in his room

so he can have your scent everywhere

He might even instigate it

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warnersister · 1 month

Text

Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.

🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.

🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”

🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?

🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.

🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.

🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.

🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”

🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?

🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.

🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.

🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.

🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”

🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.

🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.

🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.

🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.

Arthur🍺

🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.

🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.

🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.

🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.

🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.

🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.

🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.

🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”

🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

John🥃

🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.

🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.

🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”

🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.

🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.

🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.

🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.

🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.

🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.

🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.

🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”

🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.

🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.

🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.

🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.

Isaiah♟️

♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.

♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.

♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?

♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.

♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.

♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.

♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.

♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.

♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.

Michael🎱

🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.

🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.

🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.

🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.

🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.

🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.

🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.

🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.

🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.

🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.

🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.

🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.

🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.

🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.

🎞️“You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.

🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.

🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.

🎞️“Nice.”

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politemenacephd · 1 month

Text

The Surrogate: Part II

Miguel O'Hara X Peter B. Parker X GN!Reader (+18) Part one Part Three Series Content: Planned pregnancy, Breeding kink, PinV sex, Oral sex, Threesome, Web knotting, Aftercare, Possible Angst/fluff.

Miguel and Peter want a third child, and apparently they've run out of options. That is, except for you, their friend and colleague. They offer to cover everything, and the pay is life-changing. There's just one catch: they went to concieve naturally.

Notes: Oh boy here it comes time to give the boys a baby

As you approached the HQ you were a ball of nerves.

It was finally time to go in and get started.

After a few months of planning you were ready to begin the surrogate process. The whole process had been pretty smooth overall, almost too smooth. Miguel and Peter had let you hire a family friend as your lawyer, with Miguel paying every fee, and over each month you’d made sure the contract was fair.

You had been hired to be the men’s surrogate until completion, which didn’t have a set date on it but merely ended at whichever point you gave birth and the child was handed over into their custody. They would provide for your needs and health, and you would do your best to conceive for them.

You were allowed to leave at any time, though. It’d been a little difficult working out the details of leaving, especially regarding what happened if you were pregnant and had to stop, but Miguel and Peter had remained respectful. Eventually you’d worked out a plan that compromised what needed to be compromised, and so you stepped into the next phase: the actual conception.

It was a situation you were happy with. You felt safe, and soon you’d have a ridiculous amount of income. Right now, all you had to do was one, fairly simple job: From now until whichever point you conceived, you would be having intercourse with Miguel and Peter.

Simple enough, yes, but God, just the thought of it still made you weak. As you glanced up at their apartment, their windows glowing orange against the darkened skyline, you felt a pinch of nerves.

One of the things you’d agreed, just for the sake of convenience, was for you to move into Miguel’s plush new place at the top of the HQ, alongside him and Peter. Their girls lived with them too, but for tonight at least they were being babysat by a relative, and you’d been assured they had had the situation explained to them in the most child friendly way possible.

Later on things might have to change, but for tonight it was just about working out your dynamic and ensuring everyone was comfortable, and also getting the first attempt right.

It hit you hard, the idea that you might walk away from tonight pregnant with either of their babies. You kept thinking back to Miguel’s confident smirk in the bar, assuring you it wouldn’t take long. Why had he seemed so sure, and why did you so willingly believe him?

You sucked in a sharp breath and made your way in.

Your journey took you up through multiple elevators and beams and staircases as you ascended the HQ, which gave you more time to overthink. By the time you finally reached the apart you were a ball of nerves.

‘Okay… Okay, just, relax’ you told yourself. ‘Relax. Relax. You’re good. You’re all good.’

The moment you rang the doorbell the door swung open, causing you to flinch and yelp. You were met with Peter’s flushed and gleeful face as he threw himself through the door and around your little body, pulling you into a hug.

“HI! Hi, there you are! Oh- looking wonderful, muy bien, come on in!”

Before you could even get a word in he was carrying you into the apartment. Not shepherding, not pushing, carrying. He lifted your body was ease in a bridal carry and brought you through into the open-plan living room and kitchen area, babbling the whole way.

‘Miguel was worried you’d be late- OH, don’t tell him I told you that though, he’ll freak out, but I told him you’d be early and look who was right!”

‘A-Aha, yeah, uh- Peter, please could you—’ You stumbled on your attempt to request being put down as he gently shifted your weight, jolting you in his arms like a cat.

God, he was so strong. Deceptively strong. He felt nice, too. He was warm, toned but squishy, probably nice to cuddle. Perhaps, you didn’t want to be put down *just* yet.

‘Ah- never mind. Hi, Peter’ you said with a slight laugh. ‘I wouldn’t have thought me showing up early was such a surprise, you’re paying me enough for this.’

‘NO! I mean we’re paying a lot sure but it’s all worth it! I was just—’

‘Peter. Put them down.’

That dark, husky voice filled the apartment, rendering you both speechless.

You fell to the floor and immediately spotted Miguel leaning on the kitchen island. You felt your face go warm at the sight, as your chest seemed to tense in on itself.

He was just as pretty as usual, hanging around in loose joggers and an old shirt which left little up to the imagination. You were surprised to see as he moved around the kitchen that he also clearly wasn’t wearing boxers either, because the definition and light swing of what lay underneath caused your throat to seize up.

‘Thank you for coming’ Miguel said as he approached. You nodded hard, now trying your best to look anywhere except his perfectly toned V cut abdomen as it poked out beneath his shirt. He coughed before speaking. ‘Do you, uh—’

‘It’s okay, Miguel. I know you hate small talk’ you quickly said, cutting him off. To your relief you’d read him right; he did that gorgeous little half-smile down at you, his brows raising ever so slightly.

‘Mm. Good, thank you. This is why you’re my friend, hermosa/o’ he said with a throaty chuckle, only for Peter to appear at his back. ‘OUR friend’ he whined. Miguel shot him a bombastic side eye but ended up just shrugging and chuckling again. ‘Mm. Okay. Our friend. Perdón, mi amor.’

You watched slightly stiltedly as the two men butted noses and kissed, just a small peck before parting. You realized that you’d never really seen them being affectionate around the workplace, or even out in public like at the bar, so this was a surprise.

You almost didn’t notice Miguel turning back to you until he spoke.

‘Did you take the injections?’ Miguel asked. You awkwardly nodded.

You’d been given homework to do, mostly consisting of quite painful injections to stimulate ovulation. They sucked, hard, they made you feel awful and they burned when injected, but it was an important step.

‘And you’re ovulating?’ he asked next.

You felt your face burn up again as Miguel leaned in. He took your jaw into his hand and tilted it, seemingly trying to read something in your expression. This wasn’t an unusual move for him, especially with friends when he suspected they were lying, but right now it felt so much more intense.

‘I—yes, I have the app, I did everything on the list. I took the injection, I’m ovulating, I’m in the fertility phase, it- yeah.”

Miguel grunted, slowly retracting his hand. He looked pleased. Despite trying to keep a professional air about you, you felt your legs growing weak at his subtle little smile.

‘Good. I appreciate it.’ He turned and moved over to the counter as you awkwardly stood in the middle of the living room. Peter was still watching you, his face eager. You shyly smiled back at him.

‘So, do we, uh—’

‘Are you comfortable getting right into it?’ Miguel asked, pre-empting your question. You took a moment to decide but eventually nodded. ‘Yeah. I think so, aha, we- we got all night to talk, talk, afterward…’

The way Miguel chuckled at that made your sex throb. It was so sweet, so husky, so *smug*, in a way that was so unlike him. He glanced down at you in a way that highlighted his smooth, muscular neck, his eyes slightly lidded as he smiled.

‘Interesting. You think we’ll get tired?’ he asked.

Was- was he, teasing you? You blinked and swallowed, only to find your throat dry. ‘You... You have to get tired eventually, right?’ you said with a slight laugh, hoping it was a joke. Miguel’s smile widened.

‘Huh. Interesting’ he repeated. He held your gaze until he saw your smile falter, watching that sweet realization hit you that, no, he wasn’t joking. Peter was forced to step in to elaborate instead.

‘Oh no, no, no, Miguel doesn’t get tired’ he said, pridefully slapping the larger man’s chest right over his pecs. ‘Trust me, he will exhaust you. I’ve had to skip school runs because my legs just don’t work the next day.’

You raised a brow at that. ‘Ah… W- then, why are you two even taking turns?’ you asked. The two men glanced at each other. You saw them communicating silently; Miguel arched his brow and grunted, clearly implying something, as Peter raised his brows even higher and grunted back. The two turned to you in unison.

‘Miguel doesn’t get tired per se but he does get… well, empty’ Peter said, being as coy as possible. ‘He needs to re-charge, we both do, so, taking turns? Makes it easier! Plus, Miguel is…’

‘Rough’ he murmured, emphasising that word with such a husky tone. You almost collapsed.

‘Yeah! He is. Oh, you’re a kinky devil you are. I love you so much. But anyway, yes, so that’s why the switch. Hope that’s still okay’ Peter added on at the end, fixing you with an affectionate and open smile.

‘Aha, uh- yeah. Yeah, it’s all good. You guys really want that baby, huh?’ you said, your smile now slowly returning. While Miguel’s smirk turned shy Peter dramatically moaned.

‘We want it SO BAD! The girls are so BIG now, even Mayday can tie her own shoelaces, and all I wanna do is just cradle them in my arms and watch them babble nonsense and pretend to have a full conversation with them when all they can say is ‘babababa’—’

‘Peter.’ Miguel’s hand on Peter’s waist brought him to a stop. You noticed the way he subtly squeezed him. ‘We need to actually get started if you want that baby’ Miguel gently insisted.

At that Peter’s eyes turned to you again. You saw a spark in them you hadn’t seen before, and he quickly held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay! Okay. Baby time. Follow me, pretty thing’ Peter crowed before promptly grabbing your hand, dragging you into the bedroom. Miguel took his time before following in.

‘Okay, so, this is your room’ Peter explained as he flicked on the lights. You were taken aback by how nice it was. The dark, hardwood polished floors with a rug in the centre, highlighting the rich white king-size bed pressed up to the wall. You whistled at the huge, underlit wardrobe doors built into the right side wall, the mirrors on the ceiling and walls, and the glass wall overlooking the beautiful city beyond. It was a glittering cascade of neon lights across a dark canvas, a sight you'd usually never get to see.

‘My room?’ you stammered.

‘Mhm! Well, it’s the guest room, but for now, your room’ Peter crowed. He seemed to be enjoying your gawking.

‘It- what does your room look like then?’ you muttered half to yourself in disbelief.

Peter gently drew you to a stop in front of the bed. When he looked you over he had a slightly mischievous smile on his face. ‘Well, you’ll find out soon enough. Don’t you worry. Miguel, ah- he sells patents for technology he makes on the side back to the city, that’s how he affords everything here. It’s how he funds the HQ.’

You blinked in surprise. How had you not known that? ‘Oh, really? Huh…’

‘And, it’s how he’s gonna fund you, my little angel’ Peter suddenly cooed, pressing one firm hand to your abdomen. He squished it gently, his free arm pulling you into a hug before letting go again. ‘Thank you, again’ he whispered, his eyes deeply sincere. ‘Thank you for doing this.’

You just nodded, a little flustered internally at the sudden affection. ‘I-It’s fine’ you replied gently. ‘It’s, all fine. Thank you for uh, giving me the opportunity? I guess?’

His mischievous smug grin grew a little wider. ‘Uhuh. The opportunity. Speaking of which, shall we get you undressed?’

You felt that warmth thudding in your lower abdomen increase alongside your heart rate. You nodded. ‘Yeah. Yeah, of course, ah—’ You paused only to watch Miguel slowly enter through the bedroom door, gently shutting it at his back. He gave you a curt nod, essentially bidding you to continue. ‘Yeah. Let’s, do that’ you finished, before gently grasping your shirt.

You struggled to remove your clothing while the two men watched. Peter tried to be polite by looking to the side and whistling but you could feel his eyes drifting back, his whistles occasionally lowering in pitch as he stared before shifting back up. Miguel, however, kept his eyes firming on you.

You were surprised, as you undressed, to see his shaft already twitching beneath his joggers. The fabric was pitching to accommodate the size, and his eyes were fixed on you, roaming without shame or concern. Was he getting off on just this? The thought made you so giddy.

The moment you were naked Peter rushed in to pick you up and carefully lay you down on the bed. ‘You doin’ okay? You still good to go?’ he asked, his brown eyes wide and gentle. His care was a comfort, with his hand brushing your forehead and his soft, brown eyes fixated on your face. You shakily nodded.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m- fine, I’m ready.’

‘Good! Good. Okay, big guy, you ready?’

As Miguel approached, your breath hitched. He was eyeing you up with those wolfish eyes. They were such a deep red they seemed to glow in the dim, peaceful ambiance of the bedroom. ‘Mm. I’m ready’ he replied.

He stripped his shirt aside and yanked down his joggers, carefully kicking them aside to reveal his fully naked form. You audibly squeaked. He was huge.

The suit didn’t leave much to the imagination, apparently. He was hairless spare for a soft, thin line of dark hair running up his pelvis and a scattering on his lower legs and upper arms, leaving you a good view of his body. His skin was rough, scarred, with many lines overlapping over his rippling abs and hefty chest. His waist tapered in above his slim hips before sloping out into his heavily muscled thighs, both thick and slender.

And then, of course, your eyes drifted to his pelvis. His cock was gorgeous, there was no other word to describe it. Thick, veiny, perfectly curved. You had a sudden knot of anxiety over trying to take such a thing, but the soft throbbing in your clit urged you to ignore that thought.

He must have noticed you staring as he allowed a ghost of a smirk to creep onto his face.

Miguel clambered up and knelt on the bed, with his clawed hands resting on your own upturned knees. You squeaked a little as he curiously shifted them apart, noting the sight of your spread form. You suddenly felt extremely shy to have him gawking at your spread sex so curiously.

‘Oo, he likes you’ Peter cooed, still stuck in his teasing, flirting stage.

‘W-What?’ you stammered. Miguel shot Peter daggers with his eyes, imploring him to be quiet, but Peter couldn’t be silenced. ‘He likes you. That face he makes, with the eyes. They get a little bit brighter when he sees something he likes. I notice it when I wear anything too tight, it's like a… like a cat locking onto a mouse.’

‘Peter’ Miguel hissed, his fangs now bared in a desperate attempt to claw back his professionalism and ideally his dominance. Peter just chuckled. ‘Sorry’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be quiet.’

‘Yes. You will’ Miguel grunted, before finally turning back to your spread body. Now you could see it; those wolfish red eyes, darting down and drooping slightly as he took in your body. You felt his fingers grip a little tighter around your knees, his lips parting ever so slightly. He was already hard, but you saw his member tight just a little as if he was tensing it.

‘Now… You remember the deal, with intimacy?’ he asked softly.

‘Y-Yes.’

‘You are still comfortable with the terms we agreed?’ he asked, his voice softening even more.

‘Y-Yes’ you repeated. You caught him licking his teeth as he nodded.

‘Okay. Then the same rules apply. We'll be gentle this first night, just- the basics, to get you used to it. Your preference is oral, so, I will perform that to make insertion easier. Peter will ensure you’re comfortable throughout, and I’ll use my tongue to make you orgasm and also to loosen you up. Is that okay?’ Miguel explained. You just barely remembered to nod; the grip of anticipation was squeezing your guts like a fist.

It was time to start.

Miguel gestured to Peter with his shoulder and the man nodded, with the two moving in unison to either side of your torso. Peter settled on his side with his head by your own, his hands trailing over your chest, while Miguel sank down onto his belly with his head between your legs. Your legs twitched a little as you felt his hot, lurid breath hit your spread lips.

‘Y-You guys seem, pretty confident in your technique, huh?’ you said. You were struggling not to stutter.

Miguel didn’t respond; he just shot you a glance. You nearly buckled beneath the confident grin on his face. ‘Oh, we’re- quite confident’ he promised. As his mouth vanished behind the slope of your belly and sex, Peter gently gripped you tighter.

You felt the breath. You felt his lips brushing your inner thigh. You felt his groan, his tentative lick.

You tensed so hard it hurt. Here goes.

‘Okay, gently now, gently—’

‘AH—’

You couldn’t help it; the moment that flat, wet, rough tongue hit your clit you gasped and moaned, your hips arched involuntarily to try and get closer. Almost immediately Miguel responded with a muffled moan of his own.

In seconds that quiet, friendly façade fell apart. Miguel gripped your hips in his clawed hands, his talons just barely piercing your skin, and he began licking at you ravenously while Peter groaned in your ear.

‘Oh, there we go, good little thing, well done’ Peter whispered, urging you to moan again. Miguel was grunting as he buried his tongue against your clit, lapping and circling and sucking where he could. His breath kept hitting that sensitive nerve spot in rapid pants, either in grunts from his nose or in pants from his mouth, and every time it made you buck and squirm.

‘F-Fuck, ah- o-oh my god’ you stammered breathlessly. You knew it was coming, but you hadn’t been expecting this. You lay back and practically melted as Miguel lulled you with his mouth.

‘Oh, yeah, that’s it’ Peter murmured to himself. His eyes were fixed on your spread legs as Miguel hungrily lapped at your wet folds, his glowing eyes and sharp nose the only part of him visible as the rest buried itself into the nook of your lips. He absently started to palm his own cock beside you.

‘Oh, you both look so good’ he groaned. His sweet, encouraging praise in your ear only stirred you up further. ‘Go on daddy, give ‘em some more.’

With a soft growl Miguel tipped your hips back, holding you in place as his enormous, rippled shoulders forced your legs further apart. He spread you with his fingers and began gently snaking his long tongue down inside your cunt, pumping you with a good wet inch or so until you were audibly screaming.

You could feel his satisfied grunts vibrating through to your insides as he continued to prob them, slathering you in saliva and venom until it dripped onto the sheets below.

‘Miguel- f-fuck, ah—’ Your muffled gibberish words caught Peter’s attention, who reluctantly stopped rubbing himself to that gorgeous display and instead stroked your cheek.

‘You okay, sweetheart?’ he whispered. You shakily nodded.

‘Y-Yeah, I’m- I’m, great, just- a-ah, fuck, Miguel!’

