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Cherry Boy. [l.c.]

Chapter One of "Losing it". Reminder that each chapter in this series is stand alone and can be read without reading any of the others!

A new relationship is always difficult to navigate, for Chan, it appears to be even more difficult. For you? You’re just left confused as to why your new boyfriend of a month and a half hasn’t made a move on you despite your very obvious attempts to invite him into your personal space.  You soon realize that your boyfriend is a virgin, and that’s why he’s always running away with his hands covering his bits, even through a simple goodnight kiss. 

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | reblog for chan's happy trail

WORDCOUNT― 10k

PAIRING― lee chan x afab reader 

CONTENT― brief break up due to horrible communication skills, virginity loss, reader gets super insecure about her body and personality, fluff, smut obv

NOTE― This is the reason I gave chan the first chapter in the series. It's because of those pics...you know the ones. Anyway, shoutout to @ressonancee and @onlyhuis for proof reading this for me! love u guys with my entire being!

smut tags under cut:: 

SMUT TAGS― virginity loss, makeout session, neck kissing, tit fondling, unprotected sex, belly button kissing, mentions and focus on his happy trail, he’s ticklish oops, blowjob, premature ejaculation, pussy drunk chan forgets how to speak, desperate sex babbling, finger fucking, hand and cock guiding, cream pie 

~

Chan has a dilemma, and yes, it’s one that most men would scoff at. 

Trust him when he says that he is so very aware of what is happening around him but he simply cannot manage to muster up the courage, strength, or confidence to admit to you, his lovely and patient girlfriend, that he’s dodging your advances solely because he is the text-book definition of virgin. 

He is not only nervous about having sex for the first time, but there also comes the weight of him either not being good enough when he tries, or you laughing in his face and mocking him for it.

You, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so fucking in your head if he really could just muster up a tiny amount of confidence to say that to you. 

It has been almost two months now since he asked you to be his girlfriend, and throughout this time never once has he done more than a gentle kiss to your lips or lying a slight guiding hand to your waist. It feels so… juvenile, so… middle school for a boyfriend to treat you this way. 

Seeing as how the first three dates you went on with him seemed to suggest he was more than willing to be a fulfilling boyfriend who can, hopefully, fill all of the roles that comes with the title– you’re starting to second guess that he ever liked you at all.

Perhaps the twenty-four year old man asked you that night to be his girlfriend out of pity. Or maybe he’s simply changed his mind about you. Regardless of the reason for why he acts like this, it’s getting to you.

Deeply, actually, by this point. It only stung a bit at first, but now it’s starting to feel like he has to be with you as a joke. Why else would he be consistent in wanting to hang out? Why else would he always be inviting you out on well-priced dates and buying you pretty gifts? 

It’s a joke. 

It has to be a joke. 

Oh, but that’s so far from the truth. If you would simply open your eyes, perhaps you’d notice the struggle that your polite little boyfriend goes through each time you try to suggest he make an advance on you. 

Even the slight kisses, it makes him suffer from embarrassment at how quickly his body reacts to you. 

He likes you so, so fucking much.

~

“I don’t think I’m feeling it today.” You respond to the muffled voice of your “boyfriend” on the phone, asking if he can come over to see you. 

“What? Why not?” He asks back, his voice concerned. 

“Do you want me to be honest?” You finally say with a long and annoyed sigh, giving up on any hope that this relationship will ever go any further than it already has. 

You’re fed up with feeling unwanted, undesired, and possibly even uninteresting. He’s the one person in your life that you care about when it comes to who you are and what you look like. His reaction, or lack thereof, regarding you as both a person and his girlfriend feels astonishing and does nothing more than make you question what it is that you’re doing wrong. 

It has to be you, right? Perhaps your body isn’t as pretty as he wants it to be, is that it? Or maybe your voice annoys him? God, what if he cringes thinking of how you’d move if he were to actually have sex with you? What if he doesn’t think about it at all? 

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to let the intense insecurity weigh on you. You always promised yourself that you’d never let a man make you rethink your worth. 

You need to live up to that promise. 

“Chan, it’s been nice and all, but I think we should break up.” 

The silence he offers to you is entirely too loud, and feels more like a confirmation in your head that this is the exact choice you should be making right now. 

He’s thrown for a loop though, standing at his kitchen table staring off at the wall as you say those words. 

What did he do wrong? 

“Wha–” He cuts himself off, trying to find words to say. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

You let out another breathy sigh, annoyed at the way he plays dumb. 

“I’m shocked you’re asking me that. I’ve been wondering if you were ever going to break up with me yourself, y’know?” You let out a sad little chuckle before you feel that insecurity he instilled in you burn against your eyes. “I’m just making it easy for you, so that you can go and spend your time with someone that you’d rather be around.”

He pauses, still dumbfounded by what you’re saying. 

“Why are you saying that?” He bellows out in a deeper tone, making you feel as though he’s angry with you now. “I’d rather be around you.” 

“Oh? Is that right?” You roll your eyes now, annoyed. “Is that why you push me away when I try to kiss you? Or what about– what about when you left the party last week after I sat on your lap?” 

Ah. He knew it. He knew he should have admitted it. Despite his consistent apologies for his body acting on instinct to run away from you, he should have really tried to see from your point of view rather than his own. Even if he only ran to hide the fact that he is horribly aroused by you at all times, in every given moment. 

You can hear a pained groan fall from his lips, and a door opening on his end. 

“I’m coming over.” 

He doesn’t let you protest, and instead hangs up the phone. You sit there in silence at his rejection of your break up. As if it were his choice? As if he had any say in it? You want to break up, that’s final. 

Still, that doesn’t explain why you don’t call him back to tell him not to come. It also doesn’t explain why your heart is thumping against your chest in anticipation.

Or, maybe there is something to explain why you’re feeling butterflies over his blatant refusal. Perhaps, this is the first time you’ve felt wanted by him? 

That also makes it worse. Why should your boyfriend make you feel this way only when you’re breaking up with him? Why can you only see that he cares when he’s faced with the idea of losing you? By the way he’s acting, you can argue that he wouldn’t be losing anything precious to him if you were to walk out of his life right this moment. 

Still, you sit here in wait. More curious now to see if maybe you'll figure out why he refuses to look at or touch you in a way that would show you he wants you.

~

The first thing Chan does when he steps through the door of your apartment is slip his shoes off. The second thing he does is stand there awkwardly, as if every thought left his head upon seeing your face.

You look like you’ve been crying. 

“This is my fault.” He says with a slight crack in his voice. “Because I keep hiding from you….right?”

You nod silently, remaining on your couch that faces his timid and stiffened figure. 

He stares at you, examining the consequences of his own actions. 

“You want to break up because I haven’t tried to, like, do things with you.” He winces as he says it, struggling to not feel awkward talking about having sex. He’s embarrassed, but would be even more embarrassed if he lost a girlfriend over this. 

“That’s not the only reason.” You shake your head, looking away from him and to your hands as you pick at your nail beds. “I’d be okay with no sex if you’d simply tell me why. The fact that you haven’t told me anything–” Your voice cracks a little bit, feeling stupid for being so emotional over such a short lived relationship. “It kind of destroyed my confidence.”

He watches the way you refuse eye contact, which is something that stabs him directly in the stomach. He can feel it drop to the floor, adrenaline making its way into that empty space you’re creating for him. 

“Before we break up, I just want to know why it took this for you to act like you genuinely might have feelings for me.” 

He stumbles over his thoughts the same way he stumbles over his feet trying to approach you. 

By now, he doesn’t think he can ever feel more embarrassed than he does at this moment. He crouches down in front of you, sad that you didn’t laugh at the way he nearly knocked himself out on your living room floor. Then he looks at you, chasing your line of sight as if to reassure you through nothing but the air in the room.

“I was afraid you’d laugh at me.” He starts, and after seeing that your expression doesn’t change even a little bit, he continues. “You seemed so into me that I–” He takes a deep breath, willing himself to be as honest as he can be. “I just didn’t know how to act.” 

You look at him with irritation at those words. 

“Of course I was fucking into you. Why else would I have agreed to be your girlfriend?” You roll your eyes, pushing yourself back into the couch cushions and away from his crouched body. “Think about how I feel. The fact that you just watch me throw myself at you time and time again? The fact that you rejected me every single time? How is that not giving you the answers you need as to why I’m breaking up with you?”

He takes note of that heightened voice of yours, defensive and likely more hurt than you’re letting on. 

“Listen–” He breathes in, trying to internally hype himself up to bite the bullet. 

You were listening, but he’s keeping whatever it is he’s thinking about in his head for just a second too long. 

“No, I think we’re done h-” 

“I’m a virgin.” He interrupts you, lowering his gaze to the floor and refusing eye contact with you. 

Your eyes shoot to him though. The last thing you would have expected was for him to be a–

“You’re–” You try to repeat his words for confirmation, but he interrupts you again. 

“I can promise you it’s not because I don’t want to do these things with you.” He says, still staring at the floor. “It’s because I was afraid that you’d lose interest over it.” 

Your mouth falls open as you look at him, every feeling of frustration in your body disappearing almost immediately. 

“It’s because I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to, like, be any good at it.” He continues to admit. “I was trying to work up the courage to tell you, or to just like, do it.” He rambles, now scooting back and standing up to his feet. “And if you still want to break up, I understand. I just thought I at least owed you an explanation.” 

You watch as he nods to himself in an unsure way, turns on his heel, and heads back to the door to slip his shoes back on. 

You sit in stunned silence as your brain erases every single insecurity you gained over this month and a half relationship before jumping to your feet. If anyone could have been more insecure about this than you were, it was him. And now that you can see that, the guilt hits you twice as hard as the presumed break up would have. 

“You’re a virgin?” You ask, though that wasn’t at all the words you intended to say. “I mean, you kept pushing me away because you didn’t want to disappoint me?”

He nods timidly, halting his body and still refusing to look at you. 

He has one shoe on, and his other foot half in the other when you make your way over to him, closing the distance quickly and confidently.

“Don’t leave.” You say first, before physically moving his body for him to remove that foot from his half-on shoe. “Chan, I’m your girlfriend. We can wait for as long as you need, I just...”

You pause, now feeling annoyed with yourself for making it about you. Then again, it’s not like you could read his mind. Though, thinking back to all of those instances where he pulled away from you before, perhaps you could have read context clues a little better. 

“I didn’t know–” You trail off, now determined to save the relationship that both of you accidentally started to sink. “Did I make you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

He feels…relieved by your words. Saying you could wait, asking what it is that made him so afraid to admit it. 

Finally, he presses one foot against his other, pulling his foot out of his shoe and stepping back, looking at you with eyes fonder than you’ve ever seen them.

“It’s not that I felt I couldn’t tell you. I was just embarrassed.”

You very nearly coo out at him, but you keep your distance with both your words and your body now. 

“It’s not that I’m not ready to lose it. Especially with you.” He admits, glancing at you for a reaction before sighing. “I think I’ve been ready for a long time, again, I was just embarrassed and also knew that I should probably tell you at some point…”

“You want to give your virginity to me?”

You watch as he blows his hair up through puckered lips, rolling his eyes before smiling at you.

“It’s not that I view virginity as sacred or anything either. There’s just a lot of weight that people tend to put on it, and I wasn’t sure how you’d react.” He tries to explain as his body relaxes by the minute. “I wanted you to be my first time, yeah. When I asked you to be my girlfriend, I knew I wanted you to be the one to show me what all the hype is about.”

You’d laugh if it weren’t for the fact that this is still kind of a touchy subject. You’re not entirely sure how you feel about being someone’s first time, but you know you have feelings for him and to deny him of sex after you blatantly wanted it so bad from him…Okay, maybe you’re just in your head. Of course you’d be happy to be his first time. 

Ecstatic even. 

“So….” You sway on your feet, looking up at the ceiling before landing your eyes on him playfully. “It’s not because you think I’m disgusting or like, not living up to the standards you want for a girlfriend?”

“Jesus, no.” He says. 

You watch him scratch the back of his head, still probably embarrassed by how low this relationship had fallen due to the awful communication skills. 

“And you’re also kind of admitting that you have thought about it?” You continue, prying out the words you’ve wanted to hear so badly since you met him. 

He pulls back only a little bit, his cheeks warming at the words and the way his brain automatically thrusts him into the thoughts of all of those nights where he absolutely fucking thought about it. 

“Y-yeah. Yes. I have thought about it.” He nods in a self-reassuring way as his eyes land on everything in the room but you. 

You’re quick to give him your own reassurance though, trying to learn his boundary now that the secret is out and the relationship appears to have a second chance at succeeding. 

He can feel you close in on him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your face against his neck. There, he holds you back, breathing in deep and feeling the scent of you wash through his body. 

Quite literally actually. As he would normally avoid, his lower half reacts far too quickly to even the simplest of touches from you. 

He pulls back on instinct, but you don’t release your grip this time. 

“You seem as ready as ever, I’ll admit.” You laugh upon feeling him stiffen against you, but you really do try not to shame him for it. “Still, we can wait until you feel ready enough to give it a shot, okay?”

He nods, entirely reassured by the way you don’t press up against it or comment any further about the happenings in his pants right now. Then he sighs out. 

“I can imagine I must look like an idiot right now, getting hard over a fucking hug.” He finally says as he pulls from the hug and makes his way back to your living room. “But we’re okay, right? You’re not breaking up with me?”

You follow after him, keeping your sexual distance, but absolutely indulging in the loving, sweet, and careful cuddling you’ve wanted to do with him for so long now. 

He appears comfortable when you tuck yourself under his arm and rest your head on his chest before answering him.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” You say, feeling his chest heave with each breath and intentionally ignoring the blatant tent in his pants slowly fall back into its flaccid position as he calms down. “It’s kinda cute, you know? That you were so worried about it.” 

His cheeks are still on fire, willing his body to calm itself through this sweet session of cuddling. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment with you, and still, it is embarrassing in the way he knows you’re ignoring it for his sake too.

But goddamn, how heavenly it would be for you to like, touch it right now…..or something. 

“Never thought of it as cute, if I’m being honest.” He tries to joke. “If anything, maybe it's a little pathetic on my part.”

You shake your head against him, feeling more confident of your place in his life. 

“Pathetic? Don’t be mean to yourself. Besides, it’s kind of hot knowing that you got so turned on over a simple hug.” You laugh, hoping you’re not crossing a boundary. “No wonder you ran so fast when I sat on your lap, I definitely would have felt that on me.”

“Alright, alright–” He tries to hush you of your playful remarks, but ultimately, if you really think it’s an attractive aspect of whatever sexual dynamic the two of you will come to have, he’s going to make damn sure you see just how fucking turned on you make him. 

~

Things are good. Great even, now that you can pin point each moment your boyfriend gets a little too overwhelmed with you. He does still push you away, probably out of instinct but he doesn’t shy away nearly as much from intimate moments with you. Especially if the two of you are alone together. 

You’re a bit more careful in public or with friends though, because the last thing you want to do is make him feel insecure about it. Still, there are playful moments where you indulge in the act of touching him or kissing him just to get him excited, just to watch him stutter his way through ordering something. 

The point is, you almost ended a relationship with someone who, arguably, makes you feel more wanted than you ever knew you could. It’s nice, and it feels good. 

Even now, this is only your second full on make-out session with him, you feel absolutely adored. It’s cute in the way he’s trying to train himself to not get hard at even the simplest of touches, it’s even cuter when his efforts fail miserably and he’s arching his body away from you as if he could even hide what he’s packing. 

You don’t push for more, despite wanting it badly. He also doesn’t push…despite also wanting it just as much as you do, if not more. He still seems to need a push of confidence to actually go any further than a nice, non-body touching makeout session. 

This is fine though, and you indulge far more than you ever knew you would when it comes to this kind of thing. As if simply licking into his mouth is foreplay enough to counter a fucking blowjob for him. 

