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mooishbeam · 6 months

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『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers.

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette.

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax.

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks.

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too.

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day.

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.

She wants...my name.

My name.

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy.

How fucking dare they.

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it.

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets.

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?”

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.”

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off.

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.”

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger.

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand.

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked.

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.”

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.”

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you.

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup.

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.”

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile.

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked.

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.”

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you.

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess.

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it.

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-”

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped.

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire.

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance?

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added.

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.”

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last.

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning.

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort.

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful.

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club.

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair.

“Spill it” you demand.

“Spill what?”

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.”

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend.

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance.

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem.

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul.

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration.

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible.

“We love each other. That won’t happen.”

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-”

Ding

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag.

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability.

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word.

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things.

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.”

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal.

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.”

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles.

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort.

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone.

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?”

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion.

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-”

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.”

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you.

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.”

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk.

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest.

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics.

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen.

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt.

“Ajax.”

“Hm?”

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete.

You unfurl the cover.

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry:

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing my sun and star ♡ my blood and bone ♡ ♡ my goddess, my angel, the very essence of my existence ♡ ♡ my love is infinite and eternal you are destined to be mine ♡ ♡ forever, forever she is mine ”

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile.

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.”

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage.

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up.

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf.

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock.

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.”

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.”

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney.

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?”

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.”

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down.

“Ugh, don’t remind me!”

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise.

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.”

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back.

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums.

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.”

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.

“You mind making another, Lyney?”

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?”

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.”

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.”

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely.

“How many times must I apologize?”

“Until you die.”

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.”

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours.

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.”

“It was a surprise.”

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know.

“Yeah, from back home.”

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.”

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.”

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.”

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-”

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-”

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.

“Excuse me?”

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-”

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp.

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.”

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege.

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run.

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him.

“Ajax?”

“Yea?” he chirps.

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek.

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him.

“No baby, nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin.

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on.

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.”

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.”

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves.

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight.

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost."

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers.

“You don’t need…me?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-”

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle.

“What if I just...lock you up?”

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs.

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.”

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant.

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical.

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.”

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.”

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.”

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair.

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion.

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back. Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes.

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.

“Ajax.”

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body.

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips.

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy.

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud.

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.”

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand.

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question.

“Of course.”

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing.

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length.

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!”

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.�� He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel.

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”

No. It can’t be true.

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?”

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin au #ajax smut #ajax x reader #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin tartagalia #i need ajax BAD #so sorry about the wait this time

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petermorwood · 8 months

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Microwave Sponge Cake (eventually)

Long ago, @dduane and I had a Whirlpool combi microwave - micro, grill, fan oven - and It Was Great, big enough to use as a proper oven when what needed cooked in a proper oven was small enough that powering up the big proper oven in the cooker was a bit much.

Still with me...?

IIRC it was one of those Christmas presents where Mum, ever-practical, told us; "get yourselves something really useful but not too expensive (I did say practical!) and I'll go halves."

In 2016, after something like 15 years of pretty-well daily use for one thing and another, the old thing expired by stages, micro first, grill second, oven last - it made great bread up until the end - and went to recycling heaven.

*****

We couldn't find a one-for-one replacement (we needed a free-standing counter-top appliance, everyone was selling built-in), so until once was available (optimism) we bought an ordinary microwave.

NB, this and its successors were only used for ordinary microwave things like reheating, defrosting and dealing with freeze-cook stuff. They got nothing like the amount of use of the old combi, mostly because of being incapable of doing a lot of it. As things turned out, this didn't help much.

About eighteen months later, we had to buy another. If a microwave's enamel interior develops a crack (to this day I don't know how), moisture gets in, rust begins and the enamel pulls off the bare metal. That's when you get "sparking".

This demo is deliberate; believe me, when it's unexpected it's even worse.

youtube

A private welder show or lightning storm at the end of the kitchen counter when all you want is a hot cuppa is distinctly unsettling. Also, it's only going to get worse, and we could imagine - boy, could we - what "Much Worse" might look like.

To the recycle dump!

(NB, micros with stainless steel interiors don't seem to do this, probably because they're already tuned to deal with the bare metal.)

The replacement, another ordinary micro, Just Up And Died after eighteen months and, guess what, the quote for a check-up and replacements-if-required was as much as the price of a new one.

(Inkjet printers seem to operate on this principal too.)

To the recycle dump again!

We got a third new one (which BTW is still running just fine, because it's been downgraded to Extra, read on), totalled up what we'd spent on ordinary microwaves, said a few well-chosen words about planned obsolescence and the "Vimes 'Boots' Theory of Economic Inequality" and got ourselves a pre-pay credit card whose top-ups were dedicated to Get A Combi Again.

We didn't bother with GACA baseball caps.

That would have been silly.

I don't know if these cards exist in the USA; we treat them as the modern version of a piggy-bank...

...except that to get at the money you need two people acting in accord.

*****

And in 2021 we got one.

Okay, this next bit is going to read like an ad.

It isn't, because the appliance is discontinued. (Whirlpool FINALLY do something similar but not identical.) It's just enthusiastic users discovering there's even more to a gadget than expected.

*****

The New One even bigger than the old one, which had 28 litres capacity; the new one was 33 L (was .99 ft³, is now 1.16 ft³). In non-tech terms, wow, More Room To Cook In.

Reading the figures was no help (to me, anyway) in visualising what a maw the thing had, but opening the door did that and no mistake.

I said something to DD about "bite radius"...

...and she instantly responded with "anyway, we delivered the bomb".

We're a quotesy household. ;->

BTW, The New One does a very good job on seafood, too...

*****

Since we got this, almost exactly two years ago, we've used it from reheating tea to roasting meat to making chilli / goulash / stew / curry (you can run the oven / grill separately or add simultaneous zaps of microwave for much less cooking time) to baking bread.

One of the best things about it is that when the set cooking time is done, the appliance switches off automatically. No risk of busyness, absent-mindedness or out-in-the-garden-ness ending in clouds of smoke, ruined food and possibly even worse.

As for breadmaking, it has a dough-rise setting which is a Time Machine, reducing a two-hour "doubled in size" rise time to about 35-45 minutes...

It also has the most reliable Defrost Butter setting either of us have ever encountered, turning a rock-solid butter brick from the freezer into something spreadable while never - to date - doing the "never mind a butter-knife, give me a spoon or a paintbrush" thing.

*****

However...

There's also a "Chef Setting" where there are some simple recipes. Here's the pastry page.

Basically, you assemble and mix the ingredients, input the correct settings and the machine does all the timing, heating and cooking.

We'd never used this until yesterday, when DD said, "Let's try the sponge cake..."

Yes, this post was entitled "Microwave Sponge Cake (eventually)..." and here we are...

We did all the measuring correctly and checked it by pouring the mixture into a baking container while on the scale, wondering betimes why the recipe says 900g, the ingredients total 925 and what actually poured into the container reads 906... Weird. Really weird.

Then we put the container into the oven, entered the correct code, and let things do what they were going to do.

A little later we discovered something else about the recipe besides a weight anomaly.

It didn't mention the required size of the container. Or or how much the mixture was likely to rise.

It rose...

Let's say more than we expected...

The fluted ceramic container used for baking this one makes it look like a Vesuvius cupcake; not quite a pyroclastic flow, but a lot of flow regardless.

Once it cooled we separated the sponge-cake from the escaped sponge in the same way as sculptors work with wood or marble - "Chip away everything that doesn't look like a cake" - and found that despite its misshapen looks, it tasted pretty good.

So today DD made another, this time using a larger container.

...and this time it stayed put until removed using the cunning base-and-lifting-straps of baking parchment.

It's not the loftiest or best-risen sponge cake either of us have ever seen (a smaller-diameter higher-sided container would probably deal with that) BUT if there's something needing sponge cake in a hurry - this went from cupboard ingredients to done and cooling in less than 55 minutes - that treatment seems to fit the bill.

We're now wondering what other secrets lurk in the simple recipe pages; falafel, quiche Lorraine, stuffed peppers, even Flammkuchen* from scratch.

(*Though I have my own views about Flammkuchen, mostly involving a plane flight...)

And we'll be paying a lot more attention to what size of dish we put them in. :->

#food and drink #kitchen appliances #combi microwaves #sponge cake #anecdotage #GNU Terry Pratchett #Youtube

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ns-imagines · 11 months

Text

What they drive

141 Guys x domestic/everyday life

SFW | Word Count: 1.4k | Headcannons

**Long post with lots of pictures!

A/N: I dunno much about cars but I always wonder what the boys would be driving. See what they’re picking me up in for date night… this is just for fun and highlights the modern life they have outside of missions. Also the gif of Soap falling on the car took me out lmao. Not requested. -Kiv

John Price

A man who takes pride in his vehicles. He has two Chevy trucks. A nice truck for everyday use and a project truck. The perfect person to talk to if you are thinking of purchasing a car or truck. Price has got the “dealership scam” game down. You'll be leaving the lot with a good deal.

The project car being a 1985 Chevy C10. Price is always going on about how “this is every man's dream car to work on”. He says it everytime he opens the garage. Without fail! It's got a classic blue color with a few rust spots but, nothing a good layer of paint can't fix. Its the 90s car from the movies. Nothing else to say about it!

Ahh the project car. Price works on it when he can. Set up a lawn chair, get a glass of lemonade, and just watch that man work. Sometimes hell even explain to you what he’s doing. That is if you can even pay attention. There’s something so attractive about a man talking about what he’s passionate about all sweaty with a nice pump. HEY, wipe that drool off your face.

Price’s personal truck is nice. It gets him from point A to B. Everything on it is stock. He’ll always tell you hes gonna sell it once his project car has been fixed. But there’s still quite a lot to do on the project car. Its a 2012 Chevy Silverado in cherry black with a covered bed. Good on gas and can pull a trailer or boat! He doesn’t invest money in it for other than maintenance costs.

It smells specifically like “Lakeside Morning” from Bath and Body works car scents. The packaging is what got him. It was honestly super cute when he read the package out loud. “Smells like: Cool, Sweet, Fresh, and alone time on the dock” followed by a shrug and him throwing it into his cart. Does he even fish?

Oh, whenever he turns a corner in the Silverado theres a thud coming from the bed. Its a cooler that has been there FOREVER. He swears he’s going to take it out. Price brought it when 141 met for a cook out and some beers a few months ago.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Don’t ask about the APR please. Kyle is going to use this bad girl till it breaks. Its his dream car. Price took him away from base to get a better rate for it! Its fast its speedy its a 2015 Ford Shelby GT350. Oh yeah racing stripes and all. He got it wrapped in a matte ocean blue. Im talking leather seats, tinted windows, and custom wheel.

Kyle loves this car and will always offer to pick you up. Ur always going to be passenger princess. Kyle always drives up reallll slow, rev the engine a little, and rolls down the window to smile big at you. He gets the door for you when you are both approaching the car. Don’t test him. He will literally sprint to get the door for you. An actual cutiepie

Hes so damn cute when it comes to long drives. Hand on your thigh and singing to the music together. Expect spontaneous trips!! He doesn’t even know where you guys are headed today.

Loves to speed up when there no cars in front of him. That feeling of the car pushing into you the sear is his favorite. Kyle is definitely the type to lightly bang on the steering wheel and go “Wooooooo” when returning to the normal speed limit. Hehe. Hope it didn’t freak you out too much. You will without a doubt get a few reassuring thigh squeezes.

Classic Black Ice scent. Cant go wrong with it! Its his car’s signature sent if you ask him. Kyle keeps his car clean. Theres a few half empty water bottles in the back but never straight up trash. He makes sure to buy the premium wipes for the interior. Like I said that car is his baby. Ugh did i mention the sound system?! Its absolutely amazing. You can feel the bass in your bones. Literally sounds like you’re in an air pod pro.

John “Soap” Mactavish

His car is the hangout car. Like if were going out with boys were taking Soaps car. He drives a pearl colored 2020 Honda Accord. He ordered the under the seat lights and everything. Its actually a vibe in there. The music changes the lights or he has an app on his phone to change the color. Another amazing sound system tbh.

Similar to Gaz the glovebox in the car is yours. He even puts stuff in there for you as a surprise :,). Sweet baby Johnny. Like one time you got in the car like usual and opened the glovebox to grab chapstick or some perfume/cologne and sitting on the car instruction manual was a bag/box of ur favorite snack. When you looked back over, Johnny was looking back at you with a big derpy smile.

Since his car is the hangout car it can get messy pretty easily. He has to do “trash runs” to empty the random things people leave in his car. Dont get it wrong, It isnt nasty with random food left behind!! Soap has tried those like little trash cans on Amazon but they always end up lost under the back seats.

Johnny always goes with New Car Smell. He doesn’t have a specific brand he likes he just gets whatever’s at the gas station at the time. He also has the bad habit of never locking his car. Soap swears he always forgets to but you think its just a habit at this point.

CEO of spontaneous trips. You would never believe how much camping stuff his car can hold. Soap will give him car encouraging words as it struggles to go up the hills to the hike or camping site. He always keeps an emergency box under the passenger seat. Its shaped like tackle box. It has a first aid kit, some portable batteries with chargers, flares, and an emergency flash light. Last time you both went camping he was so excited to show you the random hatchet he bought. He keeps it in the trunk for no reason. I mean, he cant have it in the barracks so you suppose it makes sense.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon currently owns two bikes. Hes in the process of selling his old one. Which is a chameleon purple painted 2006 Suzuki GSXR600 with 750 cc. It gave him a good year and half off rides. He took care of it and rode it to its top speeds. It has a scuff on the side from when he tried to do a wheelie but, he was going to slow and had to jump off before it fell to its side. Your heart sunk when it happened. Ghost was super embarrassed because he thought he had it down. He’ll never tell you though.