Peter’s concern turned to soft chuckling as he realized you were just unbearably overwhelmed. He leaned in and kissed your jaw, his lips brushing up towards your ear. ‘Mm, he’s good, isn’t he? The best. I know what he can do with that tongue, and he must think you taste good to get that deep. Thanks for letting him practise, you pretty little thing.’

You could barely hear Peter’s filthy mouth over the drumming of your own heartbeat.

It wasn’t long before the sweet motions of his tongue stretching you out drew you toward your climax. He’d switch between sucking your slit and stretching you out until the double stimulation tripled over in your gut, tipping you right over into orgasmic spasms, and with the smuggest eyes possible he watched you squirming on his tongue as he tasted every second of it.

Peter was quick to soothe you, but Miguel had only been emboldened. He had a job to do, and he wouldn’t stop until it was done.

You caught a glimpse of his jaw as he withdrew, shimmering with your slick like a pearly sheen. He made eye contact once, his eyes a dark and bloody red, and with your unblinking attention he wiped his face with the back of his hand only to lick it off again. You could only whimper in response.

While you panted and tried to catch your breath Miguel began slowly mounting from the front. You looked up and watched those dark, foreboding eyes peer down at you from above.

‘I will, try to be gentle’ he said. You could hear the desperation behind his soft words. The man was twitching with excitement, his veiny cock already peaking thick drops of pearly pre-cum as he approached. You could see his tongue pressed to his teeth, his lips parted so he could pant.

You hadn’t expected him to be so aroused by this. You’d expected he just wanted this for business purposes, but you were starting to realize he might just be fulfilling something more here.

He spoke, then, and fully confirmed your theory.

‘Time to get you pregnant’ he breathed, his voice husky and wet, dripping with a deep and erotic urge. Peter chuckled. The man was also biting his lip, clearly enjoying the display his partner was putting on.

‘Miguel thinks he can get you pregnant first go’ Peter whispered in your ear. Miguel shot his partner a glance and ever so slightly curled his lip.

‘That’s because I can.’

You shuddered at his confidence, as did Peter. You were both brought to your metaphorical knees beneath the intensity of those bloody red eyes. The man reeked of potency, and when he spoke, you didn’t doubt him.

With you both now silenced Miguel settled himself down, easily spreading your legs with both hands to make way for his body. He leaned in and bent your legs down with him, pushing them into a mating press. He saw the rush of adrenaline in your face, the mixture of nervous fear and excitement. His eyes softened a little.

‘You okay?’ he murmured. You nodded just a little too fast.

‘Y-Yeah. Yeah, I’m—fine.’

He nodded back. His eyes darted over you once more to ensure you weren’t too tense, too stressed, before pressing a quick kiss to Peter’s jaw. The two didn’t need to share words. Peter leaned back with his arm around your head, and Miguel in a planking position pushed down towards you.

You watched his cock approaching with bated breath. That thick, veiny rod disappeared down between your thighs, leaving you with only the sensation of his member nudging at your wet pussy. You bit your lip and braced.

With a soft grunt, Miguel started trying to enter you.

At first, he simply couldn’t. He pulsed at you a few times, smearing your cunt with pre-cum as he tried to ease your muscles aside, but he couldn’t get more than a few inches in. The size difference was just too clear.

He wasn’t angry with you. You could see him fighting his impatience for your sake. Peter was left to soothe your gabbled apologies with promises that it was fine, they had time to try, while Miguel shifted to using his fingers instead.

‘My fault, should have—done this first, hermosa/o. It’s my mistake.’

You gasped aloud as he worked his calloused index finger inside you. He pushed right up to the knuckle before brushing your g-spot, admiring the way you bucked and moaned, before switching to lightly pulsing it in and out of your cunt.

All too soon his finger was sopping. He noted the thick strings of slick accumulating on his thick digit with a sense of pride, and slowly shifted to two. You moaned again, louder this time, and seemingly unable to help himself Miguel began leaning into it. He started pulsing harder, his eyes fixed on your hips as they pathetically rocked against his hand.

‘Mm, there we go. You like that? Is that good?’ he purred. Your moans vibrated through his soul, fuelling his ego. He slowly started fisting his cock as he watched.

‘That’s it’ he whispered to himself. ‘That’s it. Ah—I’m going to breed this. I’m going to breed this. I’m going to put a baby in there, sweet thing.’

His hand was making the most obscenely wet noise at this point. The heavy clap of his wet fingers was all that covered up his lewd mantra.

‘My baby’ he grunted, almost growling. ‘My baby, plumping you up, urgh—’

He made it to three fingers before becoming too desperate to wait. He pulled out his hand and quickly let Peter lick them clean, giving his partner just a little attention as he whined and licked your juices into his mouth, before pushing your knees down and mounting again.

This time, it came easy. He pushed into you with one hard grunt and let you feel every single inch slipping up to the tightest point, only stopping once he’d fully bottomed out. You screamed.

‘Urgh- uh, fuck, argh- so tight’ he panted. He didn’t waste time on soaking in you, as with a mind that utterly fixated all he could think about now was getting you stuffed with his seed. He started to pump his hips back and forth the moment he got inside.

‘That’s it, that’s it’ Peter whispered, getting you warm and comfortable as he watched his partner's enormous form rutting between your legs. He noted your wet lips and desperate moans, ensuring that you were enjoying yourself. ‘There, does he feel good?’ he purred.

‘Y-yea—yeah—y-a-ah—’

You couldn’t even get the words out. You were almost mewling as Miguel bent your back and started arching his hips, smacking them down onto your cunt with such terrifying vigor it almost made you wince. He was grinding up inside you, pulverizing those sweet, gummy walls, slipping against every soft ridge he could find.

His lips parted and he started to grunt with each rhythmic thrust, emphasizing the harsh slap of skin on skin with his own noises. ‘Uhn- uhn- uhn, que rico- uhn-’

It took you a little getting used to, settling into the rhythm of his body and his thick cock gently stretching you out. His claws on your knees were sharp, his breath on your face so hot that you started to sweat, and the power in his body was terrifying. He had to force himself to be careful with you. Every deep plunge into your cunt, each gentle pulse, could turn into a back-breaking move if he wasn’t careful.

He eventually had to lower his hands to the bed to stop himself from clawing at your knees. You lay back and tried to focus on the sensations. The warmth of his cock moving inside you, thrusting right up into your guts until your body began to grow flush with warmth. The wet slap of his hips as you began to coat his pelvis in thick, viscous slick. The beautiful sight of his inhuman body rippling between your legs.

‘F-Fuck’ you whimpered, unable to handle anything more. ‘F-Fucckkkk…’

Peter remained at your head as Miguel pumped. He was so gentle, soothing you and petting your face as your body was jolted back and forth.

‘A-Ah—’

‘Good, that’s it. You’re doing so good’ Peter whispered.

‘I’m close’ Miguel growled. His claws began tearing the sheets apart as his thrusts tripled in strength and speed, slamming into you repeatedly until the bed began to creak beneath the force. You could hear the springs giving out, and even the wooden base sounded like it was groaning at the strain. Your hips were numb at this point from his rough pumps, but you ate it all up.

It was utterly orgasmic, the sensation of being filled and fucked so thoroughly. You lay back and moaned your assent for him to finish.

‘Así así’ he praised breathlessly as he saw you give in, his tongue slipping as he felt his body tensing up to unload. It was pure heaven, almost rapturous for him. Finally, he got to do this, fulfilling the most primal itch in his brain. He clawed the sheets to shreds as he rutted and humped to completion.

‘Mm- mm- Así así, hermosa/o, lo necesito, lo necesito- ah, ay chingada- haz que me corra—!’

With a groan that echoed through the room he felt his muscles tense and unload, his cock swelling before finally spurting those terrifyingly thick ropes into your cunt. It was thick enough for you to feel it as it squished into every inch of space, coating your insides with his imprint, all while he panted and groaned against your cheek.

You felt every pulse, every gently expanse and release, as it hit both of you in waves; he’d just cum in you, for the first time, and if he got his way you’d soon be pregnant for real.

‘Ah… a-ah, that’s it… that’s it…’

You noticed his arms shaking as he slowly rocked to a stop. You could still feel him twitching a little as he stilled, throbbing against your overstimulated walls. He glanced at you from beneath his mop of sweaty hair, and gave you a soft smile.

‘Eh, hermosa/o…. There you go. That should do it…’

As you both collapsed Peter rushed into soothing both of you. He kissed Miguel’s jaw and cheek and lips, whispering how well he did and how beautiful his baby would look, and he stroked your forehead while whispering what a good job you did.

His attentive aftercare really was wonderful, but after a few minutes of soaking to ensure his seed had taken Miguel pulled out, and Peter switched tones. After all, you weren’t done yet.

‘My turn?’

You were too busy panting to reply as Peter swapped places with Miguel. All you could do was moan.

You watched Miguel sink down to his knees at your head. He was wiping sweat from his forehead, still panting, but he used what energy he had left to continue Peter’s work. He brushed your cheek with his calloused thumb as Peter carefully eased your legs up.

‘Shh, there you go’ Miguel purred in that deep, warm voice. ‘He’ll be gentle, don’t worry.’

‘I’ll be gentle, but be aware you- may cum again’ he said with a shrug as he shifted you into place and mounted from the front. You felt the brush of his member up against your clit and quivered, something that made him eagerly bite his lip.

‘Guey, don’t get too arrogant’ Miguel grunted back. Peter leaned in hard and kissed Miguel on the mouth, even licking his fangs before withdrawing. You’d never seen him so confident.

‘If you didn’t want me to be cocky, you should have stopped telling me how good I am’ he teased, before gently and slowly easing his cock inside you. Your breath almost immediately hitched.

Peter wasn’t as rough, but he shared Miguel’s ability to roll and rock his hips in just the right way. You could feel him intelligently sliding back and forth, snapping his thrusts in just the right way to stimulate every spot he needed to.

You could still feel the dull thud of him hitting at your tightest point, like a sharp pump right up into your guts. You instinctively grabbed at his biceps for support, something he eagerly encouraged as he started to get harder.

‘That’s it’ he whispered against your forehead. ‘That’s it. You take it just like that. You like it, don’t you?’

You didn’t even reply; he didn’t need you to. He bent you back into a near circle as he got down on his knees and pumped you until you drooled, manipulating every little soft spot on your body. He knew just how to curve his cock into your sweet spots, just the right angle to pull back and start carefully bobbing his hips in place so he was carefully rubbing one point rather than pulsing back and forth.

He let you scream, let you involuntarily shake in his grip, let you stare at him in shock, all with that same dorky, confident smile.

‘Mm- I can feel you in there, big man’ he grunted, eagerly biting his filthy tongue as he pumped in and out of your cunt. He made sure to make you clench him before speaking again. ‘Mm- so warm. You did good, beautiful man. Shame I’m just- using you as lubricant to finish the job.’

Miguel audibly hissed, a seemingly involuntary motion as he quickly tried to clamp his jaw shut, but Peter seemed to relish in the display. You felt him throb hard against the walls of your cunt as he started going faster.

‘Mm- that’s it, that’s it, come on—’

You felt Miguel settle as your body was being jolted back and forth, and you caught his glowering eyes glowing a little brighter as he watched. He was fixated on the little slither of Peter’s shaft he could see pumping back and forth, utterly saturated in both your click and his cum. You caught him biting his lip as his eyes narrowed to slits.

‘Mm..’ he grumbled. ‘Yeah…’

‘Come on baby, come on, that’s it, fuck—’

With a few hard, deep thrusts Peter unloaded his own thick ropes, tenderly cupping your hips as he pulled you in against him. The dull smack of your pelvis’s colliding filled the room alongside your frantic moans.

It was there, right in the middle of Peter’s orgasm, that he fulfilled his promise. He shifted his thumb to your clit and gave the swollen, sensitive nub a few gentle prods, all while deliberately creaming around your g-spot, and with a shudder you groaned into your second orgasm.

‘Yeah, that’s it, oh- well done’ he praised, still breathlessly thrusting. ‘Go on, that’s it, draw it all up. Good, good, well done, baby, well done. So proud of you.’

He let you whimper and spasm around his cock until your body went limp, and after soaking in you for another few minutes he pulled out and collapsed next to Miguel. The sound of your overlapping panting filled the otherwise silent apartment.

‘Good job’ Peter repeated after catching his breath, giving a slightly shaky thumb up. ‘Good everyone.’

‘Peter please shut up’ Miguel replied.

You got a good half an hour of rest, just lying in a sweaty, exhausted pile together as the city soundscape filled the silence.

You used the time to contemplate your position. So, this was it. You’d done it. From this point on, you could very well get pregnant.

You were still in a bit of a daze over how good it was. You knew they were attractive, you knew they were charming and charismatic and endearing, but this? You felt like your soul had been dislodged by one too many hard thrusts. You could still feel the imprint of both men’s shafts, the ghost of their throbbing members against your cervix.

With a sigh you let your eyes drift shut. Perhaps this would be a far more enjoyable experience than you expected.

You felt rather than saw Miguel moving. You thought perhaps he was getting water again, but you were surprised to feel his huge, clawed hands splitting your legs apart again. Your eyes shot up.

That dark smirk filled your gaze, as did those beautiful red eyes. You watched his shoulders roll, his muscles rippling in the beautiful neon light, as he lined himself up with your cunt again.

‘Ready to go again?’ he purred.

All over again, the knot in your gut began dragging you down. Your pulsing clit hadn’t had enough, and clearly, the two men hadn’t had enough either.

This was going to be a long night.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x peter #atsv peter b parker

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spikedhe4rt · 9 months

Note

I need dating Darry hcs. NSFW and SFW

Darry Curtis x Reader Headcanons 🪸🪸

A/N: I hope yall enjoy this, I also have a darry smut coming out soon. My request box is always open!! Love you guys<3

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❥ You met eachother while he fixed your roof, which your family helped you pay for.

❥ You kept making excuses to come outside and talk to him.

"Hey, Darry" you yelled out to make sure he could hear you from the roof. He responded with a loud "yea?" I smiled at his voice. "I made you lemonade and homemade pretzels.

❥ You started to invite him inside the house and talk more

❥ You were highly upset when he finished your roof, you knew you would miss him.

❥ He asked you out on his last day because he took so much interest in you.

❥ You both wanting to take it slow, because he had his brothers to look out for.

❥ Meeting Soda and Pony, and them taking a liking to you.

❥ Visiting his parents grave with him for support.

Darry gave a sad chuckle as he finished a story about the time his parents bought him his first bike. "They sound amazing, Dare" you gave him a loving smile before a tears ran down his cheeks. "They were. I just really miss them sometimes."

You nodded and brought him in for a hug. Once the hug ended, his lips found their way to your forehead, kissing it softly. "Thank you for coming with me."

❥ Trying to keep a serious face when he lectures Pony over the silliest things.

"Ponyboy, how many times do I have to tell you...you can't leave your stuff anywhere. You left your book on the floor and Soda slipped on it." You truly tried to hold it in, but once he said Soda fell, you lost it. Wheezes came out as you tried to control yourself. You were met with the eyes of shocked and mildly offended Darry as he stared.

❥ You calming him down with kisses.

❥ Holding hands when you walk together.

❥ He will fix anything for you. He basically refuses to ever let you hire a maintenance man because he claims he can do it.

❥ Thinks about what you like when he buys groceries.

"Since when did any of us like Pringles, Darry?" Pony asked with a face of pure confusion. Darry grabbed the can of salty crisps from his hand "Y/n likes them, tell the rest of the boys not to eat them either" Pony nodded to his older brother, smiling at the fact that he cares enough about you to do that.

❥ Random slow dancing when you guys get bored. It seems cheesy to others but it makes you guys feel like the only people in the room.

❥ Him randomly picking you up just because he can.

❥ You running your hands along his abs under his shirt when you guys sit together.

❥ You two always making sure Johnny is safe and taken care of.

❥ Him promising that he will put a ring on your finger one day.

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❥ He loves any physical marks on you both. Hickeys, bite marks, bruises, scratches make him go crazy.

❥ He loves how much bigger he is so he can bend and take you how he needs to easily.

❥ Is strong enough to keep/hold your hips down while he eats you out and overstimulates you.

“Im gonna cum!” I panted out for the second time tonight. My hips bucked up into Darrys face again, as continued too suck my throbbing clit through my high. Two hands snaked around my thighs, making he secure as he continued. “Give me a couple more, hon”

❥ Will not cum until you have at-least once because he puts you first.

❥ Takes his stress out in the best ways, the bedroom

❥ Burys his face in your neck and moans when he cums.

❥ Grabs your chin to force eye contact when you can't look at him.

"Look at me, baby." Darrys fingers were thrusting in and out of your pussy. Your head was over his shoulder and tucked into his neck, trying not moan out loudly. "Please-" your words were cut off when you felt his hand on your chin, making you look him. "You look so pretty like this. Keep looking at me, just like that." His words made you whimper, grinding into his thick fingers.

❥ Loves to cum on your ass after taking you from behind.

❥ He will whimper while getting head from you.

❥ Holds your hips and bounces you up-down when you get tired when riding him.

"Fuck, Darry!" you panted out, grinding your hips down on him. "Im tired, Dar" your movements came to a halt as you tried to catch your breath. "I gotchu, hon. I always do." His large hands came to your hips and slowly moved you up and down on his cock. "Faster please" you moaned out as your hands came down to steady yourself. "There you go, baby. Such a good girl for me"

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

#darry curtis #darry curtis x reader smut #darry curtis x reader #darry #darrel curtis #the outsiders #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #sodapop curtis #two bit mathews #dallas winston #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders smut #the outsiders fluff #the outsiders preferences #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders headcanons

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lazycats-stuff · 9 months

Note

May i request a baby bat (preferably male) that's left at home with a babysitter (it was after Alfred's surgery or he could just be sick but he's resting) while everyone is out on missions and the babysitter is completely ignoring the babies cries for food and a diaper change while titus is trying to comfort him (btw i noticed that you write titus as doberman even though he's a great dane? Please don't take offense i didn't know if this was on purpose or not so i just thought I'll point it out!) baby ends up crawling out of his crib, out of the doggy door and into the streets in only a diaper and shorts and of course titus is right behind, every time baby tries to go into traffic titus is gently nudging him away with his snout , every time a random person tries to pick up the baby and take him to the police titus is not having it, until eventually word reaches the batfam about this and they go to investigate and the unbelievable anger they felt after watching the camera footage of inside their house, you can choose what happens to the babysitter but family fluff with the baby please! Sorry if this is long i just heard from other writers that the more details they have the easier it is to write, thank you!