Never in your life did you think you’d be this into the fact that your boyfriend is a virgin. And it’s not even that he’s never had sex, it’s that he seems to want it so bad, and there’s just something about a man who is desperate that gets you going these days. 

Still, kissing him is something that fulfills you, especially with the way he’s avoiding his lower half and keeping it away from you. 

He kisses you back in a telling way though, more telling than that tent in his sweatpants that you can visualize even while your eyes are closed. He radiates the arousal through the way he moves his lips against yours, and the way he lets out little suffering sounds when you kiss him harder and harder. 

His hands stay against your face, neck, and sometimes your waist, but god. His kissing is genuinely just so good with the way it tells on him every few seconds. 

And when he pulls back, he’s out of breath, flushed, and looking as if he would want nothing more than for you to hint, to lay down some sort of implication that he can cling to for relief from the heaviness that’s been in his pants since the fucking relationship started.

You wonder if tonight is the night, because he doesn’t appear to want to stop making out like he did last time. If anything, as he looks at you with those heaving breaths, you can tell he’s thinking harder than he ever has about it. 

“Chan,” You whisper out to him, just inches from his face. “Do you think of me?”

When he keeps his eyes on you, seemingly stunned by your question, you continue. 

“Do you think of me after you leave? When you’re all by yourself in your room–” You turn your head so that your eyes can trail to the space he is attempting to keep from you. “When you’re touching yourself?” 

He feels the words run straight through him, causing an utterly pathetic twitch in his pants. The way your voice comes out soft and sensual as you ask him, as you look at him. He doesn’t even remember words at this moment, not even a simple “yes”. 

He tries to answer by losing a little bit of his self control, turning your head back to him with his palm just so he can chase against your lips out of the sheer arousal, but you pull away. 

“Do you?” You continue, encouraging him to answer you. 

“So much,” He wills himself to whisper confidently, ignoring the fact that his body just forced him to rut up and against nothing, all for you to see. “Every time I leave,” He puts emphasis on his words. “Sometimes I can’t even make it home first.” 

You smile at the image of him rubbing against himself in his car, so desperate to relieve himself of what you do to him each time he comes to see you. Not even making it out of the seatbelt before releasing all over himself, all in his pants. Shaking, panting, all alone and without you. 

“Cute,” You chuckle, finally turning your head slightly and landing a pop kiss on him. “I think of you when I do it too, every time you leave.” 

He looks at you, willing his hips to stay put as he thinks about the image of you doing that in this very room, to images and thoughts of him. 

“You do?” He asks for reassurance easily.

“Mhm,” You look away from him as you sit straight up and then scoot down the bed. There, you lay yourself down against your pillows and look at him. “Come here.” 

He’s reluctant to take your hand. But even he can admit that this side by side makeout session is starting to hurt his neck, and you’re clearly asking him to get on top of you right now. 

“You don’t have to but, Chan–” You say, looking down, “I don’t want you to leave this time.” 

Well, shit, all you had to do was say that. Honestly, the way you look at him with pure acceptance is enough to push him past the wall in his head that keeps him from finally trying to take the next step. You accept him as he is now, surely you’d accept him if he…. doesn’t last, right? What about if he isn’t good at it? 

Still, he finds himself planting one hand on the other side of your head to balance himself on top of you. Still just hovering, not yet wanting or willing to, you know, put it against you. 

You smile. 

“It’s okay, I can tell you’re nervous. We don’t have to do anything else, I’m happy with just this.”

And then you both fall back into another, much more comfortable and natural feeling, makeout session. 

As much as you’d love for him to try and take control, his reluctance allows you to contain yourself. It allows you to respect him and his decision of whether or not he wants to do anything more than this. Still, this satisfies you. And if he really does stay, maybe he wouldn’t be entirely against watching you take care of your own arousal for him. Maybe he’d feel better watching even, taking notes on what you like, learning where to touch you. 

And you know, that really would have been okay but you can’t help but feel like he’s definitely wanting more. With the way his lips grow hungrier rather than more tired, with the way he’s starting to moan shamelessly into your mouth, with the way his hands are trying to travel to more intimate places on your body before stopping himself. 

You might be pushing it with the assumption, but it doesn’t hurt to try and help him, right?

When you feel his hands moving to your waist, up, up, and up until they’re just barely brushing against the underside of your breast, he pulls back again and pulls your shirt down to cover the exposed skin, all while kissing you harder.

You place your hand over his, wasting not even a second as you guide him back under your shirt, right up to where you know he wants to touch. 

And holy fuck does he. He doesn’t even pull back when you lay it against the warm and exposed flesh from under your shirt. His hand immediately starts groping. His lips immediately stutter against you in a relieved sigh from him, and all you can do is kiss him now with the same energy he seems to have in that one single hand. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, but if you need help doing it, just tell me–” You pull back to whisper, trying to take it another step further in the act of kissing against his jaw and down his neck. “I want to touch you too, but I’ll keep my hands to myself unless you tell me otherwise.”

It’s like he really forgets how to talk or give proper consent when his entire body is acting like a fucking greenlight for you right now. He feels so pathetic, on the verge of orgasm with nothing more than the soft fabric of his sweatpants to relieve him, and yet your breast in his hand, nipple hardening under his palm before he musters the courage to put it between his fingers, it’s a lot to take in, okay?

Still, he tries to say something, and he’s even more embarrassed by the way his voice sounds like it isn’t even his own. He sounds broken when the sound reaches his ears. 

“Don’t–” He starts, cutting himself off at the feeling of your lips kissing against the pulse point of his neck. 

“Hm?” You ask, pulling back and away, hoping you didn’t press too much. 

“Don’t stop.” He mutters out again, a little less embarrassed now that he feels you sigh against that same pulse point with the way his fingers fondle your nipple mindlessly. “Don’t keep your hands to yourself.”

Your brain falls into a stunned silence at his words, bringing a type of nervousness to bubble up in your own body. Is this really it? Is this when it’s going to happen? On a saturday night, against your pillows, muffled cartoons playing in the background…..past ten in the evening? 

You can’t help it as you kiss against his neck. You really can’t, with the way he opens himself up to be vulnerable with you while actively being on top of you, while playing with your breasts, while containing himself.

He seems to need you to do the pushing, but you really cannot shake the nervousness of being his first. You’re almost certain he is nervous about so many things, but still he appears to be eager to try. He’s eager to be with you, and, ultimately, to know what it feels like to be with another person that matters to him in that way. 

“Is there–” You stop, breath caught in your throat, only to fall out against his throat when he finally seems to have the confidence to make his first move. One that would seem so small to anyone else, but he– he raises a hand and holds the back of your neck, trying to press your lips and guide them to the area of his neck that he wants you to kiss. 

And you do, with blatant encouragement to him for doing that, all while trying to finish your previous thought. 

“Is there anything you want me to do for you?” You ask, kissing and now, licking against the spot on his neck that makes him shiver. 

He sighs in a shudder, craning his neck to expose more skin for you before his hand stills against your nipple and he pulls his hand from your shirt. 

“All of it?” He starts, a bit unsure of himself. “Everything?” He adds, pulling himself back from your lips and watching you fall back to your pillows. He leans his body up, relieving his legs from his weight and sitting on his heels in front of you, only slightly between your legs now. 

You can see that he has a bit more confidence with the way he’s looking at you. 

“I want to try all of it.” He continues, placing two hands on your knees, pushing your legs together and using his palms to make them sway left and right. It’s as if he’s thinking hard. “I mean, if you want to.”

You smile. 

You want nothing more than to do this with him, for him, and for yourself. 

“Yeah?” You ask for confirmation, now lifting yourself and re-positioning yourself onto your knees to mimic his own stance. 

He nods in a blatant and shy way, knowing that you can physically see how badly he wants this, and how badly he wants you to be the one to do this with him. He’s achingly hard, and he isn’t sure if he’s ever managed to get this fucking hard in his entire life.

It really is painfully arousing, with the way his pants stretch against the head when he’s sitting like this. The way the fabric offers little to no sensation but while looking at you, he feels all fucked up and warm. He tries to forget that there’s precum all over him, seeping through the pants that are presented before you, and god, the way you look right at it. 

He doesn’t shy away despite being as shy as he could possibly be right now. In fact, when your eyes trail back up to him, licking your lips before smiling, he a fucking goner. He knew he wanted you bad, but never did he know he needed you this badly. 

He’s so fucking lucky. 

“It looks… big.” You comment, leaning forward only slightly and sizing your boyfriend up. “But for your sake, I’ll try to control myself from moving too fast. I’ll go slow, okay?”

He doesn’t even nod, he’s too entranced with you in front of him, fully clothed, lifting his own shirt off of him as if he is incapable of doing it himself. Then again, he kind of is incapable at this moment. He swears his IQ must’ve dropped to a single digit by this point. 

And when that shirt comes up and over his head, you note that he doesn’t even blink. That small moment where his face was obscured as you pulled it off of him? His eyes stayed on you both before and after, only now– his hair is a total fucking mess and all you can do is feel endeared by it. 

“God, you’re so fucking attractive,” You groan in sexual frustration with an eyeroll. “I can’t believe someone hasn’t jumped your bones yet.”

Now he breaks eye contact at the praise, glancing away from you and trying his hardest not to smile like an idiot at those words. 

“To be fair, I’ve fucked up my fair share of relationships being embarrassed.” He laughs. “Kinda glad I did though.”

You land your eyes back on him, staring blankly at his naked chest and trying your damnedest not to look at him like he’s some piece of meat. But goddamn, the body of this man. 

“Come here, switch places with me.” You smile, reaching forward and trying not to think too hard about the way his arms flex when you grip them to move him. “Here, lay back.” 

And within seconds, you’re between his legs and looking down at his half-lidded, arousal driven eyes. 

“Fuck, really?” You groan again, glancing away. “It’s really taking everything in me, Chan, it really is.”

His heart is doing flips as he stares up at you. He feels doted on, adored, attractive. So he encourages more of those annoyed praises from you. 

“Taking everything in you to…?” 

You chuckle, because the audacity of this drunk and in love fool. 

“Do you have any idea how badly I’ve wanted to be in this exact position?” You smile, reaching down to run your fingers down his chest and straight to that happy trail that he so readily hid from you. “It’s taking everything in me to slow down–”

“Then don’t.” He says proudly, albeit still a bit shy at your words. 

You can see how red his ears are, only partially hidden by that head of messy ass hair. His stupid pretty eyes and gentle smile are directed straight at you without any type of reluctance. 

“There’s my confident boyfriend.” You chuckle, toying with the hair beneath his belly button and trying to not comment on the way his body jumps a bit at the feeling. “Was wondering where he went after he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

And he remains silent after that, watching the way you take the reins and lean down to kiss against that same spot of his neck. Warm breath fanning over the skin before attaching yourself there. 

Surely you can feel the way his hips react, humping up at each flutter of your lips. If you couldn’t, he knows for a fact that you’ll be able to now. With the way you trail down, across his own sensitive nipples, and then down, down, down. 

He glances down at you at the same time when you glance up at him and right then and there he thinks he melts. He’s never seen a woman look at him from this angle, and it’s only a little bit detrimental to his heavy and pathetic cock. The twitching never stops, he feels so fucking sticky in his pants and it really just doesn’t stop. Continuous leaking, and he really had no idea that there could even be this much pre-cum. 

Then, he’s pulled out of his thoughts with….a tickle?

“Oh?” You smile, leaning down to repeat that lick up his happy trail before landing a kiss straight on his belly button. 

His body jumps again, and he lets out a moaned chucked unintentionally. 

“Oh.” You smile wider, gripping both of his hips with your hands and holding him down in a playful way. Repeating the act once again. 

Your suspicions are confirmed with a third jump of his body, and another chuckled, frustrated moan. 

“So, he’s ticklish too?” You say with another kiss against his belly button before fluttering your fingers at the side of his hips. 

His entire body goes rigid before melting against the bed in an attempt to not react to the way you take advantage of a hidden weakness he had. God, he should have known that…like, sex stuff could be ticklish. 

“No– I’m not.” He lies, jolting again when you continue to test the resilience he thinks he has against your lips and fingers. “Hey–!”

And, well, you would’ve stopped if it weren’t for the fact that his hips raise with each tickled sensation, and you can genuinely feel how damp and heavy he is in his pants. It’s entirely arousing in the way its weight is obvious through his attempts to wiggle from your ticklish touches. 

“Alright,” You finally relent, landing one final kiss to his belly before licking down that same line of hair he offers his body. “Chan, I want to–”

His hips immediately raise to your words, the wetness from your tongue feels like ice against his skin when the air hits it and at this point, he thinks he knows what you’re suggesting. 

“Please–” He nearly cries out in a stutter. “Touch it.”

You smile as you nuzzle your nose against his abdomen before giving him a short nod that you know he doesn’t see. Considering, well, he just threw his arm over his face and keeps his hips tensed, and his ass only slightly lifted off of the bed. 

Desperate. Willing. 

You prepare yourself for seeing it for the first time by not seeing it at all just yet. Instead, you kiss down until your lips are met with warm, damp fabric. Immediately you can feel his length twitch under your lips when you reach it, and all you can manage to do is flatten your tongue out and against it to feel it pulse again. 

And again, until that same arm thrown over his face reaches down in a desperate attempt to take the pants off for you. He’s the one losing his self control now, no embarrassment or nervousness in sight from him, and it’s so fucking attractive to see him do it.

His shaking fingers fumbling with the waistband, shoving the pants down just an inch or so more to reveal more of that trimmed hair.

You don’t comment on the way he’s acting out of fear that it’ll make him feel shamed or even mocked, despite you truly believing it might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen a man do in front of you. 

Instead, you help him. Sinking your own fingers beneath his pants and tugging them down all in one go before allowing your eyes to land on it. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” He moans out, the air alone offering an overwhelming amount of sensation due to the temperature change he now feels between his legs. 

You finally look at it, so dark in color. As if all of the blood in his body resides only here. You gently move your hand just over it, feeling the heat radiate from him, seeing the precum continuously dribble from the head, and then, finally– 

“You’re so….” You trail off, in awe of the way his body just….keeps reacting. So much pre-cum. “Hard.” 

He releases a broken little sound at the feeling of your fingers finally touch him, and it feels insanely different from when he touches it himself. As if he’s not in control of his pleasure, and it’s all just you. You are the one who feels good against him. 

You’re shocked briefly when his hand makes it’s way back down to yours, grabbing it and essentially trying to get you to stimulate him more. He puts so much pressure against your hand, sandwiching it between his own palm and stiffened cock. 

You’re tuly in awe. This man has essentially edged himself to a world record, surely. 

“Slow down,” You try to soothe him, moving your hand against him and watching him retract his hand. “Relax, It must feel good, right?”

That little sob he lets out shows you his frustration. So needy, so ready. And even with you moving your fingers to circle his pulsing length, his hips continuously fuck up, not allowing him to have even a moment without a forceful amount of stimulation. 

“So good,” He moans, entire brain focused on what your hand is doing and unable to open his eyes. “I want it so bad.”

You don’t think he hears you chuckle and you’re thankful he doesn’t. You can imagine he would genuinely be embarrassed to know you’re witnessing his pure blissed-out and aroused-state of mind right now. 

And it’s not shocking that he’s entirely focused on himself at this moment, because he’s the one experiencing this for the first time. Even if you find it hard to believe that another woman has never touched his dick, you’re entirely flattered that it very well may be the case and that he wanted you to be the one to make him feel this good. 

“I’ll give it to you, just relax. I’m not going to stop.” You reassure his needy movements, and the way his body squirms at the slightest of touches. “What feels good?”

God, he’s so frustrated. 

“All of it.” He groans shortly, trying to take in a deep breath and just relax like you asked him too. 