After a long deployment where he was getting quite a big of hazard pay (extra pay when you’re in a dangerous location) he saved it all up. As soon as he got back he bought a black 2021 Honda Rebel 1100 DCT. This bike is fast but it’s more for cursing. Trust that he’ll ride it to its max speed at least once for the adrenaline rush.

Bought you a matching jacket. He wont say anything about it being matching but you noticed almost after putting it on. Best part about riding is when you get to wrap your arms around his waist. Simon always makes sure to take it slow especially if you get nervous on bikes. Don’t even try to do your hair. He wont move the bike unless you have the right gear on. Ghost doesn’t wanna lose you from an accident.

You are probably wondering what he does when it rains… or maybe you already knew he chooses to ride anyway. I promise though that after a ride in the rain he will slightly complain about how wet the road was. It makes you worry because so much could happen with one slip. Simon will always reassure you that he’s an experienced rider. If you pick him up in your car he won’t be upset. Definitely wont say no to a free and dry ride!

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #cod headcanons #call of duty x reader #cod mw3

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violetsaffron5 · 11 months

Text

Beautiful Disaster (10)

← Chapter 9 • series masterlist • Chapter 11 →

↳ 10 | Insights

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Meeting Satoru's family

words: 4.6k

cw: mention of infidelity and open relationships

Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

When Satoru described his house to you, it sounded pretty modest, all things considered.

Based on the conversations you’ve had with Satoru and the things he likes to buy, you knew his family was rich, or at least had more money than most due to owning a law firm.

What you weren’t expecting was to be standing in front of an entire fucking estate as Satoru types in the code at the gate to get in.

They’re rich, rich and that thought kind of makes you want to vomit in the neatly trimmed bushes you’re currently walking past.

The estate is grand and luxurious. Soft snow is falling onto the acres of lawn that span the entirety of their property. Fern and Maple tree branches hang with the soft, freshly fallen snow making it look like an enchanted wonderland.

There’s a fountain in the center of the large, circular driveway surrounded by several bushes. And in the driveway there are several expensive cars, Satoru’s being among them.

He laces his fingers with yours guiding you to the front steps of the house to the large wooden double doors, passing by a wooden bridge that leads to another smaller building that sits on the lot, a little ways away from the main house.

The house is modern with multiple stories, a patio that wraps around the entire house with large glass windows to let in plenty of natural light.

The inside of the house is, to no surprise, even more grand. Everything is clean, shiny, and new.

The foyer has a table with fresh flowers on it between double staircases with marble flooring.

It’s almost impersonal in a way that screams the house was decorated by an interior designer.

Satoru leads you up one side of the staircase, down several halls, past a few closed doors to his bedroom.

The room is large and clean. He has several posters hanging on the wall over his bed, a giant TV with a game console set up under it on opposite his enormous bed. The room is clean with everything put in its place.

It would be hard to keep a house of this size clean so there’s no doubt there’s probably a few maids that help maintain organization and cleanliness. It would be impossible to keep clean on your own.

“Where are your parents?” It’s not that you thought they’d be waiting for you with open arms as soon as you walked through the front door, but you did expect to see them greeting their son after he had left for the night.

He shrugs, putting your bag down on the bed, “Around here somewhere, probably.”

Satoru presses his lips to yours, leaning you back onto his plush bed. Your legs spread automatically for him to lay between as he moves to kiss your jaw and neck, teeth grazing gently on the tender spot below your ear.

“Mm, Satoru,” you breathe, “Can we wait?”

He sighs, pouting, “Why?”

“Because we just got here. I want to look around and meet your family.”

Satoru pecks your lips a few times before muttering, “Fine,” standing and offering his hand to help you up off his bed.

There are several doors that are closed and Satoru explains those are just extra bedrooms, and when Suguru comes over or they have any parties, Suguru sleeps in one of them. The room at the end of the hall is a game room, or more of an arcade, really.

A massive sectional couch lines one wall, with a giant TV filling the entire wall space across from it. There’s a pool table, air hockey, and plenty of old-school arcade games spaced around the room.

It’s every kid's dream to have a room like this.

“This is incredible,” you laugh while looking through a bookshelf filled with board games, “I would have lived in here as a kid.”

“Yeah, I spent a lot of time in here playing while my parents were working.”

“Oh. Wasn’t that lonely?”

“Not so bad, especially once Suguru and I became friends. He stayed over a lot.”

You realize it must have been lonely being an only child with his parents always working or gone. Before you have a chance to say anything someone comes and knocks on the door of the room you’re in.

It takes you by surprise, not having expected someone to knock when the door is already open. There’s a pretty woman in the doorway with a simple uniform and a soft smile on her face, “Dinner is ready.”

Satoru rolls his eyes and groans while you giggle, “How fancy.”

Since you agreed to come to Satoru’s house with him, the two of you decided to spend most of the day with your Aunt Nagi, keeping her company for the day. She was getting ready to head out for her own dinner with a few friends when the two of you decided to leave.

As Satoru leads you through the halls upstairs, he points to the other wing of the house, up the opposite set of stairs that you initially came up stating that his parent's bedrooms are that way, along with a few studies and offices for his dad's work.

“You okay?” Satoru asks as you grab and gently squeeze his hand at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, just nervous. This is… more than I could have imagined. What if your parents don’t like me?”

“I really don’t care what they think.”

“But I do. I’ve never done this before.”

“My dad will love you,” he kisses your temple sweetly, “Mom will come around eventually.”

“Because she’ll prefer Mei?” You ask quietly, insecure.

He nods slightly, “Dad doesn’t really care for her. Says he knows what she’s all about and what she’s after. Mom will be the harder one to win over. She really only cares about how our family acts and appears in public, and Mei is very good at that.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Satoru points out a library stating they have all kinds of books, really anything imaginable in there and to help yourself at any time. Just off the library is a staircase to the basement. He says they don’t use it very much and it’s mainly for storage, but when he had parties in high school, that’s where they would hang out.

Satoru’s parents are already seated at a large mahogany table with a chandelier over it when you walk into the dining room. The room itself is just between the double staircase and has a massive carpet under the table with simple wooden chairs surrounding it.

His dad looks up from his tablet with shining eyes and a nod of his head when you give him a shy smile, “Welcome.”

Gojo Sr. looks as you remember from seeing him in Tokyo, shopping. Tall and lanky with salt and pepper hair. Satoru is a spitting image of him, only with his mother's snow-white hair.

Turning to his mother you give her the same sweet smile. She doesn’t return it. Instead, she looks you up and down a few times, and you’re unable to read her expression.

Knowing she only cares about image, you dressed the best you could with what you had packed. It’s a simple dress that cinches in all the right places.

She doesn’t look impressed.

“Who’s this?” His mom asks and you purse your lips as you take a seat across from her with Satoru next to you; it has you wondering if he’s even bothered to mention your name.

The thought doesn’t have time to fester since you hear Gojo Sr. say your name with confidence, “He told us she’d be joining us this week, and that they started dating a few months ago. Remember, honey?”

She hums, choosing not to respond. There’s an awkward silence for a few moments that’s making you want to crawl under the table and die, but before you get the chance to do that the food is brought out by a few of the house workers.

The hustle and bustle of plates, silverware, and doors opening and closing quickly fill the space drawing out the awkwardness of the introductions that just happened.

This is probably the fanciest dinner you’ve ever been to in your entire life and you can’t imagine people eating like this every single day without a care in the world.

“Why’d you have them make dinner like this?” Satoru asks, clearly annoyed that he had to come down to eat a four-course fucking meal with his parents.

“Your mom said that it would be a good idea to impress your guest.” His dad answers.

Satoru sighs, “Right. Even though mom just acted like she had no idea who she was.”

“It’s okay,” you interject, not really wanting to be the center of attention any more than you already are, “This is wonderful, regardless.”

You smile at Satoru’s mom, but she ignores you, taking a bite of her food instead so you turn and smile at Gojo Sr.

“So, what is your degree in?” He asks.

You’re thankful to have something else to focus your attention on, rather than sitting in an odd, uncomfortable silence until everyone is done with their meals. You tell him your major and that you’re helping tutor Yuji along with picking up a few extra-curricular courses in order to get enough credits to graduate early.

“Smart. It seems like you have a good head on your shoulders.”

“And what about a family?” His mom cuts in before you’re able to respond.

“Um,” You laugh awkwardly, “I’d like to have one, one day. I think I’d like to be settled in my career first, and be in a good place financially before really considering that.”

“Degrees are useless if you plan on staying home with the children. Better to have them while you’re young.”

“Mom,” Satoru warns, glaring at her.

He knew she was going to pull some shit like this, trying to find a reason to berate you, make you feel like what you’re doing isn’t good enough, no matter what you said. It’s how she operates when she’s not happy with his decisions.

“It’s fine.” You give him a tender smile, trying to hide the fact that your hands are shaking from the bombardment of questions regarding such a personal matter, “I don’t know if I plan to stay home with them or not. That’s a decision that’ll be made when the time comes.”

She scoffs, “Letting someone else raise your child-”

“What’s the difference between dropping the child off at daycare while working versus staying home and letting a nanny raise them?” You cut in.

Her eyes narrow at you as you smile sweetly in her direction before losing some of your nerves, opting to take a drink of water from the glass in front of you.

Gojo’s dad laughs quietly, breaking some of the tension, “Honey, let them worry about that when the time comes. They have plenty of years left before that would even be an option.”

Your cheeks flush at the thought of you and Satoru getting married one day, and starting a family, but there is a long way before that’s even a real consideration in your mind. You were honest with his dad, wanting to wait until you’re out of college, well into your career before you start thinking about starting a family.

You’d also want to be away from your mother so there’s no possible way she’d be involved.

“What does your mom do for a living?” His mom's voice is tense, but she’s trying. You're not sure why, but your best guess would be so Satoru doesn’t get pissed at her.

“She’s in hospitality.”

She perks up a little, hopeful, “Management?”

You shake your head, “Um, no, she works at a travel agency.”

There’s no hiding the disappointment that crosses her features. She opens her mouth to say something, but you see the way her eyes flicker to Satoru for a moment before closing her mouth.

You’re internally thankful when Gojo Sr. cuts in discussing the law firm and upcoming projects with Satoru, taking the heat and conversation off of yourself for the rest of dinner.

Once you’re done eating, Satoru excuses the two of you, bringing you back upstairs to the game room.

The two of you decide on a simple board game to play and as Satoru gets it up, your phone pings with a text.

Choso: do you have all the supplies you need for class? You: No, not yet Choso: We could go together, I still have a few things I need to pick up as well.

“Who are you talking to?” Satoru asks when you smile and tap away at your phone.

“Oh. Choso texted asking if I have everything I need for our art class this semester.”

His jaw twitches, “You have a class with him?”

Your eyes flicker between his for a moment, “Yeah. I didn’t realize it until we talked the other day. It’s the art class I’m taking as my extracurricular this semester.”

“Oh, great.”

There’s a shift in his mood at the mention of Choso. You can tell he’s not a fan, doesn’t like it when Choso hangs out with you or even speaks to you, but he hasn’t said anything about it.

You’d understand if there was anything going on with Choso, or if anything had ever happened in the past with him, but Satoru is the only person you’ve been with, physically and romantically since transferring.

It’s also a little hypocritical of him to be so jealous of someone else just because you get along with them when he’s still hanging out with Mei despite your protests.

You drop the subject though, quickly texting Choso back telling him you won’t be able to make it out before the semester starts. You’ll just ask Satoru to go with you to buy the things you need later this week.

Turning your attention back to the game, you ask Satoru to explain the rules and play a few practice rounds until his mood lightens. The rest of the night goes quickly, filled with laughs, giggles, and silly little arguments about him cheating so he doesn’t lose.

Your brows furrow when Satoru’s alarm goes off bright and early the next morning, feeling a kiss on your cheek with the bed dipping before he rolls out of it.

It takes you several minutes for your eyes to adjust to the darkened room. He has blackout curtains hanging over the windows, helping keep the morning sunlight out of his room.

When you sit up rubbing the sleep from your eyes, Satoru emerges from his attached bathroom in a white button-down and black slacks. He looks great, professional, but you’re also confused.

“Where are you going?” You ask between yawns.

Satoru chuckles, “I have to go into the office.”

“I thought you said your dad would let you take the week off since I’m here?”

“He will. But I have to at least get-up and get ready. Showing initiative and all that. He’ll tell me to come home and spend time with you instead.”

You pout, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Trust me, he’ll tell me to come back and hang out with my pretty girlfriend.”

You smile and flush as he kisses your lips before walking out of his room. And true to his word, he’s back shortly after leaving, pulling your sleeping body into his before he falls back asleep holding you close.

When the two of you decide to finally get up for the day, it’s almost noon and the house is empty. There was a part of you that expected to see some people working and cleaning throughout the house, but it is totally barren.

Both of your stomachs growl as you make your way out of his room to the kitchen, looking through the massive pantry to find something quick and easy to make.

He’s able to find soba noodles tucked away in a corner, grabbing those and getting out the necessary utensils to cook it on their stove.

While the water is heating up Satoru lifts you so you’re sitting on the kitchen island before pressing his lips to yours. He swipes his tongue over your lips silently asking to deepen the kiss. You let him, you always do.

As an opportunist, Satoru takes full advantage of the empty house, slowly leaning you down on the marble counter so he can kiss and lick down your neck until your legs are spread wide and his face is buried in the apex of your thighs.

Your moans of his name echo through the quiet house as the boiling water bubbles over the rim of the pot extinguishing the flame of the burner below. Neither of you pays much attention to it, not having the desire or will to stop, especially when he buries his cock in you, telling you how much he loves you.