Okay, thank you for pointing it out that Titus is a great dane because, I could swear on anything, that Titus is a Doberman. I'm not sure whether or not I need new glasses or a new brain. And don't worry, I'm not offended, just shocked that I'm that dumb and blind. Either way lets get to writing.

Summary: (Y/N) has to be babysat by somebody outside of the family. It doesn't end well.

Warnings: child neglect, Titus is the best dog, the batfam loosing their minds, again child neglect if anyone is sensitive to that, babysitter is awful.

This GIF is in honor of Titus and I know Titus isn't the same color, but it's too cute.

Bruce was very hesitant to leave his young son with an outsider. He was a baby and Bruce might be protective, but this is his first son who was a baby, so unable to defend himself, so vulnerable. Jason sometimes said a bit stupid, but that they had a sense of who was who.

Whenever he cried, Bruce was the one to calm him down. And (Y/N) could tell when to do help out the family. He still remembers how Lex took him from his arms and Jason was ready to deck him. What did (Y/N do?

Threw up on a very expensive Italian suit. Bruce was apologizing, but with absolutely no sincerity in his voice. Jason took (Y/N) at the time, cooing at the baby, wiping his mouth with a tissue.

Bruce was impressed with how much babies had a sense for people. Maybe that should have been thinking of that when he hired the babysitter. (Y/N) was fine with Bruce, but with the babysitter he got a bit fussy. But Bruce brushed it off, thinking it must be because she is new. But Bruce had no choice. Alfred is recovering and they are swamped with missions.

And it seems that (Y/N) was right about his feeling about this babysitter. After caring for a few hours, (Y/N) was forgotten. Bruce had given the babysitter a very specific schedule on when (Y/N) was supposed to be fed and when he was going to go to sleep.

(Y/N) was crying, because he was hungry. He was squirming in his crib, the diaper heavy due to being unchanged. The only person who seemed to care, well, an animal who seemed to care was Titus, Damian's dog. The Great Dane fell in love with (Y/N) from the moment he has seen him as a newborn.

Everyone was slightly worried, but the Great Dane was great with (Y/N). Always near him, always coming to check on him when he is crying, or just to watch him play. Even when Damian is taking him for a walk or just to play outside, he always has to have (Y/N) watching. So more often then not, Damian is carrying (Y/N) in a baby carrier while in the yard with Titus.

And Titus came to (Y/N)'s room, wondering why his baby brother was crying. He sniffed his hands and gave them a lick to comfort his brother. (Y/N) stopped crying for a second, but he still sniffled. Titus sniffed down at the diaper. He whined a bit from the smell too.

Bruce said that Titus had a superpower when it came to (Y/N)'s diapers. Although just a good sense of smell, Titus alerted everyone when (Y/N)'s diaper needed to be changed. Anyone he could find, he would lead them to (Y/N).

Now (Y/N) was slightly less upset, but still upset. Titus tilted his head when he saw how (Y/N) turned on his stomach and started moving through a small opening. (Y/N) was now crawling out of the room and Titus followed. The babysitter was laughing on the phone, laughing at whatever the friend said.

(Y/N) crawled to the kitchen, stopping for a second. He moved to the back door, crawling through the doggy door. Titus followed without hesitation, walking right behind (Y/N).

Eventually, they have reached the city. Titus was never a fan of it, believe it or not. He preferred the backyard and its quietness. He never liked the smell of it either.

(Y/N) tried to get to the road and Titus was quick to push him away from them. They continued walking and it looked like something out a movie. Maybe a children's cartoon.

And not a good one.

A lady tried to pick (Y/N) up, but Titus made a biting sound at her, not wanting her to take his baby brother. She backed off and (Y/N) continued on his adventure. Well, there was some luck to it. James Gordon aka Jim Gordon was driving by and stopped the car.

He met the family and they were good friends. He recognized Titus and he recognized (Y/N). He stopped the car and got out, moving towards the animal baby duo.

" (Y/N)! What are you doing here champ? " Gordon said, crouching down in front of the baby. Titus bared his teeth, but relaxed when he saw that it was Gordon.

" And what are you doing here Titus? Either way, lets get you both to the station. "

(Y/N) was picked up and Titus waited in front on the passengers side. Gordon opened it and Titus squeezed himself in. Gordon sat back inside and went directly to the station. He needed to change (Y/N)'s diapers and call Bruce Wayne. Something is off.

Bruce was on the way back home, just ready to crash. His kids were with him too and they all wanted to see (Y/N) after being separated for so long. It felt awful. All of a sudden there was a call in the car. Bruce accepted, not even looking at who it was.

" Yes? "

" Hey Bruce, it's Jim. There is some news about your youngest. "

Everyone was alert now.

" What do you mean? "

" He was found wandering the streets. Titus was with him, moving him away from the traffic. Is anyone watching him? "

" Babysitter is supposed to... Why? " Bruce asked, now worried.

" Well, he was in a desperate need of a diaper change and a bottle. He downed a bottle. "

Bruce was speechless. What!?

" Okay, I'm going to the station now, I also have the camera feed on my phone so I can check what the hell happened. " Bruce said, taking his phone out. He unlocked and handed it to Tim next to him.

" Tim, check the footage. I want to know what's happening. " Bruce said, taking a sharp turn.

" Hang on, let me find it. " Tim said, looking for the said footage.

Bruce floored the gas pedal, making sure to be fast as possible. He parked with a screech and everyone got out of the car. Bruce and the others went inside, moving quickly to the offices and they saw Titus and people around him, just petting him, but Gordon was sitting in the chair with (Y/N) on his lap.

" Hey Bruce. " Gordon said, watching the distraught father taking his son into his arms, cooing and swaying him.

" Oh my son, what were you doing in the streets? " Bruce said, kissing his son on the head. Titus went to Damian and Damian gave him scratches and praises.

" Good boy, you followed (Y/N) and made sure he was safe. "

" I have something B. It seems that the babysitter ignored (Y/N). " Tim said and everyone crowded around Tim to see. Everyone in the room looked in shock as they watched the babysitter ignore (Y/N). Titus was there to comfort him at least.

" Oh no. Oh hell no old man. " Jason said, clenching his fists.

" Don't worry mister Todd, we will arrest her. " Gordon said.

" Good. Oh my poor brother. Hand him over. " Jason said, taking (Y/N) into his arms.

" Damian, remind me to buy Titus everything he wants next time we go to the pet shop. " Jason said, kissing his brother's head.

" Will do. Now can we go to the manor to arrest her? " Damian asked, and Gordon agreed.

The babysitter walked out of the manor in cuffs, protesting. Bruce didn't waste his words, he went to his room and laid down on the bed and then laying (Y/N) down on his chest.

The others filed in, laying down to Bruce on both sides. They were comfortable on the Alaskan bed, happy to be near their baby brother.

" Night everyone. " Bruce said.

There were murmurs of good night and all of them could finally fall asleep, with their baby brother near them. Oh and Titus?

That good boy, no, the best boy laid down at the foot of the bed, also guarding the little boy.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #batfamily #x male reader #batkids #batman x child!male reader #bruce wayne #batman #platonic relationships

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gurugirl · 27 days

Text

coming soon to tumblr | handyman!harry

821 word teaser - 10k+ one shot already posted on Patreon.

One shot summary: When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for. Based on this request.

. . .

Everything flowed so nicely with Harry. He was easy to talk to and you trusted that he knew what he was doing. And it didn’t hurt that his voice was soothing and deep and slow. You could listen to him talk about solid hardwood versus engineered hardwood all day long if he let you.

“Well, I’ll be heading out now I guess. Be back first thing in the morning and start on this porch.”

You walked him to his big truck and shook his hand again, thanking him for taking the job and feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional at everything.

Overwhelmed because Harry was so genuinely kind and you knew immediately you could trust him completely. Which just added to his charm and sex appeal. You really tried to push down the fact that he was so stunningly attractive because that wasn’t going to do you any good. And even though Mr. George told you he was single, you couldn’t imagine that was true. Someone as yummy-looking and kind-hearted as Harry? There was no way he wasn’t at least seeing someone.

But you were also emotional because you were finally going to get to see your aunt Gayla’s house restored to its original glory. It was going to be a real labor of love but it felt so good to be doing it. You had never felt so sure you were on the right path in life until that day. Until Harry arrived with his big truck and assured you that you’d get everything you wanted and that it would end up being even better than before.

And for the first time since you moved into that old house, you sat down and began to write. You’d gotten nearly ten thousand words written and were awake well into the wee hours of the morning typing away with the sudden inspiration you’d gotten. You fell asleep with your laptop next to you when you couldn’t hold your eyes open any longer.

You were woken to the sound of pounding and clanking and creaking which had you startled as you sat up in your bed and looked around your bedroom. The sun filled the space with light and you picked up your cellphone to note the time and saw a missed call from Harry.

Wrapping your robe around yourself you ran down the stairs all frazzled and rushed and burst onto the front porch, tripping over a stack of fresh boards and landing on your knees and palms like an idiot.

“Hey… hey…” you heard Harry’s deep voice from behind you as he slid his hands under your arms to help you up, “You okay?”

“Oh my god…” you croaked out the first words of the day from your throat, “I just woke up and realized you were here and… Sorry!”

He turned you to face him and looked down over your knees and lifted your palms upward to inspect, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Took quite the spill there. Sorry, I shouldn’t have stacked those boards right there.”

You felt your heart calm as he led you into your kitchen. He was so gentle with you, which for some reason you hadn’t expected. You knew he was kind but this seemed very much outside of the scope of his job description, “No, it’s fine! It’s me. I’d probably trip over the boards no matter where you had them stacked. I’m a bit of a nervous nelly. And when I woke up I just… I was startled. Fell asleep late and didn’t set an alarm…”

Harry grinned at you as you ran your faucet and put your hands under it, “It’s fine. No need to rush or get all riled up. I got here a bit early and when you didn’t answer I just figured I’d start on the porch. Think I’ll replace your doorbell as well. It’s not working either.”

You dried your hands and smiled at Harry, “I’ll get you a key before you leave today. In case I’m not here or I’m sleeping again. Sorry… I just had this burst of inspiration last night and typed until I passed out. It’s…”

“You’re fine,” you watched his eyes drop down to your torso and then bounce back up quickly to your face.

When you looked down at yourself you realized your robe was twisted and while all your bits were covered, they were barely covered.

“Jesus fucking Christ… I’m sorry, Harry. I’m a mess…” you pulled the material into place and adjusted the robe.

Harry put his hands at the tops of your arms, “Hey… you’re fine. Take a breath. It’s a beautiful morning and the birds are singing, and just look at this view…” he motioned toward your window where you could see trees and lush green grass stretch along the front of the house, “Now… Do you have some alcohol to clean up the cuts on your knees?”

. . .

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noroi1000 · 11 months

Text

Evil Queen

paring: Good King Gojo x Evil Queen reader

For @blvckryx

Words: 8,9k

Warnings: deaths, NSFW (Sub Gojo, dom reader, tied to a chair, begging, creampie, tied cock, oversensitive)

Summary: All your fiancés died because you didn't want them as husband. You didn't want that much. After your father died, you were forced into marriage. At your wedding, your hands were handcuffed. You wanted to kill your husband - Gojo Satoru. But you couldn't do it, he's not dying. He let you try it. He's not the same as the others... You don't want to kill him...

"(y/n), you can't keep killing your husbands…"

You looked at your father as you looked at the silver bracelet you got from your prospective husband.

"He was not my husband. And I didn't kill him." You said calmly, watching the white diamonds on the silver.

"Zenin is not someone to play with. Honey, understand that you must have a husband." He said as he sat in his chair across the table in front of you.

"How many times do I have to tell you I didn't do it? He killed himself…" you snapped as you threw the expensive jewelry on the table.

Your father was a little afraid of you. And you were perfectly aware of it.

He didn't have much time left in this world, so he tried to leave his kingdom in good hands. Of course he trusted you.

You were relentless. You were so smart. However, you had no mercy even for the smallest thieves.

The good citizens of your kingdom lived peacefully, avoiding poverty.

You didn't want them to want you dead.

You punished all criminals.

Execution, imprisonment, or simply confiscation of property. Or sometimes irreversible disability.

That's what your father used to do.

Thieves had their hands cut off so that they could no longer steal. Prison escapees or those who were fleeing from justice had their legs cut off.

Adulterers were castrated.

You didn't mind. You gave orders to your hired people and they did it.

You didn't mind seeing death.

Not after you saw your future husband, the son of a scholar who was believed to be a sorcerer, kill your friend who has served you since you were little.

As you entered his chamber, you saw a passage to another room below. And when you went in there, you saw Kenjaku cutting the top of the skull off from the rest, and he started looking for something in your friend's brain.

Were you ever going to marry a murderer like him?

You've seen your father convict someone many times.

Your mother accidentally killed your little brother. However, you know what the truth was. She just miscarried. Your father decided that she didn't want to give him any more children, and that she defied him. She was his wife from an arranged marriage. He had her killed as punishment.

You loved your mother more than your father.

And you were afraid you'd die like her because something your father didn't like.

You tried to obey everything he told you to do. You were the perfect princess. That's why you were supposed to be the future queen.

But you wanted your Father not to have the power over you that he has now.

This is why…

That's why you did everything to be cruel.

You had no mercy for anyone who was like him.

Until it finally became your nature.

You weren't nice. But you tried to be good to your subjects.

In other realms they thought of you as a monster. Even if you weren't that cruel.

You were like that to people you didn't like.

You didn't like your husband candidates, so you did everything you could to annul your wedding.

They were either dying or trying to get rid of you.

Kenjaku died because when you were teenagers he started saying something to you that scared you.

He was a little older than you, and he said he'd like to create the perfect baby with you to help him carry out his plan.

You never wanted to marry him.

He died because he fell under the table and the heaviest knife he ever used to split skulls fell on his forehead.

It was as if you murdered him.

Soon after, your second husband appeared…

Naoya Zenin who died during a fight you practically arranged.

Let's just say, a lot of people didn't like him, so finding a candidate wasn't difficult.

But you still had clean hands.

Your third candidate for a husband is a man almost twice your age who has a teenage son.

Well, your Father seeks power and wealth.

He has almost only power.

This man killed the previous ruler and seized the throne.

Fushiguro Toji ruled over a large army. But he wasn't that rich.

You hated him for being such a terrible womanizer. He had a son, two wives if not more.

You were supposed to be his next wife. Even at a meeting with him, there was a woman next to him!

A direct guy who was too brave.

You want someone direct, but not someone like him who shows he can have anyone and does it right away.

As soon as he started approaching you like it wasn't the first time you'd met, you wanted to do something to him.

You did not want to deprive the child of his father, but you even learned that his son does not live in his kingdom!

When he was too insistent, two months ago you gave him a wound running through his mouth. And now there was a scar in that place.

And it's not like he gave up.

You still had to be his wife…

And he was killed fighting a prince of another kingdom.

You were on your way home at the time. Fight and death have passed you by.

You brazenly led Toji out of the house so he couldn't hide. Even though he was strong, there was no way he could win with that power.

Or so you thought.

And you weren't wrong. You received news some time later that your fiancé, Fushiguro Toji, was killed during the fight between his kingdom and the kingdom ruled by Prince Gojo.

Gojo…

Did you know that name…

Didn't this happen to be on your father's lists once?

Soon after, the same man became a king instead of a prince.

His image was in your father's eyes because he didn't want to get in trouble with the strongest kingdom.

He was a good king. Smiling and cheerful. But also deadly.

You weren't that selfish, but without your father, you would have ruled better.

Could there have been no deaths?

Be that as it may, you are involved in all of them.

Your father's chief servants wanted to drag you by force to the next husband candidate, but they mysteriously disappeared.

And only you knew what happened to them.

You knocked them unconscious with an efficient blow to the head with a rock, and left them in the woods. Where it was most dangerous.

And they never came back.

You have blood on your hands.

Your father thinks you'll be the evil queen.

But you don't want to rule by fear.

You hated being ordered around.

Because you wanted to choose your own path.

You have often thought about killing your father.

To dispel his fear of you.

He was the most feared of all these people.

You planned his death.

You didn't want to get married. Not for someone he chose for you!

You were forcibly dragged to the next candidate by the guards.

Ryomen Sukuna… King - monster. Self-proclaimed king of "curses", because when he cursed a people, they died at his hands.

A man who rules over people with fear…

Was this thing supposed to be just for you?

One thing was for sure, you didn't want to be his wife.

A man who drinks blood mixed with wine because he likes it?

No thanks.

But you agreed to your father's game.

You could have shown him that you wouldn't be as nice as you've always been.

You'll be soulless.

You can kill a monster like him.

Someone who with his bare hands, for fun, rips off women their children, babies, and rips off their heads?

Sick bastard…

Even you winced at the sight.

You could have been a mother once.

But there's no way you're having a baby with that thing…

Out of the candidates you had, Kenjaku would be the quickest to pick… He at least tried to be nice somehow…

But it wasn't ideal anyway…

You could kill as you wanted.

You can even be the evil queen. But you won't be blind to what's going on around you.

You were supposed to stay with Sukuna for a month and then get married…

You were always on guard.

You were like a pet to him.

And when he saw you stabbed one of his servants when they were about to put a collar on you like a dog, he smiled instead of being angry.

"You should get used to it sometime. I have so many. So go ahead and have fun." He said and waved his hand. "My woman has to get used to what she will see in wars and everywhere."

You wanted to go up to him and slit his throat.

You were like a puppy to him.

For him to stroke. You were supposed to be just like them to others.

You don't want innocent people to think you're such a monster.

You've killed some people, but never someone who didn't do anything to you.

You spent a lot of your days throwing knives at the wall. You've learned to always hit with the tip.

When you were told to prepare meals for your "husband" (even if he wasn't that and never would have been…), you put old blood of sick animals into his "wine".