You nod to his closed eyes and slacked mouth, fighting against his hips to be the one to pleasure him rather than himself and only when you blow a gentle breath against the head of his cock do his hips still and he shoots his hands up to your pillows, gripping them as if he’s preparing for something. 

You watch intently at the way he’s actively fighting to move now, waiting impatiently for you to do something now. Licking his lips, chewing on his bottom lip– god, he’s so pretty up there. 

Then, you grant him a new sensation. Only because by this point you’re the one who is about to lose control. 

You stick out your tongue and lick all the way from his balls to the head of his cock, making sure to keep pressure against it so that you can taste all of the arousal he’s spilled up until now. And while you were going to pull back to examine his reaction, this is the part where you release your self control.

The taste alone was enough to have you moaning, vibrating your voice against the vein of his length and then circling your lips around the head. 

Instantly, you suck at the feeling of pre-cum still pouring out of him. This time, there seems to be more. Coating your tongue with an almost sweetened salty taste. 

You feel briefly the way his hips chase the new warmth, clearly wanting to tuck itself into your mouth and quite possibly, down your throat, but you pull back and blow once again against the head. 

His entire body shivers as you glance up at him. 

You can barely comprehend just how into you he looks right now before rolling your own eyes in arousal at the image before immediately giving him everything your mouth has to offer.

Who cares if he comes too fast? Fucking look at him. You’d be stupid not to suck the absolute life out of him! That’s your boyfriend up there, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes sparkling through hooded lids, chest heaving–

And god, you almost wish he wasn’t as big as he is because it’s difficult to keep your eyes open when you take it in. You have to focus on sliding it through your lips, against your tongue, and right up to the back of your throat where the head of his cock bumps.

He can feel the way your fingers grip his legs through it, and by this point he has gone entirely non-verbal at the feeling. 

The only sound he can make comes from deep within his chest, and he can only release those sounds with heaved out and rigid breaths. His heart is pumping faster and faster the deeper you managed to take him, and–

“Ah! W-wait!” He panics, sitting straight up and becoming fucking floored at the way you stay on him. Moving your hands to his stomach and trying to shove him back. “Fuck,” He seethes as he takes in a sharp inhale, legs shaking as he flops back against the pillows. “Fuck, i’m sorry.” He continues to murmur, feeling himself hit the wall of orgasm and practically pulverize it. 

And you, oh, you. You taste it. You feel the twitching and the way his muscles stiffen under your fingers. You can hear him muttering apologies as it spills into your mouth, down your throat, and even out of the corners of your lips. 

You try to take all of it, up until you can’t fucking breathe, and only then do you pull up and replace your mouth with your hand, watching in awe at the way he just……

It doesn’t fucking stop. 

He went from rigid to stammering his words, to now blatantly and full-on moaning through both the pleasure and frustration of losing the warmth of your mouth. 

“God, Chan….” You whisper in a raspy voice, slowing your hands and intentionally pumping it out of him by now. 

“I’m sorry–” He stammers, body still shaking as you pull the rest of it out of him. “I tried to,” He winces with another unintentional moan. “I didn’t think it would feel that good.”

You smile both proudly and fondly, watching him stumble through his words and whatever excuse he tries to come up with. 

“I don’t think you know how hot you look right now.” You finally say, in a more stern voice. “You couldn’t have stopped me if you wanted to.” 

Only now, when he’s absolutely drenched himself in his release does he open his eyes in a drowsy way. He looks at you and that little smile on your lips and decides that, yeah, he can believe you. He trusts you, and he’s entirely obsessed with you. 

“But we still haven’t–”

You cut him off quickly.

“We have all night. All day tomorrow. All week, month, year. I don’t care.” You dead-pan, reaching for his, somehow, still hard length. “Chan.” You add, gripping it and testing the actual hardness of it. “You’re still hard, which is fucking amazing by the way, and you have no idea how wet I am right now.”

Oh, my god. He forgot. 

“You– you’re turned on?” He asks, looking away from you. 

“So fucking turned on.” You confirm for him, now releasing his length to give him a bit of a rest, considering he must not realize he’s still shaking. “Look, feel.” 

You say it as you crawl up and on top of him, seating yourself right up against his abdomen and grabbing his hand. 

He just stares, watching you guide his hand straight to the seat of your shorts. 

“Oh.” He sighs out. 

“Even through my shorts. See? Feel it.” You continue to move his hand against you, trying not to rut your own hips up much like he was doing before. 

Brain malfunction. He doesn’t even have a fucking IQ at this point as his cock immediately reacts in all of it’s sensitive, pathetic glory. 

“Do you want me to, um,” He swallows around a breath he didn’t know he needed. “touch you? Can I try?”

You sigh, relieved that he’s willing and immediately push yourself off of him and take care of all of the busy-work as quickly as possible. ie: taking off your clothes.

Unfortunately, you somehow briefly forgot that the man is still a fucking virgin. You can very nearly see his mouth fall open at your nude body being revealed to him. Even more so, you can see the dribble of saliva that he doesn’t quite catch fast enough, and his cock reacts. 

“You’re so cute, god.” You praise with the same compliment you’ve been giving him all night. 

And when you seat yourself next to him, hugging one of his arms and tucking it between your legs before closing your thighs around it, you smile at him and the way he literally cannot stop staring with his mouth agape. 

“Babe, you’re drooling.” You chuckle, shifting your hips a bit to rub yourself against his knuckles, where you’re still hugging his arm. 

Only then does he slurp up his embarrassment and try to remain calm. His fogged brain comes back to him quickly upon your comments as he wills himself to sit up beside you. 

He gets to….touch you. 

And boy does he. 

Eagerly, messily, and quite frankly, kind of embarrassingly. 

You make it easier for him though, laughing as you flop back and spread your legs for him. He’s quick to simply…explore. He’s not aiming for any singular area of your pussy because to be quite honest, he’s still struggling to stop staring at the entirety of you. 

You watch his eyes, the way they stare at your tits, then your thighs, your pussy being petted by his fingertips, and then– eye contact. 

He seems so sure of himself despite still managing to barely touch the clit. It doesn’t bother you one bit, because his eager fingers still find ways to touch you beautifully. There’s so much intent behind the messy movements. 

Slipping and sliding two fingers between your lips, up your folds, and then stopping just short of your clit before sliding back down and feeling where his cock would go if he manages to make it this far. 

I mean, surely he will, right? He’s losing his virginity as he does this right now, even. Foreplay still counts, right? 

And then, after several minutes of him exploring, learning, and practically teasing you half to death, you reach down to guide him. 

“Right here,” You soothe out in a soft voice, pressing his fingers against your clit and seeing him take note of it. “And here.” You trail his fingers down until they reach your clenched hole, and you very slightly press against his fingers so that the tips just barely enter you. 

He tilts his head at you, concentrating on where you lead him before releasing his hand and essentially leaving him to his own devices now. 

And you know, he did tell you he was a quick learner, because almost immediately he’s experimenting with putting a finger into you, and using his other hand to find a rhythm to rub against your clit. 

The whole time, he checks for your reaction, noting when your breathing hitches and when your body tenses. He continues, trying to only do things that make your body react and soon, you’re already turning to mush beneath him.

His fingers circle and tap your clit at a quick pace, with the other twisted inside of you. When he slides his finger out, and then back in, he rubs your clit harder, and god, yeah. Okay. You see his effort, and it’s such a good fucking effort too.

“Feels good,” You finally moan out for him, allowing yourself to give in to the pure arousal of the entire situation taking place. Thinking hard about what it would feel like to have such a desperate cock inside of you. “Use two fingers?” 

He listens instantly, moaning along with you when he slides the other in with the next thrust. His fingers against your clit trail down shortly after, curiosity getting the best of him when he spreads your lips open to see you stretch around his fingers. 

“It’s so warm–” He comments more to himself than to you, watching the way you pulse around him, watching the way your slick seeps out of you. It’s so hot for him to see it up close like this, and his pace slows at the image before him. “Can you take more than two?”

You lift your head in amazement at how he could ask such a thing. 

“Chan.” You smile at the way he jumps in surprise at your sudden, louder voice. Fingers nearly slipping out of you. “I can take way more than just two fingers.” You glance down between his legs. “Way, way more.”

He glances down to what you’re looking at before letting out an embarrassed sob.

“You’re really going to let me?” He nearly whines in excitement. 

You nod, reaching for him and pulling him to you by his shoulders. You land a kiss against his lips, trying not to shake at the way his fingers angle different inside of you as he moves to chase your lips.

“Mhm,” You soothe against his lips, intentionally scooting your hips down to your best ability to sink his fingers into you more. “Move your fingers– it feels good like this.”

He listens, feeling you throw your arms around his neck and cling to him through it, all while moaning and groaning right up against his lips. You’re not even kissing him, you’re just….acting like this and it’s fucking great.

He thought he would be the only one to be desperate in this situation, yet here you are, clinging to him as he works his fingers in you. 

“When?” He finally asks upon noting the way you start to move your hips against his fingers. 

You peek your eyes open and pull back to look at him. 

“Now? Do you want to do it now?” 

He nods, slipping his fingers out of you and inspecting how wet they’ve become. 

“Can I?” 

You finally fall back, leaning against your elbows and spreading your legs wide in front of him. Lending him a nod, you watch the way he just freezes after the fact. 

All you can do is laugh at this moment with the way he loses any ability to remember how sex works. 

Then again, you wonder if he ever even watched porn, considering how he’s acting and couldn’t manage to find the clit. 

“Do you want me to be on top?” You question, blinking up at him and his blank expression.

He shakes his head at you, still frozen in his spot before his eyes slowly make their way down to the glistening sheen against your pussy. 

“Don’t we like, need a condom or something? I can’t promise I’ll be able to pull out.” He asks, finally glancing away. “I don’t know if I can last as long as you want me to….”

And with that, all you do is lunge forward, grab your boyfriend by the cock, and pull him to you. 

He laughs, you laugh, and then it’s silent when he leans over you, feeling his length lay against your core, already feeling spent but so, so ready to give himself to you. 

“I’m on birth control. You don’t need to pull out.” You smile evilly, wiggling your hips and watching the way he closes his eyes tightly as if to regain his composure of those words. 

“I’m seriously in love with you.” He mutters, pushing his hips forward and letting his length slide through the mess he made of you. 

You smile, feeling that by this point, your face may actually be stuck like this permanently, and lift your head to kiss against his lips once more. 

“You’re ready?” You ask quietly, against his lips. “I can help you adjust to where it needs to be. After that, I want you to do what feels best for you, okay?”

He nods timidly, taking in a deep and nervous breath before feeling your hand guide his length to the opening. 

“Go on, slide in it.” You encourage him. 

And he does. 

Slowly at first, gently, until he feels your wet hot walls envelop the head of his cock in full, clenching, pulling him in. 

His arms shake from either side of your head as he balances himself there, and it doesn’t take long for him to drop his head against your shoulder in deeper breaths than he was taking before.

The sensation is so much, it’s no wonder people like to have sex. It’s so good, you feel so, so good around him. He can’t help it when he slides in deeper, not stopping until he’s releasing a wet moan against your shoulder and holding onto you as if his life depends on it. 

He thought that once he got it all the way in, it would get easier. But it doesn’t. Even as the two of you are unmoving, with your hands in his hair and soothing him through it, you still clench him. Your pussy still stimulates it without either of you doing a damn thing.

You on the other hand, won’t admit to struggling through that one, long and languid thrust inside of you. It felt as if he was splitting you open despite how wet you already were, and still are. The heaviness, the consistent twitching, all of it stretches you out more than you even knew you’d need and god, it feels so good to have him just hold onto you like, to have him adjust to the feeling. 

He’s no longer a virgin, and that’s not even what matters right now. 

What matters is the way he continuously nuzzles his nose against you, snaking his head to your neck and moaning consistently against your ear when he manages to finally move. 

He pulls out only a little bit before his hips stutter at the sensitivity, then he pushes back in. 

In and out, in and out, until–

“Fuck.” He moans, lifting suddenly from your neck, sitting up, staring directly  at where his cock sits inside of you, and he just… lets go.

Knuckles white against the grip of your waist, he powers through the sensitivity, he fucks through it. Fast, with no real rhythm or ability to realize just how deep he’s pushing himself into you, and then….

He’s done for. 

“That’s it,” You encourage him through half moans at the feeling, your swollen clit begging for a little bit of attention too. “Shit, Chan, that’s it.” You continue, losing yourself in his reaction to you. 

He only moves faster, his hips only stutter more, and thank fuck he already came once because he wouldn’t have made it a solid inch into you before coming undone if he hadn’t. Now though? He’s pleasantly surprised to be lasting even this long. 

Until he’s not, of course. 

And there, between your legs, he presses in as far as he can reach and loses his breath. 

Eyes rolling back, eyebrows furrowing, mouth agape, a deep moan rumbles from his chest as his shiver flows through his body at the first release inside of you.

You immediately shoot your hands to your clit, feeling it pump inside of you much like it did in your mouth. Already so much, you feel entirely full, and entirely ready if he can manage to keep coming for as long as he did before. 

You fingers assault the swollen nub so fast, working yourself up much like you would during a quick session of masturbation, not wanting him to miss out on what it feels like to have a girl come on him– 

It hits you faster than you can realize. 

Even when he buckles and falls back to your chest out of breath, you can’t even tell him that it’s happening. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t move just yet. Well, until he feels your pussy clench him tigher than before. In a rhythmic way, almost. 

Only barely can he lift his head to watch you, and that’s when he notes that you’re holding your breath. 

You pussy is pulsing, and then–

“Are you?” He questions, experimenting with the idea of trying to thrust into you as he asks. 

There’s the breath you’d been holding. 

“Yes!” You call out, both to answer his question and to appreciate that little thrust he gave you.

Even if his cock is slowly becoming flaccid, you’re still full, and he can still feel the orgasm wash over you. 

He’s silent through it, wincing at his hyper-sensitive cock and very nearly cursing it out for not having waited just a minute longer to release– then, you’re hugging him. 

Tightly. So tightly, you’re holding onto him and breathing into his hair. He can barely breathe himself with this hold you have on him. Still, he doesn’t fight it, he simply lets you. 

Letting you cling, letting the last jolting pulses of your core push the rest of him out of you. There, he manages to lift from your weakening grasp and throw himself beside you. 

Out of breath, sweating, a total mess, he looks at you like he truly will never be able to love another person the way he does right now. 

And it falls silent for a long while before you roll over, throwing both an arm and leg over him. 

“Man,” You sigh out. “How does it feel?” You ask this time, opening your eyes to playfully look at him.

“Huh? What?” He asks, quirking a brow. 

“You know, now that you’re not a virgin anymore. How does it feel?” 

He thinks hard for like two seconds before taking in a deep breath and smothering himself against the top of your head. 

“Like I’m in love with you, maybe.”

And you know, given that this relationship is barely even considered one in the eyes of most people. You don’t think you care. 

“Because I made you feel good, or because you want to let me make you feel good for like…” You pause, lifting your head to look him in the eye. “the rest of your life?”

He doesn’t even have to think twice. 

“The second reason.” 

“You’re such a simp, Chan, really.” You joke, skewing your head fondly to look at him. “But I think it’s worth a shot.”

~

Chapter two: LOSER. [wonwoo] ― coming soon!

series m.list

Away From You; 01 | [myg]

Please let me know if you want this to become series or just one shot. I really hope you’ll like it because I really like this one!

warnings: mature content

words count: 8.5k

chapters:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 06 | 07 | 08

masterlist

Love. Something that makes us either the happiest or the saddest person. Someone once said ‘Being in love is the greatest feeling in the world’.

Ever since you were a teenager, you’ve always dreamed about finding that Mr. Right. The one who would do anything for you and you would do the same. And you never expected to find that someone so soon.

Min Yoongi.