Eventually, the two of you clean up the stove and turn your attention back to lunch. The rest of the day is filled with more of the same; Satoru taking you on any and every surface imaginable.

In the evening, his parents come home and his mother forces everyone to have another awkward dinner. His mom doesn’t speak to you much while his father asks about how your day was before discussing business with Satoru.

It’s incredible to hear Satoru talk about the field he’s studying, and how he already knows so much. Though it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering it’s his family business and he’s expected to work there after graduation.

After dinner, you and Satoru lay around for a bit before deciding to watch a movie. While Satoru works on getting the movie set up in the game room you decide to run downstairs to get some drinks. He explains where you can find sodas and wine, letting you decide on what to bring back for him.

The house is quiet when you come down the steps and head into the kitchen, grabbing several sodas and snacks to bring back with you. When you pass by the library on your way back upstairs, you can hear a few giggles coming from the room.

After dinner, his mom left again and you were under the impression his dad did as well since you hadn’t seen him since excusing yourselves. Furrowing your brows, you open the library door and poke your head inside to see what the commotion is about.

And your stomach hits the fucking floor.

His dad is in the room with a woman leaning back on the desk, who is very much not Satoru’s mother. She has a robe barely draped over her body, cupping his father's face as he chuckles, kissing her neck.

Your palms are heavy, heart is racing, and knees weak as you close the door as quietly as you can. You’re not sure if either of them saw you but as you slowly head up the stairs debating how to tell Satoru what you saw, nobody comes out to stop you.

There’s a massive lump in your throat when you walk into the game room, brows furrowed in concentration. Satoru looks up and smiles at you but it quickly drops when he sees your expression, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Um, Satoru, baby. You might want to sit down.”

“Uh, okay…” His brows are knitted together in confusion, but does as you’ve asked, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” You take a deep breath, voice laced with concern, “I heard some noise from the library, so I decided to poke my head in there and… your dad is in there with another woman.”

“Oh. What does she look like?”

You shake your head and blink a few times, confused about why he’s wanting to know, “Um. Tall, light eyes I think, long dark hair, thick eyebrows.”

“That’s Yorozu. They’ve been seeing each other for like, I don’t know, a few years now, I guess.”

“I- What?”

Satoru repeats himself, watching your confused expression stay as you take in the information he’s providing on his family.

“So you just… know he’s having an affair? Does your mom know?”

Satoru shrugs, “Yeah, she does.”

“Ok, pause. Start from the beginning.” Satoru raises an eyebrow, quietly chuckling to himself as he watches your confusion. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this.”

Typically when someone is cheating or having an affair, it’s a private matter. Not something they want out in the open, and certainly not something they want their child to find out about.

“My parents don’t really care for each other, romantically speaking. Never have. They had me to cement their marriage and so I could take over the family business one day. They were friends, met in college and their families decided they should get married to merge the businesses.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for them to just get a divorce?”

Satoru shrugs again, “Don’t know. Dad’s seeing a few people, it works for them.”

You stare at Satoru for a few moments, eyes flickering between his. He’s totally uncensored with the conversation you just had. Which makes sense.

His views on relationships make more sense now, keeping things casual, with no real commitment. Even though his parents are married and had him, it’s essentially the same thing. It’s what he watched and saw his entire life growing up, emulating that in his own relationships as he got older.

“I don’t want that.” Satoru states unprompted before sighing, “I mean I thought I did, before. But not anymore.

“What do you mean?” You ask quietly, stepping between his legs, moving his bangs away from his eyes.

He wraps his arms around your waist, looking up at you with gorgeous ocean-blue eyes, “I want someone I can be happy with. I want to be with you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” He rests his cheek on your stomach as you card your fingers through his hair, contemplating his words before putting the back of your hand on his forehead. He looks up at you confused narrowed eyes.

“Just had to check to see if you have a fever.”

He’s unamused with your antics, “Haha. I’m being serious.”

“I know,” You answer softly, “Just hard to believe this is the same Gojo Satoru who was only interested in causal relationships a few months ago. Now he’s talking about forever?”

“It’s different with you.”

You smile, cheeks flushed because you can see the sincerity in his eyes. You know he’s uncomfortable, talking about his feelings, having explained this family dynamic to you, so you tease him, trying to lighten the mood.

“Babe. You sound so crazy right now.” He laughs, pulling you into his lap and kissing your lips before the two of you lay on the couch, getting ready to start the movie.

The last few days have been filled with hard conversations, getting to know each other on a deeper level than you ever have before. It’s a big step forward, sharing these details and secrets of your home life.

As you watch him, focused on the movie, you know you wouldn’t want to have had these conversations with anyone else.

January 2012

The rest of the week goes by quickly, celebrating new years, venturing into all of the rooms in the estate and exploring every nook and cranny of the yard. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise to you but on the back patio, they have a hot tub that the two of you used a few times, along with a little hot spring in the back, far off from the house.

Everything is gorgeous and maintained even in Winter, and there’s no doubt it would look even better in the Spring and Summer when all of the hedges and flowers are in bloom.

Your mom did call once she realized you weren’t at home, and you begrudgingly answered at Satoru’s insistence. He wanted to speak to her, especially after hearing the shit she had to say to you about leaving unannounced but you didn’t let him.

Satoru took you shopping to get the items needed for both of your upcoming classes and to do some shopping in general. He took you to all of his favorite pastry shops along the way and went back to the little ramen shop the two of you discovered during your first date.

After a few nights of forced dinners with his parents, his mom relented, letting the two of you have your time together uninterrupted. You’re not sure if Satoru or if his father said something to her, or if she decided to leave the two of you to your peace on her own, either way, you’re not complaining about it.

It’s the night before you and Satoru are heading back to his house just off campus, to spend the weekend with your friends before the semester starts. He’s already asleep, having fallen asleep in his bed, holding you close while some cheesy Christmas romance movie you wanted to watch played on his TV.

You’re in one of his oversized t-shirts, fingers running through his soft tresses, listening to his light snores until the credits roll. It’s the middle of the night, and the two of you have planned to wake up early and get breakfast before heading back to college life.

Satoru has his face against your chest, and you’re amazed you’re able to slip out from under him without waking him, deciding to go downstairs to the kitchen and get something to drink before heading back to bed.

The house is quiet with no signs of life as you make your way down the steps and into the kitchen, the only sounds to be heard coming from the wind blowing and wildlife outside.

You’re startled when you walk into the kitchen and find his mom quietly sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island in her nightgown, legs crossed one over the other. She’s tapping away on her phone, looking up with sharp eyes when she notices you come into the room.

“Oh, uh, sorry. I came down for some water. I didn’t realize anyone was still awake.”

She watches for a moment as you smile awkwardly, pulling down the hem of Satoru’s shirt as you make your way to the cabinet to grab a glass.

“What do you think you’re doing with my son?” Her voice isn’t harsh per se, more curious than anything.

You watch her for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek before replying honestly, “We’re just getting to know one another. I’m not after anything if that’s what you think.”

“You won’t fit in with our family.”

You sigh, setting the glass on the kitchen island, “I love Satoru, hard edges and all. If he’s happy with me, then honestly, that’s all that matters.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest, “Love doesn’t matter when you’re making a name for yourself and have a family legacy to uphold.”

“It’s really unfortunate that that’s what you believe.”

His mom watches as you grab the glass, filling it with ice and water before drinking it, setting the used cup in the sink. You’re about to make your way out of the kitchen and back upstairs before she says, “I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you. Satoru’s interests have always been… fleeting. Much like his father's. He’ll find a reason to end things, one way or another.”

You purse your lips, turning back to meet her gaze, “I’ll worry about that when and if the time comes.”

@petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin @desthevirgo @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @musababy @sagejin @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @erenputurchildreninsideme @lex-dear @hvziers @babybae-shisui @sugurunicorn @niki-sun @lilith412426 @sofiaconlaz @lxvephxbic @iam-mia9 @laylasbunbunny @creolequeen11210 @xiaosie @lem-hhn @yogurttea @slut-jr @crystxlline @ritsatoru @abba-simp @myabae @etherealkakashi @hyperfixationsporfavor @yihona-san06 @ambersea7 @knightoflove

#jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #violetsaffronfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #BD

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hometoursandotherstuff · 11 months

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This 1963 Mid-Century Modern beach house in Malibu, California is for sale for a whopping $49.5M. The house is right on the beach- it's propped up like the boardwalk, and the terraces are right over the Pacific Ocean. I has 6bd and 8ba.

Double glass front doors open to a view of the fireplace.

Propped up by the front door is a surf board, b/c the waves are breaking right under the house.

The sunken living room is round with a built-in sectional in front of a nice big fireplace. A wall of glass provides a panoramic view of the ocean.

Next to the living room area is a dining room.

There's also the option of eating on the deck. Looks like they had the picnic set custom made to contour to the curve of the deck.

You can glimpse a part of the kitchen. There's a nice round island. But, as usual with the most expensive homes, they show very little of the interior.

The neighbor's houses are set farther back and there are rocks in front, but this baby is right on the sand. I don't know if I would feel secure about buying this house.

The least that could happen would be that diamond section breaking off and washing out to sea.

They didn't show anything but the front interior of the house, there's a lot more to it than that.

I can't get over how close the waves come to this house.

#mansions #beach house #mid century modern home #MCM architecture #houses #house tours #home tour

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kyopmi · 2 years

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♡ — sightseeing

‣ you convince sakusa kiyoomi to visit a grocery store together ...

‣ gn!reader, fluff

‣ 806 words

‣ this is an entry for milo @taintedsorrcw 's writing collab, too much to dream !

sakusa kiyoomi didn’t particularly understand when, last night, you had asked if he wanted to visit the newly-opened grocery store a few blocks away. puzzled, he reminded you that just last week, the two of you had done your monthly shopping in the supermarket you usually frequent and there’s nothing left to check off your list. it’s a different grocery chain, you had insisted, and therefore, will probably have different stuff. it finally clicked in his brain that you’re not interested in going with the intent of purchasing anything, but rather to go sightseeing, and he finally agrees to accompany you, noting the beam that instantly appears on your face when he does so.

how silly of them to be so excited over visiting a grocery store, he thinks to himself, features softening into a small, affectionate smile as he watches you bury yourself under the covers, seemingly satisfied with yourself as if you’ve completed a quest.

i love them so much.

and thus, this morning, you’re both walking hand-in hand from your shared apartment to the new store you can’t stop enthusing over, the mini expedition filled with conversation. he tells you about his upcoming matches, how he’s fairly confident in the Black Jackals’ ability to score a win, and recounts the comical antics of his teammates from their previous practice he had kept in mind because he thinks you’d enjoy the story (you did). in return, you tell him about the recent milestones you secure in your projects, a new book that piqued your interest after your friend had recommended it (sakusa makes sure to remember the title), and a possible family dinner in the next month that your parents would love for him to join.

10 minutes later, you and kiyoomi are already standing by the automatic sliding-glass doors of the store. it definitely has a different vibe than the usual supermarket, he’ll give it that. when you first step in, you’re greeted with the delicious smell of freshly-baked pastries from the artisanal bakery right at the front floor of the store. the air-conditioned indoors is a more-than-welcome change from the outside, providing relief from the humid summer heat. instead of the regular harsh fluorescent lights on the ceiling and the white-painted walls that seem to highlight everything on the shelves, the interior is darker, with both the walls and the floor in a complementing shade of dark grey. the lights are warmer and positioned right above shelves almost as tall as kiyoomi, perfectly distanced to provide an adequate but not overwhelming amount of lighting, while the sides and backed are reserved for refrigerators and freezers, showcasing produce, dairy products, and fresh meat and seafood. from where you’re standing, you can even make out what seems like a small deli near the cashier stations, advertising a selection of cuisines and delicacies.

it’s definitely not your usual supermarket.

even kiyoomi is taken aback, as the both of you momentarily still after you enter the store, admiring the modern interior that clearly, neither of you were expecting.

he takes a glance at you, amused at the way you’re looking around wide-eyed in wonder. he’s reminded of one of the reasons he loves you — the way you’re able to appreciate the little things, whether it be the aesthetically-pleasing assortment of goods on the shelves of an unfamiliar grocery store or the constellation of freckles that splay across his skin, once upon a time being an ugly source of insecurity until you start leaving soft, shy kisses all over them during nights when you hold each other close under the covers. the way you fuss and pout when the bouquet of flowers he gifts you start to wilt, despite knowing he buys one for you every week, anyway. the way the umeboshi that you make for him and pack into his lunchbox always has the right balance of sweet, salty and sour. the way you can’t meet his eyes for a second, loopy smile on your lips, right after he kisses you. the way he thought you would only be a temporary stop in his journey when you’d first met, only to find himself wanting to stay longer and longer by your side until he can’t even think of leaving.

kiyoomi nudges your side to grab your attention, silently snickering when you slightly stumble and narrow your eyes at him. his hand reaches out to find yours, heart fluttering when you immediately slot your fingers in between his, and he begins to lead you through the aisles.

“come on,” he smiles at you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “looks like we have a lot of sightseeing to do today.”

♡ taglist — @sachan1956 @gojoanti @llyslikeliz @sunkeiji @rinsramenshop @justmyownreality @a-cosmicdawn @emmyrosee @tyler-dimples-jones @crystal-lilac @loutij @kissmorax @awkwardaardvarkforever @ohtokki @twismare @kitsunekanojo @toorude-er @mattsunkawa @hyeque @le3nur @epkatn @wonpielle

unedited and i will never stop talking abt kissing kiyoomi's moles n freckles

#ಇ. tmtd collab #kiyoomi's love language is teasing #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #hq x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa #haikyuu x you #&works

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bukguhope · 1 year

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Atmosphere: The Gala

Fresh off your first date with your boss Jungkook, you attend a charity gala he’s also going to be at. Everything is fine, until your ex appears and Jungkook can’t just sit back and watch him flirt with you, even if you’re not his date to keep your growing relationship a secret

CEO Jungkook x Interior Designer Reader, jealous! jungkook, alcohol consumption, fluff, light smut

Bonus scene to the Atmosphere 3 part story/ can be read alone but makes much more sense after reading it all.