Hoping that pig would eventually die.

You threw a knife at him once, and he pulled it out and threw it at you like it was a ball.

You're okay, but you've had enough.

You won't be with a sick bastard like him!

People will hate you when you become his wife against your will.

He had many enemies.

And you were one of them.

You were angry enough to play with him now.

Pretending to seduce him, you locked him in your bedroom.

A fool sees no trick.

Or is he just a sadist who loves to splash in blood?

You don't like it.

But since you have no choice, you will murder anyone who orders you to do anything.

You will kill every candidate for your husband until the choice is finally over.

You will be king on your own.

Even if your past was covered in blood.

You killed your penultimate candidate in bed.

You never wanted him to touch you.

That's why before he thought you two could have sex, you stabbed him in the throat.

To wait for his red eyes to close.

To his subjects, you came out of there a hero who made their lives easier.

No more monthly human sacrifices.

There will be no annual virgin sacrifice.

Nothing will threaten them anymore.

The bloody city has been abandoned. And people came to your kingdom.

More people meant more money for your father. More workers.

However, when you told him that you were the cause of your fiancé's death, he froze.

You showed him your dress which was bright with huge blood stains.

Blood that belongs to the king - Ryomen Sukuna's.

You never regretted killing someone who was mean.

His people were terrified, but they regarded you as their savior.

You gave them freedom.

you helped them.

But your father didn't like it.

No wonder one time, during your frequent look at what you managed to do as a princess, you were pushed off the balcony by your father.

As someone who cannot rule without killing.

Your reflexes were quick.

You instinctively grabbed whatever you could.

At the bottom of the square stood people who watched what was happening there with screams.

The guards started running up the stairs nearby to help you.

You grabbed your father's collar making him lose his balance.

As you grabbed the balcony wall, you pulled him forward.

And you saw your Father slowly approaching down the square. Until he finally fell.

A pool of blood you've seen more than once.

Were you a regicide?

No…

Rather, it was your Father who tried to kill you.

Your closest servant and friend - Utahime, helped you return to safe land with fear.

The guards dragged your body up as fast as they could, then took you to the medic.

You were not found guilty of killing the king.

Because he wanted to kill you.

And the people, when asked if they wished to convict you, refused.

You were the evil queen.

But you weren't the one for them…

You were the new queen.

However, according to your father's death decree, you must have a husband to rule.

Old boor…

He did it specifically for you to have a problem…

You received your father's letters with someone from the Gojo kingdom…

Even their letters were rich…

What if you get married and then become a widow?

You don't want someone to rule over you…

You want to live the way you want, and provide what is good to everyone who believes in you.

You don't want to marry someone like he probably is…

But you have no choice…

You will become his wife, and you will kill him.

Or maybe you'll at least have a baby so you won't be lonely…

So that no one will accuse you of not having a descendant and successor…

You haven't met your future husband.

The advisers and nobles who were your father's faithful servants prepared you for the wedding.

Your dress was beautiful, as befits a royal wedding.

Your only wish was that it be fast.

They all knew that you killed the kings of other kingdoms.

You didn't look at the face of the tall man who was standing in front of you as the ceremony began.

Your hands were handcuffed in front of your body with white gold handcuffs. They didn't look bad and they also held you back.

You've been searched first.

It was hard for you to take your marriage vows with your hands cuffed.

But your prayers for a quick end have been heard by the gods.

Now just a kiss and it'll be over…

The fabric on your face was pulled back, and you looked up a little higher, still not meeting your now husband.

Now just a sealing kiss.

Feel the disgusting lips of someone you don't even want to know…

You stared at one point, over his shoulder as his finger lifted your chin slightly higher as he bent down lower.

He was really tall.

Your lips were slightly parted, and shiny under the influence of natural, glossy lipstick.

"I know you don't want this…"

You heard him say softly.

You widened your eyes and he placed his lips barely on the corner of yours.

Did he just…

Didn't he just make you do something?

Your kingdoms are now connected.

You have become queen and your husband is Gojo Satoru…

You should be happy like the people.

People were happy when they heard the news that your kingdom will be merged with Gojo's kingdom.

It is said that justice, security and prosperity reign at a very high level in that kingdom.

All thanks to the new king. "Son of the Gods".

According to the priests, he was a prophecy of greatness. And eyes like blue crystals, created by miracles in distant lands, showed wealth.

Apparently, no one was disappointed, because all this happened.

They were more powerful than your kingdom. So much…

Much richer.

Even though your country was also prosperous. There were no neighborhoods where people died every day.

But it was even better there.

You used to live in the capital.

The capital was a royal city in the territory of his kingdom.

His close friends will take care of the new lands because he doesn't have much time to go there.

While your people were delighted, the people of his country were not.

How does a wonder child, a wonder king marry an evil Queen?

A queen who killed the kings of other countries who were her betrothed…

You were their queen now.

You want to fulfill your plan.

You will kill him.

But…

"You want to kill me, don't you?" he asked as he lay on his stomach on your bed, lazily eating some dessert.

Your hands trembled.

He knew you could kill him anytime.

However, he didn't seem to care at all…

How?

"Go ahead. You can try. However, I have promised some people that I will not die so soon." He said calmly.

Is he serious?

You can't listen to him!

You must do it!

You will not listen to someone who will probably hurt you!

Suddenly he looked at you from behind his black glasses.

"Let's play your game. Try to kill me. I will not attack you. You attack me and I won't do anything about it. When you kill me, you win."

"Are you serious-"

He interrupted you.

"I'm serious. I want to prove something to someone. What my wife is like."

Before you could somehow embarrass yourself by his words, you decided to give him back.

It sounded weird when he referred to you as "wife".

He was handsome.

And you even liked him.

But…

But you don't want him to hurt you.

You are the Evil Queen. And everyone hates you…

He also…

He can't prove otherwise.

He married you because he had to.

You were the cruelest queen ever.

And you couldn't change it…

you were like that.

What was he trying to prove?

You walked over to him and smiled slightly.

"It's a shame a man with eyes like that has to cover them with those stupid glasses." You chuckled softly.

"I'll take that as a compliment." He said with a smile.

You sat next to him.

You've been married for a month…

He looked at you scanningly.

You had no desire to kill.

You placed your hand on his back, then ran your finger over his palpable muscles under his white shirt.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I spend time with my husband…?" You asked, wanting to ignore it.

"It's weird… You want to seduce me?" He smiled at you.

"Do you want it?" You gave him a mischievous smile.

"If I remember correctly what I heard, you killed Sukuna during sex. What if it happens to me?? This is not a clean game. That's not how I agreed. Only traps and fair attack." He turned to you, laying on his back.

"That's not true… I killed him before he could touch me."

"I thought evil queens used someone before they killed them. So maybe you're not the Evil Queen?"

"Shut up." You muttered, sitting on his stomach. "Just fair game. I don't have any weapons on me…"

"That's good. Because I'd love to be closer to my wife as long as I'm alive."

You leaned in to kiss him.

And for the first time you felt that his lips were soft. Not horrible and disgusting.

You didn't know what to do anymore.

Kill him?

Live with him?

You didn't want a husband. But the longer you're with him, the more you think you're okay with him.

He treats you so well…

He took your people and you too. The killer. Evil Queen…

And now he's telling you that you can try to kill him?

What's wrong with him?

For some moments you didn't want to kill him.

But you decided you'd do it before you changed your mind.

In order not to be hurt by him…

Was your relationship just sex?

You noticed that despite being so powerful, he could be a good boy and let you take control.

But never mind the sex…

You've already tried to kill him twice.

You gave him two poisonous plant decoctions to drink.

For the first time, it turned out that he does not drink wine.

The second time he sniffed his juice, and smelled it…

He just smiled at you and spilled it on the floor saying, "Failed try."

You were even able to pour something in his bath which, when poured over an object, burned the surface.

You're not sure what it is, but you hoped you wouldn't see him die.

The longer you're with him, the more you feel sorry for him…

When he dies, then you can cry.

The more you stick to it…

He got into another tub then…

And he directly told you later that he smelled sulfur in the bathhouse when he went in there.

Sulfuric acid in the water… Would that have any effect on him at all?

It failed with the poison, trying to kill him in the water.

The next time you tried to drown him when you offered to wash his back.

He knew something would happen.

You tried to push his head under the water, but you failed. You didn't even move it.

He just laughed.

Is this man really not afraid of death?

After all, you are the Evil Queen!

You really didn't want to see him die…

Did you notice that…

You don't want him to die in front of your eyes. Because you will feel sorry for him…

You tied the ax to the rope you had attached to the door.

The ax was heavy, but you managed to make the trap work.

When he opens the door, the ax will fall on him.

He entered the room, and then heavy weapons began to fly at him on a rope.

He jumped up, grabbing onto the rope, then landed on the metal embedded in the wall.

"Nice move, baby." He laughed.

"What the fuck…?!" his friend shouted.

"It's just our little game. Mine with my wife!"

Have you had enough of this…

You tried to push him down the stairs, but it came out like you were hugging him…

You're running out of ideas…

You felt worse and worse trying to kill him…

He kept smiling at you and letting you do it.

You have not been convicted of trying to kill the king not once…

There were no consequences for you.

You were lying in bed under the covers when he entered the room with a smile.

"Are you okay? You didn't leave today." He said as he closed the door.

You threw a knife at him.

He only tilted his head slightly as the knife pierced the door next to his head.

The incredible reflexes he had amazed you.

But he wasn't afraid of death at all…

"Leave me… Or else… What do you want, Satoru?" You asked turning away from him.

You felt worse and worse at the thought of killing him.

Was he the same as those?

He cared for you after all…

Is it worth killing him?

That's why you were in bed, sad.

"You know… I thought about our bath last night, and I got a little horny…" he murmured.

You looked at the bulge in his pants.

Admittedly, you've thought about it too, and you're sure you can take that big cock right away. After all, you must have gotten a little wet…

You pulled back the covers to signal him.

He walked over quickly, already pulling the length out of his pants.

You pulled up your nightgown and took off your panties, quickly wrapping your legs around his hips and letting him slide right into you.

You've had enough of this… You've failed…

The longer you look at that smile, your heart tells you that you love that look on his face…

Have you had enough of this…

The last time you try…

You will have blood on your hands…

His blood…

When he came into your bedroom in the evening, you kicked him in the back of his knees, causing him to lose his balance.

He knelt on the floor and looked at you.

Little tears flowed from your eyes.

You were supposed to kill those who hurt you…

And he…

And he never hurt you once…

But you'll kill him anyway…

And you'll probably regret it for the rest of your life.

You expected him to be furious.

But he looked at you with the same eyes as always.

And he smiled very slightly.

You held the knife tighter in your hand.

You were shaking a bit.

You've killed so many times.

He can't be your weakness…

He was supposed to be just like everyone else…

He was supposed to do what you don't want!

…But he didn't…

You walked over to him and tapped his shoulder with your foot.

He fell to the floor, lying on his back.

But he didn't even protest.

You put your foot on his chest and then sat on top of him, pointing the blade of the knife at his throat.

You breathed for the tears to disappear.

But looking at that scene below you, you couldn't stop crying.

The last light of the sun was reflecting off the knife today. It lightly illuminated the room.

You saw his gentle eyes and kind smile.

He didn't even move. Even if he could break free now and throw you off him, call the guards to take you to the dungeon.

But he doesn't…

"Why do you always have to smile like an idiot?!" you shouted. "Do you really want to die?!"

"You're beautiful even now." He said.

"Shut up! Why?!"

"From the beginning, I wanted to prove to you that you are not a cruel person. You don't want to get hurt. I wanted to show you that you can get love too."

You shivered as your heart pounded.

But with tears you brought the knife closer to his throat.

"Shut up! For everyone I'm just a queen that kills! I-"

"You're not an evil queen. You're the perfect queen who wants to take care of those she cares about. I know you may think differently of me than I do. If you think I'm like them, kill me. But I never meant to hurt you. What you do depends on you. I will accept what you give me. That's what you do out of love, right?"

"Y-You–!"

Your hands were shaking.

He still didn't move. He wasn't nervous at all.

"You won our game. Now I won't run away. I can't avoid it. I give you my life. I give it to my wife. Who is not an evil queen."

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Just one hand movement, and it's done.

You moved the blade.

You threw the knife on the floor, jumping off it.

You were kneeling on the floor, covering your face with your hands.

Two meters from him.

You can not do it…

You can't…

You felt something on your shoulder.

You looked over there.

"It's okay… Don't cry…" he said calmly and wrapped his arms around you very gently as he knelt behind you.

"I just wanted to kill you… so why are you now–"

"I love you. Isn't that reason enough? You are my wife. I swore allegiance to you. So I wanted to be true to what I said. I wanted to prove something to someone. What my wife is like. I wanted to prove to you that you have a good heart. If it wasn't, I would have been dead six months ago."

You moved.

He thought you would run away from him.

But you turned away, pressing your head against his chest.

He didn't do anything to you…

You couldn't kill him…

Because he was one of the few people who treated you differently.

Better.

Your husband was a good king…

You were supposed to be the evil queen…

You are not.

To him, you are the most wonderful woman.

He may have been against being with you at first, but he saw you walking around in dark dresses, making no secret of the fact that you were the cause of the deaths of so many important people.

You were nice. You cared about people.

And you didn't care what a cruel, bloody portrait you had in people's eyes.

Those who have listened to you believe that you are a good queen.

Those who don't know you think you're just a heartless murderer who out of selfishness and greed craves power.

However, you did not kill their wonderful king, who is not much different from this portrait.

His smile is on his face, but he has even more terrible scenes than you had.

Killing, torturing. Leaving to fate. Psychological and physical torture.

Cruel deaths.

He, the good king, hid this side from people.

But everyone knew the power in his hands.

You didn't hide the truth about yourself.

And the world shows you that sometimes a sweet lie is better than a bitter truth.

But what was supposed to connect you was never going to lie anymore.

It will be the sweet truth.

He promised you that people would recognize you.

And despite the fact that you have no heart and no mercy for criminals, you are actually a nice person.

As long as no one bothers you.

He got a chance from you. And you let him get as close as you've never been to anyone before.

You failed to kill him, and you no longer wanted to.

Not after everything he's done for you.

He himself could kill you and get rid of you.

But he didn't. He's not afraid that you might kill him in his sleep.

Because he trusts you.

Especially after you let him get so close to your body and heart that he'll never be able to leave again.

The first person you chose to be your husband, and you liked him, was him. Satoru.

Someone who thinks about you and not just about himself.

Even if he didn't want an arranged marriage, he somehow accepted you.

He liked the fact that you had emotions and your own opinion.

That you don't just live by what people think of you.

He only allowed you to try to kill him to prove to you that you are not what people tell you.

You're not cruel.

Even though you have no mercy, you are a loved one for those who are close to you.

Even though there aren't many people in your life who are so nice to you who love you, he was one of those people.

He deserved a place in your heart…

The only man you could love because he didn't see you as just killing anyone who was mean.

He was like that because he killed someone himself. That's the role of the king. Sentence to death, kill in combat.

He wasn't sure if he happened to be more murderous than you.

But your roles were made anyway.

Evil Queen and Good King.

Even if you're on a similar level at murder.

You will be Good, Beautiful Queen by his side.

And people can't say you'll be the same as you were.

Because you are his wife.

And what you decide, you do.

Because you are beautiful, strong and independent.

His great queen.

"It's okay if you still want to kill me." He said, stroking your head reassuringly. "I don't forbid you from trying your best. It was even fun…" he laughed.

You clenched your hands on his sides.

"You can still try to kill me–."

"I don't want to kill you…" you interrupted him, and suddenly you looked at him with a smile. "But don't think I'm going to be a gentle wife."

"And that's something I love." He smiled and placed his lips on your cheek.

"… I thought you didn't want to kill me anymore…" he moaned, feeling the ropes tighten on his body. "So what is it supposed to be?"

You wrapped a red rope around his chest.

He laughed as sweat slowly ran down his face.

He was trying so hard to be calm, but any human can start to panic the moment he can't move.

It was the same with him now.

If you wanted to kill him, you will surely succeed now.

You called him to your chamber. He came.

But then he realized it was quite dark there.

The windows are covered with thick curtains, and the lighting is provided by candles evenly distributed around the room.

There was a chair in the middle.

He called your name several times.

And he expected something perverted from you.

After all, when was it such a climate in the room? Warm light, alluring atmosphere. so good. So perfect for you.

As he walked over to the heavy chair, he wondered where you got it from.

It was definitely from here. Or did you have a carpenter do it?

It was tall and heavy.

Dimples on the legs, at the height of the ankles, and a specific shape of the back. Like it was perfectly made for his body.

It sure was comfortable.

And he could say it right away.

Besides, this height also showed that it was perfect for Him.

The red fabric covering in the middle and back contrasted with the dark wood.

Is this a gift for him from you?

If so, he'll be glad to lean you against the back of that chair and fuck you into oblivion.

But he knew it wasn't that kind of gift.

You are planning something.

As he ran his fingers along the smooth wood of the backrest, he felt someone pushing him.

When he turned around, he saw it was you. You stepped out from behind a large curtain, pushing him into a chair.

"(y/n)–."

"Don't move." You said grabbing his wrists tightly and pulling them back.

If he had tried to break free from your grip, he would have succeeded.

Because he is strong. But curiosity overcame him. He wanted to see what you would do to him.

But when he felt you wrap the string around his wrists, it was different.

He was curious what you would do to him. And there was also a dangerous excitement.

You've wrapped his big wrists many times as you've been training to keep him from breaking free.

His hands were tightly bound and the constriction in the lower part of the chair prevented him from getting up from the chair because his hands were behind his back and the chair was wider at the top of his back.

Even if he tried, his bound hands wouldn't let him get up.

It took some time to plan what this chair should look like…

And the king's carpenter agreed to do it.

As he leaned forward, you grabbed his head, catching his hair lightly, and pulled his head back, tugging on the white strands.

"No, my king. You can't move yet." You whispered in his ear.

As he listened to you with his pupils dilated to catch the light, you saw his ears blush…

You reached around him, passing the red rope from one hand to the other.

You wrapped his chest around it, leaving space where his tits were.

Something like this could be useful.