Keep reading

how long can you stand the heat || ot7

Warnings: Uhhh, none I think? Non-graphical smut and slight angst, but that's pretty much it for now since I'm still crafting the next part, and some curse words lmao.

I won't control you, but MDNI. This is not for you, please.

Pairings: OT7/(F) Reader, Jackson Wang/(F) Reader

Plot: The one where your soulmates don't want you in their life, so you give them what they want and stay out of their way.

Genre: not really unrequited love (but they're all idiots), mutual pining, angst, denial of feelings, poly ot7

How do you think I'm going to get along

Without you when you're gone?

You took me for everything that I had

And kicked me out on my own.

Are you happy? Are you satisfied?

How long can you stand the heat?

Out of the doorway the bullets rip

To the sound of the beat.

I originally posted this on ao3 last April but I've just recently thought, "why not post this on tumblr now that i'm using it again after a few years?"

this fic is v self-serving, and was brought to you by my ✨maladaptive daydreams✨

first fic i posted here. idek what im doing but lezzgawwww

Title obviously came from AOBTD. Thank you, Sir John Deacon. You are heaven-sent for making this iconic and legendary bop.

This will be a part of a multi-fic series and i've already crafted 80/90-ish% of the next part im so sorry my mind isn't cooperating rn

✨️

God must be testing your patience.

I mean sure, you might not also be sure that there is indeed a god out there somewhere. However, you must have pissed off some deity or you had pissed on some old man of the mound. Either way, you don't care. You're pissed off now, too.

You see when they rejected you and asked (read: avoided you like the plague until Sejin spoke with you) not to speak or interact with them, you respected their wishes. It stung, but it's not really surprising.

It's not a secret that the seven of them are soulmates, polyamorous soulbonds not even a rarity in and out of the industry. However, it's also not a secret that they're very exclusive and don't let too many (if any) other people in their circle because of the things they had to endure as a group. It makes sense that they wouldn't want a new person intruding and messing with their dynamics, soulmate or not.

(deep down you want to say it doesn't make sense. you're their soulmate, why can't they accept you like that? but there's still nothing you can do, isn't there?)

And so, you delegated all your tasks related to their group to your most trusted employees completely and avoided them at all costs. And by 'at all costs', you mean everything. You even deleted all their songs on your playlists and blocked them on social media (even on Spotify). You can co-exist with them without interacting, although it makes your chest ache through the bond because of the soul rejection like a 24/7 acid relapse.

It's fine. You can ignore all that. You can handle rejection. You've been used to this since you were a kid; adult you can handle this.

Soul rejection side effects? Nothing meds and doctors can't fix. Technology has never been more advanced and all that jazz.

You're a mature person, and you pride yourself on that. You don't like confrontations that much and would rather step back as much as you can to disengage. If your soulmates don't want anything to do with you, then you'll back off.

But you sometimes wonder if they can feel it too, the soul strings fraying and slowly decaying. After shit went down, it's bouts of nausea and dizziness, and constant chest aches for you. That's not even half of it. It'll take a whole day for you to list all your symptoms.

If they do feel it, does it add to their list of reasons why they hate your existence? You mean, they had been borderline antagonistic since your first meeting, cold but civil at best.

It was a contrast to the way the tiny soul marks on each of your fingers glowed on your first meeting even until after Taehyung and Yoongi fled in what you can guess is disbelief and refusal, the others following suit. The warmth in your hands felt scorching, and you had never wanted to scrub them with water in your life then more than you ever did, your chest beating hard and painfully. You remember feeling like someone slashed your insides with a hot knife, and it has never stopped being in pain ever since.

What else were you supposed to think other than they hate you?

Not wanting to risk another embarrassing conversation with Sejin (bless his heart), you decided to book an appointment and signed up for the relatively new soul-scraping therapy. It's still in its human trial stages and is slowly being recognized as a way of severing soul ties, albeit not approved and sanctioned by the government. Anything to give and honor their wishes. They're your soulmates, and it's innate in you to give people what they want.

(or was it really just that?)

All of that and everything else, you can take. You live and abide by your life motto to stay out of drama, so you take all of it in stride and with dignity because it's all you have left at this point when it comes to them.

This is where you got pissed off, though. This day takes the cake, this sodding party.

Attending the party was certainly not your idea. You're tired from the long-ass meetings you had today—JYP's team asked for a meeting for your agreement with Day6 since Sungjin got discharged a few months ago with Younghyun following suit in a few days. A party is definitely not on your to-do list. If it's up to you, you'll be going home to your phone and fics.

(and if they're bangtan fics, nobody has to know. this, you can let yourself have—you were advised against going cold turkey from them by the doctors handling the soul-scraping therapy, after all. if you can't have them, maybe you can at least indulge in fictional them.)

You have been minding your own business since you arrived at the bar. It's laughable how socially inept you are despite handling your business and meeting the entertainment industry's biggest names and leaders regularly. When being put in parties and other gigs that force you to socialize just for the sake of socializing, you're back to being the fat loser kid that avoided making new friends because the ones you previously had in childhood (if you can really call them that) can't understand how your brain and mouth work. Frankly, you don't, too, so you just preferred to stay in one corner until it's socially acceptable to go home.

"Hey." Jackson squeezes your hand in his and smiles worriedly at you. "You doing okay?"

Jackson had been a long-time friend and is someone you trust your whole life with. Jackson had seen you through your bests and worsts, but had never once turned his back on you or betrayed you as many people did.

Yeah, you would trust him with your whole life. Your panties too, but don't tell him that.

(there's no need to because he knows; he did lots of times before, with his face between your thighs and your undies in his pocket.)

"I'm good." You don't even bother smiling, knowing it won't convince him too much. He knows your stand on parties; you're his polar opposite, after all. "I just really wanna go home."

"Can I come with?" he asks with a salacious smile.

You roll your eyes.

"Stop being horny for five minutes, please."

"You shouldn't have worn that dress, then." He rakes you with an assessing look. "On second thought, that's the best decision you did tonight so far. If you're not going home with anyone tonight, my room's open."

"You up to be my wingman?" you ask.

"Sure. I'll sit with you all night so we can look like a swinger couple scouting for a third we can take home." He waggles his eyebrows.

You snort at that with an amused chuckle, oblivious to the glare(s) directed your way by—who else?—your soulmates.

They (Taehyung) heard from Manager Sejin and Noona Ae-cha that you're not sure if you can come. They didn't know why the two were talking about you, but Taehyung tried to act immersed in his phone while eavesdropping.

Apparently, you had been stuck in the boardroom almost all day with the back-to-back meetings, and you even had to cancel your doctor's appointment. For what the appointment is for, he didn't know. It explains your absence that day, and he files the information away at the back of his head. He can't for the life of him understand why he can't stop trying to spot crumbs about you.

(he does know, but he's in denial about why—and he'll deny both.)

He then told his hyungs and Jungkook, which they just nodded at, seemingly uninterested. But if Namjoon's faraway serious look at times is anything to go by or the way Jimin picks at the skin on his lips as he's lost in thought, he's pretty sure they are also subtly trying to figure out if you're coming.

(but they'll all deny that if asked.)

They haven't seen you that much since they started actively avoiding you months ago and shut down whatever soul link you have with them, and you are damn good at trying to stay out of their way.

It surprised them, they're not gonna lie. They expected you to put up a fight, but all Manager Sejin told them was that you agreed. You never interacted with them ever since unless it was really needed, and you were always wearing your rings and not making unnecessary eye contact even once.

(and that somehow pisses them off and itches under their skin because how dare you not be interested?)

And now you've been here for the past hour or so, Jackson Wang in tow. Or rather, Jackson has his arms alternately snaked around yours or slung around your shoulders. It makes Jackson look like a frat douchebag.

(and it makes taehyung look jealous and interested in you which he is so not, no.)

Hoseok was the first one to spot you arriving, Another One Bites The Dust thumping through the dancefloor that was bathed in red lights. He nudges Namjoon from his seat in their secluded and swanky VIP room that was separated one floor above the bar proper.

"There she is", he says then, gesturing towards you as all seven pairs of eyes land on you as you enter with Jackson. "She's with Wang."

With varying levels of internal turmoil, they all watch as Jackson led you through the throngs of people, presumably to another room like theirs. They see you shake your head and point to the bar, and Jackson's face light up with a wide smile before redirecting your steps.

Yoongi asks himself why you have to wear that dress or why Jackson has to clutch at your hands like a little kid, the others having a similar train of thought. Does Jackson think he's going to be lost in this bar? Is he that plain stupid to be lost in this bar, really?

And why are you letting him?

Jimin tries not to let his eyes wander on your legs, tries not to let his mind wander back to the thought of being choked by your thick supple legs and ripping that off-shoulder dress off you and—

Oh. Woah, there.

Stop it! he thinks to himself and shakes his head.

(this is not the first time he's thought of this, darling. when he first saw those smooth and lovely-looking plump thighs, he knows he was fucked.)

Jin is no better, but he hides it better than the others. After all, it was not his idea to shut you out like that. He was opposed to it and tried to talk some sense into the others, but they didn't listen. He thought back then that Namjoon would at least be reasonable and give you a shot but nooo, the kid was stupid enough to listen to others.

Let them have what they want, then.

(he can feel the pit and longing in his chest some nights and thinks that maybe he can let the others do what they want but still do what he wants too. but he takes a look at the six men who had been there for him through thick and thin, and he can't lose them. he sends you an apology mentally, hoping you can at least feel it through the bond.)

"Calm down," Jin tells them levelly, trying to pry the glass off Namjoon's hand, lest he crushes it and injures himself. "You're crushing the poor thing, Joonie. Don't wanna end up in the ER, do you?"

Jackson's the one to end up in the ER if he doesn't unwrap his arms from your shoulders, that's who, Namjoon thinks to himself bitterly before he can stop himself.

Jin leans back on his seat and watches as you laugh with Jackson, arms slung around your shoulders as the latter listens to you talk. They all wouldn't have to seethe in barely contained anger if they just listened to him though, so who's at fault here?

Aish, these brats.

"I'm going to get more drinks," Jungkook suddenly says, disentangling himself from Taehyung fluidly.

"You can just ask them," Namjoon says, pointing towards the glass doors where their security detail is posed out of the room. "There's no need to go out."

"I'm going to get more drinks," Jungkook repeats firmly, ignoring him. Namjoon's jaw clenches. "Come help me, Jin-hyung?"

Ah, this conniving brat. Jin wants to kiss his pouty lips for this.

"Sure," Jin says easily, much to Namjoon's annoyance. He pats Namjoon's cheeks gently. "No breaking the glass, Joon-ah. We have a photoshoot tomorrow."

He pulls Jungkook out of the room before any of them can disagree further. He loops his arm around Jungkook's petite waist, nodding once to the man stationed at the door.

"You're not just getting drinks at you, aren't you?" Jin asks as they descend the steps.

"I don't know what you're talking about, hyung." Jungkook's smile is sharp. "I just don't wanna get roofied and end up on the tabloids tomorrow, is all."

"You don't have to lie to me," Jin says, kissing his hair. "I wanna see her, too."

Jungkook's smile turns sad at that.

"I just don't understand. [Name]-noona seems like a nice person. They're all being stupid."

Jin has to agree. "But you know why we have to, right? I don't like it, too, but we have no choice."

"But we do!" Jungkook insists. "We can be friends, even."

"Friends don't fuck friends." Jungkook snorts at that. "There's nothing 'friends' about wanting her with us, Jungkook."

"Friends don't fuck friends, my ass," Jungkook mumble mockingly. "That didn't stop Jackson-hyung at all."

Jin stops momentarily, pulling Jungkook to a stop. "Excuse me?"

"They were having sex last week, hyung. When Jackson-hyung came over last Wednesday."

"Was that why...?"

"Yeah." Jungkook takes his hand as they walk again. "I felt it through the strings, too."

Jungkook is suspiciously not meeting his eyes.

"Jungkook-ah."

"What?" he asks innocently. Jin's lips pull into a smirk.

"You naughty cat!"

"I—what? No!" but Jungkook is still not meeting his eyes. "I didn't watch them."

Jin gasps delightedly.

"This is so much better. I didn't even say anything yet!"

Ah, fuck.

In Jungkook's defense, he hadn't meant to listen in. But he had been on his way back to the practice room from relieving his screaming bladder when he heard it. The warmth and arousal that was definitely not his he had been ignoring since that lunchtime was not helping his curiosity.

"Ah!" And oh shit, it's someone moaning and it's you.

That explains the arousal he's been feeling. Oh, and the jealousy now (his), too.

"Yeah?" A deeper voice asked breathlessly. Another punched-out moan from you, and the arousal flares in his chest.

Yup. It's definitely his this time.

"Jackson, please," your equally breathless voice pleaded, and the sound shot to his cock. Jungkook had to stop his hand from going south inside his pants and boxers.

A delighted shriek and breathless laugh, followed by a staccato of 'ah ah ah's and hips slapping against each other punctuated the otherwise silent afternoon he was having.

And what would a self-respecting man do?

Stay and listen to you get railed six ways to Sunday, was what he did.

(jungkook didn't say he's a self-respecting man.)

Jungkook slipped his hand inside his pants and boxers and wrapped his hand around his aching cock. He almost moaned at how your moans quickly reached a whole other level of desperation. He wondered and tried to imagine how you would feel around him if he fucked you harder and deeper than Jackson possibly can.

He knows he can.

"Hands, Jackson." There was a chuckle, then your whine was heard. "Baobei, please."

Jungkook heard Jackson's sharp intake of breath, and he had to internally agree. Even speaking Mandarin, you sound so hot.

He heard you mewl with a choked giggle as the sounds of hips to hips got faster.

"You really like my hands, huh?" Jackson asked.

"Mhm. Want them wrapped around my—ah!—neck all the time."

Fuck.

Jungkook had to bite onto his hands as he came, so as not to give his position away, cock spurting on his hands,. Seconds later and he heard you cry out and Jackson grunt to completion.

So, no. He definitely didn't watch.

"You nasty, nasty boy!" Jin cackles at him and he wants to pout. "You listened in to them having sex?!"

"Hyung!" Jungkook hisses. "Not too loud."

Jin snickers at him, mouth pulled in a tempting smirk he wants to kiss. "Was it good?"

"Hyung," he whines. At Jin's unfaltering smirk, he sighs. "It was. She sounds so good, hyung. I can't take it off my mind."

"Maybe later, we can do something about that." Jin says with a low hum.

He peers at Jin's eyes and almost shudders at the dark and hungry look in them. Jin squeezes his waist, and it takes Jungkook's breath away.

In his silence, Jin nods with a hum.

"Hm, definitely later."

He won't say no to that. If they can't have you, Jungkook's gonna take what he can get, even if it means settling on replaying your moans in his head.

When they reach the bar, you are still sitting at the other end with Jackson. They are careful not to be seen by you or you'll probably leave like you always do when they get within your 10-foot vicinity.

Then Jackson puts his hand on your slightly exposed leg. He feels the others' jealousy through the bond first before he feels his own, and he sees you stiffen in your seat.

Hyungs!

Jungkook quickly looks away, but not before Jackson catches his gaze. He completely misses the way Jackson's mouth pulls into a quick smirk as their drinks are thankfully served at that exact moment.

"Wanna head back to your place?"

You're unexpectedly suddenly close, and it's like Jackson wants him and Jin to hear to rile them up. It works, and he can barely tamp down the urge to pour the drinks over Jackson's big head, being older be damned.

"Sure. I'll just swing by the restroom." You say as you walk away. Jin and Jungkook take that as their cue to go back to their ritzy room.

"That was short," Jin says tightly as they go back. "Was it you?"

Jungkook shakes his head.

Jin's lips quirk into an amused smile.

"Ah, jealous bastards."

"Weren't you too, though?" Jungkook asks with a slightly amused smile of his own. "That was... that was intense."