The weekend of the Gala had finally arrived and it had only been a couple days since you and Jungkook had your impromptu date after discovering you owned his painting. The connection you felt with him was unmatched- he understood you, never made you uncomfortable. He helped you with your project every single day, even though he had already worked the entire day he’d still come and aid you during the evenings. You loved spending that time with him, but still tried to keep the developing relationship on the down low. With how rapidly news outlets twist things and the assumptions that people online make, it would be easier to get to know each other without all of the attention. So when it was time for the gala Yoongi had invited you to, although you’d love to go as Jungkook’s date- it was better that you didn’t. He needed a bit of convincing, however.

“oh come on just be my date!” You give him the fifth side eye in about the fifteen minutes since you had started working before looking back down at your i pad. Not only did you have him in your ear, a designing app you regularly use for work decides it doesn’t want to work tonight

“we’ve discussed this, the news outlets love you and while i understand the fixation- it’s better we develop together in private. Plus, we can still spend the evening together once we arrive, just along as we come separately” Huffing as the app freezes again, you shift your weight to your other leg and close down the app before opening it back up

“you understand the fixation huh?” His voice is much closer this time, breath fanning down your neck. Jungkook places a light kiss on your skin before looking over your shoulder. You roll your eyes at his comment before he aks “what’s wrong with the i pad? you’ve been huffing and puffing for the past ten minutes”

“the app keeps freezing, i need it for the final layout plan” You whine out, borderline about to have a pathetic tantrum at this point

“want me to buy it out and put my tech guys on it? make it better?” Your head whips over your shoulder, nose almost brushing his. Buy it out? Put his tech guys on it? Oh, to be rich

“you have more money then sense” Jungkook chokes out a laugh, hands coming up to rest on your shoulders as you look back down only to be met with the screen frozen once again.

“so thats a no?” You look at him, only slightly tempted to ask him to buy it out and fix the stupid app.

The Gala was officially under way. It was being held in what could only be described as some sort of modern castle, it was seriously glamours. You look down at your gown, dark red-thin straps- long skirt.

“don’t ask me if you look okay, i will literally not know what to say except you look lovely” Yoongi mutters beside you just short of the entrance as he fiddles with his tie. His statement makes you chuckle before you move to step in the castle like venue, red glittery heels clicking with each movement forward. Yoongi hands over his invite before following you through a long hallway, a long red carpet accompanied the large paintings as you walked down it. “jungkook was whining about not having you as his plus one by the way.” The mention of him makes you smile as two guys open the grand doors for you both, the sound of light jazz music flooded your ears as you stepped through. Everyone was gathered around, champagne flutes in hand while chatting to one another

“he kept going on about it at work too, it’s cute he-”You didn’t get to finish the sentence, Jungkook was already heading in your direction. Damn, he works fast

“finally you’re here, do you know how many boring conversations i just had to nod my head through?” He hugs you tightly and you laugh and return it

“am here too you know?” Yoongi grumbles which makes you laugh harder before pulling away from Jungkook’s tight embrace

“oh yeah hey man, y/n come stay with me so no one talks to me” His hand is in yours then, dragging you through the crowd and you bark out a laugh when Yoongi raises his hands into the air before slapping them down in disbelief at being abandoned. Jungkook pulls you all the way to a table in the far corners of the grand hall and slides out chair, waiting for you take a seat. Your heart races at the action. Once you’re sat, he slides off his blazer and places it over your shoulders “it’s a little chilly on this side, take this” The rapid beating of your heart picks up as your tug his jacket close to you. “drink?”

“just a wine, please” He offers a dazzling smile before slipping away into the crowd and a smile of your own is planted on your lips as you smooth a hand over his soft blazer on your shoulders

“i can’t believe it, i thought it was you!” Your head raises and your heart sinks. Oh god, this is the last person you want to see right now. Your pompous, over bearing ex boyfriend. Of course he’d be here, it was an event for mostly rich people after all. He sits next you, without asking. Not much has changed there, doesn’t matter what other people want- if he wants to do something he’s gonna do it. “it’s been a long time huh? Still going with the furniture buying gig?” Your teeth grind together, jaw tight as he lazily places a hand on the back of your chair. It’s been so long yet he still hasn’t grown the fuck up

“you mean interior design? Yes, i still do that” He chuckles, either not sensing the irritated tone or just ignoring it. Most definitely the later.

“right right. Who’s jacket you got draped over you babe?” You had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, why did you ever even date him in the first place? You open your mouth, but someone beats you to it

“mine” His head tips, yours follows. Jungkook stands beside your chair, drinks in hand and a deathly stare pointed right in the direction of your arm, behind your head “you’re in my seat” Damn, his voice has dropped and it’s incredibly fucking hot- not the time.

“oh, didn’t realise there was assigned seats?” Your ex attempts to joke and it goes down like a lead ballon. Jungkook doesn’t even crack a smile, you remain silent

“there doesn’t need to be, the seat next to my girlfriend is mine” The G-word. You’ve never actually discussed the status of the relationship. Yes, you’ve slept together, yes you’ve been on dates but it hasn’t exactly been long since you’ve started seeing Jungkook so that conversation has never come up. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it, because you really fucking do. It was the main reason you didn’t want to arrive as The Jeon Jungkook’s date, didn’t want assumptions to be made and rushed into a relationship.

“girlfriend? didn’t expect you to be getting involved with guys who come from money- after the way we ended after all” Okay, that was it. You and he both know that wasn’t the reason it ended, it was how entitled he acted because of money- not because he had loads of it. You open your mouth, but once again stopped before words can come out

“i don’t come from money. i worked for it and i want to talk to my future wife in private so, you’re excused” Future wife? The promotion form girlfriend to finance came quick, the thought almost made you laugh as much as Jungkook saying your ex was excused. Speaking of him, he seemed perplex as he rose to his feet and scurrying off. Once he’s out of sight, Jungkook almost slams the drinks onto the table before taking pulling out the chair your ex was sat on, before disregarding completely and grabbing a new chair and sitting on that. He places it right beside yours, closer then anyone else is sat, and plops himself right on it before gripping your thigh between his fingers.

“i must have some sort of memory loss, because i do not remember you proposing in the last couple of weeks” A light pink hue grows onto Jungkook’s cheek, grip becoming a little tighter on your leg. “and it must be severe because i don’t remember being asked to be your girlfriend either?” The pink shading his cheek grows deeper before he composes himself and it makes you laugh

“who the fuck even was that? you have my fucking blazer on, that’s a clear message is it not? don’t approach me iam clearly taken” He grumbles, taking a harsh sip of his drink before slamming it back down onto the table

“oh i thought i had it because it’s chilly over here?”He gives you a side eye and it makes you throw your head back, laughter escaping you

“that was the primary reason yes. but there were others”

“that was the ex, you know the one” His head snaps up, complete disgust written all over his face

“that was him? and he was over it flirting it up?” You shrug your shoulders before taking a sip from your glass, placing it much more gently onto the table then he did. You instantly felt better, he just made you feel so utterly comfortable it was amazing. There’s a little silence before he sighs and leans back into his chair. Jungkook’s hand loosens on your thigh but doesn’t remove it completely “iam sorry about the whole girlfriend thing, i know we haven’t had that conversation yet”

“what about the future wife part?” He huffs, you chuckle “iam joking, actually i never brought it up because i didn’t want it to feel rushed”

“it doesn’t feel rushed to me, i’ve been head over heels for you ever since you were stood outside my building” You smile at the memory

“when you thought i was your fan? not the interior designer” He groans, embarrassed

“i mean it y/n, the way i feel about you is serious. i don’t want to come to events like this separately, i dont want any guy to think he even has a chance. i want to arrive together, i want spend the entire night together then i want us to go back together. i’ll follow you whenever you want to go, you know that right?” Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. You’ve never felt more cherished, more appreciated, then you do by him in this moment

“i feel the same, iam sorry i said no to coming together. i just thought, the media would see us and spin stories and force us to have this conversation not on our own terms. i wanted you to be ready” He’s smiling now, hand leaving your leg to cup the back of your neck

“oh gorgeous, i was ready for this the first night you kissed me” You beam over at him, chest warm

“pretty sure you kissed me that night but-” He rolls his eyes before leaning over and planting his firmly onto yours

“fucking hell, been looking for you guys everywhere.” Yoongi’s suddenly slumps onto the chair opposite yours, his tie slightly loosened

“well, your search was in vain. iam taking my girlfriend home to spend the weekend doing something better then this shitty gala” He stands then and you follow shortly after

“really you’re going alrea- wait, girlfriend?!” You didn’t have time to reply, Jungkook was ushering you out with a hand on the small of your back “finally!” You hear him shout as you walk of and it has you both giggling.

Finally indeed.

“i bought that app by the way, should run much better now” Jungkook mumbles as you both hurry outside, the crisp air felt good as you step out the doors. Gasping you lightly hit his shoulder as he sends of a message to his driver

“Jungkook! that’s a professional app, they cost a lot of fucking money!” He shrugs as the car pulls up

“and it wasn’t running good enough for you, so i fixed it” He opens the door before smoothing a hand over your back, silently telling you to get in. You duck to enter and notice his hand whip to protect your head from the roof of the door. Jungkook really was just, the perfect gentlemen. As soon as he was in, you pressed the button to raise the partition behind the driver. Once it was up, you were on his lap. His hands grip your waist, he was clearly taken by surprised but moved quickly to support you. You’re almost desperate as you crash your lips onto his, he responds instantly.

“you so fucking perfect” You mumble out before moving your lips to his neck. Jungkook sighs before rolling his head back, giving you better access

“i’ll buy every fucking app in the store if it makes you react like this” Nipping at his skin lightly you pull back

“it wasn’t that, you’re just so- you. amazing” He groans, sliding his hands underneath your arms before lifting you to lay down on the seats on the car and hovering over you.

“iam not the amazing one here, that’s all you sweetheart” Is all he says before lowering his head, you think he’s going for your lips put he dips and licks a strip from between your breast to behind you ear. He plants kisses back down the strip and it makes you shiver as he brings a hand down to run over your exposed leg before gripping it tightly behind your knee and raising it. “god i could just fuck your right here”

“wants that the plan?” You mumble and he leaves a breathless chuckle onto your skin before lifting his head

“you were literally made just for me” He gets out before driving his lips straight onto your lips.

#bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #yoongi #jungkooksmut

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zanderplysblog · 5 months

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vitospaghetta · 2 months

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How do you imagine Leon's place to look like and where do you think he lives? Some flat?

Also alaooo what do you think he does in his free time?

You have no idea how much thought I've put into this over the years.

Let me preface this with the fact that I'm specifically talking about original continuity Leon post-RE6 here, where he's a seasoned adult and has been in his career field for a while.

Leon more-than-likely lives in D.C. (he could also live in VA or MD but he strikes me as the kinda guy who would rather eat glass than commute, especially with D.C. traffic being absolute bullshit) in an apartment somewhere in the city.

As a federal agent, he makes a salary, which is something that is determined by things like the amount responsibility you have within the agency, your credentials/experience, your skillset, etc. Given his role and responsibilities within the D.S.O., he's easily a top earner. The top earners within the FBI make $153,000 annually, but it looks like top earners within the CIA can make more — like with all things, every agency is different. The D.S.O. obviously isn't a real agency, but as one that is held above all others (as far as authority within the criminal justice system is concerned), Leon probably receives a pretty cushy salary. Around $200,000 annually, easy. Income tax would fuck him over, but he'd still walk away with a reasonable amount per month to afford a $4,000+ per month apartment or to buy one and pay off a mortgage.

He can easily afford a one or two bedroom apartment in the city is what I'm saying. And I mean a nice apartment. We're talking granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, washer and dryer in-unit, floor-to-ceiling windows, in a modern building in a nice area of the city. An area that consists entirely of nice apartment buildings like the one he lives in. There's actually an area just outside of NYC that reminds me of the kinda area I can see him living in. I was there to take the ferry over into the city for a memorial/organ donation event I was attending last year.

The pics don't exactly encapsulate the full vibe, and these apartments probably go for millions due to the proximity to the city and being right off the Hudson, but it's quiet, safe, and filled with sporty people. Lots of folks walking dogs, jogging after work hours, and a sense of community amongst people that seemingly have their shit together.

He strikes me as the type to have a two bedroom apartment just for an office that he's hardly ever in. He'd want to live in a building that has a gym as an amenity because it's easier than hoofing it to a gym elsewhere, and a garage for him to put his car and the crotch rocket he's currently mourning courtesy of Maria.

As for the apartment's interior, I feel like it would completely lack personality or cluttered charm. There's a level of almost sterility to it, in that it's devoid of knick-knacks, personal photos, and encompasses a strong aesthetic of maturity. Everything in it is nice. There's tasteful artwork on the walls, and it's furnished with well-made and sometimes expensive furniture and appliances, because, as a childless adult, if Leon's going to spend money on only himself, he's going to spend it well. You get what you pay for, after all. There are obviously some traces of Leon's personality strewn about — skin care products in the bathroom, boots and leather jackets by the door, some books, laundry crumpled at the foot of his bed and piled by the washer/dryer, maybe a single sarcastic coffee mug somewhere in the cabinet — but there's no novelty.