Later, you also bound his arms, making the bound hands immobile, and tied to the back of the chair.

You tied it with a strong knot, but you didn't tighten it on him so tight that it left marks. You don't want it to take away his blood supply.

"… I thought you didn't want to kill me anymore…" he moaned, feeling the ropes tighten on his body. "So what is it supposed to be?"

"I will not kill you, my king ~. You just said you wanted to play. Besides, I told you I wouldn't be a gentle queen." You laughed and knelt with him, spreading his legs, then tied his ankles to the legs of the chair. Rope fit perfectly into the cut narrowings.

So that's why it's there…

After you finished, he started to move a little. Struggling. But he couldn't move his body.

It wasn't like he was fighting to get out.

It's as if he's only looking at how powerful the ropes are.

And the sight of you in front of him in a dark red dress with lace was wonderful.

You were so different from other princesses and queens.

They all wore bright, clean dresses.

And you often wore darker colors.

Maybe it's also because the light ones get dirty very quickly?

Especially if the dress is long and touches the floor.

He almost completely calmed down.

Only his heart pounded in his chest.

His breathing was heavier.

You are his dangerous pleasure.

You did something unexpected.

And he liked it.

The dangerous excitement he felt now.

The direction of his blood was clearly directed to his crotch, and he slowly felt it begin to harden in his pants.

"A gentle queen would never do such a thing, huh… And my queen finally caught me, heh." He smiled conceitedly.

"That pretty smile won't be there when you beg me, baby." You said and quickly untied the back of your dress,

Taking it off as you tossed the expensive fabric aside onto the floor, leaving your red petticoat with stockings on you.

You were walking on a soft carpet with a heavy chair on it.

You wanted it to be so heavy that he couldn't knock it over very easily.

Two people brought it here, and it was really hard for them to do it, but they made it.

You also had other surprises for him today.

"Beg? What should I beg for, baby?" He asked with the same smile.

You stood up and grabbed his cheeks to make him look up.

"We both know you can moan and beg like a whore. So be a good boy 'cause I make you beg for touch." you kissed his lips before pulling away and knelt down again, resting your cheek against his inner thigh.

You reached your hand to his increasingly visible cock.

"You like it." You smiled harder.

"I like giving attention from my wife. Will you touch me?" His grin appeared.

At what he said you snapped your fingers at his increasing length, causing him to hiss softly.

"Such a big, nice dick… However, if you still think you're driving now, your dick will be in your pants all the time. So cramped and uncomfortable. Without anything to touch." You said. "So be a good boy. Agreement?"

He looked at you with a blush on his cheeks.

He liked it…

"… Yeah… My queen." he said with a small smile and blush.

"Good boy~."

Suddenly you took out a knife.

He looked at you questioningly.

"You didn't say you were going to cut me." He grunted dissatisfied.

"If I didn't say so, then I won't." You laughed and cut the threads holding the buttons on his shirt.

To finally pull both sides of his shirt hard, revealing his chest.

You wanted to laugh softly as his nipples hardened at the feeling of cold around him.

His pants were getting very uncomfortably tight…

Seeing his displeasure, you reached down to his crotch and unzipped his pants.

He lifted his hips slightly to help you take it off him.

And now his pants and underwear were at his ankles, further restricting his movements when he was bound.

Now he won't do anything. He won't run away.

His pink tip rested on his thigh.

His hands were moving because he wanted so much to start massaging his cock.

Seeing you in front of him just made his skin tingle.

But he couldn't do it.

Only you could touch him because his body was immobile.

You threw the knife to the floor with a loud clatter.

You took off your petticoat, leaving you in only stockings in front of him.

"Without underwear? Be brave, baby." He smiled at the sight of your perky nipples and sweet, soft pussy for him to look at now.

You placed your finger on his lips, silencing him.

"Shh… Do not say anything. If you're a good boy who listens, I'll give you a reward."

"What reward?" he smiled.

"If you don't listen, I won't touch you. And you won't be able to touch either."

"Hard Punishment…"

"I know. That's why you promise to be a good boy?" You stroked his cheek.

He nodded at you, looking away with a blush.

"Perfect." You patted his head. "Good boys always get rewards. And if you promise to be a good boy, why shouldn't I reward you?"

He looked at you curiously as you knelt in front of him, stepping between his spread legs.

Kneeling on his pants that gathered at his ankles.

That's the height you were after.

His cock was perfectly level with your tits.

You reached for his semi-hard cock, licking the tip lightly.

He sighed softly, wanting more…

You licked the bottom of his cock then pulled away.

He looked at you questioningly as you spat on your chest and then down his length, smearing your saliva all over him.

And you moved closer, placing his shaft between your breasts, smearing saliva on your skin.

And when it fit perfectly, you cupped your tits with your hands, making you rub his cock.

He made low grunts as the soft mounds brushed hard against him. Because it was so enjoyable.

You smiled as you watched his flushed cheeks as his flushed cock brushed the tip against your skin until his warm, an oblong and large piece of his body gave hot drops of precum onto your skin.

Much to his displeasure, your touch left his cock, leaving him standing at attention in your direction.

Before he could say anything, he stopped himself, remembering that when he's a good boy, you'll give him a reward.

He carefully watched your wet breasts and how you reached into your hair, untying the black ribbon that held your hair.

You kissed his head, and suddenly wrapped a thin ribbon around its base.

You wrapped the fabric strap around it, pulling it tighter before tying a bow over his balls.

You tweaked it a bit to get a nice view.

His cock, standing and shining, hard. A black bow over his balls. And on its base a tightened strip of material that oppresses it.

You sat on his lap, kissing his chest that wasn't covered with rope until you moved your mouth to his nipple, sucking lightly.

His muscles tensed as you bit down slightly.

Pinching his sensitive bumps with your fingers, you stood over his hips, rubbing your clit lightly against the tip of his, giving both you and him pleasure.

While you're kissing.

His tongue swirled in your mouth before you dominated the kiss, pushing your tongue into his mouth, causing him to purr.

But as his cock slid lower, touching your entrance, you pulled away from him completely.

You got off his lap and sat on the bed that was five feet in front of him.

"(y/n)~." he murmured. You could feel his plea for touch in his voice.

"You're such a good boy. But I have to punish you for breaking out in the beginning." You said with a winning smile.

You looked at his cock which turned from bright pink to red through the material that was tightened around it.

He looked so cute with that bow.

A big, pretty dick wrapped in a ribbon that swells and throbs.

He will moan so nicely when you sit on him~.

"When you don't complain, it will be faster for you ~."

You lay down suddenly on your back, dipping your fingers into your soft, wet folds.

Spreading out to show him your pussy.

You knew so well that his hungry eyes stared at your dripping folds.

You like the way he looks fucked up and flushed.

He will be very sensitive when you touch him.

With a small smile, you run your fingers over your clit quickly, widening your legs wide for him so he can watch and drool. What is he definitely doing.

It might be a little embarrassing to lie so open to someone, but it's worth your time. To see his fucked up face later when he wants to come.

To show him more, you inserted two fingers of your other hand into you, still moving quickly over your clit.

God, how he wanted to replace your fingers with his.

How he wanted to replace your fingers with his cock.

But he had to be a good boy because he won't get it at all.

Even if he tries to look away to stop feeling the throbbing in his swollen cock, your wet sounds and grunts will still make him stare at the beautiful scene before him.

Your pussy has always been so soft. He loved hiding inside of you so much. Hitting your soft body.

And now he also couldn't miss how your smaller hands are satisfying you.

He loved to dig his fingers and face into your pussy fat. Feeling soft. Feeling the taste. To feel your soft pussy sucking his hard cock inside.

If just looking could bring him to orgasm, he would have shot thick strings of cum long ago.

Not only was nothing touching him, but the bow on it would probably prevent him from coming. As befits a cock-clamping posture.

His breath quivered as your thighs trembled as well, and your fingers stopped as you came with a hollow groan.

He looked at his cock, red and begging for attention.

Drops of precum flowed from its tip, down its side.

If only he could somehow make anything touch his length…

He wanted so much to touch…

With a red face and hazy eyes, he looked at you as you sat on the mattress of the high bed, adjusting your stockings with labored breathing.

Seeing his almost teary eyes, you smiled slightly.

"what's wrong?"

You gave him a stronger smile.

He looked at you, then at his cock, then at you again.

A silent signal that he wants you to touch him.

"Sorry, I don't know what you mean."

"Come here…" he moaned.

"That's not how you should talk. A good boy doesn't talk like that." You waved your finger at him.

He sighed heavily.

He couldn't stand it…

Tears stung his eyes. He was so sensitive and the material on his penis wasn't helping.

"So? What should you say?" You walked over to him, sitting on his lap but being careful not to touch his cock.

His cock was crying with precum.

"Touch me." he murmured.

"I did not hear."

"Touch me." he said sharper.

"That's not how you should call me." You laughed. "I already told you that you would beg me. Show me your sweet face when you beg me."

Flushing, he watched as your hands massaged his thighs, close to his length, but you still hadn't touched him.

"So?"

"touch me please?"

"Better now. But say it louder."

Your fingers untied the bow, but instead of taking it off, you tightened the fabric a little tighter around his thickness.

He opened his mouth, letting out a trembling groan. His eyes released solitary tears as did his cock, which cried with more precum when squeezed.

"P-please…" he groaned, looking at you with glassy eyes.

Taking advantage of the drops of precum running down his cock, you tugged at the fabric, sliding it lightly over his cock. He hissed as he felt the pressure go higher up his length.

It pulsed. You've seen it so much.

His hips jumped as he tried to pull back, but he couldn't.

His legs moved, but he couldn't move them because of the ropes around his ankles.

"I can't hear you, honey~."

As you said, his smile disappeared from his face. And so red and desperate he looked so cute.

You felt your excitement run down your thigh at the mere sight.

"Please…"

"Say it louder and you'll get it." You ran your fingers across his chest.

"Fuck me… Touch me…"

"What are you saying?"

"Fuck me please!" he said out loud and you laughed.

You slowly removed the slightly wet ribbon from it, tossing it aside.

And to his relief, you grabbed his cock, smearing what was oozing from its tip down its impressive length.

So red and pulsating.

It's so begging to put it inside you, and feel all those veins on it.

When you petted him, he felt like he was about to explode.

He's coming really fast…

He doesn't care… He just wants to be in your pussy.

"Good boy."

You moved closer, aligning his weeping length below you, in straight line.

He was swollen. He was a little bigger than he would have been if you hadn't put that ribbon on him.

Which also makes him very sensitive.

He moaned loudly almost immediately as your entrance widened to accommodate the top of him.

After such torture, he finally got around to receiving your attention.

And it was such a great feeling. Almost overwhelming.

His eyes were still glassy and watery.

In one motion, you pushed it all the way in, waiting for you to get used to it.

But for him, the inside of your pussy was too good…

He had his hands on the ropes.

His eyebrows furrowed.

You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling swollen cock dilate you so much.

You looked at his face and smiled.

His arms were shaking. You felt him pulsating inside you.

It felt so good to have him inside.

So big…

You smiled as you sat motionless on his cock.

You kissed his neck.

"You can come. I know you're sensitive."

You jumped on his thighs, making your tight walls stroke him. he was moaning.

"I'm letting you come. Then do it, my king." You pulled his hair up slightly. "I want your sperm."

At your dirty words, he shuddered.

"Use my permission while you can. You don't want me to stop touching you again, do you?" You kissed his jaw to kiss him later.

You move your hips back and forth.

After no more than a moment, he moaned into your mouth, and you felt large amounts of cum filling you intensely.

You pulled it half way out and then sat on it again. Letting him end up completely inside you.

The feeling of his hot cum filling you inside was very pleasant.

Placing your hands on his lap, you arched your back back, watching as his cum flowed out of you with your movement. Even though his softening length acts like a plug for you to keep his seed from flowing out.

He was sensitive to the heat inside you.

But he knew it would make him hard again.

And ready to let your pussy milk him to the last drop again.

"Why are you still throwing a knife at me?" He asked as he tilted his head to the side as a knife landed next to his head.

"Habit… I'm just more irritable…" you said sitting on the bed.

"The blade never hits, so I know you're not trying to kill me." He laughed.

He walked closer to you and offered you his hand.

"People are waiting. Do you have the strength to get up?" He asked protectively. "Would you like to go there?"

"If the people want it, as their queen, I guess I must." You grabbed his hand and stood next to him. "Maybe they finally want to burn me at the stake as a witch."

"Don't joke like that. They would never want to do that to you."

"That's right. I didn't do anything wrong to them."

"You are a great queen to them. Besides, we have to share this information with them sometime."

"You're right… I'm just not used to that kind of thing. But I wouldn't be surprised if they still hate me."

"It's been so long. After all, everything is so perfect. Nobody's going to want to do that to you." He smiled, placing his hand on your lower back. "Besides, in audiences people asked if you were well, because they hadn't seen you outside for a long time."

"Really?"

"You are a great queen to them. How could it be otherwise. Besides, there are lots of people waiting to see us. Did you know that the ill health of a king or queen makes people sad? When they feel devoted to the ruler like those here, they don't play or anything until the ruler recovers. So everyone wants to know what's going on with you. So many times they asked Shoko when she went to visit you what was going on."

"Even as a medic, she didn't tell anyone?" You asked, grabbing his hand as you walked beside him.

"A secret is a secret. But it's best to finally talk about it." He chuckled softly. "If they ever find out anyway, better sooner than later. To avoid controversy among people. After all, not everyone can accept a secret that is still hidden."

"You won…" You smiled at him.

Your dark blue dress was picked up by him as you walk down the stairs next to him.

"Or maybe they want to burn me at the stake?" You asked laughing as you heard people clapping and shouting as the man said you were leaving.

"Does it sound like they want to do this? I hope you'll eventually get used to this kind of love people show."

You went out with him to the low terrace in front of the courtyard where the people had gathered.

When they saw you, they cheered.

Especially when your husband stood behind you, placing his hands on your belly visible under the dress.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #jjk x you #gojo x y/n #jujustu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #sub gojo #sub gojo satoru #dom reader #royal au

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zorrasucia · 3 months

Text

Teach Me Tonight - Part 6

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] Part 6: [Part 7] [Deleted Scene] [Part 8]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (5k)

Tags: Smut, Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy, Jealous!Carmy, SoftDom!Carmy, Fluff, Miscommunication, Make up Sex, Sex Toys, P in V sex, Oral (M and F receiving), Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary:

You were in over your head.

Some fashion vlogger had recorded a video in your store, giving it a glowing review and it had been good for business. Maybe too good. The store was now full of stylish teenagers with baggy jeans and designer bags, you had a new hire to train, and a local journalist had emailed you to ask for an interview.

He showed up a couple of days later, tall with dark hair, and every bit as stylish as you would expect a reporter from a fashion magazine to be. You had shown him around, let him take photos, talked about your favorite brands and decades of fashion, and complimented his printed shirt.

"It's from the seventies," he commented bashfully. "I'm a little obsessed."

And he talked about his ongoing quest for the perfect pair of bell bottoms. You showed him what you had in the store and promised to be on the lookout.

"You know, it's weird," he gestured to the side, where The Bear was. "I used to come here when they did sandwiches."

"They still do!" you beamed. "The fine dining is really good too. Well, I'm biased but-"

"Right! Being their neighbor and all," he concluded. You simply nodded along - no need to let him know the intricacies of your personal life.

"Let me buy you lunch," he offered. You were about to refuse when he added. "I'd love to try their food but I hate eating alone."

You accepted. It seemed harmless and it could be good for the restaurant too - maybe he knew a food critic and would recommend the place too.

Richie guided you both to a table with a smile, quickly catching up with your plan once you mentioned the interview, offering the journalist a sampler of the menu.

It was good - the food, the conversation. It caught you by surprise when Carmy stormed out of the kitchen, something angry in his stride.

"Are you enjoying the food?"

It was a simple enough question, it was the way he said it-

"It's excellent, thank you!" the journalist said earnestly, which only seemed to wind up Carmy even more.

"Good, great," he rasped, then turned towards you. "Can I talk to you?" it was said in that clipped tone that meant he was stressed and he didn't have good news.

You followed him to the back and touched his wrist briefly, trying to convey how important this was.

"Carm?" you asked, your face wrinkling in worry and confusion.

"You mad at me or something?" he asked.

"No! Just nervous, stressed... I don't even know - it's just the interview," you tried to reassure him. "Can we talk later, baby?"

"Sorry to interrupt," the journalist had walked up to you without either of you noticing. "I just wanted to know - are you the chef here?"

"He is, yes!" you smiled, thinking everything was going according to plan.

“Carmen Berzatto,” he said without offering his hand, his frown furrowed and something deadly in his stare.

The journalist gave one look at Carmy and his face shifted from friendly to scared. "I'll give you guys a minute."

Carmy was burning holes on the back of the guy's skull and you couldn't be more embarrassed.

"What's wrong with you?" you whispered.

"That fucking guy."

"He's the fucking journalist! Are you out of your mind, Carmen?" you were losing the last shred of patience you had left. "I was trying to do a nice thing and you- We can talk about this later at home, okay? Now leave, please."

You turned away from him and didn't look back until you had paid for lunch and walked the journalist out the door.

"I'm so sorry about him," you explained. "It wasn't personal."

"Don't worry about it. I worked as a server once. I swear working in a kitchen does things to your brain..." he mimicked a spiral by his temple. You winced.

"Yeah."

"Hope he doesn't bother you again," he said, which made your stomach drop. "I'll send you the article when it's done. And you have my number if you ever find those bell bottoms."

He waved goodbye and you huffed in defeat.

Suddenly, you were being hugged by Nat, her arms around your shoulders.

"Did Carmy send you?" you asked, patting her forearm.

"Kind of," she let go of you with a sigh. "He walked in the kitchen and kind of lost it? I had to get it out of him. And when he explained, I came over."

"Thank you," you said softly.

"He can be an idiot," she said.

"Yeah," you nodded.

"He loves you, though."

"I know," you said, rubbing your temples. It had been a long day. "I'll text him."