"That serves them," Jin says as they near the room. "If they weren't just pigheaded, it's my shoulders her legs are gonna be hanging from later."

"Jin-hyung!" Jungkoo huffs, but then deflates. "Yeah."

"Don't worry, we still have later," Jin says with a lascivious smirk.

And he can't complain about that, can he?

"Where's Tae-hyung?" he asks when they enter the room, Taehyung nowhere in sight.

"Went out. Didn't say where." Hoseok says as he accepts their drinks and puts the tray on the table. It takes a few seconds for him to piece it all together, and he mentally facepalms.

"Whatever happened to 'not giving a fuck' about [Name]?" he mumbles.

"Jungkook," Namjoon warns.

It sets him off.

"What? Are you all really going to keep on pretending? You do realize I felt that back there too, right?" he shoots back.

"So the drinks were just a ruse?" Namjoon's face is stormy.

Jungkook holds his gaze steady. "And what if it was? You all know what I felt about this since day one."

"Kook-ah." It's Jimin this time. "Not now, please."

"And when, hyung? When we go back to just pretending an eighth of our soul doesn't exist out there?"

"Jungkook."

He glares at Yoongi. "No, hyung. If you all want to be stupid, I don't! [Name]-noona is going through therapy because of this, don't you know?"

Yoongi scoffs. "She's a big girl, she can handle herself."

"Not soul-scraping therapy, she won't."

They all stop at that. Even Jungkook stops and internally curses.

Fuck, he wasn't supposed to say that.

"What did you say?" Namjoon's voice takes on a dangerous tone.

He huffs but stays silent, not really wanting to dig a deeper hole for himself.

"Jungkook."

"I talked to Jiho-hyung, okay? I bumped into him five months ago when he visited her."

Silence.

"Im Jiho?" At Jungkook's nod, Namjoon's frown deepened. "I didn't know he practices soul-scraping."

"He's co-authoring the soul-scraping study with Doctor Seong."

At the mention of one of their previous soul health doctors, Yoongi raises his eyebrows.

"Our Doctor Seong?"

Jungkook nods with a sigh, plopping down beside Hoseok. "Apparently, it's why he stopped private practice—to focus on the studies. They're also lobbying for fully legalizing soul-scraping in the Assembly. I ran into him, and he mentioned that he was there for noona's side effects from the therapy."

Side effects?

Shit.

"W-wait. Five months, you said?" Jin says with a tremble in his voice. "Is that why I can barely feel her anymore?"

Jungkook's sigh is pained, forlorn. "Apparently, yeah."

They all lapse in complete silence after that, the thumping of the beat on the dancefloor faint through the walls.

"Fuck."

Indeed.

It is then that Taehyung comes back. He takes one look at their varying degrees of solemn and stunned expressions and tilts his head.

"What? What happened?" he asks.

"[Name]..."

Taehyung's eyes widen before his expression smooths into indifference.

"I told you, I'm no—"

"That's not it," Jimin says softly. "She's in soul-scraping therapy, Taehyung-ah."

...

"What?"

(oh, lord. you don't know the turmoil you caused all these pining idiots, darling.)

---

And what about you?

As we said in the beginning, god must be testing your patience.

"Hey," Jackson says softly. He lifts your chin with a gentle smile long after Taehyung fucked off to god knows where. "You good, baobei?"

You didn't even know they were here. You were vaguely aware that yeah, they might be, but it totally slipped your mind. Meetings really did drain your brain.

When you stood up and went to the restroom while Jackson called for the driver, you didn't know that Taehyung was watching you from their room and completely high-tailed it from there just to intercept you when he saw you stand up from the corner of the bar. You didn't know why, but his stupid drunken ass just decided it wanted and it was a good idea to rile you up.

To piss you off is why, you think.

When you exited the ladies' room, Taehyung was standing there by the wall looking lethal. The ache in your chest flared up for two different reasons, but you ignored it. You ignored him and started walking away, pretending you didn't see him.

"So you're really here."

Seriously?

You continued ignoring him and walked on, but he didn't let you get far.

He grabs your wrist. "I said, you're really here."

The spot where he held you burned and you hissed, cursing the therapy's side effects. You were warned that coming in contact skin-to-skin with your soulmates while undergoing the therapy would feel painful (literally), but you didn't heed it then. You had no reason to touch them after all when they didn't even want to see you.

But it is painful, and it burns.

You yanked your wrist away, hiding your wrist behind your back. There's no need for that, though. Taehyung was looking at your face intently.

"Yes, and I was just leaving. See you around, T—"

"With Jackson?"

What's it with this guy?

You looked back at him and squared your shoulders up. "That's really none of your business, Taehyung."

He laughed with a sneer, shaking his head.

"What would people say if they knew you're off gallivanting with men who aren't your soulmate?"

Wow.

The nerve of this asshole.

You can't let him see it affect you though, so you tilt your head with an innocent smile.

"I'm just a nobody. Why would they talk about me? " You smirked in amusement. "I don't think it'll be me they will talk about since I wasn't the one who rejected my soulmate, was I?"

And oh, shit. Where did that come from, [Name]? Feisty.

"And I'm not doing anything illegal. Why should I be scared?" You slightly lean back and tilt your chin up. "I'm not the one between us with a reputation to uphold, a name I should protect."

You paused, a serene smile on your face.

"I'm not a coward. I'm not you, Taehyung"

The smirk on his lips was replaced with a sharp look of disdain, almost like he wants to slap the smile off your face.

(he wants to, darling. trust me. just not in the way you think.)

You knew you hit a nerve and it feels petty and mean, but it's nothing compared to the loneliness and pain they gave you these past few months. It felt satisfying, even if for just a bit.

"You really think you're all that, don't you?" He smiled almost mockingly. "Tell me, how does it feel to be rejected?"

That really stung and angered you, but you've spent all your life hiding your emotions when needed to. Your expression didn't falter.

"It feels good—"

"—because she dodged a bullet."

You internally sighed in relief as Jackson's voice float behind you. You'll forever be thankful for this man's existence, gods or not.

You melt in his arms when he wrapped them around your waist. You chanced a look at Jackson, not seeing the twitch on Taehyung's brows at your body language.

"You really think you're all that, don't you?" Jackson mocked back at him. "Imagine thinking it's the end of the world for your soulmate just because you shut down their bond." Jackson chuckled ruthlessly.

"You're pathetic, Taehyung-ssi."

The two were locked in a glowering match before Taehyung straightened up and spun on his heel without a word.

Jackson let you get your bearings by the wall of the hallway to the ladies' room in silence. But he didn't let you stew in your thoughts for long.

So now here you are, looking at his gentle eyes.

"You good, baobei?"

You don't know how to answer that really, so you pull him by the collar into a searing kiss.

He puts his hand on your waist, the other on the wall by your face, and you tighten your hold on his collar.

You pull away to gasp for air.

"Take me home," you exhale heavily as you lean your head on his shoulder. "Take me home and fuck me 'til I forget, or I might do something stupid."

Jackson's sharp intake of air is your answer before he pulls you away to your awaiting car outside the club.

---

feedback (constructive, please don't be too rude bc i'll cry) and kudos very much appreciated!

Pretty Like You | PJM (1)

part one: mini-skirts and big problems

— in which park jimin desires nothing more than to be pretty like you.

series summary. where jimin is jealous of the beauty that is you, writes about it, and falls apart when you accidentally read it.

pairing. feminine!jimin x reader

rating. M | 18+ |

genre. enemies to lovers, feminine!jimin, self hatred au, slight identity crisis, self love journey, eventual smut, sub!jimin, angst, fluff, heartfelt

w.c. 4.2k

warnings. heavy descriptions of self hate and self abuse later into the story, please be advised

ch summary. an introduction into the crumbling life of park jimin and his cat, daisy.

**this is part 1 of my new series pretty like you, not a stand-alone

series masterlist | next->

It’s horrendous.

Implausible, even.

No human being should’ve looked that good on a Monday. But of course, like always, you did. You always do.

Jimin has drawn the conclusion that there’s no way you’re naturally that stunning and you go the extra mile to get ready every morning. And he thinks it’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous that you’d get up an extra hour or two earlier just to show up to a class that only lasts a little over an hour where you’re just sat behind a desk the whole time.

But then again, Jimin appreciates your attire. So much so that he was able to memorize it from this morning’s lecture.

A dainty black miniskirt with a cami and cardigan that Jimin may or may not have a replica of, and the sheerest shade of pantyhose to really capture that sex appeal you love. Jimin has noticed, by now, that you try to add at least one sexy article to every single outfit you wear. Jimin notices, and Jimin hates it.

He hates that you can dress sexily without the fear of being judged, whereas for Jimin, it’s not so easy.

Tossing another cropped tee into the mountain of clothes piling on the floor, Jimin’s huff is quick to turn into something of a strangled cry as he collapses to the ground, back against the side of his bed.

As if on cue, a furry figure of a cat peaks into the doorframe, walking in proudly like it owns the place. At this rate, it does considering it’s always there to ease Jimin during these troubling times.

Daisy takes care of Jimin, and on occasion, it’s the other way around.

Daisy, Jimin’s calico cat, nudges her soft head against his arm that’s lazily slumped down, encouraging him to pet her. When he does, her purrs rev up like an engine and the small gesture is enough to steal a slight twitch of a smile from the man.

However, it doesn’t stop the oncoming sob.

Tears fresh and emotion at its highest, Jimin stays sat on the ground wearing nothing but the repulsive baggy sweatpants that he forced himself to wear only because it’s better to pretend he likes dressing that way than wearing what he actually likes and getting judged.

Jimin, believe it or not, is a coward. His words. He hates that he can’t just put the damn skirt on. He hates how he can’t bring himself to leave his apartment in that cute cropped tee that he bought ages ago and still has never worn.

He hates how he’s such a pussy when it comes to this.

But it’s not just skepticism. Jimin knows there’s not a lot of nice people out there, especially not at his college campus. Don’t get Jimin started on all the homophobic and pitiful words that frat boys have thrown at him so far in the span of his first year. And that was when he was wearing his clothes that he believed were seven sizes too big and awfully plain.

His “boy” clothes.

Jimin knows that in today’s society, you’re labeled. Weather you want to be or not, every passing stranger is going to label you as what they see. And with said frat boys, the ones with a single brain cell, if they ever saw Jimin wearing the clothes that he has piled in front of him— he’d fit their accusations.

Jimin was raised by only his mother, who was raised by only her mother and a sister. Jimin has had absolutely no male figure in his life so it’s not bizarre that his demeanor is more feminine than most men.

But people at school aren’t so smart, or nice. Therefore, Jimin isn’t just a boy who was raised by a woman, to them— he was just gay. Jimin hates how his demeanor is what chooses his sexuality. Because, contrary to those frat boys’ belief, Jimin is straight.

He may not know a lot about himself at the ripe age of 21, but he knows for sure that he’s not into men. Being a teen and liking things that the world tells you is for girls definitely made Jimin question his own sexuality time to time, but after a couple nights out at a gay bar and a two extremely awkward hookups, Jimin knew men weren’t up his alley. Especially not when the thought of women is what gets him off every single time.

He just wants to wear a damn skirt and have a girlfriend, is that really so much to ask for?

Daisy was able to sneak her way onto Jimin’s lap, already half asleep despite Jimin’s occasional jolts when he sniffles for air.

“Thank you Daisy,” he whispers, his fading cry turning into a soft giggle when the feline looks up at him, eyes glinting with a look that Jimin knows by now.

“Or are you just being nice to me because you’re hungry?”

Daisy continues to nudge her head against his chest, confirming his accusation and enticing Jimin’s first real giggle.

“Okay,” Jimin says in an exhale, more in an attempt to get ahold of himself. “Fine, let’s get you some food.”

The cat happily jumps off Jimin’s lap at the invitation, hurriedly exiting the bedroom and scurrying off to the kitchen before Jimin can even make it off the ground. When he does, he nearly trips on the mound of hopeless clothes, eyeing it over before trailing his vision to the standing mirror.

His eyes scan over his chest, down to his waist, and to his hips. He loves his shape, loves the way women’s clothing looks on him. It’s too bad no one will be able to appreciate it the way he does, though. It’s too bad he can’t show it off like he so badly wishes to.

Like how you do.

You get to dress in fitted clothing and show off your shape without an intense fear of getting judged or labeled. Jimin despises how blind you are to that advantage. He despises how badly he wishes he could be you for even a day.

Because for Jimin, he has to hide. Whereas for you, you’re allowed to be beautiful whenever you want.

Even on Mondays.

“What do you think, Daisy? Be honest.”

Peeling his eyes away from his reflection, he twists to show Daisy, who’s freshly awake from a nap, his outfit that he’s in love with.

A grumpy meow is all he gets before her eyes slowly shut again and Jimin scoffs in offense.

“Whatever, you just don’t have taste.”

Turning to face himself again, he bites back a smile as he snaps yet another mirror pic of himself, halting midway as he adjusts himself to sit on his knees. And it’s when the miniskirt rises up his thigh that he gets an idea.

Thigh highs.

A subtle gasp of excitement escapes the boy as he recklessly tosses his phone onto the bed— completely missing which makes him flinch in startle in response to the thud that followed. Navigating to his dresser, he ignores Daisy who clearly did not appreciate the sudden noise, and begins to dig in his scandalous drawer for the thigh high socks.

And yes, Jimin has something he calls his scandalous drawer. It’s for moments like these where he wants to add sex appeal to his outfit.

Kind of like how you do.

“There you are,” he murmurs under his breath as he takes hold of the long white fabrics. He doesn’t wait until he’s back in front of the mirror to put them on, sitting on the edge of his bed and hurriedly slipping the thigh high socks on.

Jimin just knows he looks good. He can feel it. He feels sexy, and he hasn’t even looked in the mirror yet. A miniskirt paired with thigh high socks and an open cardigan— no shirt.

And fuck does he feel good in it.

Not able to wait any longer he tiptoes to the mirror until he’s met with the figure he wishes the world could see.

Jimin loves his appearance, a lot. It’s just that the version he loves is only seen on rare occasions like this where he spontaneously decides to try his risky outfits on. No one else can or will see this version, and for that, Jimin’s self love is private. Almost invisible given how little he lets himself see it.

“Good call on the thigh highs,” he mumbles to himself, staring a little longer until he starts to notice all the imperfections. When he does, he’s quick to step away, landing himself back first onto his unmade bed that Daisy was way too content in.

“Move it, there’s room for both of us,” he tells her as she mopes over to the opposite side.

One hand behind his head, other on his stomach— toying with the ruffled hem of the skirt, Jimin stares at the ceiling as his nightly dose of thoughts kick in. And tonight, all he can really think about is how badly he wishes someone could see him. And if he’s lucky enough, earn a compliment or two. Maybe, if his luck was good, he’d be called pretty if someone saw him dressed like this.

But his luck has never been good.

It was his poor luck that made him be born into a rude and strict society. And he hates that. But what can he do? He’s just a person in this big world. He doesn’t believe his voice is loud enough for change. And even if it were, he’d still be too much of a coward to try.

It’s all one big tangled problem that he’s trapped in.

He’s only a freshman in college and he feels like the world is ending.

But does yours? Jimin wonders. For a long moment or two he ponders if you sometimes feel that way too. Of course it wouldn’t be for the same reason as him, but could there be something that weighs you down?

And if so, how the fuck do you mask it so easily with that bright smile of yours?

Maybe because you’re perfect, Jimin thinks.

So perfect that Jimin is laying on his bed wearing an outfit almost identical to the one you wore today all only because he thought it looked great on you. He wanted to feel great too.

He wanted to feel the way you probably do in such fragile clothing. Leaving absolutely nothing to imagination because that’s how brave you are. Jimin envies that. He wants that.

Bravery, of course— not you.