Due to his constant bouncing around, he isn't home enough to put too much effort into it, and he hasn't had the luxury of certainty or normalcy in so long that all he wants out of his home is for it to look nice and be a comfortable place to sleep. He appreciates coming home to a place that is his, but it doesn't need to be a display of everything he's ever enjoyed. Even when he is home, he strikes me as the type to start going stir crazy when he sits for too long. The most amount of time he probably ever spent at home was when he was self-isolating and hitting the bottle really hard. There's also the generational element of Gen-X'ers being extremely lowkey about shit.

As far as what Leon does in his free time, I feel like he enjoys doing things that are out of the house due to the aforementioned inability to stay alone with his thoughts for too long. The man is constantly trying to distract himself to place distance between himself and his trauma, so where he might have been able to sit and watch a movie alone before, he struggles to now.

Leon's very extroverted, likable, and adaptable, so he probably enjoys being around other people, even if he's not actively talking to them. Though he appreciates silence as well, when he's kicking things around in his head and is trying to find some semblance of peace and a means to calm the noise. He might get a coffee at a shop right by his apartment where he's a regular and everyone knows him by name, or go for a run, or go shopping. Maybe he tries to make plans with those he cares about to go out for dinner, like he did with Claire in Infinite Darkness. Maybe he tries to catch a good sunset over the Potomac River. He goes to the gym, he rides his motorcycle around the city or takes a scenic route on the outskirts just for the hell of it, he meets up with a fellow agent and they do shots at his favorite bar.

I don't think he has hobbies, as in crafting or gaming or being too involved in any specific interests, but everything he does is fueled by his love of people, his appreciation for what good he has in his life, and his need for escape.

#leon kennedy #ask #anon #asks: leon #HOOOO BOY i'm so sorry for all of this but #this is like my favorite thing to talk about #you really opened pandora's box with this ask my god

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cinnaminyoons · 1 year

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( OMNIA VINCIT AMOR. )

ミ☆ at the end of the day, there is no home like your arms.

⤷ PAIRING jjk x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 7.4k

⤷ TAGS surfer!jk, inferred sex + implied top reader, slight age gap (jk’s 20, reader is somewhere noticeably above him), an angry father (jk’s), mentions of bullying

⤷ REQUESTED

link to req

stranger danger. disruptive stranger, endangering our coastal constancy.

there's a newcomer, they say, an odd fellow with city-slicker shades and a natural toughness about him like a veteran.

but that's the thing, they whisper. he can't be a veteran. too young. too reckless.

born and raised in his tiny seaside town, population three hundred strong, jeon jungkook has never met anyone who circulates such rumours and gossip. most fresh faces are tourists passing through to prettier sights where the aircon always works and the hot water never runs cold – but this man, they say, has intentions to stay a while.

like every evening, jungkook loiters in the only bar in town. it's a dump, really, with perpetually-sticky countertops and eclectic interior design choices. creased and faded posters line the walls, depicting the town's idyllic shore, with blue skies and bluer waters. on the wall, the same old man has been the employee of the year seventeen times, and the only thing that changes about him is the colour of his shirt.

the only good thing he can say of the place is that it serves alcohol he can't buy at the single supermarket, and that they don’t care who’s drinking unless they’re visually no older than fifteen. he flicks the blue umbrella into the bin carelessly and throws the drink back, hissing softly at the smooth fruity burn down his throat. he gestures for another and the old man complies silently, shuffling around behind the counter as he wipes down the same glass he's been shining for the last hour.

somewhere outside, past the open doors, the deep rumble of a v8 engine perks his ears. it's a gorgeous sound, pleasingly smooth and powerful, and it comes with the heavy crunch of car tires on gravel. ice cubes rattle against his glass.

his feet take him outside, and he peers cautiously around the corner like a child playing hide-and-seek. there, pooled in the sweet honey of the summer sunset, is the stranger.

the slight breeze runs its fingers over his hair, and something like jealousy slips between his ribs as he watches the stranger nudge the door open. in his hand is an engraved silver lighter and he stuffs it into the pocket of his army-green bomber, which he shrugs off of straight shoulders. beneath, he dons a black tank top, and jungkook's breath catches in his throat as his gaze slides over his body, the way his muscles tense and shift as he rolls his shoulders and slings a guitar case over his back.

at first, the inky darkness looping around his arms and shoulders seems like a trick of the light. jungkook's eyes widen – tattoos. a hundred, a thousand, precise black lines cross his skin, glossy with the slight sheen of sweat under the summer sun.

when he turns, jungkook catches a flash of his eyes behind those dark aviators. jungkook spins on his heel behind the door, his heart racing, and prays he was not caught staring.

after a moment's pause, the crunching footsteps stride away, and jungkook sighs softly in relief. he peeks around the corner. a pebble of disappointment drops in his stomach.

the first good-looking guy he sees, and he's a creep about it. he shakes his head, squeezing lingering seawater out of his hair by the handfuls, and pushes it out of his eyes as he returns to his place at the bar.

mechanically, he moves to throw away the umbrella toothpick, this time yellow with pink flowers. he halts just as he leans back to toss it into the bin.

he stares at it for a while, tilting his head. a slumping hollowness fills the gap in his chest. he's no longer a young boy, and all he's ever known are the dusty streets and salty air of this town. the stranger must be from a big, modern city, where they have bright digital billboards and warm restaurants open all day, every day – like seoul or new york, or something. he's seen the movies, watched them subbed and dubbed, but he never remembers much except for the quick chaotic swirl of life they all portray.

maybe, if he was born there instead, he could love. be loved. a church sits across from the bar, rather ironically, and nothing is a family except a man, a woman, and their child born in wedlock.

he shakes his head and crushes the thin yellow paper in his hand, tossing it away. he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he left.

night falls slowly. jungkook nurses another drink, this one blue instead of orange, and draws hearts and smiley faces into the condensation dripping down the glass.

a glint of light. jungkook glances over to the back wall, where a single chair has been set up in front of the wood-framed window. there's no glass – too hot for that – and they're thrown wide open, letting in the cool sea breeze. the waves glitter and twinkle in the background.

the stranger is setting up. he slips his sunglasses to the top of his head and jungkook drinks him in, alcohol forgotten entirely.

amongst the chatter, he sets up his guitar, tuning it quietly. the bar has no sound system but the acoustic guitar is clear and sharp as he strums a slow introduction to a sweet melody.

when he opens his mouth and honeyed lyrics spill out, jungkook knows he's fucked, knee-deep in the shit they call infatuation. the rest of the world seems to melt away, and maybe it's the way his fingers dance nimbly over the fretboard, or the way his head bobs to the bouncing tune, that makes his heart race rabbit-free with desire.

a man sits down with his mates and jungkook leans around them to watch the stranger sing. he radiates a careless confidence jungkook wishes he had everywhere. this man was a complete outsider, yet his voice was strong, rich and smooth as godiva chocolate.

jungkook snickers to himself. he never thought he'd meet anyone whose voice he'd compare to goddamn chocolate, but this stranger was a whole list of firsts.

he lays his cheek on his palm, and he doesn't even mind the sticky counter. he wonders where the man comes from, and how he came across the town – it barely shows up on maps, barely a smudge of civilisation on the coast, far from most other things. he sticks out like a sore thumb among sandals and pale polo shirts with his dark clothes and heavy boots, and jungkook knows the feeling. he appreciates the way his skin shimmers in the sunlight as if dusted with crushed pearls, and a bolt of shame buries itself in his stomach.

he shouldn't be thinking such things about this man. he's a perfect stranger and, for all jungkook knows, a hockey mask-wearing, machete-wielding killer. he can't go gallivanting after gorgeous men without even knowing their names.

time passes like a snap of the fingers. the crescent moon glows in the sky, surrounded by a blanket of stars. the last bar patrons gulp down their drinks and mosey out, calling goodbyes to the employee of the year, and the newcomer packs away his guitar into its case. he kicks the chair back under a nearby table and nods at the old man, accepting a wad of cash, and escapes out the back entrance.

"time to go, boy."

he glances up and nods, rushing an apology, and leaves his half-finished drink on the counter. he almost trips over his own bare feet, and races to the door when he hears that lovely v8 engine roar.

he reaches the entrance in time to watch his car pull out and rumble off into the darkness. he was fast – not one to fluff about. jungkook sighs softly, sinking down onto the porch step and shutting his eyes gloomily.

he had to go home. there was no other excuse he could make.

his eyes open, and as he struggles to his feet, something shines on the edge of the yellow light. he frowns and moves closer, stooping to get a closer look.

a watch?

he glances into the distance, where the man left, and picks it up. the face is cracked down the centre, and the hands are stuck at ten past five. he turns it over in his hands.

i think of you every minute.

he needs to find him.

—

jungkook wakes just before dawn with a raging hangover. he curses, dropping his hand into his bedside drawer and digging around for a pack of painkillers. he finds it eventually, and with his eyes screwed tight, swallows one dry. he sighs and digs the heels of his palms into his eyelids, waiting for the blurring colours dancing in his vision to fade.

he staggers around his mess of a bedroom. his belongings are strewn across the foot of the bed and the desk he no longer uses; the latter is piled high with dirty clothes and jewellery he rarely wears.

he grabs his surf suit and gropes his way through the dark house, dodging his surfboard leaning against the wall and combing his fingers through his curls as he readies himself for the day. his mind wanders and his gaze flicks to the broken watch sitting on the kitchen bench.

he runs his fingers over its vein-line splits and the bumps of the leather strap, worn down with time. he nibbles on his lower lip as he picks it up, battling himself. would it be weird to give it back directly? he wouldn't seem like a stalker, would he?

he sighs and shoves it into the pocket of his zip-up hoodie. he'll make up his mind later.

he spends the early morning forgetting his issues, reclining on his board while the waters bump him out to sea. the waves are calm this morning, and not even the pull of the water towards shore keeps him in place. with just a few strokes he escapes the pull like escaping orbit, and he catches every wave he can, grinning to himself when the white froth crashes over him and sends him tumbling down. he surfaces, wiping his hair from his eyes, and paddles his way to the edge of an oncoming wave, highlighted pink by the glow of the dawn.

when the sun yawns over the horizon, jungkook notices a figure by the sand. he squints, wondering briefly who would be up at such an hour, and doesn't notice the wave roaring closer behind him. he yelps as it crashes into him, burying him under the fluffy white foam.

he gasps and sputters as he crawls back onto his green and purple board, grumbling – he hasn't been wiped out like that for years.

the figure on the beach watches him. he hopes they didn't notice his fumble. they move along the beach, trailing dark footprints in the sand, and jungkook tilts his head as they take a seat against the pier's support beams. they remove something from their back and jungkook's eyes widen at the distinct shape of an acoustic guitar.

he smacks his head against his board. he made a fool out of himself in front of an attractive person – briefly, he wonders how hard it would be to get a shark to eat him at that very moment.

whether or not he should return the watch crosses his mind as the water laps around his knees. it is of no use to jungkook, and it must be important to the man if he carries it around. some selfish part of him urges him to keep silent, avoid the embarrassment of having to speak to someone so obviously out of his league. he sighs.

slowly, he paddles his way to shore, tugging the strap around his ankle impatiently, and retrieves the watch from his jacket pocket after drying his hand on it. his pile of clothes sits inconspicuously under a tree, and nothing he owns is expensive enough to care about losing. no one steals, anyway – they would find the perpetrator in minutes.

he wades through the foamy shallows with his board under his arm and the watch in his other hand. his footprints vanish in his wake with each pulse of the waves, and the warm sound of that guitar makes him gulp and revaluate his choice.

he can still turn around. he does not have to speak to him.

he pauses a metre away from him. he is as stunning as he was the night before, and he's switched out his form-fitting black top for a looser grey tank. jungkook swallows around his anxiety and clears his throat.

he glances up at him through those dark aviators and jungkook twitches a nervous smile. he sticks his board into the soft sand and waves.

"hello." his voice cracks. his face burns furiously as the man smiles slightly, lopsided and charming.

"hey."

his voice really is like chocolate. jungkook wrings his hands and thrusts out the watch.

"i think this is yours," he stammers, "i f-found it outside the bar, and it was where your car was and it's way too nice for anyone here to own it so i thought – so i think it's y-yours. um."

a beat. the man reaches for it, and he slides his thumb over its face with an odd sort of smile, somewhere between gratefulness and regret.

"thank you," he murmurs. he chuckles softly and fastens it over his wrist. "guess i can’t escape it. i'm yn, by the way. ln yn."

"jeon jungkook," he says, almost too eagerly. "i, um, heard you sing last night. at the bar. you were – you're really good."

another smile that has his heart slamming into his ribs. "thanks. didn't think anyone was listening, honestly."

"how could i not?" he kneels on the sand, tucking his feet beneath him. he crawls closer into acceptable conversation distance. "you were amazing! when i was little i always wanted to be a singer, y'know, perform like the idols i saw on television, 'cause it looked so fun and full with fans and a whole band of best friends who i could trust with anything but it's been twenty years and i'm so old and i still haven't gotten around to it—" he halts mid-word as if it is stolen right from his mouth. he laughs and scratches his warm cheek. "and... i'm rambling again, aren't i? sorry. i'm, um, not all that good with people. kind of paradoxical, given that i wanted to be an entertainer."

your smile only widens, fingers tapping absently at your guitar. "you're fine. you said something about twenty years of that? how old are you?"