You were pacing the carpet, waiting for Carmy to get back from work. You had a list of things you wanted to tell him ready to go: that making a scene like that had been embarrassing and hurtful, that he had probably ruined the whole interview acting that way -

Your train of thought and frantic pacing was interrupted by the key in the door. Carmy walked inside, a defeated look on his face, and every cell in your body wanted to go and hold him but you stood still, arms crossed while he closed the door behind him.

"Hey," you said.

"Hey, I, uh," he stumbled. "What I said... What I did... I mean, even Richie thought that it was fucked up so..."

He let it hang there, in the air between you two, keeping his distance.

"Carm," you took a deep inhale. "I need you to understand the store is just as important to me as the restaurant is to you. It's finally going well. And maybe that means I have less time for you. I need to know that you'll be okay with it - with me being busy sometimes - that whatever that was won't happen again."

"I know, I know," he said looking at the ground. "I'm happy it's working out. I am."

You tilted your head. "Then what the hell happened?"

He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

"It's so stupid," he mumbled, embarrassed. "I got jealous. So fucking jealous. I had never- I didn't know what to do with it."

You uncrossed your arms - you actually hadn’t thought of that.

"No need to be, Carm," you reassured him.

"I just-" he blinked hard like he sometimes did when he was stressed. "This tall as fuck guy, with the fancy fucking shirt, just being charming around you..."

"You think I care about that shit?"

"I don't know, maybe?" Carmy looked at you with wide eyes. "I'm an asshole sometimes, I cancel plans, my family is a fucking mess-"

"Hey, I like Nat!" you interrupted his spiral.

"And I think she likes you better than me."

You stood in silence for a while.

"I'm sorry. I am," he said in the end.

You moved one step closer and pressed your forehead to his. "It's okay if you're jealous, Carm. Just- keep your cool if it happens again. Please," you said softly. "I don't know if I can handle you acting like that again."

He nodded. "Promise."

"I'm coming home to you, baby. No one else," you emphasized, running your hands over his chest.

"Mhmm," he tilted his head, eyes closed, like he wanted to kiss you but needed your permission. You surged forward, trapping him in a tight embrace and a searing kiss.

It got heated quickly.

He cornered you towards the kitchen, grabbing and pressing, until you were sitting on the counter, legs bracketing his hips, hands in his hair.

"Carmy," you gasped, as he kissed your neck like only he knew how. His tongue traced the contour of your collarbone and you moaned.

He undid the first few buttons of your blouse, burying his face between your breasts, kissing and nipping. You carded your fingers through his hair, and crossed your legs behind him, keeping him close. The heat between your thighs was getting more unbearable as time went by. He started kissing down, like he would eat you out, atoning for what happened, but you didn't want that.

You pulled on his hair and made him look up. "I need you inside me," he exhaled shakily. "Now."

He took a condom out of his back pocket while you unbuttoned his slacks, undressing him just enough to free his cock. His hands went under your skirt, eager, and moved your underwear to the side. When Carmy leaned to start fingering you, you grabbed his wrist.

"I need your cock inside me," you clarified.

You didn't want the tenderness of foreplay. You moved to the edge of the counter, taking his cock in hand and putting the condom on yourself. You guided his head to your entrance and felt him fill you out. It hurt a little, your pussy tight and unprepped, and weirdly that was what you wanted now. You whined once he bottomed out and he groaned at the feeling, the sound making you roll your eyes.

"Fuck," you held him close, arms around his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life. Without knowing where it came from, you said to the side of his face: "Show me I'm yours."

He inhaled sharply, his hands shaking where they held your waist. Then his hips moved back and forth in one long, agonizing stroke. You moaned. Again. And you held him tighter, letting drowned out cries pour out from your lips. He kept going for a little while, the pace so slow that it made you wonder whether all his anger had fizzled out by now.

Except he started going hard, hitting that spot that made you dizzy. Your breasts and legs were shaking with every thrust. You covered your mouth to stop from screaming.

"Holy shit, Carmy" you mumbled.

His hands touched all over, scratching your thighs and up, squeezing your hips, tracing your sides, caressing your arms and holding your wrists. You shivered. His cock kept hitting just right, his mouth exhaling on the side of your face. His hand traveled south, finding your clit like it was second nature, thumbing at it in small circles, just the way you liked.

"No one can fuck me like this," you whined. "No one makes me feel this good."

His hips stuttered and he moved so that your foreheads were touching and his eyes were staring right into yours, you could feel the sweat on his brow.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah," you replied, your jaw slack as you kept panting and moaning. His pace was so steady that it felt like Carmy could go on forever. Then, impatient, you started thrusting your hips against his, making it go twice as fast, making him groan into your mouth and start losing control.

"Fuck," he cursed, grabbing your hips, steadying himself. "I'm so crazy about you."

"Carmy," you managed to say, desperate, your voice getting high, and your nails scratching at his scalp.

His free hand squeezed your breast over your bra and you slipped your hands under his shirt, caressing the hair on his navel, and up his chest, pinching one of his nipples hard.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned again.

You were so close you could almost taste it. Just then you grabbed his face with both hands.

"Tell me," you pleaded. "Tell me you'll never do that again. Tell me I'm yours."

"Never. Never, I promise," Carmy breathed into your mouth, little desperate sounds escaping his throat. "You're mine, you're mine, you're mine."

He came with a strong exhale, drowning every other sound into your neck. His thumb on your clit kept moving until you joined him, completely spent, bracing on the edge of the counter to stop yourself from falling back.

He placed gentle kisses on your throat while you both recovered your breath. You clenched your walls around his cock, drawing a satisfied moan out of him.

"Did you get the guy's contact?" he panted against your skin.

"Yeah, why?" you replied ruffling his hair with your exhale.

"Thought I'd send him a cannoli or something," Carmy looked up from his place on your chest. "Make sure what I did doesn't make you look bad."

You ran your fingers through his hair, soothing.

"I don't think that's necessary but I'm sure he'll appreciate it. He said something about wanting to marry whoever made the desserts," you teased.

"Don't think Marcus'll be interested," Carmy inhaled deeply, his nose on the exact place you sprayed perfume every morning, though by now it had probably faded into a saltier scent. "When's the article coming out?"

"Couple of weeks," you hummed, caressing his back under his shirt. "We have time, baby. So much time."

You were leaning on the kitchen door, watching as Carmy and Syd posed against the counter. A photographer was giving them vague instructions about where to stand and where to look. She was also complimenting Carmy and hitting on him like she was getting paid overtime for it.

"Sydney, lean forward, yes, nice! Carmen, hit me with those blue eyes! Gorgeous, what a handsome guy!" she said with a cat-like smile.

The restaurant was going to be featured in Food & Wine, which entailed a photoshoot.

They had both started wearing their chef's whites, going for a more professional approach. Then, to make them more comfortable, the photographer asked them to change into their street clothes. It had done wonders for Syd, who was now showing off one of her mother's beautiful shirts with a proud smile on her face. It hadn't been quite as successful with Carmy - he had a tortured look in his eyes. Now he was standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, even more withdrawn than when they had started, every wink and cheesy one-liner from the photographer making him wince.

"Okay, Sydney, a little to the side. Exactly, chin up, please! And Carmen - why don't you stand this way? Yeah, let's show off those arms."

You bit your bottom lip.

"Carm?" you called him - he turned with wide eyes. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

He nodded. "Sorry, excuse us," he mumbled, leaving the kitchen quickly, trailing behind you. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry," he said, his blue eyes pleading.

"What for?"

"All the things she's saying..." he turned briefly, making sure the door was closed. "Fuck, I don't mean to-"

"You're not doing anything wrong, baby," you reassured him, cupping his face gently. "It looked like you needed a break, is all."

"Yeah," he exhaled heavily. "It's a lot."

You nodded. "The kitchen looks really nice," you commented to lighten the mood. They had done a deep clean the day before that had run into midnight.

"Thanks," he smiled. Then added: "This is a fucking nightmare."

You intertwined your fingers with his. "I think-" you paused, "that she wants you to look confident. That's why she keeps saying nice things."

"They don't feel nice," he bit his cheek.

You remembered how hard it had been for him to accept compliments for anything other than his cooking when you had first started dating. He would scoff and dismiss every word. Even now, sometimes it felt like he didn't quite believe them and maybe was just humoring you - which broke your heart. There wasn't enough time to unpack all that, so instead you leaned forward, placing one hand on his hip, whispering to his ear, flirtatious.

"Carm, I want you to go in there and eye fuck that camera like you would if it was me," he took a sharp inhale. "I will make it worth your while. Let you do anything you want to me," you promised.

He gulped. "Jesus," he mumbled, his pupils dilated.

You gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. "I'll tell them you'll be back in a few minutes," you said with a satisfied grin and went back to your place by the kitchen door.

"He went for a quick smoke," you lied to Syd.

When Carmy returned, he was in control, hands on his hips, like he had suddenly remembered he owned the place.

"Okay, guys, let's get this over with," he took his place next to Sydney, leaning on the counter and staring right into the lens, something defiant in his stance.

Your heart started racing. Even the photographer seemed affected by the shift.

"Uh, yes, good," after a few clicks she said: "I think we got it. Mmm, one more from this angle and we'll be good to go."

She led them to the main entrance to The Bear, Sydney crossing her arms and Carmy mirroring that same stance. They looked like they had stepped out of a magazine, modeling some understated and ridiculously expensive brand. Carmy looked in your direction for a second and licked his lips, before he turned back to the camera, unflinching and determined.

Another few clicks.

"Thank you guys, that would be all," the photographer went up to shake their hands and say her goodbyes. You were about to follow her out when Carmy took you by the wrist.

"See you tonight," he drawled and you felt yourself get wet.

"When I said you could do anything you wanted to me, I wasn't expecting this," you panted, your hands buried in Carmy's curls, as he kept kissing and licking every inch of your pussy. He was taking his sweet time too, biting on your thighs and going up to give some attention to your breasts and neck whenever he felt you were getting too close to your release.

"What were you expecting?" he asked, an amused glow to his face while he rested his chin on your hip, his mouth and nose shiny with your arousal.

"I don't know," you sighed, frustrated but so turned on. His hand caressed your pussy gently and you moaned. "Give you a blowjob, wear a silly costume, something like that."

"And are you into that?" he asked.

"I do like to suck your cock," you said honestly. Sometimes, with other guys, it had felt like a chore, not with Carmy, you loved to see him come undone, let go completely.

"See, the thing is," he kissed the curve of your hip, "if you gave me a blowjob it would be over so quickly," he exhaled right on your spread out clit which made you shudder. "And where's the fun in that?"

You giggled giddily when he squeezed your ass, manhandling you closer to his face, keeping his focus on your pussy.

"So you're just going to edge me until I beg?" you asked, half wanting for him to say yes.

"Don't worry," he gave a long lick, from the bottom of your lips to the top, making you arch your back and curse. "You will come," there was something dark in his eyes again, that same determination from the photoshoot back in his face - he was in charge. "When I want you to."

You shivered. "Fuck, Carm."

He started sucking on your clit, his tattooed fingers curling inside of you. You melted under his touch, feeling your pussy squeeze his fingers.

"Please, Carmy..."

He stopped sucking, messing with the rhythm, keeping you hanging by a thread.

"You will come," he repeated, "when I want you to," the speed of his fingers increased. "As many times as I want you to."

You moaned. His mouth latched onto your clit, licking until you were thrashing on the bedsheets, his forearm kept you in place on the mattress.

"Fuck, shit, baby," you mumbled. Your gazes met, his blue eyes fiery. He nodded and you came in a blur, desperately grabbing at anything - his hair, the bedsheets - the feeling all the more intense for the time he had spent working you up. He kept kissing and sucking until you stopped moaning and started chuckling breathily.

"Just like that," he praised, something playful in his voice and you would have teased back if you weren't so completely spent.

He kissed the outside of your folds, staying away from your clit and your entrance, just worshipping the skin around them and you caressed his hair lovingly.

"You make me feel so fucking good," you exhaled.

He climbed up your body and kissed you hard, mouth open, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His cock, hard inside his jeans, grazed the lower part of your belly, it made you tremble in anticipation. "You gonna fuck me?" you asked between one kiss and the next, your hips lifting up to ground on his.

He clicked his tongue. "Not yet," he got up and opened the drawer of your bedside table, taking out your rabbit vibrator. "This charged?"

You nodded, biting your lip.

"Good girl," he praised and your hand squeezed your breast almost unconsciously; something happened to you whenever he talked to you like that.

He lowered himself next to you, held up by one arm; his hand teased your pussy, his calloused fingers spreading wetness around.

"D'you need lube, baby?" he asked, more out of politeness than anything since he knew the answer very well.

"I think I'm okay, Carm," you laughed and he kissed the side of your face.

"Mhmm. So fucking hot," he whispered and you felt the dildo poking at your entrance.

You placed your hand on the side of Carmy's face, your thumb near the edge of his mouth. He sucked on it thoroughly, then let go with a pop. You whined needily.

"Please, please, please..." it poured out of you.

He bumped your forehead with his, his gaze was intense and hungry.

"Keep looking at me," he ordered, and you obeyed, keeping your eyes open even as the dildo went all the way inside you and filled you up deliciously. The coldness of the toy reminded you it wasn't Carmy's cock - but he was holding it, he was right there next to you. Your face contorted in pleasure.

"Yes, like that," he encouraged you, his words tickling inside your belly. He seemed to be overcome just looking at you - it made you feel wanted, adored, beautiful. You wanted to make him feel that way too.

"Carm," you gasped. "I need you to know- Oh, fuck," he pumped the toy inside you, slow, so slow. "I need you to know," you repeated through the fog of pleasure, "all those things the photographer said. They're true. Oh, my God, baby," his expression softened even as he buried the dildo deep inside you. "Your eyes are beautiful," another thrust, you caressed his face. "Your arms are so hot," you held onto the arm that was fucking you, squeezing the muscle there. "Shit. You're handsome, gorgeous, fucking- oh!" you blurted all at once, turning the compliments into moans. "I swear - fuck!" you held his gaze. "Can't believe you're mine."

He leaned forward, kissing you tenderly, swallowing your moans.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I love you," you replied, a choked out sound leaving your lips.

He turned on the vibration and watched you lose control, becoming desperate with lust, thrusting your hips wildly. He kept you there a bit longer than necessary, torturing you a little with how long he was drawing it out. It was so good, so fucking good.

"Carmy. Please," you begged.

"I know, I know," he soothed. "You're doing so good."

It sent a shiver down your spine and made the very last thread inside you snap.

"Oh," you exhaled, coming harder than you ever had, scratching at his forearm, screaming into the skin of his shoulder.

"Sound so nice," Carmy mumbled, looking as pussy drunk as a man could be without actually fucking one. "Baby, baby, baby."

You stayed there for a while, the dildo still inside you, and Carmy's hands touching your waist tenderly while you kissed.

After a long while of that, he got up from the bed, and started getting undressed while you watched. You bit your lip and put your head on your hand, enjoying the sight. He caught you staring.

"You really meant all those things you said," it began as a statement and ended as a question, Carmy's voice going up slightly.

"Every word," you said, taking out the dildo as Carmy showed you his cock. You licked your lips. "D'you mind? Me saying things like that?"

You wanted him to be confident but you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

He shook his head. "I liked it," he admitted. He stood right by you, beside the bed, fiddling with the condom he had retrieved from your drawer. "Made me feel good."

"I'm glad, Carm," you reached out to caress his leg, following the line of muscle there. Saying he was beautiful once while you fucked wasn't going to change his mind, but you were willing to keep trying.

In the meantime, you could show him. Even with the exhaustion of everything Carmy had done to you, you wanted him inside you, wanted to see him roll his eyes in ecstasy. You crawled to where he was, kneeling, near the edge of the mattress. His cock was hard, pulsing, and it made your mouth water. He stood still, dropped the condom on the mattress, probably guessing what you were about to do.

When you were an inch away from his cock, he pulled your hair and stopped you.

He gestured at the vibrator. "Put that back inside you," he said in that demanding voice and you rushed to do as he said, only uttering a small moan when you had it inside you. He leaned over, tracing a long line from your neck to your ass, reaching to turn it back on on the lowest setting. You writhed a little but after a moment of adjusting to the feeling you were able to stay still and look at Carmy.

"Good girl," he said again and you keened, leaning forward to suck his dick. The sound he made once your mouth was on him was heavenly. "Holy fuck."

His hands were tangled in your hair and you wished you could deep throat without choking, just to watch him lose his mind completely. You settled for going as far as you could, getting every inch of him slick with saliva, making him groan and sweat. You looked up, his eyes were white and his face was flushed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to breathe. You hummed with satisfaction and that woke up his competitive streak.

He pulled on your hair lightly. "Gimme a second," he panted. You thought he needed a breather, but he actually moved to turn the vibrator up a couple of notches. You trembled and reached for his ass, bracing, leaving red scratch marks on the tender skin.

"Fuck, baby," you said between moans. "Not fucking fair."

"Mhmm," he smirked, caressing your scalp. It took all your willpower and concentration but you moved forward and went back to sucking his cock, feeling a pang of pride as he threw his head back and uttered some curse you couldn't quite decipher.

The vibrator set a pace you could follow, rocking forward as it pulsed, letting you give Carmy pleasure while you were ridiculously close to losing your mind yourself.

"Shit, baby," he gasped, his knees buckling for a second. "Make me feel- Fuck, y're so good, so good," he mumbled.

The steady pace of the vibrator was building up a tense knot inside you - you were close, and so it became a race of making Carmy come before you did. You doubled your efforts, speeding up, hollowing your cheeks, moaning into his skin.

"You're fucking killing me," he growled, pulling on your hair just the way you liked it, making you roll your eyes as you sucked on his length. You were completely overwhelmed; you couldn't help but whine over and over. "Holy fuck."

He stared right onto your eyes as he came. He had told you he didn't mind if you spit his cum but sometimes you felt like drinking it all, consumed with lust - today was one of those times. You stayed there, licking his slit, caressing his balls until he pulled you away.

"Fuck, baby," he sighed, kneeling on the carpet to look at you.

He was completely wrecked: face red and sweaty, hair messier than you had ever seen it and a glazed look in his eyes. He tilted his head to kiss you thoroughly, tasting the cum leftover on your tongue. You could finally let go. You put your hand between your belly and the mattress, maneuvering the vibrator so it hit right where you needed it and you came immediately, kissing Carmy, biting on his lips, and humping on the bed. It was too much and just enough.