He wants to be brave enough to show some skin and go the whole day feeling good. Feeling confident and relieved. But that day won’t come, unfortunately. All he has is the privacy of his apartment to feel brave in these clothes.

But even when Jimin is hard on himself, that doesn’t stop him from wanting to just feel good sometimes.

And there’s no better way than this.

Somehow in the mix of his thought spiral his small fingers managed to drag his skirt up the length of his thigh, cold air traveling straight to his exposed tip.

He knew he wasn’t wearing underwear. He did that on purpose. Again, he wanted to feel good.

He wanted to feel sexy.

His fingers slide their way across his left thigh, getting higher and higher until his breathing is hitched and his bottom lip is raw.

But then he stops himself.

Quickly adjusting the skirt, he sits up with a sharp breath.

What was that?

It’s one thing to touch himself, he always does— everyone does. But he will not do such a thing with you fresh in mind. You already have some power over him. He won’t give you this as well. And It doesn’t matter if you know about it or not because he always will.

He already hates that he envies you so much, he will not envy you like this too.

You’re just an annoying, perfect, confident girl who has no idea how lucky she is. Jimin doesn’t envy that part. He just envies your fashion sense. That’s it.

All he needs is some sleep.

Hopefully when he wakes up, not only will his hard on be gone but so will you. Not a single thought of you will be in his mind from this point forward, Jimin declares to himself.

Let’s just hope you don’t find your way into his dreams.

Like always.

“Nice jacket.”

“You’re not funny.”

A subtle laugh escapes the man, playfully nudging Jimin which causes him to almost fall off the bench.

“Taehyung!” Jimin whines as he regains his balance on the tiny seat, crashing his hips into his friend’s on a mission to knock him down too.

He fails, earning another mischievous laugh from the man.

“Sorry. Now what were you saying you had to tell me?”

Sat in a corner table with Jimin’s one and only friend in their favorite campus cafe, Jimin sets his bag on the table and turns to face him.

“Hello to you too,” he scolds.

A boxy smile is given and before he can greet the fed up boy back he’s already talking.

“Last night,” Jimin begins, brows furrowed in half embarrassment half concentration. “Something weird happened.”

“Did Daisy catch you jerki—“

“Tae!” Jimin cuts him off in a whisper-shout, hoping no bystanders hear his unfiltered words.

“Joking. What happened last night?”

Jimin sighs as he tries to find his thoughts again. He had it all organized in his mind but his friend’s reckless banter has made it all the more scrambled and confusing.

To put it simply, Jimin doesn’t know how to tell his best friend that he thinks his crush made him hard last night.

Ah, yes. Kim Taehyung. His and Jimin’s friendship goes all the way back to freshman year of high school, also known as Jimin’s worse year ever. Endless bullying and his identity crisis at its peak, Jimin was so done with everyone and everything. That’s until one of the most popular boys in school took him under his wing.

Taehyung has been Jimin’s shield for almost five years now, defending him from every derogatory slur and glare from arrogant frat boys. And being a frat boy himself, Taehyung had most, if not all of those arrogant asshole’s respect. And with that being the case, they’d never disrespect Jimin in front of Taehyung.

And it’s nice having at least one friend to help him out, Jimin thinks.

The only underside is that his one friend has no clue about his secret and God only knows if he’d still accept Jimin if he did. And that he’s in the fraternity for fucks sake.

Also that he has a massive crush on you.

That may or may not be another reason Jimin doesn’t like you so much. You have the whole school wrapped around your finger, and unfortunately for Jimin, that includes his best friend.

“Hello? Earth to Jimin,” Taehyung tries to get the older boy’s attention.

Blinking himself back to space, he shakes his head as he discards where he was going with the conversation.

“I forgot.”

“Bullshit.”

“I did,” Jimin rolls his eye, snatching Taehyung’s coffee and taking an obnoxiously big sip to shift the attention away from what he originally had to say.

Taehyung doesn’t believe him, but he respects Jimin enough to not pry.

“Whatever. Just know you can tell me anything.”

“Yeah yeah,” Jimin shakes off.

And he knows that. Taehyung may be friends with all of those terrible guys who’ve made Jimin’s life hell, but he’s still good to him. Believe it or not Jimin has had many other issues that weren’t about his secret, and with each one Taehyung was the one who provided him a shoulder to cry on.

They’re close enough to joke about all the things Jimin gets bullied for. Like his jacket for example, it’s the same one he wears probably three days out of the week. It’s big and ugly but Jimin thinks it’s boyish so he wears it. Anything to hide. The frat boys still give him shit for it, though. But Taehyung loves it, and he thinks the hate it gets is so ridiculous that he himself teases Jimin about it occasionally. And Jimin finds it funny when it’s Taehyung who teases him, because he knows it’s coming from a place of close friendship. Unlike those other frat boys.

But despite how close they are, he knows he can’t talk about his secret, or you with Taehyung. That’s the one part of him he’d like to keep tucked away for as long as he can endure.

“Alright, well I’m gonna get going. I told Johnny I’d meet him at the dorms so we can get a session in before class.”

“Smoking is bad for you,” says Jimin as he rolls his eyes.

“So is sulking, lift your head up Minnie,” Taehyung massages at Jimin’s shoulder for a second or two before he gets up and grabs his stuff.

“I’m not sulking.”

“You’re always sulking,” The younger man teases as Jimin swats his hand off of his shoulder. “We’ll talk later?”

Jimin hums in what Taehyung assumes is agreement, ruffling his hair before making his way over to the door of the cafe. A grumpy Jimin is left behind fixing his hair, gathering his stuff too so he can head to class early.

Nothing beats the stares he gets as many students still, to this day, wonder how on Earth Taehyung is friends with him. It’s fucked up, really, but Jimin is used to it.

He’s used to favoritism in the school, and Jimin groans as he realizes he’ll be seeing more of it for the next hour or so that he’ll be seeing you in class.

But he can’t seem to figure out if he’s more excited to see you than he is annoyed.

Jimin is furious.

Nothing new, except that this feeling of anger isn’t rooted from jealousy or insecurity— It’s because you rejected his kindness.

Jimin, like many, were eyeing your outfit. It’s dainty and may even be the prettiest shade of baby blue Jimin has ever seen. So when he forced himself to smile your way when you caught him staring, he did not expect an eye roll from you. But nonetheless, it happened, and Jimin hates you a little bit more now.

Jaw clenched and eyes piercing lasers into the big clock on the far wall of the lecture hall, Jimin counts down the seconds until he’s able to free himself from this torturous environment. Until he frees himself from you.

When the clock does hit the desired time, he’s the only student to stand up— earning him several stares which only makes him angrier, and with little to no more patience left he’s walking out the doors on a mission to channel this frustration.

Past the corridor and straight to the art room— also known as the room that’s almost always empty because why is there an art class in a writing school in the first place— Jimin slams his bag down on the first desk he sees and sits himself down.

Why couldn’t you prove him wrong?

Why couldn’t you just have smiled back?

You just had to roll your eyes when Jimin didn’t even like you in the first place. If he had it his way he would’ve snapped profanities the moment your eyes met. But he’s not a monster. He’s polite.

So polite that he smiled your way and now regrets it miserably.

Jimin can’t stand you now.

Grabbing a random notebook from his bag, he does what any angry writing major would do and begins to jot down all the many reasons he hates you, all in the form of scattered thoughts.

Conceited.

Privileged.

Spoiled.

All words that are used quite frequently in his paragraph of scribbled rage.

Beautiful.

Unique.

Mesmerizing.

All words that he hates to admit but must include because they’re the reason he hates you like he does.

Jimin goes on and on for a while writing nothing but blunt absurdities that are simple and cuts straight to the point, majority of them being repetitive I hate you’s. It’s not until he finds himself at the peak of frustration that it all boils down to an ache within him.

Jimin thinks about why you anger him so much. He thinks about that outfit he could’ve worn today if only he wasn’t so scared. Then, Jimin writes down every raw, painful feeling he has.

Why do you have to be so beautiful? Why can’t I be like you? I often wonder if you think about my predicament. I wonder if it ever crosses your mind that I’m even one percent envious of you. When I think about that, it hurts even more.

I wish you knew I was hurting because of you.

You don’t know me well. I hardly know you. But what I’m certain of is that you’re the most beautifully ignorant person I’ve ever come across and I do hope one day you’ll realize how blind you are.

You’re blind to your reality of easiness. It’s not easy for me. I can’t wear that shade that you do. Can’t wear a shirt so low cut like that either. Because for me, I’m expected to dress like someone I’m not.

This isn’t me.

And I think I may hate you most because I see the real me in you. That courageous being who doesn’t even think twice about breaking the rules of my gender; that’s the real me. Although I hate both versions of me because neither of them have helped me out of this suffocating barrier.

I want to be me.

I wish you weren’t you.

I want to be you.

A slam of a period is what concludes the built up momentum, pencil flying across the desk as he slouches back in his chair with an exhale. He skims over the words that are quite dark since he was applying significant pressure. He vaguely reads some words until he’s not in the mood to think about any of it anymore and closes the journal shut.

And although he didn’t reread that essay of his, the last sentence still can’t seem to leave his mind.

Even if it’s just for a moment, he wants to be you.

Racing down the long hall of the unnecessarily large school, his strides echo off the walls as his heartbeat is ten steps ahead of him.

He should’ve never written that journal, he thinks.

He should’ve never left it in class either.

The passing of two more doors is all it took until he was standing out of breath in the threshold of what he hoped would be an empty classroom, the journal that he was going to grab and go no longer being in the spot he had left it.

His heartbeat almost fails him, legs buckling as his thoughts falter.

He knows it’s you. He knows your figure. He also knows that you’re standing there, reading his journal full of absurd remarks about how he wishes he were you.

Jimin wants to die. He wants it all to just dissipate. But before the boy can erase what he just walked in on, you turn around.

Journal open in your hand, your eyebrows are furrowed and Jimin doesn’t know if he can withstand that look of genuine concern on your face.

He also doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad look.

“I’m not gay,” he helplessly throws his panicked words up.

Slightly less confident, having used up all his energy on those three words, he manages to follow up, “…if that’s what you’re thinking.”

And the giggle that escapes you despite what you just read, the cruel things he wrote about you even though you did absolutely nothing but be beautiful, Jimin notes how badly he’s fucked up.

“It’s not,” you respond, slowly closing the journal, eyes following.

It’s while you’re still looking down that you decide to ask your first question.

“Listen, Jimin,” you bring your eyes up, tone a little too concerned for his liking. “Do you want to talk?”

Talk.

“Those things you wrote, it’s just—“ you stop yourself. “I know you didn’t mean for anyone to read it but from what I saw I think you need someone to help you learn to be kinder to yourself.”

Jimin opens his mouth to talk only to close it when he realizes he doesn’t know how to respond.

“I know it’s none of my business and I’m sorry for reading, but I don’t want you to feel like that. Let me help you.”

Jimin feels like a villain in a movie. He feels like the worst possible character there could ever be. He feels like a bad person. Because there he was all this time, writing about how much he hates you for being you, and here you are now, asking him to accept your help seconds after you just read everything.

The world does not deserve someone like you, he thinks. He does not deserve someone like you.

But as much as he feels unworthy, he’s never been more excited at the opportunity to get to know you. To have you there beside him on this new journey of self love.

“Okay,” he accepts, voice quiet and still embarrassed.

“Okay,” you repeat, smile big and hope at its highest.