"twenty." he laughs again, then worries that he's laying it on too thick. "w-what about you?"

you tell him, and grin. "i'm steadily getting up there, so don't you go thinking you're old, kid. who knows – maybe one day you'll get that stage and microphone you've been dreaming about."

he shakes his head, digging his fingers into the soft sand by his knees. "nah. i don't really think i'd be able to leave this place. s'all i've ever known, y'know? it's daunting." he leans forward. "but you'd never feel like that, right? you look like you've travelled the world three times over."

you glance over him, and all of a sudden his skin-tight suit feels invisible, hugging every curve and plane of him. "i do, huh? you seem like you want more than what you're given."

his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water and he pulls at his collar, hot. was that a compliment? an insult? he hasn't had a proper conversation with anyone for what feels like aeons.

you nudge his thigh with the toe of your boot playfully. "i was wrong, actually. you look like a steaming kettle."

"i-i'm sorry!" he almost squeaks. "i don't know how to talk to attractive people!"

he slaps a hand over his mouth and bolts to his feet. you gaze up at him with amusement and he stutters apologies and backtracks, shaking his head wildly and waving his hands.

he's doing nothing to get him out of the hole he's digging for himself. in fact, he's digging it even deeper.

"hey, hey," you interrupt with a bright grin, "kid. calm down. just – deep breaths, okay? i'm flattered you think that."

"r-really?" this is why he stays at sea. the sea never judges him for his terrible social skills. "oh."

you nod and shuffle to the side, patting the sand next to you. "why don't you sit for a while? i... want to get to know you better."

he does not trust his voice to remain steady, and only nods and sits on his feet next to you. after a moment, he shifts cross-legged, those doe-like eyes of his glimmering as he gazes at you with barely-hidden awe.

you strum your guitar. he traces the shape of your knuckles and fingers with his eyes. you wear a few rings, and your knuckles are big, but not scarred. a boxer? they wear gloves.

"won't the salt air rust your guitar?"

"it shouldn't," you reply. "i'll give the strings a good wipe-down afterwards, and i make sure she's acclimated to wherever i'm taking her. haven't had any problems so far."

he nods, fascinated. he tucks his knees to his chest, watching you play.

your fingers move so naturally, fluttering over the frets as you bob along to a quick tune. it feels powerful and sharp, and the melody flows so freely – like rivers splitting mountains.

then, you begin to sing.

jungkook's heart flutters, as if he's a teenager all over again, watching the popular boys from the corner of his eye laugh and chat with their friends. he never could go over there, introduce himself. quiet boy, odd boy, with his stutter and lisp and silly, silly crushes – he never found comfort in people. they said, run, rabbit, run, and chased him with sticks even when he told them to stop. he was the youngest, always, with his too-big t-shirts and his owlish gaze, and he supposes that's his curse – to be the last one chosen for teams, the only one left without a group for projects.

but then you glance at him, smiling through your song, with your elaborate tattoos and pretty eyes, and jungkook hopes you'll never leave. maybe, if you were nice, you would be his friend – his first friend. maybe you'd stay forever, and maybe he could hold your hand and play with the rings on your fingers when he grows anxious.

"how long are you staying?" he whispers.

you stop singing, but your fingers continue to float over the guitar, plucking and strumming. "a few months, maybe. i take it you've heard some things about me?"

"one of the aunties says you're an army deserter, but i don't think so."

you lift a brow and nudge his shoulder. he smiles into his crossed arms. "how would you know? maybe i am. maybe i'm an assassin and my guitar's actually a gun, like in john wick."

"no," he decides, "i think you're a gangster doing a drug run. mister park's your supplier, right? bartender man?"

you can't help but laugh at that, throwing your head back. he smiles as you shift your guitar, still beaming. "gangster? it's the tattoos, isn't it?"

"w-well, they're really awesome, and they look good on you." he flushes hotly, staring with his large dark eyes. "honest."

"thanks, jungkook," you say good-naturedly, and he warms at the sound of his name on your lips. you say it with such a lovely lilt, as if you're saying his name for him – as if it belongs to him. he nods into his arms, watching the sun rise over the fluffy pink horizon.

"you're welcome," he murmurs, and his heart stutters as you chuckle. "h-hey. do you know how to swim?"

you tilt your head and jungkook shifts onto his knees before you. "yeah. why?"

"have you ever surfed before?"

"can't say that i have." you glance at his board, planted in the sand, and give him a sly look. "if you're offering to show me how, i don't have the right clothes for it."

"you can just take off your pants and shoes." at your dirty grin, his golden skin flushes so dark you worry he might explode. "n-not like that! you can leave your underwear on!"

it isn’t much of an improvement.

"slow down, cowboy," you tease, patting his thigh. "have you eaten breakfast yet? i'll make you something first. then you can ask me to take my pants off."

"wait, you mean – at your place?"

"of course. i trust you not to give the government the coordinates of my safehouse. so, have any favourite meals, jungkook? not to toot my own horn, but i'm not half-bad in the kitchen."

handsome, nice voice, can cook... only god can help him, because he is smitten.

—

jungkook wakes up late one day. the sun is already up, and from the way it streams directly into his eyes – ten o'clock, maybe. he curls into the blankets and buries his head into his pillow, tugging it into his chest.

something smells good.

he sits up slowly, struggling to open his eyes, and stretches like a cat in a bed too large to be his own. his body aches, but its familiarity makes him smile, and he swings his legs over the edge of the bed into a pair of slides. he shuffles out of the bedroom, following his nose.

rounding the dining table, jungkook searches with his hands outstretched towards the sound and smell of sizzling bacon. he finds a t-shirt and wraps his arms around it, inhaling the comforting scent of your fresh pine and citrus body wash. he feels your laughter as he presses his cheek into your shoulder.

"good morning, kid."

"i told you to stop calling me that," jungkook mumbles.

"i'm sorry, darling. force of habit. you hungry?"

"mhm. hyung, wanna come out with me today?"

"you know that i'll never be as good as you, right? i don't look half as good as you on that board, either."

he shakes his head, pressing his lips to the base of your neck on the bump of your spine. "s’okay. i like watching you come out of the water."

you laugh and jungkook smiles softly. "you're insatiable."

"only for you."

you shake your head fondly as jungkook sighs quietly into your skin, warm breath fluttering against your shirt. you transfer the bacon to a plate and move out of jungkook's arms, making him whine. begrudgingly, he accepts a plate of eggs, bringing them to the table – you tuck his hair over his ear and slip it over his shoulder, clearing a space for your lips on the nape of his neck. he shivers as your lips trail down his jawline, over his collar, down his shoulder...

"who's the insatiable one now?" he asks, feathery light, and his eyes flutter shut as your hand slips under his shirt, gliding over his warm stomach.

"still you," you hum into his ear, grinning as he arches into you. "see? my little darling, so eager for my touch..."

he whines softly as you take his earring between your teeth and tug lightly. his stomach flips like a gymnast as you grab his thighs and spin him into the kitchen bench. late morning light sweeps in across your home, and everything cold and lonely outside these walls vanishes.

he smiles as he pushes lightly at your arms around his waist, tilting his head back to allow your lips better access to the delicate slope of his neck. "hyung... our breakfast will go cold..."

"that's alright," you murmur with a devilish grin. "i've got other things on the menu."

he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, a flush crawling up his neck. "you can have me tonight like usual, okay? i like routine."

you drop a kiss on his jaw and step back with a teasing shine in your eyes. you place your hands on your hips. "you know, if you only wanted me for my body, you could've told me. i wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of learning how you like your eggs and toast."

hopping off of the bench and into your arms, jungkook twists his hands around the back of your neck and rubs his cheek into your chest. his messy hair, scented always like the sea, tickles your skin.

"but i love that about you," he hums. "you're the only person who understands how i like them done."

"i know you do." you kiss his forehead, printing a minty tingle into his skin. "come eat. if you'd like, you can accompany me to the supermarket after breakfast – in case you've grown tired of staring at the water, day in and day out."

"i like the water. it's comforting – like the stars." he sits down at the table. "always there, always has been, always will be. everlasting – like my love for your eggs and toast."

you laugh, head tossing back, and jungkook can't help the smile that crosses his face. "they're so good that they turn you into a poet, huh? just shut up and eat, darling."

afterwards, he tags along with you to go grocery shopping, holding onto your shirt sleeve and sneaking a tub of ice cream into the trolley when you aren't looking. he huffs, pouting at the tiny cabbage halves sold as individuals – what a rip-off – and you help him find a larger one, nice and bright, from the basket beneath. he jumps onto your kitchen bench and catches an apple you toss at him, digging his teeth into its firm flesh and tearing off a crisp chunk. he tells you, it's a good one, and holds it out for you to accept. with your hands full of milk and bread, you lean forward and take a bite, keeping his gaze steadily all the way; sweeter than sugar, you say, and he wonders whether or not you're truly talking about the apple.

at high tide, jungkook takes your hand and his surfboard and skips his way to the beach, taking warm sandy paths lined by tickling reeds and brushes. he chases the tide, waving over his shoulder with a broad smile, and shows off for you as he drops onto the incoming beast of a wave.

his board glimmers on the water, a spot of purple on the deep blue, and his whoop carries on the wind as he launches himself high into the air, effortlessly gliding down in a perfect barrel roll. the foaming curl rolls over him and he snakes back and forth, cutting his hand through the glittering wave as he readies himself for his next trick.

you stand ankle-deep in the tide, hands in the pockets of your shorts. the curve of the shoreline twists around sun-bleached cliffsides and swaying treetops, and a young trio tries their hand at the next rolling wave. one rudely snakes in front of jungkook and immediately wipes out with a wobble and a cry.

you smile. they could never outshine your darling surfer boy, bright and beautiful as he is.

when the water recedes for the day, jungkook sweeps ashore by the pier. you wait for him – as you do most days – and grin under dark aviators, two ice-creams wrapped in white napkins in your hands. he races up to you and throws his arms wide around your shoulders with a breathless laugh.

you stumble at the force behind his body, narrowly avoiding rubbing ice-cream into his hair. "easy, tiger. fun day?"

"yeah," he pants, "so fun. you saw me, right? you saw?"

"i saw," you hum, pressing the warmth of his dark salt-damp waves against your cheek. "you were a goddamn monster, riding those big waves like that – couldn't take my eyes off of you, darling."

"i'm good at riding big things." he's spent too much time with you. he barely blushes anymore, which is a right shame – it's a lovely look on him, that hint of rosy pink on skin like spun gold. he traces the tattoo peeking out under your collar. "you would know."

"are you sure we're on the same page? maybe you should show me again," you suggest with a glint in your eye that leads to nothing but trouble, "to make sure that i know exactly what you're talking about."

he grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, and reaches for your hand without breaking gazes. he brings your hand to his warm pink lips and kisses your knuckles, running his silky tongue over the thick white cream, and his golden-whiskey eyes glimmer under the sun.

"yummy," he hums, "vanilla. the best out of the basic three – wouldn't you agree?"

"mm." he's a goddamn tease. what you wouldn't give to return the favour tenfold.

"hyung," he laughs, licking up the melting ice-cream cone in your hand, "my eyes are up here."

"but your lips are down there, and all of a sudden i'm very sure we were on the same page just now. are you done playing in the water for today?"

he purses his lips in mock thought, scooping ice-cream into his mouth with the tip of his tongue. "what happens if i say no?"

"then i'll tell you that there's a car over there, one that you seem to adore, that boasts tinted windows and sturdy suspension. haven't you always wanted to... take a ride in it?"

his face lights up. "wait, are you serious?"

"finish your ice-cream before you get in. please. otherwise, you're cleaning up any mess you make on those seats."

he winks and grabs his board, tucking it under his arm. "you won't regret this, baby."

"i'll be the judge of that, darling."

—

light warm fingers trace dark lines embedded in your skin. "what does it mean?"

he shivers as your arm cradles him close. "hm?"

"your tattoos," he whispers, warm honey eyes flickering up to yours. "do they mean anything?"

you turn on your side and smile at him, letting him twist his knees around your calves. he is warm, and soft, and the ocean breeze flutters through your sheer curtain drapes. "the big ones don't, really. i was young and stupid and wanted to look like more of a man, whatever the fuck that meant. dragons are cool. tigers are cool. why not get both?"

he laughs softly, eyes crinkling. "i like the dragon. he feels... alive, y'know, when you stretch and move your arms? like his wings are flapping."

"i'm glad you think so," you murmur, stroking his cheek. "hurt like a bitch when the lady doing it went over my spine."

he laughs again, sweet and innocent, and he places his palm beneath his cheek. he taps your chest, gently scraping his nails down your skin. "when i first saw you, i never thought you'd ever look at me twice. funny how things work out."

you tug him closer, linking your fingers over his shoulders with a content sigh. "you're a real pretty surprise, kook, you know that?"

he doesn't need to ask if it's a good thing. he knows it is from the way your lips linger on his forehead longer than they need to. he closes his eyes and smiles secretly into your skin.

"hey, kook?"

"mm?"

"are you happy?"

"of course i am, dummy." he sits up, propping himself up on his elbows. "want me to prove it to you?"

you narrow your eyes at him and he grins, kissing his index and middle finger and touching them to your cheek.

"how was it? did you feel the happiness?"

"i'm not completely sure. i think something fell off during transit."

he rolls his eyes and leans forward to land a big kiss on the same place on your cheek. "there you go, hyung. i love you."

you nod in satisfaction, brushing away the rebellious curl over his forehead that never stays back, no matter what he does to it. "thank you."

"are you going to say it back?"

"say what back?"

he yanks your pillow out from under your head and smacks it into your face.

"ow, ow – i love you! i love you," you laugh, battling the pillow, "i love you!"

you manage to steal it from him and he grabs his own, lifting it high above his head. you catch the pillow before it comes down on you like heaven raining down righteous fury. he squeaks as you tug it across your body, pulling him along until his face hovers an inch from your own.

against his own will, his eyes dart briefly down to your lips.

the next smile you give him is charged with familiar affection. "i love you – i love my darling surfer boy with galaxies in his eyes."