Carmy helped you take it out once you started whining from feeling sore. He moved your body to lie comfortably on the bed, your head on the pillow and him next to you.

"Fucking insane," he exhaled. You chuckled in agreement, fucked out senseless. "D'you need anything?" he asked gently after a moment.

You shook your head, raising a hand to caress his face.

"I feel perfect, Carm."

You moved your index finger, tracing the contour of his eyebrows, the line of his nose, and the curve of his cheekbone.

“Pretty,” you managed to say.

He smiled and brought you closer, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, his arms around making you feel safe.

[Part 7]

@th3h0nkz

#me; looking at a calvin klein billboard: how are we feeling ladies?! 🥵#carmy berzatto smut #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction

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dcxdpdabbles · 7 months

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i don’t know if I’m allowed to ask right now and feel to ignore this but I just really like your shit so here I am :D

anyway

I love the thought of Fanny being the ghost king and the crown not fitting on his head so it falls to his neck line where it hangs off his neck and is either the spikes(idk what the call the pointed bits-) are short enough to see his face or they are thin enough to see though and then when he’s in his human from the crown turns into a black neck tattoo that’s really pretty and stuff!! So imagine this, Danny in Gotham and he’s a singer for Penguin and some rouges or something and he’s irritated so instead of running he continued to sing and it actually sways the course of the fight in favor of his allies while the enemies ears or like bleeding or something as his hair turns white and his eyes go green as the crown shins around his neck and let’s say that his outfit is quite androgynous and nice looking but he’s really pissed because it was a gift and it got damaged or bled on and this starts a rumor that Danny is a meta so the bats and birds go to investigate

Hope you like it and do a little Drabble :)

They hear about the Siren for the first time after a bit of trouble happens to go down in Old Man Rob's. At first, they were a little shocked that anyone would dare give Rob any sort of trouble, seeing as it was a general unwritten role to leave the old man who made clothes for the working girls/boys and for the Gotham Rouges well enough alone.

His work was so well appreciated that the Rouges would even send their minions to outfit them with the standard hire goon outfit. Joker swears by his purple cloth that only Rob could make his men look good.

Old Man Rob made the clothes right out of his home, so anyone who went to him would have a hot cup of tea and soft music from Rob's home country playing in the background. Everyone agreed that Old Man Rob's was welcoming and neutral grounds.

So imagine the uproar when some stupid out-of-city punks attempted to follow some working girls into the house and trash the place. The girls had taken refuge with Old Man Rob after realizing the punks were much more dangerous than they first thought.

When Rob tried to defuse the situation, things turned ugly as one of the men punched the old man to the ground- injuring his back. They had then attempted to take the screaming girls, gone about the house for anything valuable, and smashed everything that wasn't with a bat.

That's when Siren walked in. The androgynous being looked around before throwing themselves onto the men like the snaring mystical creature they earned their name from.

Siren had taken care of the men and had even had them hand-delivered to Penjuin when the supervillain caught wind that the fools were responsible for Rob not being able to complete his latest suit due to his back injury.

One of the working girls had texted her boyfriend, who was employed with Penguin, and that meant the Rouge, with a group of men, had rushed over to help not even ten minutes later.

Once everything was settled, Rob had enough time, as he was being transported to the hospital, to give Siren their outfit as a gift, and Penguin overheard the old man wishing Siren luck on his audition.

After a bit of question, Penguin gave Siren his card and told them to swing by the Iceberg Lounge for an audition if the one they were going to didn't work out.

That was all the Bats were able to gather from the last working girl, who is Jason's informate. Since Siren had no other known sighting, the Bats let them fade into obscurity until rumors of a hot new singer began to feature at the Iceberg Lounge.

Their voice left hundreds of clubgoers memorized, even those who didn't often prefer slow seduction songs when going to the club. The Iceberg does have a more classy feel about it but Siren could make anyone stop for their voice.

Bruce thought it was wise to investigate the meta after rumors that Siren would often help security when someone got too rowdy by singing a tone that could make human ears bleed. So far, there wasn't much information past rumors, and Penguin hadn't made the singer a member of his crime yet, but it was only a matter of time.

No one that powerful could remain neutral with the company they kept.

That's why Dick, Cas, and Jason all dressed to the nines and visited Iceberg Lounge with Brucie Wayne's unlimited credit card. They are treated VIPs- as the Lounge is a legitimate business despite everyone knowing the owner is Penguin- and are seated right before Siren's stage.

The lights drop, and the music tickles to a stop so the live band can get into place. Dick adjusts his cuffs, presses the record button on the hidden video camera on the metal, and leans on his hands to point it to the stage.

They are all wearing earplugs, hoping to stop Siren's powers, but it's better to have someone far away who won't be effect by the sound watching just in case the three get mind-controlled.

The singer who takes the stage is beautiful androgynous in everything from their outfit to their features, but none can deny their beauty of them. They stand in a shimmering black suit resembling a modern king attire, with a half veil dripping from their shoulders. A particular ice crystal snowflake design tattoo circles their neck in a breath-catching upturn of their head.

Once Sirens opens their mouth in the first verse, Cass can understand why the mythical creatures could lure sailors to their water deaths. The voice is as beautiful as the singer, and she can't look away.

She rises with the tempo, falls with the beat, and flouts into the rhythm of Siren's voice. It's not until the singer descends the stage to sing to the lucky few upfront does she realizes she has forgotten why she came here tonight.

Jason carefully presses his foot against her, and she struggles to take her eyes off Siren to look at her bother. His face is relaxed and cocky, like the wealthiest man son can be, but his body language screams worry.

Worry for her.

Shoot, had she allowed herself to fall under Siren's spell?

The singer struts back to the stage, arms raised before slowly lowering on the last long memorizing note, and the lights drop. She clasps politely along with the rest, her heart fluttering.

"That was amazing!" Dick cheers, whistling like a loon. His civilian persona does resemble Brucie the most. "Encore! Encore!"

Siren looks at their table with a bashful smile, and Cass's heart falls. Before she can do anything knowing what that means, the doors to the lounge get blown right off the hinges, and screams erupt through the room.

A rival gang is tearing through the room. Cass hits the ground with her brothers, mentally cursing they can't blow their cover as the thugs quickly round up hostages. One grabs Siren's veil, ripping it right off as the singer tries to run. The action causes them to trip over the stage's long walkway before falling into a table stacked with wine glasses.

She fights to urge to scream when Siren falls. Cass needs to focus on finding a place to change and get control of the situation. Siren could be hurt, they could be-

"You asshole!" The siren screams, standing up and neck tattoo flaring a bright blue. "You ruined my suit!"

The man scoffs, pointing a gun at their head "So what? It couldn't be that expensive for Penguin's little plaything to offered."

"It was a gift!" The siren screams in a sound voice as cold as ice and as unforgiving as death. Cass feels the air freeze over, and suddenly, Siren is signing. But it's not the sweet song from before; now, it's a dead melody that promises death.

She presses herself against the floor more, trying to escape the sound. Her heart is beating so fast that she wonders if she is dosed with Fear Toxin. Cass doubts the others are fairing better as sobs break through the room.

The man holding the gun drops to his knees, screaming and clutching his ears.

Siren remains standing, hair bleeding into white, eyes a blazing green, and his neck tattoo expanding into a crown that seems to cover the lower half of their face. It's a beautiful sight as much as it is terrifying.

Cass can't look away.

Just as quickly as it started, the signing ends when the man falls unconscious and Siren looks human again. They fret over their suit uncaring of the stares from the rest of the club, and make their way to the changing room without a by-your-leave.

Cass is in love.

"We have to report this to B," Jason hisses. "That was Lazaurs Wails."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #The Siren of Iceberg Lounge #requests #dead silent #Danny is androgynous goals #Nonbinary Danny #Ghost King Danny #They just want to sing bro let them sing

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zepskies · 8 months

Text

Strong as Blood - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out?

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

AN: Did you like Part 1? Well, here's Part 2! This two-part fic can be read as stand-alone, but it’s really a bonus sequel to Break Me Down!

(Also, for those of you in the medical field…try to suspend your disbelief on this one. 😅)

Word Count: 6,200

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff overload.

To find the chronological reading order for the series, check out the series masterlist. ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down

Part 2: “One Year, Forty, and a Hundred”

About a week later, you and Ben told your family the good news.

Your mom, Marie, took Ben’s face in her hands and pressed a delighted motherly kiss on his cheek, and then his forehead.

He very narrowly tolerated it with his usual gruffness, but you knew better. You saw the fond glint well hidden in his eyes, even after Marie released him.

It hadn’t taken her long after meeting Ben to start treating him like a son; always asking about his missions with Supe Affairs, praising a job well done when he had a successful report, and offering a supportive word even when they didn’t quite go his way.

Ben maintained his usual stoic bravado, but you knew he secretly ate up the praise, along with Marie’s genuine, nurturing nature.

Every time you saw your mother, she would give you baked goods in tupperware—for both of you, she claimed. But you noticed they were most often his favorites. You had a feeling she’d won him over early on with her macadamia nut brownies. (She still couldn’t cook worth a damn either, but she’d been taking a baking class.)

So Ben continued to help her do the dishes, even though she insisted he was a guest in her home. He claimed he was doing it so you wouldn’t jump in yourself.

And now we’re family, you had pointed out. Then Ben gifted you with one of those smiles, subtle and pleased, just for you.

You felt somewhat lazy, just sitting at the kitchen table with your sister Luisa. She sat close to you with her arm looped around yours, and she rubbed your lower back, which you now realized had been aching more often. For God’s sake, you hadn’t even realized you were late on your period.

I need to take some time off work, even before this kid gets here, you mused.

Realistically though, you should’ve expected this might happen. You hadn’t ever gotten around to replacing your IUD after you’d gotten it removed a few months ago. And God knew, Ben didn’t know how to pull out. (And he certainly didn’t buy condoms.)

“What’re you hoping for, a boy or a girl?” Louisa asked you and Ben, disrupting the path of your thoughts. You turned to your sister thoughtfully.

She still had her reservations about him, but she seemed to be warming up to your boyfriend a bit more after you told her the news. Especially after Ben had explained one of his plans over dinner.

His first thought was to hire Frank and Loco back as your personal security throughout your pregnancy, and likely even afterwards.

It was a rare time when you didn’t argue with him; the idea made sense, especially if you were going to continue working in Surveillance at Supe Affairs until you went on maternity leave. And, it would just be great to see them again. Frank had already agreed to start on Monday, after giving his polite congratulations.

(You and Ben each got a package in the mail yesterday: a box of bonafide Cuban cigars for him, a maternity body pillow for you, and a hand-crafted toy box for the baby. Inside had been a white noise sound machine to help the baby sleep.)

But now, Ben brightened at Louisa’s question. He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“A son,” he replied. How brow rose, as if the answer was obvious. “I’ll be able to bring him up right. Strong. Not like these beanie-wearing pantywaists running the fucking Starbucks.”

“Ben,” you warned. He crossed his arms at you, quite literally standing firm on his stance. But your mother just smiled and pat his arm.

“It’s okay, honey,” she said. “I understand what you mean.”

You raised an incredulous brow.

Oh sure, you thought. She didn’t mind salty language when it was Ben, but God forbid you or Luisa bang a toe in your mother’s presence. Nor did it surprise you that she was agreeing with him.

But then Marie turned to him more earnestly.

“The way you take care of my daughter, I have no doubt you’ll make an excellent father,” she told him.

Ben treated her with a charming smile that showed touches of warmth.

Damn, you thought, as you felt the telltale burn of tears in your eyes. But it wasn’t just about what Marie had said. You had hoped for this one day, but it seemed he was finally making room for your family in his heart too.

“Football. A man’s game,” Ben continued. “I’ll teach him, take him fishing. Everything my old man didn’t bother with, I’ll do it all. Bring him up right…”

As your boyfriend chatted away with your mom, you hid a tendril of worry. You wondered what would happen if the baby turned out to be a girl.

With a glance at your sister, her subtle, raised brows told you she was thinking along the same lines. You sighed and got up; once again, it was time to pee.

Louisa followed you into the hall and laid a hand on your back.

“Hey,” she said. “You know how much I care about you, right?”

“And where’s this going?” you quipped. But you turned around and gave your little sister a half-smile. You knew what she was about to say.

“So what are you going to do about that?” she asked, gesturing to your man in the kitchen. “Mr. Macho wants his prized stud. What happens if he doesn’t get him?”

You sighed. “Ben’s wanted this for a long time. He’s got an idea in his head of what it’s going to be like, and…we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Louisa’s lips pursed, like she wasn’t quite satisfied with that answer.

“And what about you?” she asked. “How do you feel about this?”

You blinked back at her in slight surprise, but then your expression melted into a soft smile.

“I’m happy, Lou,” you said. Tears welled up in your eyes, yet again. “I’m really happy.”

Louisa relented then, squeezing your hand. “Good…then good. I’m happy for you too.”

And that was really all you wanted.

“What? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Ben said, peering harder at the ultrasound. The kind OBGYN faltered, though she again tried to point out that what he was looking at was actually a small foot.

“Congratulations,” she told you both. “She’s the right size for twelve weeks of development. And look there, you can even see the umbilical cord—”

“You sure this thing isn’t on the fritz?” Ben asked, bumping the ultrasound monitor with his hand.

“Ben.” You looked over at him with a glare. “Are you serious right now?”

He looked back over at you, and you saw his stubbornness in his frown and knitted brows.

“I’m just saying—” he started, but you didn’t let him get that far.

“You heard the freakin’ doctor. We’re having a girl,” you snapped. “I’m the one who has the transvaginal probe shoved up inside me, so shut the fuck up!”

Ben’s jaw worked as he barely held himself from barking back at you. It wouldn’t be the first time you levied your smart mouth at him, but it wasn’t often that you disrespected him.

“Excuse me?” he still groused.

His anger got waylaid though. He watched you heave a sigh and blink quickly, so you wouldn’t release the well of frustrated tears building behind your eyes.

The doctor looked between you both warily. You turned to her with watery eyes, and you sniffed to keep your emotions at bay.

“Continue, please.”

When the appointment with the OBGYN was done, you didn’t let Ben help you down from the examining table. Nor did you let him touch you, all the way to the car.

An hour later, you both made it back to the apartment you shared in Scarsdale. You stomped up the stairs ahead of him and beelined into the bedroom. You had half a mind to slam the door in his face, but you didn’t have the energy to be that petty.

Frankly, you were exhausted with a tinge of nausea. But you didn’t know if that was pregnancy sickness, or if you were just that anxious.

You sat down on your side of the bed, and you sighed when you heard Ben’s heavy footsteps enter in behind you.

“All right, that could’ve gone better,” he said. “But look at it from my point of view—”

That nearly unhinged you. Your stomach roiled, but you got to your feet and turned around to face him where he stood by the foot of the bed, arms crossed.

“It’s not all about you,” you shot back. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one carrying this baby. I’m not just a human incubator.”

“I fucking know that,” he retorted, but you raised a hand to silence him.

“And you’re not the only one who’s wanted this,” you said. Against your will, your eyes once again burned with tears as you held yourself. “You know very well what I’ve…that I didn’t have a normal family growing up.”

Ben quieted. His irritation softened around the edges, especially as your voice trembled.

“Don’t you know what it’s going to mean to me to give our child what I didn’t have?” you asked. “Stability, support, and…and love, from both parents?”

Tears slipped down your cheeks. And when he didn’t seem to have anything to say to you, you shook your head and walked away.

Ben let out a heavy breath. He followed you and stopped you in the living room. “Listen—”

“No, you listen,” you snapped, whirling around on him. “I would’ve been content no matter if it was a boy or a girl, and you ruined that today. You really did.”

His gaze briefly fell to the floor, before it met yours again.

“But even with that, I’m still happy,” you said, as your vision became blurry and wet. “I’m so damn happy…and so scared.”

When you finally broke down crying, Ben got a full picture of just how badly he’d fucked this up. He collected you in his arms and guided you to sit with him on the couch. There he held you as you clung to him and wept into his neck.

The longer it went on, the more he felt like an asshole—with the kind of uncomfortable, gut-churning remorse that only you tended to draw from him.

Ben hesitated, but he knew you deserved to hear him say it. (And you probably wouldn’t let this go until he did.)

“Okay, sweetheart, calm down,” he rumbled in your ear. Along with, "…I’m sorry."

The weight of that fell between you for a moment. You nodded, with a sniff, and he slowly rubbed your back.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he said. “My blood’s making you nice and strong.”

Well, technically it was the baby’s blood, and the super genes they held. You shook your head against his neck.

“That’s not it,” you said. “I mean, that’s part of it, I guess. Dr. Baker didn’t do a great job of reassuring me, but she did say that if the strength lasts throughout the birth, she didn’t expect serious complications.”

Fuck. Ben’s hand tightened in your hair. That...was a thought he hadn't considered. It now made his stomach clench, though he remained silent.

He wished you would’ve taken him with you to see Dr. Baker, but he guessed he couldn’t begrudge you for your worries. He knew he'd be having his own talk with the good doctor soon enough.

“I love my mom. She did her best, you know? But I…I’ve had to take care of myself for most of my life,” you explained, with a hand fisted tight in his shirt. “What the hell do I know about being a mom?”

Ben considered that with a frown. He pulled back enough to see your face, tucking his curled fingers beneath your chin so you’d look at him.

“You looked after your sister, didn’t you?” he reminded. “Made sure she was safe, and grew up right. Now you take care of me, like I take care of you… And you got no problem calling me out on my bullshit.”

That got a slight smile out of you. He brushed away another one of your tears with his thumb.

“You’re gonna be great, sweetheart. I never had any doubts about that,” he said, “The truth is, I couldn’t wait to fuck you raw to make this happen.”

You spluttered a laugh then, even though you were still weeping.

“Yeah, I know,” you said with a wry smile, stroking his bearded cheek. You leaned up and kissed the other cheek. He turned his head and went for your lips. The kiss was slow and tender while he held you where you always felt safe.

Ben grasped the hand on his cheek…and an idea flickered through his mind.

He parted from you, only to say, “Wait here.”