Okay.

~~~

a/n: part one of a new seriesss les mf goooo (i missed writing so much omg, hope y’all like this one im vry excited abt it 🥹) ALSO part 2 isn’t as confusing lmao, it’s always difficult to clearly start out a series :/ pero i promise it’ll make more sense along the road :)

🏷️: @exactlygreatcoffee @sweetieguk @ctrlsht @blessrious @someusername133 @dreamer-pjm @zadkielr @dearsullix @lailaaxd @osakis-gf @jnghs @seltansworld @bxnqtxnie @moon-kid39

taglist = open, let me know if you’d like to be added <3

Emerald Gem|| Chapter 1

Chapter one: Emerald Farm

Paring: OT7! x Fem!Reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn

unedited*

At dawn, the roosters began to crow. They were your personal alarm clock. By the afternoon, you would have the Vegetables plowed and all the pigs fed. Emerald garden, full of color, would be watered. After all the chores were done, you could spend time on your hobbies. Painting, writing, cooking.

You truly kept yourself busy. But it became boring at times, lonely.

Emerald manor, your beloved home, was built for a family. With a large living room, a generous dining room, and too many bedrooms, it could be overwhelming for you. You liked to think about how you could fill this space, getting married, having a family. But you quickly realized that those things don’t come easy. Tired of the loneliness, you thought about adopting a pet. Maybe a dog to help with the farm?

And one day while you're cleaning the chicken coop you spot a fox about to pounce on one of the chickens.

“Hey!” you exclaim. “Get out of here!”

The fox stopped in its tracks and peered over at you, giving an intimidating glare. Then you realized, that wasn’t a fox.

It’s a person.

“Wait!” you attempted to come closer, but with each step forward, the fox went two steps backward. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

The fox seemed dubious, cautiously stepping towards you. “F-food, please.” His voice was raspy, sore.

You immediately ran to get some food, coming back to the coop with some leftovers. Maybe this will suffice, you thought. You sat him down on the grass patch next to the chicken's den. You watched him devour the meal, as if he hadn’t eaten anything in weeks. Based on his appearance, he probably hadn’t. His fur coat was dirty and torn. You could see his ribs and his belly rumbled with each bite. “Sorry, miss”, he whispered.

You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I’m Y/n. May I ask your name?”

You could tell he was nervous. Something about your presence made him anxious and fearful. Is he like this with everyone?

“H-Hoseok”, the fox uttered. “But I can’t stay long. My pack is waiting for me.” With a slight struggle, he stumbles back on his two feet. You grab him before he takes off.

“Please wait”, you politely asked. “Let me give you some food to take back to them. Don’t leave yet.”

He paused for a moment, seeming to be pondering over his next steps. “Okay”, he spoke softly. “But don’t be long. They may worry.”

With that, you hurry back into your home, running to the fridge to see what you can scrap up. Hopefully I have enough for seven people, you thought. Maybe you can give them a couple of chickens from the coop.

While carrying plastic wrap covered plates to your garden, you hear a scream coming from the coop. That must be Hoseok. Without haste, you ran to the chicken coops, the food left for the birds. Hovering over Hoseok was what looked like a wolf– well half wolf.

“Back away from him!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, trying to scare off the scary hybrid. He ignored you completely. Suddenly, you gain the courage to step up to it, pushing it off of the fox.

“Are you okay?” You helped him back on his feet, feeling the trembles in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no, he would never hurt me”, He stuttered. “You don’t understand.” You looked at him confusingly, then looked at the wolf. He was fuming with anger.

“Y/n, this is my packmate, Joon.”

***

You’re not sure how feeding one hybrid led to having seven hybrids on your couch, but you have no one to blame but yourself.

“You want us to do what?!”

“Live here?” It was really just a random thought that popped in your head. You didn’t give it any thought. And seeing them dirty and hungry on your couch just made you blurt it out. Hoseok seemed thrilled but his Pack alpha, Joon, wasn't too excited.

“You must be out of your mind”, he laughed. “What do you think we are, pets?”

“No, not at all!” You shook your head. Something in the back of your mind tells you that they’ve been burned before, that they’ve been mistreated. You feel sort of sympathetic. Could they not trust anyone? “You guys don’t even have to stay here long. I just want to treat your wounds and offer some food.”

He still seemed doubtful. “Yeah? And what’s in it for you?”

That's the question he's been dying to ask. What about you? You thought about it for a moment. Wouldn’t any human being want to help out someone in need? The answer to that is no. However, maybe they need some good in their lives.

And you could use the company.

“Well, I kind of live here by myself”, You explain. “My parents moved to the city so I don’t see them often, and I don’t have any other family or friends. If I’m being honest, I really just need someone to converse with. And maybe a little help around the house.”

One of the packmates raised his hand, as if asking permission to speak. “We left the other home we were in. They may still be looking for us. We don’t want to put you in any danger.”

“We can figure all that out later”, you promise him. “Right now, you guys just need to wash up and get a proper rest.”

Hoseok turned to Joon, waiting for his response. “Please, Joon. We’ll be good, I promise.”

He glared at you for a second, trying to sense if this was another trap. Maybe she’s genuine, he thought. “Okay, but we won’t stay for long.” You could hear sighs of relief. Even you let out a puff of air, not realizing you were holding your breath.

“Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me. I know that’s not easy.” You gave them a tour of Emerald farm, showing them their sleeping quarters and where they can wash up. When evening came around, you prepared a feast. Your hybrid guests gobbled down all they could– except Joon. He didn’t eat, probably from fear of being poisoned. Hopefully, one day he’ll trust me, you thought. But for now, all you can do is show them tender care and affection until they believe it.

When it becomes time for everyone to sleep in their rooms, you're left alone in the living room with our thoughts. Maybe some television will clear your mind. You never really use it. Living on a farm left you with plenty of other things to do, but why not? Turning on the television, you flip through the channels until one catches your attention.

Breaking news! Seven dangerous hybrids escaping from a research facility

*Taglist open!

Carnal Desire (1/3)

The last person you expected to see was an ‘old friend’ from nearly a decade ago, but you’re determined to show the man that you’re no longer the little girl he use to know. @bloodline1632 @seokjinkismet @babycandy111

Word Count: 2.070

Warning: smut, stripper reader, mafia/gangster yoongi, haegeum type vibes fr fr, grinding, finger sucking, the reader is down bad, but so is yoongi, kissing, sucking,

“You’ll do amazing, really!” Bunny - your co-worker - says as she pats the highlighter upon your cheekbones. “You’re already on your way to becoming a favorite.”

You take a deep breath and nod.

“Please stay focused. We have very important people tonight.”

And there it was, your nerves kicking back in once more.

You only been here for a week - the high end strip club is more than you imagined. You often thought it would be littered with creeps and smelt of cheap booze and cigarettes - but maybe you just chose the right one. 

Your name is being called now and from behind the curtains, you notice the lights dim, and the red spotlight appears. You clicked your heels, rounding the curtain and made your way towards the middle of the stage. It’s amazing how you were able to turn your nerves off when needed be - you were highly grateful that you didn’t need any liquid courage to do so.

Bunny was correct when she said it would be a busy night - and the important people she spoke of had to be front and center. You sway your hips to the pole, hooking a leg around it and swinging as you do - a routine you practiced for the past two days.

You often don’t look into the crowd while performing - you were a natural overthinker and the last thing you needed was to mess up in front of a group of men. However, this was different. You had important people here tonight and your boss informed each dancer tonight to “appear” available and interested.

You regret taking her advice.

You drop to your knees slow and sultry, crawling towards the edge of the stage. Smoking typically wasn't allowed, but important guests always got their way. Your eyes focus on the man smoking and you froze.

Those eyes - such cold and feline-like eyes. They flash in your mind and you were brought back to your childhood; specifically your teenage years. As the smoke clears, as does your vision on the man - pale, porcelain-like skin, hard eyes and a low smirk on his lips.

Yoongi.

Min Yoongi was before you. He was the important guest tonight - he looked it. Even in the sea of people, you can smell the expensive cologne mixed with the nicotine smell. He appeared clean shaven and had not aged since you last saw him a decade prior.

Yoongi brings the cigarette back into his lips, his fingers curling as he does so. Your eyes glance to his hands, large and veiny and full of shining diamonds. 

Your eyes begin to grow dry and you blink. You finally inhale to not have your head go any more lightheaded than necessary. 

You hear a hiss of your name and your body immediately reacts. You begin to crawl once more, your eyes on nobody but Yoongi now. He furrows a brow and appears amused and curious.

Min Yoongi was before you.

Your Min Yoongi.

The same Min Yoongi that your father despised - called him a thug and everything but a decent human being. Father’s never approved of their little girls being hooked on an older man - but he was only two years older; if that. The same Min Yoongi who you had once admitted to loving during too many drinks and even when you insisted on showing him you weren’t a little girl, he never took advantage of your advances.

Min Yoongi was before you now - and you weren’t a teenager anymore. You were a woman that grew into her curves and appearance, and you were determined to show him just that.

It’s crazy to think that just one look at him made you feel as you did as a teenager - shy, but willing, giddy and wanting to prove yourself to him.

Yoongi leans closer to the stage just as you lean forward. Your manicured hand grasps his large ones and grasps the cigarette. You were never a smoker - he knows this. But he only smirks as you take a puff of it and blow it at him.

Your time was up, but your eyes linger onto Yoongi’s longer as you exit the stage. You feel it all fall on you at once - the nerves and nausea. Yoongi was here. He had seen you like this - what was he thinking? Has he remembered you? 

“What was that?” Bunny heels slam against the floor as she rushes to you. “Do you know who that is?”

Yes. “No.”

Bunny’s eyes widened. “You don’t know who Suga is?”

Suga. Yoongi must have made another name for himself. He was once someone your father considered bad news and you can only guess what he was into back then - but Yoongi is a man now. He surrounded himself with men, him directly in the middle. He was an important member of whatever society he ran with; you didn’t really care much to ask.

“I was told to entertain the guests.” you shrug your shoulders. “Suga seems to be a very important person.”

Bunny nods with wide eyes. “Extremely. He dabbles in organized crime and is one of our biggest spenders here. You-”

“Y/N.”

You freeze, as does Bunny. 

“I’m dead.” you murmur to Bunny who slowly nods.

Your boss’ eyes are upon you when you turn. Her arms are crossed as she motions you to follow her. 

“I-I didn’t mean-”

“You aren’t in trouble.” your boss murmurs as you saunter towards her. “Seems like your little stunt caught Suga’s eye. He never pays for a dance.”

Yoongi did remember you.

Your heart races as your boss points to the back rooms, the further room in the back. The only room without a camera.

You look yourself over in the mirror. Your hair appeared to be in place still, as did your makeup. Your lingerie hugs you nicely and your heels were just an added bonus. 

It grows hotter and quieter as you make your way down the hall to the back room - a V.I.P section. You slide the door open and make your way in. Yoongi is seated upon the round, leather section. The room is surrounded with mirrors and low lights. On the table forward him is a large bottle of champagne - the most expensive there was at the club - and two glasses.

“Sit.” Yoongi says as you close the door behind you. He goes to pour both glasses of champagne, handing you one as you round the table.

“Thank you.” you murmur. It takes everything in you not to melt - but you are grown now and no longer the shy teenage girl.

You sit on his lap, legs swinging to trap him between your thighs. Your eyes meet his as you drink the champagne.

Yoongi’s pink tongue coats his lips as he leans back into the couch. He doesn’t go to move you from your laps, and even if you did, you wouldn’t leave without a fight. After all, he paid for your services - private dances weren’t cheap and especially not in the V.I.P backroom.

You discard your glass beside you without a care, licking your own lips.

“Y/N…Y/N…”

Your arms are fresh with goosebumps when you hear his voice say your name. He down the champagne, free hand rubbing against your thigh to your waist. 

“How much you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” Yoongi finally says as he finishes the champagne, discarding his own glass to the side.

“I can say the same for you…” you begin to roll your hips. “...Suga.” All the girls are informed to not be so close to a client. They paid for a certain amount of time - and in that time you were told to stall, only sitting upon them at the last few minutes of the dance.

Yoongi’s hands are as large as you know them to be, both now cupping your waist. 

“How is it that when my name comes from your lips it sounds sweeter than ever before?”

Yoongi’s eyes rack over your figure.

You were no longer the little girl who followed him around against her father’s wishes. No, you were now a woman - a full grown woman who grew into her chest and hips. He recalls the amount of times he (against your own knowledge) would have to assure no creep used your naivety to their advantage.

Yoongi’s girl is what they called you - even back then. No matter how much he told anyone that you were nothing but a close friend to him; someone he would protect because he had a heart.

“Where have you been?” Yoongi allows his curiosity to get the best of him. He was no fool in knowing the pure hatred your father had for him - even if Yoongi never took advantage of your feelings for him. When you were old enough to consider making your own decision, you were shipped far away from Daegu - and that was ten years ago.

You continued your lap dance, your hands placing themselves on his shoulders. Yoongi is but a man and his eyes rack your figure in the tight lingerie, large hands rubbing up your side with a lick of his lips once more.

“My dad sent me to live with my aunt and continue school there.” you respond. “I came back when he got sick.”

Yoongi furrows a brow. Your father was sick. He hasn’t seen the man since he last saw you.

“Dropped out of school to take care of him. Now I’m here.” you roll your hips against the bulge forming in his pants. “With you.”

Yoongi feels your hands rub from his shoulders to his torso.

“What about you, Suga? You seem to have made a name for yourself.”

Yoongi was being far too modest for your liking. You grasp his hands in yours, eyes staring right into his. You allow his hands to roam your body, setting them right onto your breasts.

“I have.” Yoongi murmurs, voice deeper. “I own this city now, baby.”

You swallow at the pet name, leaning closer. You want to capture his lips with your own - they were so rosy and soft. 

“I bet you do.” you murmur, warm breath against his lips. “Does someone run it with you?”

Yoongi tilts his head. He gives you a snicker. “You still got that crush, huh?” he teases. He squeezes your breast lightly before his right hand cups your check.

You grow hot at his words, swallowing thickly. You wouldn’t allow him to treat you like the same little girl you once were. You were an adult - you were in control of your own desires. 

“It’s more than a crush now. I’m not a little girl.”

Yoongi knows this - he wants to tell you just how much you’ve grown since the last time he saw you. 

“I can show you how much it’s grown.” 

Yoongi can’t take his eyes from you. Your tongue peeks out and wraps around his thumb. You suck on it, eyes boring into his own. His cock twitches at the sultry act.

“Y/N…”

You moved fast. From sucking onto his thumb to your lips upon his. Your thighs clenched him beneath you tightly, never wanting to let go. 

Yoongi loses himself in your touch, arms wrapping around your bare body, touching skin he never knew he would ever long to touch. 

Your tongue dances with him, his hands cupping your ass, guiding you to continue to grind against his bulge.

“I want you, Yoongi.” you murmur against his lips. 

“I know, baby.” Yoongi grunts. “I know…”

Your teeth clasps down onto his bottom lips, fingernails digging into his shoulders. “Then take me.”

Yoongi shudders, holding onto you even tighter.

“You can have me. All of me.”

Yoongi shakes his head, breathing quickening. Your words ring in his ears non-stop.

“I want to be your girl.” you continue - you refused to hear anything other than approval. “You can have all of me right now and forever.”

Yoongi lips are against the skin of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses. Your words are getting to him, his cock begging to take you.

But you weren’t a common whore - not just some pussy to wet his cock. You were someone he cared for deeply.

“You are my girl.”

Your lips meet his once more and your heart feels satisfied - it’s the same words you wanted to hear for years now.

Part 2 | Part 3

𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 𝕆𝔽 𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 | ℂℍ. 𝟙

| 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫.

|𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞/𝐚𝐮: 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭,𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮, 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭.

| 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

| 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

| 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, foul language ( 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 ), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬), 𝐬𝐞𝐱 ( 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬).

| 𝐀/𝐍: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫! 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 does 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.

_

resentment.

bitter indignation of having been treated unfairly.

you had carried that heavy feeling for some time now, weighing you down with each step that you took. you wished you could pinpoint the reason, to have one target to focus on but there had been many things that caused you to clasp onto this feeling, it had become so familiar, you dared to call it a friend.

its warm embrace consuming you when you lay empty at night.

in your darkest hours.

Being raised in an almost picture-perfect home prevented you from completely grasping how you had ended up with the stirring feeling.

 you had been given all that you had ever asked for, your parent's wealth had guaranteed you a life of luxury and pampering that anyone would die for. you had been sent to the best schools, had surrounded yourself with the elites, you had been born into a world that had been hand-made perfectly for you, so was it truly unfair?

yes

besides the fact that you never had to truly worry about anything in life, you had been instilled with morals, morals that your father had soon thrown to the wind the second a business offer was laid on his table that he just had to bite.

 success was not enough for a man like your father, he always starved for more.

so much so that once the Jeon family, one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Korea offered a 98 billion won investment into his company in exchange for the marriage of their heirs, there was no fucking way he was going to refuse.

regardless of the sacrifices his own daughter would have to make for him.

marriage was sacred, this had been instilled in you since the early age of 5, your parents had fallen in love at the sweet age of 18, and ever since they had been inseparable. even after 25 years of marriage they still managed to swoon for one another. They had built a successful company together with blood, sweat, and tears. the dedication and loyalty they had for their business only enforced their ties.

"If you are to marry someone, do it for love"

they would say, funny how that quickly changed the moment money was placed on the line.

it was painful for you to admit that all the glory had gotten to their heads.

they had prepared a wedding in less than a week, forcing you into a marriage with a man you had only met the day you said your rehearsed vows.