"better," he breathes, "for now. one day, i'll get you back for that."

your smile fades. a crease mars your brow as you place your hand on his hip. "jungkook, you know i'm..."

"i know," he interrupts. "let's just pretend, okay? pretend as if your house isn't full of boxes."

he lowers his head to your chest and you know the conversation is over. he returns to tracing your tattoos, humming a soft melody, and you hold him tighter. if only you could forget enough to pretend, for the remainder of the morning, as if your wardrobe doesn't hold only two outfits left.

an hour later, jungkook flicks on the kitchen light.

"you've been avoiding us, son."

he flinches and whips around; his mother sits at the end of the kitchen bench, cupping a mug of tea in her hands. her eyes are downcast. his father stares at him, his arms crossed over his chest, behind the counter.

"i'm n-not avoiding you," he replies, and hates the weakness in his voice.

his father glances at his clothes and jungkook turns away, folding his arms. blue shirt, loose shorts. the lingering scent of pine and citrus. "those aren't yours."

"what does it matter if they aren't?" he retorts. "would you rather me mess up your floors, dripping water from my suit everywhere?"

"watch your tone," he snaps, "boy. those clothes are his, aren't they? that man with the boy-racer car?"

jungkook scoffs. "what do you want me to say? no, they don't belong to him? whatever – we’ve already been over this. i'm going to my room."

"stay," his mother pleads, shutting her eyes. "please, jungkook, listen to your father."

jungkook bites his tongue.

"you will not mess around with that man any longer," his father demands. he lifts a hand as jungkook opens his mouth to argue. "don't bother pretending as if you aren't. we're your parents. we know these things. he's no good for you."

"and how would you know?" he shoots back. "have you ever spoken to him? no! all you know of him are rumours from people who haven't even met him!"

"do not raise your voice at me!" he thunders. "i know trouble when i see it, boy, and that man is it. do you even know where he's from? where his family is? for all you know, he could be a married man!"

"i trust him to tell me important things!" he knows how damn pathetic he sounds, like the teenager in a coming-of-age movie believing with all their heart that they know best. "i don't need to know every detail of his life, and i certainly don't need you lecturing me about him!" he bites the inside of his cheek. "can't you... just be happy for me? i have never, ever, met someone who cares for me like he does. he makes me feel special and – and loved, and he doesn't poke me with sticks or laugh at the way i talk."

"not yet, perhaps. but he will. you'll see, jungkook. do you really believe that a man like that can do anything but break your heart? he is covered in tattoos, for christ's sake. you'll be nothing but a vague memory the second he pulls out of our town."

"would a man who'd forget me in a day remember how i like my toast? buy extra sunscreen with his own money because he knows how fast i burn through mine? would a bad man care so much for me?" he cries. "you barely cared when i came home, crying, because of the kids at school. w-why do you hate that i've found someone who won't shove me off a cliff as a prank? i'm an adult, whatever you may think, and i can make my own decisions on who i love!"

his father leans over the counter, his expression grim and severe. "that man does not love you, jungkook. he's so much older than you. he's using you, taking advantage of how damn naïve you are – you're temporary, son. if you know what's good for you – of course you do, you're all grown up – then you'll stop seeing him. you'll get a full-time job, or go study, and forget that he ever passed through here."

jungkook's hands ball into tight fists. his nails dig into his skin. "he makes me feel important," he mutters. "he makes me feel. before he arrived, all i did was bag groceries and surf and now, because of him, i look forward to waking up. even if he is all that you said, why won't you just let me make my own mistakes? is it really him that worries you, or the fact that you're no longer the only influence on me?"

“jungkook!”

he shakes his head, fisting the blue shirt at the collar. it is soft and smooth and still warm. "i'm not a child anymore." he takes a deep breath and lifts his chin. "i love him. i love ln yn. maybe for a year, maybe for forever, but all that matters is that i do. the way he makes me happy is all that matters. i don't care what you have to say about it because even if i believed you, i can't turn it off. i love him, and he loves me, and i'm leaving."

he strides up the stairs, ignoring the shouts of his name, and his heart hammers in his chest as he shuts his door and grabs his duffle bag, throwing open his closet doors and shoving in clothes by the handful through the brimming tears.

he has never spoken to his father like that. he fears the heavy steps and the loud voice but he finds that he doesn't care – there is nothing he can do to make him care because he has a man who loves him unabashedly and will hold his hand and kiss him silly in front of the church steps.

"he'll never let you come back to me."

he never even heard the door open. he glances over his shoulder – his mother leans against the white frame, wide eyes tracking his every move.

"i'm sorry," jungkook mutters, rolling up a pair of shorts. "but i can't stay here. i-i've already overstayed my welcome a couple of years. it's time i moved on from this stupid place so i can finally—" he inhales "—be free."

"with the tattooed man?"

"yes. he's gentle." he shoves a handful of cables and charging docks into a side pocket and drops his phone inside. "he's gentle when he wants to be and he's been nothing but gentle with me. if everything works out the way i hope it does... maybe you can meet him. one day. at our home, maybe, and i'll have that dog i've always wanted."

"please don't leave, jungkook. he just doesn't want you to be hurt—"

"no. i'm going." he zips up the bag and slings it over his shoulder, glancing at his mother. his voice softens. "i'm sorry, but there's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. i'll call you, okay? and send pictures of the meals i cook, so you know i'm fine."

"jungkook, please." his mother catches his arm. "you're my only boy, you understand? i know that all children have to spread their wings eventually, but i never thought that it would be like this. stay."

he shakes his head and pulls himself out of her grasp. "i love him. i love him and i'm so much happier for it." he sighs. "i'll talk to you tomorrow, mother."

he sneaks out the back door, little bare footsteps nudging apart blades of cool dewy grass, and he knows the path home like the backs of his eyelids. he picks up the pace when he reaches halfway, and he prays he's not too late.

you open your front door to round brown puppy eyes. "kook? what's wrong?"

"i wanna come with you."

you blink, at a loss for words. he slips inside the bare room, all the parts of you packed away into your car. early morning light smooths long pale shadows along the tiled floor.

stepping closer, you take his chin between your thumb and forefinger and tilt his head up, kissing him gently. he melts into it, his lips slightly chapped but with the lingering sting of his mint toothpaste.

"hm. no alcohol." you consider him silently and he shuffles his feet, gaze flicking over your face nervously before darting to the ground. "i don't think the floor is all that interesting; chin up, darling. what made you change your mind?"

he exhales shakily. that is not a no. "you make me really, really happy, hyung," he admits. "like... i wake up excited to love you, y'know? i keep catching myself thinking about the future – one where i'm with you. i think about reading books next to you, exploring restaurants with you, getting a dog with you... doing warm domestic shit with you." he lowers his eyes to the floor again, roughly rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. "it's okay if you don't feel the same. i just wanted to tell you before you left."

you separate his hands and rest your temples together. "who told you i don't think like that, too?" you murmur into his ear. when you pull back, your grin is broad and bright, and hesitant excitement bubbles in his stomach. you gesture to his bag. "is that really all you're taking?"

"y-yeah! the important stuff."

you beckon, hand outstretched, and jungkook slips the strap off his shoulder and places it across your palm. you jerk your head towards the open front door, behind which waits your car, the boot open and filled with boxes and bags of memories lovingly tucked away between layers of paper and bubble-wrap. your guitar rests in the backseat. jungkook jumps down the front steps as you place his bag on top of the others and shut the boot, glancing back over your shoulder.

"you nick my kit anyway," you grin. "c'mon, then. you can ride shotgun."

for the first time in many years, hope sparks like a flare in his chest. he crashes into you, arms tight enough to make you wheeze, and buries his cheek into your shoulder.

you stroke his hair, closing your eyes. "are you sure you want to come with me, darling?"

"certain as the sun."

he steps back, hands loose on your arms, and smiles – giddy, glowing, and gorgeous. poetry's never been your strong suit but even you can see the magic between his lines of verse.

you slip your hand into his and bring him around to his seat, but stop before he can step inside. you slide off the sunglasses from atop your head and flip them around, setting them on his nose, and he laughs quietly, nudging them up with his knuckles. he presses a light kiss to your cheek and disappears into your car, tugging the door closed, and you shake your head with a smile as you take your place next to him and behind the wheel.

the engine roars and he sits back, finding your hand on the gearstick. behind the sunglasses, his eyes glimmer with all that is good and bright, and his chest tightens as if he's run a marathon with the growing familiarity of a thudding joy.

"so," he breathes, his voice bright with curiosity, "where to next?"

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x male reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #jungkook x reader #bts x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #male reader #m!reader #bts fanfic

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storytowrite · 9 months

Text

Love Untold (OT8 x F! Reader)

Chapter 9

Paring: Han Jisung x reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: spanking, 18+, alcohol, alcohol games, nudity, licking the whipped cream off the body, masturbating with dry hand, alcoholic intoxication

Word Count: 5958

Masterlist | Love Untold Masterlist

Due to the work of your parents, you are forcet to constantly move. However, this time moving houses let to interesting and unusual events. You met 8 handsome boys at school and somehow you managed to move in with them. How will your fate go?

.......................................................................................................................

Still puzzled, Minho let you into the apartment, almost tripping over shoes standing in the doorway. You were shocked by the number of shoes, you were not able to understand how many pairs of shoes one person can have.

After taking off your shoes and the jacket Minho picked up from you, you made your way to the huge living room. Everything was modern and looked well-kept. The large window overlooked the skyline of the beautifully lit city. The furniture was mainly white, with black accessories. Your eyes immediately went to the very comfortable looking couch. You threw yourself on top of it and nearly sank into the comfy cushions. The sofa was huge, it could comfortably accommodate 10 people. Opposite was a TV, or should you say home theater. You couldn't get over how one guy could afford it all.

“Y/n what are you doing here?” The boy repeated the question, standing in front of you. Only now did you take a good look at him. He was wearing baggy black shorts and a black hooded sweatshirt. Strands of his purple hair poked out from under his hood, falling over his eyes. You didn't like him, but you had to admit he looked really good. The boy even at night knew how to dress to impress with his person.

“I have stated that I will move in with you and grant your wishes, just please do not share my photos.” You finally let it out. Of course it wasn't true. You weren't going to be some maid for Minho, but you weren't going to marry a guy who wanted to rape you either.

Still confused by the whole situation, the boy stood awkwardly, watching you carefully. Of course you didn't take off the dress you were in at the party, you were too annoyed to even think about it.

You cleared your throat, trying to snap him out of his trance. “May I have a blanket, please. I'm a little tired and would like to go to bed." You started when the boy came back to earth.

"Yes, I'm going to... I'll take you to your room in a moment." He replied not fully aware of what you said to him. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts and motioned for you to follow him.

You walked through a corridor illuminated only by white LEDs that were on the floor. You passed a lot of locked rooms you wanted to explore, but sleep was more important now. There were three doors at the end of the corridor. One on the left, one on the right and the third in the middle. He opened the one in the middle and you entered the room.

Afraid to take the next step, you stopped as soon as you crossed the threshold until Minho pressed the button. You squint your eyes as bright light flooded the room. It took a while for you to get used to the light, but once you did, you saw the whole beautiful interior.

The room may not have been huge, nor had much furniture, but it looked wonderful. You'd say better than your original room. The walls were white and the accessories were dark gray. The bed was against the single wall, made of light wood, and there were two small nightstands right next to it. Opposite was a huge ceiling-high wardrobe with a built-in mirror next to it.

It's enough for you now, at most you can buy additional furniture later. Looking around, you sat on the bed. The soft mattress and delicate linens encouraged you to throw yourself on the bed like a child and cuddle up to the soft duvet.

Minho was still standing in the doorway, staring at you with slight contempt and embarrassment, though you could have sworn a shy smile crossed his lips for a moment, but it quickly disappeared.

“Here's your bed, duvet, pillow and go to sleep. I advise you to get some sleep, because tomorrow you will have a difficult day." He announced, clicking his tongue casually and closed the door.

You lay on your bed staring at the ceiling for a while, trying to control all your emotions and sort out all the thoughts in your head. You got up and started rummaging through your bag for your pajamas. However, you haven't found any. You sighed loudly and put on your first long t-shirt and panties.

You made yourself comfortable among the soft pillows lying on the bed. You covered yourself with a soft but quite heavy duvet and turned off the light. You didn't have the luxuries of having a light switch next to your bed in your home.

You closed your eyes and were slowly drifting off to sleep when you heard a loud bang. You looked at your phone, which showed almost 4, so you were surprised that Minho was leaving somewhere at this hour. But you were so comfortable in bed that you had no intention of getting out of it. You closed your eyes again and snuggled into the duvet, allowing yourself to be wrapped in warmth, falling asleep.

In the morning you were woken up by very loud music, despite the closed door, you could clearly hear every word of the text. Annoyed, you pulled the pillow over your head, trying to go back to sleep. But the music continued to play, in fact it got louder and louder.

You pushed the pillow off your head, kicked off the duvet and with visible anger on your face, you left the room. You quickly made your way to the living room where the music was coming from. You were about to resent Minho when you stopped halfway.

In front of your eyes were Minho, Changbin, Seungmin, IN, Chan and Felix. Your eyes got so big that you literally felt like they were about to pop out of your sockets. All the boys gathered around immediately looking at you. You felt hot and a blush crept onto your cheeks.

Chan carefully examined every inch of your body, biting his lip slightly. Changbin's eyes screamed lust. Felix and Seungmin, on the other hand, stopped mid-eating, holding a sandwich to their lips.

Only after a while did you realize that you were standing in front of them in only a T-shirt and lace panties. You desperately pulled your shirt down, trying to cover your panties. The tight fabric showed off your slightly upright nipples. The blush on your face turned beet red. Suddenly you heard the sound of the door opening and before you could turn around you heard a sound behind you.