Your brows furrowed, and you blinked through wet lashes. “What?”

“Just stay put for me,” he said.

But he didn’t tell you what he was up to as he left you on the couch to duck into the bedroom. You took the time to wipe at your eyes and take some deep, calming breaths.

Ben came back soon after, seemingly empty-handed as he sat down next to you. You gave him a curious look.

He slipped a hand into his pocket. “Just for the record, I’ve had this for a while.”

And he pulled a black velvet box out of his pocket. You let out a shaky breath of surprise. The ring he pulled out wasn’t a flashy, gaudy thing like you half-expected. It actually looked delicate, and vintage, pale gold with filigree around the hexagonal stone. It glittered, even in the dim lamplight.

“Where’d you find that?” you asked. But somehow, looking into his eyes, you knew what this was.

“Besides those old pictures, the only thing I’ve got left of my mother is right here,” he said, holding up the ring for you. More burgeoning tears fell down your cheeks as your heart constricted.

“Marry me,” he said, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand.

Despite yourself, a smile raised the corner of your mouth. “Hmm, I don’t know. Is that a question?”

Ben released a breath. Reluctantly, he smirked.

“Fucking figures that you’d make this difficult,” he said.

“You’re the one who fumbled at the goal line, Romeo,” you replied cheekily.

You then gestured at the ground in front of you. He raised a brow.

But, he obliged your demands, making a show of sliding from the couch, down to the ground. He parted your jean-clad knees so he could move in between them. He knelt one knee on the hard wood, and once again took your hand.

Ben somehow hesitated on the question, even though you both were hanging on his words. With your free hand, you smoothed his hair away from his eyes, subtly encouraging him.

“If I had to go back, do it all over again,” he said, “I wouldn’t have done a damn thing different.”

You frowned at him. “Really?”

“That’s right,” he said. “Because I’m right where I want to be.”

You teared up all over again when you realized what he was really saying. You laid a hand on his chest, where his fiercest power resided. He squeezed the hand he held.

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart. Will you marry me?” Ben asked. His smirk was almost boyish, despite his age. And yet, it was so very him.

You reached out with your free hand and slid your fingers through his hair, resting it at the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you agreed, with a beaming smile. “Let’s do it.”

He slipped the ring on your finger, where it fit well. And it was now the most beautiful thing you owned, not only for its shining beauty.

You pulled him in for a kiss. His hands burned up your thighs, squeezing your hips. But again, he hesitated. His lips pulled away from yours as his hand moved to brush your belly. It was already brimming with life. He’d seen the images, heard the heartbeat.

“Thank you,” Ben said. His voice was deep and gruff.

You smiled. With a nod, you held him to you, laying a sweet path of kisses from his cheek, down to his neck.

“I love you,” you said.

He just nodded in response. His throat was tight at the moment. But you wouldn’t let him get off that easy.

“Say it,” you jostled him in your arms. “I’m only growing a super melon for you.”

It earned you an amused look from him.

“I love you too,” he said. His voice was a bit coarse, and laden with rare emotion. You pulled him into a stronger hug, which soon became him dragging you into his lap when he raised himself up onto to the couch. You took his face in your hands.

“See? We made it here,” you teased. You knew he remembered the conversation you two had a few months ago, about waiting a little while to take this next step in your relationship. To have a family.

“Soon. Not someday,” he’d told you. And you’d agreed.

You reminded him of it now while you stroked his face. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

He snorted at that. “You sure took your fucking time with that one, huh?”

“Excuse me?” you retorted.

Ben pulled you into a kiss before you could truly get going. Arguing with him was one of the things you did best.

But what you two ended up doing on the couch was second to none.

A few months later…

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ben said. His tone was edged, his brows crunching. “What kind of development?”

You curled a hand around his wrist, shooting him a calming look before you returned your attention to Dr. Baker.

“What do you mean, Tonya?” you asked. Your other hand continued to rest over your belly.

At the seven-month mark of your pregnancy, you felt like you were beginning to resemble a parade float as you sat on the medical examining table in the doctor’s office. But you were grateful for Ben’s warm hand spanning the small of your back. It gave you stability as a coil of anxiety began to bloom in your chest.

Dr. Baker reviewed her charts once more. You didn’t like that gleam of scientific interest in her eye while she perused the data, then looked up at you and Ben from her narrow-framed glasses.

“Not with the baby. She’s doing very well,” she said.

That gave you a measure of immense relief.

“The development concerns you,” she clarified, meeting your gaze. “As you know, we’ve been monitoring you very closely.”

You nodded. The weekly checkups and monthly blood panels served to both soothe and increase your anxiety, but you knew that it made Ben feel better, that you were being taken care of in this aspect of your pregnancy.

To government knowledge, no one other than Becca Butcher had ever gone through a pregnancy of this nature. And Homelander had been created in a lab. This was breaking somewhat new ground (which was only in the top five of “things that made you nervous.”)

“I found something…interesting in your bloodwork,” said Dr. Baker. She pulled out two charts from her files and clipped them onto her whiteboard for you and Ben to see. They looked virtually the same, with one graph’s red bars slightly lower than the first.

“What’s that?” Ben asked.

“It’s your wife’s cell regeneration levels,” the doctor replied, pointing to the second graph. “Hers have become almost as high as yours.”

She pointed to the first graph for comparison. You leaned in closer to see as your eyes widened. With the weight of your belly making you off balance, you nearly slid off the examining table. Ben noticed and caught you quick. His arms came around you, though as the news donned on him, his face slid into shock.

“What?” he uttered.

“That’s got to be because of the baby,” you reasoned. “Is it…just temporary? Like the super strength.”

Even that was somewhat intermittent. Some days, you felt your aches and pains and experienced morning sickness and food aversions, like any other pregnant woman. On others, you were able to lift one side of the couch one-handed and vacuum up the dust bunnies underneath it.

“I believe that blood transfusion, as well as your pregnancy greatly accelerated the effects, but no, this isn’t an isolated incident.” Dr. Baker shook her head. “Your DNA has mutated.”

“Are you serious?” you nearly choked out. She nodded. Dr. Baker never joked.

“By my calculations, this process started before you conceived. Over the course of the past year, or more,” she explained. “Do you understand what this means?”

“Y-Yes, I think so,” you said. Your hand squeezed over Ben’s; it was the hand that carried the weight of your gold wedding bands. A lump of emotion rose in your throat. “It means…I’m going to heal from injuries quicker than normal. And…I’m not going to age like a normal person.”

“That’s likely correct,” she replied.

That news fell in the room like a stone. You shared a wide-eyed look with Ben. Neither of you knew quite what to think just yet. Even though he was trying to maintain an even-keel expression, you could see his eyes were beginning to brighten with hope. Yours were too…though you were still confused.

“How the hell is this possible?” you asked. “I mean, Ben gave me his blood for a transfusion. But like you said, that was one time, two years ago now. And you said the pregnancy accelerated this, but that’s not how it started…”

Dr. Baker actually smiled. You didn’t like the wry turn of her lips. She crossed her legs where she sat at her desk and tapped her clipboard with her pen.

“How often would you say you two have sex?” she asked.

That was certainly not where you thought this conversation was going. You couldn’t help but blush.

“How is that even remotely relevant?” you asked.

You glanced at your husband, who merely gave you one of his smug smirks, while his thumb stroked your side. Fucking typical.

“Once a week?” the doctor prompted.

Your face heated up further, and you had to cover your mouth with a hand. Your sex life wasn’t quite as…vivacious as it had been since before you’d gotten pregnant, but it was still a good one, even with your growing size. Ben was nothing if not creative.

And you were still newlyweds, after all.

“Assume we’re doing a healthy amount of fucking, doc,” Ben remarked.

You gasped and hit his thigh, and finally covered your whole face in thorough embarrassment. He just smirked and took your hand so you couldn’t hide. It amused him that you still got like this.

He then pressed a kiss to the back of your fingers.

You sighed and held his hand back. I chose this man. Remember that.

“Again, what does that have to with this?” you asked, your voice a bit higher.

Dr. Baker’s lips flickered at another one of those smiles. “Well, how often did you use condoms over the past two years?”

You and Ben both snorted in response.

“He’s morally opposed to them, doctor,” you said dryly.

She nodded. “I assumed as much.”

Once again, Ben smirked, but Dr. Baker plowed ahead.

“Let me explain it this way,” she said. “Think of how HIV spreads sexually. The infected DNA is transmitted, and it eventually hits the partner’s bloodstream, affecting the entire body. What we have here is a similar case…if for the fact that this was a gradual effect, over the course of several months.”

Ben blinked, and a frown also tugged down his brows.

“Are you saying that I gave her my superpowers…like an STD?” he asked.

Your eyes became as wide as saucers.

Holy shit! you thought, and another one occurred to you. If this all started from the first time you and Ben ever had sex…then that was over two years of being dosed with literal super sperm.

“Not quite,” Dr. Baker said to him. “Just the essence of what sets your DNA apart, even from other supes.”

“Right. Because how the hell hasn’t this happened to anyone else who’s normal?” you asked. “What makes Ben different?”

Dr. Baker finally set down her pen. She folded her hands in her lap to address you with a patience that you didn’t often see from her.

“Remember, the serum he received was still a prototype,” she said. “Vought continued to refine the recipe after the ‘Soldier Boy’ project was successful. For example, the way his cells regenerate is one of those factors that needed to be weeded out, if Compound V was to be a successful product in the long-term.”

You nodded slowly, as that made sense to you. If every supe suddenly lived over a hundred years, it would make it pretty hard to secretly inject that shit into newborns. They had to package it in a more insidious way.

“This is an unpredictable outcome of your exposure to his unique genetic makeup,” Dr. Baker continued, “and there may very well be more to come in the future.”

You weren’t sure how to take that potentially foreboding news, but on the other hand…

“Oh my God! I’m going to live to be a hundred,” you said, holding tighter onto Ben as shock began to make you tremble. His grip was firm and steadying in response. And yet, his face betrayed how he was trying to process this as well.

“Likely much longer than that,” Dr. Baker said, shocking you even further. And she reminded, “Your cells aren’t regenerating at quite the same rate as his…but it is close.”

Again, holy fucking shit.

You let out a halting breath, and you looked up at Ben, a smile growing across your face. You reached up a hand for his bearded cheek. He looked down on you with his usual stoicism, but it was merely a front. You saw through to the true emotions shining in his eyes.

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with me, baby,” you said, even as your own eyes stung with tears. Your heart felt full to the brim, and even overflowing. If this was what it took to be with your husband, then altering your genetics was a price you were willing to pay…at least in this way.

Though you gave him a more teasing smile. “You’re not gonna be able to welch out of that ‘til death do us part thing. So cancel the caravan of blow and strippers.”

Ben chuckled deeply. He held your hand and stroked the inside of your wrist. For a moment, he just looked down at your face. It had become a bit more rounded with your pregnancy—thighs and arms (and ass) thicker too. And to him, you were still perfectly his.

“Fine by me. You’ve got something they don’t, anyway,” he said. He remembered the same words he’d said to you just a year ago, in the bed he still shared with you.

Your eyes gleamed with amusement, and so much more. You played along.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” you asked.

He smirked. “You’ve got a supe STD.”

Your eyes widened at his audacity, but you burst out laughing and hit his shoulder.

“Yeah, from you,” you quipped back. “I should’ve known you were carrying something.”

The two of you didn’t know it, but that was when Dr. Baker smiled to herself. She decided then to leave the room, giving you some privacy as Ben laughed and framed your face with his hands.

His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, catching stray tears as they fell. You bit your lip as your glassy eyes met his once more. Ben became more serious as he let out a sigh.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” he reminded you. “Your family, your friends…they’re going to change, and you’re going to stay the same.”

Your excitement dimmed as that realization hit you. Your hands clenched in his shirt, over his chest. You thought about your mom, your sister, Yvette and Devon, Annie and Hughie and the rest of the team (even Butcher, you would miss).

“Yeah…that part’s not gonna be fun,” you said with a heavy, tremulous sigh. Your heart clenched at the very thought of them growing old, leaving you behind.

But your gaze eventually drew back up to him. You wondered then, not for the first time, how it must’ve been for him. For his parents to grow old and pass on long before him. For childhood friends, old lovers…

“Do you know what I worried about when we got married?” you asked.

Ben’s hands traveled down from your face, down your arms, to finally rest at your waist and thigh. He stared back at you expectantly.

“When you first told me you loved me, you said you were holding back the truth. Because you thought that one day, you’d be alone again,” you said, stroking his chest. “That honestly broke my heart. And it made me wonder if I was selfish to be with you anyway.”

Ben frowned, but you shook your head before he could respond.

“I told myself that after the baby was born, I’d go to Dr. Baker and ask her to find a way to make this happen,” you said. Another smile grew across your face. “But guess what? We figured it out all on our own, super stud.”

Ben smiled then, huffing in amusement as he thumbed at your cheek. You couldn’t really understand the full force of his relief. It might’ve threatened to buckle him into a seat, if he had been standing.

But now, he struggled with the warmth in his chest that for once, had nothing to do with his powers. He moved in to tug you into his arms, and he let out a long breath through his nose.

You couldn’t see how his eyes closed, but you felt his lips press against your forehead. You held him close. Or as closely as you could with your belly getting in between.

You rubbed his back and rested against his chest, hearing the calming, steady sound of his heart beating under your ear.

“And at this rate, I might even live longer than you,” you teased. “After all, you got a head start. Compared to you, I’m still a hot young thing.”

Ben snorted and shook his head. “All right. Now you’re pushing it.”

You smirked into his chest.

“I’ll have to figure out where you rent those caravans.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. At the sound of your giggle, he couldn’t help but smile.

He still swatted you on the ass though.

A couple more months later…

He smelled like cigar smoke. For which you had no doubt, Ben had been puffing away with Frank and M.M. outside the hospital.

The team of doctors (led by Dr. Baker) had finally left you alone with your husband, allowing you to take your first relaxed breath of the day.

“Your mom and your sister are waiting. Blondie and the others are out there too,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “My girl’s got a whole possy of bitches.”

You assumed he meant Annie and the rest of the team.

You shot him a look, but you were careful not to disturb the sleeping newborn resting on your chest, in the crook of your arm.

“They’re my friends, babe,” you whispered. “And they’re your friends now too, you just don’t want to admit it.”

Ben didn’t acknowledge that, but he laid a hand on your shoulder as he sat down on the edge of your hospital bed.

“How’re you doin’, sweetheart?” he asked. “Got everything you need?”

He’d become even more protective, but also very sweet to you in these past several months. More so than you’d thought him capable of, but it warmed you every time, when you considered how rough, how stoic, and how damn-near emotionally repressed he was not so very long ago.

It seemed that fatherhood was beginning to soften him, even before he began. You quirked a smile at the thought, and at his question.

“Imagine pushing a super melon out of your dick. That’s how I’m doing,” you said, tired but still cheeky as ever.

He snorted a bit loudly at that, and you shushed him, as if it wasn’t your fault he was laughing. He expected nothing less from you.

“But I’m okay,” you answered his second question. “All I need right now is you.”

Ben considered you for a moment, a slightly softer smile curving his lips, and he nodded.

“All right,” he said.

Your daughter woke and began to squirm in your arms, prompting Ben to look down at the bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket. Gently as possible, he brushed the tuft of downy brown hair on her head. His hand shook ever so slightly, touching her small cheek.

How can this little thing be mine? he wondered. His lips pressed into a firm line.

There was a thought, deep and thrumming inside him, that he didn’t deserve this. That just a couple of years ago, he had nothing to lose.

And now, his entire world was in this room. He’d never admit it, but it was a terrifying thought, for a man who’d had everything and nothing.

You unknowingly stopped the path of his thoughts when you raised a warm hand to his cheek. It earned his attention, and he grabbed your hand to keep it there.

You smiled up at Ben with weariness in your eyes. The super strength had drained out of you a few moments after the umbilical cord was cut, which had made for a less painful labor than you anticipated. But it had also been a long and uncomfortable eighteen hours.

“Wanna hold her for a while?” you asked.

The offer caught him off guard. His brows drew together, but he very carefully took his daughter from you, into his arms. Despite your temporary abilities throughout your pregnancy, he didn’t know if she already had his strength, or if it was something she’d grow into. Ben didn’t want to take any chances.

As he looked down at a small face that already had some of his features, he inhaled a faltering breath.

It was the first time you ever saw true tears in his eyes, as one managed to draw a path down his cheek. You smiled, and the pair of rings on your left hand caught the lamplight as you rested your hand on your chest.

Ben held the bundle close in the crook of his arm. One of the baby’s hands was free, and he tickled his finger in her palm. She grasped it on reflex, opening her mouth on a yawn. Despite his red and shining eyes, he smiled, especially when she reached up for a strand of his hair with small, grabby fingers.

He let her get a hold of it, smirking when she gave it a little tug. Just hours old, and his girl was already demanding his attention. He didn’t know if newborns were able to do that this early, or if it was her blood that made her special.

Either way, he knew then that she was going to be a handful. Just like you.

Ben glanced over and found you watching him with soft amusement. He looked back down at his daughter and told her the obvious.

“You know, you’re blessed to have my genes, baby girl,” he said. It elicited a knowing scoff out of you. However, his smirk softened. “But you’re also lucky as hell to have your mom.”

Ben looked back at you, and there was the predictable well of tears forming in your eyes.

“She’s the best damn woman you’re ever gonna meet,” he said.

He knew then that what he said to you before was right. If he had to go back to 1984, or even 1944, he’d do it all exactly the same.

It all worked out pretty damn well, from where he was standing.

AN: I’m not crying, you’re crying. 🥹😭

I sincerely hope you enjoyed Strong as Blood. I know I said I was going to be done with these two for a hot minute while I concentrate on Smoke Eater (Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader).

But now that we’re here, I have another one-shot idea I’d like to sketch out in the near future…

Would you guys want to read about their family dynamic? Maybe fast-forward a couple years to the “terrible twos” stage with their first child.

Along with some cameos from the Annie, Hughie, M.M. and the rest of the team. Maybe even Marie and Louisa, Grandpa George, and the insufferable Aunt Trina?

Let me know in the comments, or just what you thought of Part 2! 😘

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