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook was one of the youngest and wealthiest eligible bachelors in Korea, the news of your marriage had shaken society to its core, no one had expected such a thing, he was known for his partying and luxurious life and you were barely known at all, as you always ensured to keep a low profile. magazines and blogs had gushed over your dress and the venue, the celebrities and other elites who had attended, and the expensive wines and food that had been provided. all things that had been chosen for you.

and yet you prevailed, in the sickest way you had convinced yourself that it would all work out for the best, your father would have not set you up for failure, you were the apple of his eye.

 arranged marriages were not uncommon in your circle, many of them had turned out just fine. eventually, you could fall for him, eventually, you could really love him, like a real marriage.

the thought now caused a vile taste in your mouth.

you had been so foolish, so naive to believe such things but given the circumstances, it was the only thing you could hold onto. hopeful thoughts.

the hope that had been snatched from you the moment you had learned the truth behind this entire ordeal.

you see unbeknown to your father, the money that had been used to trade his daughter had come from the illegal sale of firearms to the biggest mafia leaders and gangs in Korea, all the success the Jeon family had obtained had come from a long lineage of fraudulent businesses and crime and your father's company had just become the next victim.

they had used your marriage to strengthen their venomous root within the company, using it to launder their blood money.

98 billion drops of blood at that.

which meant that if they fell, your family fell with them and even though you carried great indignation towards the people who you had once called your parents, you could not imagine bringing them such pain.

therefore, divorce was not an option.

fear had forced you into a loveless marriage, had you harboring secrets for the family that would bring your own down in the blink of an eye.

"Mrs. Jeon"

a delicate whisper flowed into the air, snapping you back into the room in which you sat.

"mhm," you blinked, your eyes falling back onto the woman standing before you holding a catalog for you to view.

"I apologize ma'am" her voice shaking slightly, "I asked if you would like to view the new line of furniture coming out this season" she offered "for the remodelation of your home".

you stared blankly at the photographs before you and took a deep breath, your mind vacant.

"send some options to my assistant and then we will choose from them" you instructed.

the woman nodded and bowed deeply before removing herself from the room.

this was what you had to become. you had integrated yourself smoothly into the role of a stay-at-home wife as requested by your father-in-law who had made it clear that working was not a woman's duty and that you should allow your husband to provide for you.

all the dreams you once had of becoming a successful businesswoman had been replaced by brunches with other wives from high society and charity events. there was no room for your aspirations here and neither was there for any protest.

it made you want to claw at your eyes.

"Myung" you called for your assistant, and she quickly appeared before you. her small frame contrasting against your grand office, her shaky hands pressed tightly against the tablet on her hands and if you looked closely you could swear she was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

"yes Mrs. Jeon"

you cringed at the name that she uttered, wanting to remove yourself as much as possible from that family.

"Myung, please call me Y/N"

you corrected, causing her cheeks to grow brightly red at her mistake. She bowed quickly, her eyes wide open.

"Y-yes Mrs. J - Y/N"

"do I have any other meetings for today?" you inquired.

her eyes quickly scanned the tablet in her hands, the schedule reflecting off her thick glasses.

" uhm, you were free for the rest of the evening but Mr. Jeon actually called and requested to have dinner with you tonight" she announced nervously.

"oh" your lips parted "he's back from his travels, is he?" she shook her head rapidly, biting on her bottom lip, a bad habit you learned she had each time she grew nervous, which was often.

you leaned back onto your chair and pondered for a moment. spending time with your husband was always planned, always scheduled. much like a business meeting, there were many formalities taken at the time.

hell, you didn't even share the same bed.

in the year you have been married, the man had not touched you once.

it could be that he found solace in the arms of other women, many of whom smiled each time they passed you at events as if fucking your husband was some kind of bragging right, or maybe it was the iciness you radiated any time he was anywhere near you.

regardless of the reason, nothing had changed since the day you said I do.

it was visible to you from the first day you entered your shared home that this would not be a marriage that would offer you comfort or warmth.

once the housekeeper had shown you to your room and found no evidence that your husband had even graced his presence there you had concluded that you were doomed to the coldness of an empty relationship.

you scoffed rather loudly, turning your chair to face Myung once more.

"Who does he think he is" You bit "am I a dog that he summons whenever he feels like it?"

she stood still, thoughts bubbling in her mind.

you held out your finger before she could speak "Do not answer that".

you inhaled deeply before reaching for your Birkin bag and standing up firmly.

"call the driver and tell him to take me home"

"but Mrs. Je - Y/N"

Myung protested as you walked toward the doors of your office

"Mr. Jeon will be upset" she concluded.

there it was, that reminder that all those who stood beside you ultimately were under the Jeon payroll, and although they showed the utmost respect towards you, their loyalty remained elsewhere.

you snapped your head towards her and placed the shades you carried in your hands over your eyes in a swift movement, your red lips pulling into a smirk.

it had been a long time coming, your rebellion that was. you had been obedient for far too long, running at their Becking call like some kind of pet. the title of a trophy wife made you sick but that was what you were all along.

smile pretty for the camera Y/N, laugh Y/N, walk Y/N, bow Y/N, be respectful Y/N, don't be too loud Y/N, shrink yourself Y/N.

"then let him"

you had been silent for too long, cowarding at each of their words, in fear they would hurt your family.

but you were your father's daughter and you were starving

for revenge. 

-

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝! 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞! 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤/𝐝𝐦 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

The Cardinal and the Seamstress

The next chapter is here, folks! I had fun while writing this, hopefully you enjoy reading it.

Chapter Summary: It's the first fitting! We get a special visitor. The Clergy is also restless for news on the Ghost project. Sarah and Copia share a sweet moment towards the end.

I hope you enjoy! I have been listening to "The Walk Home" by Young the Giant while writing this. I feel like it's a fitting song for this story. Give it a listen! Either the studio version or the acoustic version is great.

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x OC

Warnings: suggestive dialogue

Words: 2.5k

Chapter 2 - Quite a Scene? Wasn't it?

Read on AO3

banner and dividers courtesy of: gothdaddyissues AND ghuleh-recs

The following two days after the Cardinal’s measurements were taken are spent sketching, cutting paper, and working on mockups for Copia’s new show wardrobe. After the pattern pieces are drawn, Sarah gets started on cutting the mockups. She’s tasked with sewing the pants while Amelia tackles the jacket. In a couple more days Copia will come back for another fitting. In the words of Amelia, these costumes need to be ‘perfect for even the Olde One’s taste.’ We’re going to be here a while; Sarah thinks to herself. There still hasn’t been word of the new Ghost frontman. Siblings whisper in the hallways and at meal times with each other on who they think the next man up will be.

All day Sarah toils away at the contoured seams of his pants. Since learning of Copia’s condition, her dreams have become infiltrated with the image of a sharp-toothed Cardinal Copia. He hasn’t been able to leave her mind, she finds herself drifting off at the machine from time to time. So many questions run through her head.

It can’t be a crush. I’ve barely spoken with him! Sarah tries to rationalize is all. I’m just… curious. Curious about the whole thing. How often do you meet a real, live, well not live, vampire? In her stupor she manages to get through the line of stitching without jamming her finger under the needle. The actual stitching, however. “Oh damn. Where did I put my seam ripper?”

She saw him in the hallways while walking back to the studio after lunch on the day before the first fitting. Their eyes met and they stopped to chat while in the middle of the hall.

“Good afternoon, Cardinal.” Sarah said.

“Good afternoon, sorella. I hope Sister Amelia hasn’t been working you too hard on the new suits?” Copia looks into her eyes sincerely.

“Oh, are you familiar with “The Gauntlet?” Cardinal?” She chuckles.

Copia’s eyebrows raise. “Ehe I haven’t ever heard it put in that.. particular way but I’ve heard that new assistants tend to be put through the ringer. “

“The ringer, the gauntlet, either way, I feel like I’m doing fine for now, ha!” She shifts her feet a couple times. “Only time will tell.” Subject change, now! “So Cardinal, I heard that you are uh… Uh.”

Copia’s eyes find someone in the distance. “Oh, I’m late for a meeting sorella. Mi dispiace.” He begins to walk past her but stops to turn around to look back at Sarah. “We should continue our talk, still? Sometime later.”

“Yes! That sounds great.” And with that, hes gone. Why am I being so weird?

The morning of the first fitting, Sarah wakes up with a bundle of anxiety in her stomach. She keeps dreaming of Copia. He’s invaded her thoughts in both the dreaming and waking world now. While Sarah is getting ready for the day, the only thing on her mind is hoping the pants she made don’t burst at the seams when Copia moves around. Amelia’s new concept is a very new and bold step forward. The door to the studio is already unlocked, Amelia the likely answer. Amelia looks up from the ironing board as Sarah walks in.

“Sarah! Are you excited? It’s the first fitting! I always get a bit giddy, like a kid on Christmas.” She sets down her iron to move the garment around. “Except, instead of unwrapping something, I get to wrap someone up!” She clasps her hands together and grins.

It’s infectious and Sarah smiles in return. Some of her anxieties melt away in genuine excitement. She’s right. Sarah always found joy in seeing the look on someone’s face when she would make something for them. It would feel so rewarding to see them strut around in the thing she made! It’s like the physical manifestation of caring about someone.

Copia is a couple minutes from reaching the sewing studio but his mind is elsewhere. He wonders when the rest of the clergy will find out about Copia and the Ghost project. Will the siblings approve? Papa Terzo was well loved, maybe too well loved, amongst the Siblings of Sin. Would they feel the same about Copia?

The fitting is under way, about 30 minutes in, when the old devil himself walks into the room.

“My sweet Sisters! Cardinale! How is everyone doing this morning!” Terzo asks. There is a chorus of ‘hello Papa’s back to him as he enters the room. “Oh! A new suit, Copia? Any special reason?” he asks.

Copia’s face jerks to Amelia and Sarah. A silent plea for help in his eyes.

“Papa,” Amelia starts. “Is there ever a reason? Change is… inevitable.”

Terzo notices Copia’s deer-in-headlights look and holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I kid! I know about the Cardinal and the Ghost project. It was my idea for the dramatic exit.” Terzo has a cheshire-like smile

The sounds of a collective sigh falls over the room.

“Oh, thank Lucifer for that!” Amelia turns to Copia. “Cardinal, please to put on the pants Sarah put together in your dressing room. It’s the last thing I need to see for the day.”

Copia nods and walks off to change. The sounds of the curtain swinging open then closed. A few minutes pass in silence then he calls from behind the curtain. “Sister… per favore, did you give me the wrong pants by any chance?”

Sarah’s head pops up and Amelia walks over to the changing area and goes to open the curtain. Copia fumbles in front of her to prevent it from revealing himself. “Copia! Cardinal! Let me-“

Copia is struggling in vain to keep his privacy. “Please pay no attention to the vampire behind the curtain!” He screams.

Sarah watches on in horror. Her hands cover her face.

Copia walks out from behind the curtain to see Amelia, Sarah and Papa Terzo staring at him. “I could zip them up but they are uh… a bit tight. I don’t think I’ll be able to wear underwear in these.”

Sathanas, you can see everything.

“Oh Sarah, you should be proud. The ritual attendees are going to eat him up!” Terzo turns to her. He strides over to Amelia and takes her hand. “Bella why couldn’t you have made anything like this for me for my shows? They are… inspired.” He waves his hand around.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “Oh please! We both wouldn’t have lasted 10 minutes into a fitting.” She walks forward to inspect the mockup but Terzo follows after her. “Copia, could you walk around and see how the pants feel on?”

Terzo scoffs. “Cara, I wouldn’t even need 10 minutes! It would take me less than 5 before I would’ve had you ripping them off me.” Terzo gives her an eyebrow wiggle.

“I’m trying to focus here, Terzo. Papa. And if you don’t stop right now, I will shove some scrap fabric into your mouth and tie you up with my tape measure! Then I might actually be able do my job.”

“Amore! Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Terzo smiles wide.

 Sarah looks to the Cardinal with wide eyes, they both share a look across the room.

Amelia sighs at Terzo. “Oh, look what you’ve done. You’ve scared the children”

Copia turns around but is now facing the mirror, the mirror that is showing his reflection back. There’s more frantic turning and he eventually stops. Copia looks up in frustration. He breathes a silent “shit.”

“Mi dispiace. I will leave you now so you can get back to your hard” he looks at Copia. “work.” He looks back to Amelia.

After Papa leaves, Sarah breaks the silence with “The pants do look a bit tight.”

“You people are no fun!”

Amelia spends some time marking on the suit pieces while Copia models them. Half an hour later the suit pieces are back on their hangers with notes pinned to the fabric for the next mockup. Amelia assures Copia that she’ll add some ease to his pants. He leaves the studio and on the way back to his office he passes by a few siblings of sin who seem to have strange looks on their faces.

Sarah and Alex make their way to the dining hall for dinner. They’ve developed a good rhythm in the past week of finishing up their work and then going together for food at the end of the day; the both of them are exhausted by the whirlwind Amelia in the throes of a big project. They're midway into a conversation at their table when a couple siblings of sin rush up to them.

“Oh! Sister Hannah-?”

“Is it true?” a girl huffs. “The person who will take Papa’s place in the Ghost Project? It’s the Cardinal?”

Sarah’s eyes go wide. Alex’s head whips to the girl. “Where did you hear that?”

“Is it true? Sister Ashley heard it from brother Michael, who got a text from my girlfriend who was walking down the hall by the sewing department when she overheard Papa Terzo say something about Rituals and the Cardinal Copia was there with him!” Hannah rambles.

By now other siblings have caught on to the commotion and have hushed their conversations. All eyes are on Sarah and Alex. Some of them start asking questions of their own.

“Do you know?”

“You have to know since you were there, right?”

“Did Papa Terzo say the Cardinal would be the next Papa?”

“Aw! Terzo is so much sexier!”

Sarah snaps her head towards that last one. Her eyes scan the crowd and she spies the subject of their concerns slowly trying to make his way out of the hall by side-stepping slowly against the wall. A few turn and stand to follow her line of sight and now yell towards Copia. All Sarah can see is a flash of red fabric making a hurried exit down the halls.

A voice calls out to the clergy. “Everyone! Please settle down! Settle down!” It’s Papa Terzo’s voice. “You will all find out who the next leader of the Ghost project will be in due time. Have patience, per favore!” Papa’s words help some of the commotion die down and the siblings move to sit back at their tables. It’s a lot quieter in the dining hall but Sarah feels several dozen pairs of eyes looking towards her. The scraping sound of her chair pierces through the massive room as she stands to put up her dinner items and walk back to her room for the rest of the night. The sounds of her shoes against the tile echo painfully behind her.

Several hours have passed and Sarah can’t sleep. She’s been tossing and turning to no avail. Everyone knows who will be next to head the Ghost project. It may not have been official but who else could it be? Some are confused and some are hopeful. The Cardinal isn’t hated by any means but he never seemed like the type to lead a band.    

Sarah sits up and grabs her robe. She put her shoes on and is out the door before she can even think of where to go. On instinct Sarah ends up in the ministry gardens. A beautiful sanctuary created by Papa Primo in his retirement. She’s visited a couple times during the daytime. Towering hedge walls, bushes, flower beds, and trees as far as the eye can see and soft glowing lights above and below to light the path at night. In the distance she can see a cloaked figure but they’re covered in the shadows.

“Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you!” Sarah lets out a soft laugh. The figure’s head moves to look at her and as she walks closer, she can see two distinctly miss-matched eyes looking at her. “Cardinal Copia? Is that… Is that you? I can leave.”

“No! Please, sit.” He makes some room for her on the small bench and pats the spot next to him. “I don’t mind if it’s you. I just needed some alone time and I couldn’t take one more minute in my room.”

Sarah sits down on the bench. “I’m sorry about today. If people were going to find out, it shouldn’t have come in that way...” She looks into his eyes.

“Papa is well-loved amongst the clergy. How else would anyone react?” He pats his hand on Sara’s hand in her lap. “Cara, I’ll be alright. This old bat can handle a few odd looks from the siblings.” he pleads. “Let’s not dwell too much about that right now; we mustn’t borrow trouble. What brings you to the garden so late into the night?”

She sighs. “I couldn’t sleep. I get these moods sometimes and after what happened with you today… I…”

Copia nods his head. “I don’t sleep very much, either.” Sarah turns to look up at him. “Vampire brain, I suppose. I tend not to sleep for very long every night.”

“What do you do with the extra hours?”

“I like to listen to music or uh… play video games.” He feels a bit embarrassed. “Sometimes I head to my office and start on the paperwork I left behind.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“I’m not alone right now.” Copia leans to bump shoulders with her. “What if I gave you my number and you can text me when you can’t sleep. We can be alone and restless together.”

She lets out a small gasp. Sarah turns to look at Copia. “You have a cellphone?”

“Cara if I didn’t adapt with the times I would be living in the dark ages.” Copia chuckles. “I know our ministry operates in an old building but if we didn’t have wi-fi and phones it would be torture to get anything done.

“Yes, well, it’s just a silly idea to me that a centuries old vampire would have a smartphone.” She giggles. “It’s like if you gave a Victorian child a Gameboy.”

“Hey, I’m hip as the kids might say, eh?” Sarah laughs a bit louder at that. “I’m pretty fly for an undead guy!”

Her shoulders are shaking from laughter. “If you say so, Cardinal.”

“Copia. Please, you don’t have to always address me as ‘Cardinal’, cara.”

“Ok… Copia.”

Copia stands up from the bench and turns to Sarah. “So, shall I walk you back to your room? It’s late and you still need to at least try to get some sleep.” He holds out his hand as Sarah stands up.

“Oh, I suppose.” She mimics. Copia gives her a small smirk as she grabs his hand. The two walk back to Sarah’s room hand-in-hand. Once they reach her door they stop in front of it.

“Well, this is where I take my leave, Sarah.” Copia raises her hand and gives a small kiss on the back it. “Have pleasant dreams, eh?”

Sarah’s cheeks turn pink and she gives a bashful smile to the Cardinal. A whispered “Thank you” manages to come out. She walks into her room and closes the door, glancing one last time to Copia.

After Copia gets back to his room, he changes into comfier clothes and lays down in his bed. Sleep is certainly going to evade him tonight. “Oh, my sweet Sarah. My dolcezza. What are you doing to me?”

Thus concludes chapter 2! I hope y'all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! I think this story will be about 5 chapters so we're almost halfway there.