“With such views, I can always wake up. Who was the girl with for the night?" The voice sounded familiar, very familiar even. You quickly turned your head and saw Han, next to whom Hyunjin stayed close. “Y/n?... What are you doing here?” Jisung asked with obvious surprise.

You tried to explain yourself, but he left you speechless. You didn't know what to say, no words came to your mind. The taller boy standing next to Han licked his lips slowly, winking at you. Suddenly it hit you like a sledgehammer that your whole ass was sticking out as you pulled your shirt down the front. Both Han and Hyunjin had the opportunity to see your half-naked buttocks. You quickly moved closer to the wall. As your skin met the cold surface of the wall, a soft moan escaped your lips.

Han lifted the corner of his mouth slightly in a swashbuckling smile. Confused, you quickly ran back to your room. You slammed the door and leaned against it. Your breathing was rapid and irregular. So many thoughts and so many emotions swirled in your head. You didn't know what to do.

Where did they all come from? I was supposed to live with Minho, what are they doing here? They know each other? They live together? Or did they just come? But why everyone? Everyone who influenced me in some way? You tried to control your thoughts. You didn't know if you should be happy that you met the boys you fell in love with again, or maybe sad and worried that everyone is in one place and it will be very hard to control yourself. After all, you don't want them to think you're some girl who just plays with guys.

Meanwhile, there was a great commotion among the boys in the living room. Everyone wondered what you were doing at their house.

“What is Y/n doing here? Not that I'm complaining that she showed up here, but what is she doing here?" Han started in surprise, approaching the rest of the boys.

Minho just smirked and took a bite of bread that was on Seungmin's plate.

“She will work for me, that's why she came to live with us.” Changbin, who was drinking his morning protein shake, choked.

"What?!" He spoke a little louder than intended.

The commotion among the boys grew stronger again, the conversations became louder and there was a huge racket.

You in the room, as soon as you manage to control your breathing a bit, you put on the first clothes you found from your bag. Only now did you realize how few clothes you had with you. You put on thin leather pants and a cream corset top. You put on a little make-up, aiming for a more natural look.

You grabbed the doorknob, but before opening the door, you took two deep breaths to calm yourself down and give yourself some reassurance. You pulled the handle down and stepped back to the 8 guys sitting in the living room.

Again, all eyes turned to you. Without saying anything, you sat down on the couch and tried hard not to look uncomfortable. Suddenly a plate with two sandwiches appeared on your lap and Minho sat down next to you.

You were surprised that Lee Minho made you breakfast. Since when he was supposedly nice to you? You lifted the plate closer to your face and were about to take a bite when you were stopped.

“What do you think you're doing? This is my breakfast. Feed me, I don't want to get tired." Minho said, opening his mouth wide and pointing at it with his finger, demanding food.

You got slightly annoyed, rolled your eyes, but decided to do what the boy asks, in the end you had no intention of going back to your home. You shoved the sandwich into his mouth, making him gag.

"Enjoy your meal." You sneered.

Anger flashed across Minho's face, but before he could do anything, he was stopped by Chan. Only then did you realize that the rest of the boys were laughing at the situation. After a while, a plate of sandwiches appeared on the table again.

“I hope you enjoy it.” It came from Jeongin's mouth, who was scratching his head awkwardly, waiting for your opinion.

You were grateful that he made you food, because you'd still feel a bit awkward if you had to go through all the cupboards. You quickly bit into a sandwich with white cheese and tomatoes.

Literally as soon as you finished eating and placed your plate on the table, you felt hands wrap around your waist from behind. You turned your head as much as you could and saw Jisung, who sat down behind you, hugging you tightly.

“Y/n, you don't even know how happy I am that you're going to live with us. It means I can cuddle up to you and talk to you every day.” He said, snuggling into the notch in your neck. His warm breath caressed your neck lightly. Your whole body tensed and you let out a soft, barely audible and very airy groan of pleasure. You quickly covered your mouth, but it wasn't enough. Han, Minho, Chan and IN, who were closest to you, smiled perfidiously.

From the complete humiliation of yourself and showing yourself from the worst possible side, you were saved by the ringing of the phone. You quickly took it, getting up from the couch like a slingshot.

"Miss, where is Miss? I searched the whole house and couldn't find Miss. Has something happened to Miss?" You heard Sebastian's worried voice on the other end of the phone. You didn't need to see him to know that he was probably very stressed right now.

“Everything is fine, I'm fine. I forgot to call you to let you know I was…” You paused, looking around the living room. All the boys were looking at you intently, waiting for what you would say. You don't want them to know about your situation with your parents, you went to lock yourself in your room. “From now on, I will live with my friends. I'm safe here, you have nothing to worry about. I'll send you the address right now so you know where I am. Just please don't tell my parents, I don't want to go back to them. You know how they treat me, right? I'm begging you, Sebastian, let me stay here." Tears of helplessness welled up in your eyes, but you didn't have the slightest intention of crying.

“Miss knows very well that Miss is the most important person to me. I won't tell Miss's parents. It's important that the Lady is safe and happy. If Miss needs anything, just one phone call and I'll be right there." His voice was much calmer than before. You too sighed with relief.

You hung up and walked back to the living room. Some of the boys have already gone to school. You took out your phone to check the directions to school from there, but you were interrupted by Chan, who suggested that you go with him, Minho and Changbin.

You agreed because what did you have to lose? You all went to the garage, which was much bigger than you expected. It would easily accommodate 2 cars and even have some space left.

A beautiful black Jeep appeared before your eyes. Changbin opened the front door for you and held out his hand to help you in. Minho put his hand up to keep you from banging your head on the car, but as soon as you sat down he immediately took his hand away. He thought you hadn't noticed and immediately made rude comments before heading to the driver's seat. Chan and Changbin sat in the back and you went to school together.

The day at school was going rather calmly, even too calmly. No messages from Minho with demands, no harassment from Victoria and her entourage. You felt like today was a good day and moving was good for you, even though it's only the first day.

Together with Daisy and Carmen, you were out for a walk in the nearby park when your conversations were interrupted by a notification. You looked at your phone and saw that you had been added to the group.

Hannie: Hello everyone. I thought it would be easier to communicate if we wanted something from everyone.

Channie: Very good idea. Y/n if you need anything, write to any of us.

Y/N: Thanks guys. I hope we get along. You wrote with a slight hesitation. You were still stressed about the whole situation, because you were attracted to all these guys, and very much so. As soon as you were around any of them you got hot, but you wanted to have a good relationship with them so that you could enjoy living together. You decided not to be a gray mouse, but to show them all you are, and not to pretend to be someone else.

Binnie: I'm sure we'll get along, don't worry about that.😏

Minnie: Hey, how about we throw a Y/n welcome party tonight? It will definitely bring us closer together and help y/n feel more comfortable with us.

Jinnie: I'll arrange some alcohol and see you tonight.

Know: Alcohol? I'm in.

Lix: Omg… What a great idea and we can play different games

Innie: I'll handle the food

Channie: Okay, a welcome party tonight then

You won't say you were slightly surprised by the idea, but you decided that maybe the guys are right and it's a good idea to get to know each other.

The rest of the day passed very quickly and before you knew it, classes were over. You wanted to call Sebastian to drive you, but you were caught by Lix, who was walking home with the boys, and you got another free ride.

Preparations for the usual event were in full swing, everyone was doing something. You also wanted to help, but you were stopped by Minho, who told you to do his homework. So instead of helping clean, cook, and organize the party, you stayed locked in your room, thinking about Minho's assignments.

You struggled to complete all the tasks, but finally you managed to finish. So you quickly went to the boys to help them prepare, but everything was already ready.

The amount of different kinds of snacks and alcohol surprised you. You literally could choose between different types of alcohol. Vodka, Soju, Wine, Beer, Rum, Whiskey, whatever you wanted. You had no idea where Hyunjin got so much alcohol, but you didn't complain.

The boys greeted you with a smile as soon as they noticed you. Hyunjin handed you a drink and winked at you. You took a sip and melted in the otherworldly taste of the drink.

Everyone grabbed their drink of choice and you all sat down in the living room. The conversations became more casual with each sip. Everyone was getting more and more relaxed, and there was no end to laughter.

You don't know if it's because of alcohol, but you felt very good among the boys, you immediately caught a common language.

The first game that Seungmin proposed was "truth or dare". Great game to get to know each other a bit at first.

You found out that Felix plays computer games in his spare time. Changbin can't sleep without his blanket, Lee Know has a scar on his stomach from the surgery he had as a child.

The information about Minho surprised you a bit, because your childhood best friend and your first "boyfriend" also had the same operation. But you said it was just a coincidence.

The party was in full swing and the alcohol never stopped flowing. Neither of you had any inhibitions anymore. You all were like open books.

From the easy tasks that arose during the game, Changbin doing squats, holding Felix in his hands like a princess, and Minho slapping Han's ass.

After the game you felt your bladder was full so you went to the bathroom. When you came back your seat was taken by Minho sprawled on the couch.

"A maid doesn't deserve a seat." He mumbled, stuffing a handful of cheese balls into his mouth.

You didn't want to argue and stood next to the couch. Suddenly you felt a fairly strong pull and before you knew it, you were sitting on Chan's lap, his hands wrapped around your waist. Gently brushing your fingers against your bare skin. You had no need to lie, it was very pleasant and you had to hold yourself back so as not to make a sound.

You were saved by Changbin, who suggested "beer pong". Everyone was delighted with the idea. You quickly set everything up and the game began.

Everyone was surprisingly good at hitting the plastic cups. And each subsequent task became more and more sexual.

You threw the ball and hit the penultimate cup.

The person with the fewest dice removes his shirt

Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin and Minho rolled the dice and it landed on Chan, who took off his shirt without hesitation.

Beautifully sculpted abs appeared before your eyes. You couldn't resist biting your lip again.

"Do you like what you see, baby girl?" He asked as he approached you. He grabbed your hand and ran it over his muscles.

You gasp for air as your fingers meet his warm skin. You felt heat hit in your lower abdomen and a knot formed there. Trying to loosen it somehow, you began to move your legs, rubbing your thighs against each other.

You were saved by the sound of a ball falling into a cup. Quickly removing your hand from Chan's stomach, you grabbed the piece of paper with the task. The card had the same task as before.

Your team rolled the dice and it's your turn. You rolled the dice and watched the rolling dice expectantly. Your heart missed one beat when the dice showed one point.

Everyone was staring at you, waiting for you to take your shirt off. The alcohol helped a bit, and after a while your top landed on the ground, revealing your bra and beautifully exposed breasts.

You didn't have to wait to hear the boys' loud reactions. Despite the distraction that was you, Felix threw the ball and it landed in the last cup.

Seungmin pulled out a piece of paper and read the assignment.

Have a team member lick the whipped cream off the person with the most skin exposed.

Everyone's eyes immediately turned to you. Seungmin grabbed the whipped cream that was on the table and walked over to you with a smile.

You closed your eyes and gave yourself completely to him. You felt cold cream on your hand. You shivered slightly as cold cream touches your skin. You felt the next line on your neck and the last on your breasts.

You widened your eyes as Seungmin finished applying the whipped cream.

"Are you scared y/n? That means we win this?" Bin started, teasing you feisty.

You just nodded your head and closed your eyes again. Hyunjin slowly walked over to you, grabbing you by the waist. Sensually but slowly, he licked the whipped cream from your hand. The touch of his lips was driving you crazy. You knew very well which of the boys was doing the job. You remembered that touch from yesterday.

Before he moved to your neck, he approached your ear, brushing it lightly with his lips. Your breathing quickened and the warmth in your lower abdomen returned again.

As he passionately dug his lips into your neck, his tongue licking the whipped cream, a loud sigh escaped your lips. You didn't see the boy, but you knew he was smiling victoriously.

It's finally time for your breasts. You opened your eyes as you felt Hyunjin pull away from you. You saw the request for permission in his eyes. You nodded, biting your lip.

The boy approached you. He placed one hand on your buttock and the other just below your breasts. He slowly and passionately ran his tongue over your breasts. Lightly sucking the whipped cream into your mouth.

You threw your head back. You didn't know that you would be so sensitive to his touch. You haven't had a boyfriend in a long time, so you wanted someone else's touch. The knot in your abdomen tightened.

Hyunjin began to place wet kisses on your breasts, moving up along your neck, ending at your lips. The kiss was passionate, almost greedy.

You were excited and the warmth against your core grew. You slowly began to lose control of yourself. You slid your fingers into his hair, gripping it tightly and pulling him closer, wanting to deepen the kiss.

"Okay... Enough for the first time." Han interrupted, pushing you away from him.

"It's not the first time." Hyunjin smiled victoriously, rubbing his thumb sensually across his bottom lip.

The surprise on the rest of the boys' faces made you laugh a little. They looked like such cute puppies.

"We met yesterday at a party. Y/n dances amazingly, and how she kisses." Hwang winked at you.

A raspberry blush appeared on your cheeks. But you couldn't get the fact out of your head that your pussy was throbbing with the desire to please yourself.

You sat back on the couch to find out more about last night's party. You already put on your top but the feeling of warmth in your core was bothering you.

You put your hands between your clenched thighs and rubbed them together, trying to relieve some of the pressure. You hoped none of the guys would notice how desperately you were trying to please yourself.

"Hey, I have a great idea, let's play 7 minutes in heaven. The two people who draw the shortest sticks go to the closet and are locked in there together for 7 minutes." Han suggested, taking a sip of beer from the bottle.

"Great idea, I'll get the sticks ready." Chan said getting up from the couch. After a while he came back with sticks in his hand.

Everyone drew their own stick, and each showed the stick to the rest. You looked at the rest of the people and knew that your stick was by far the smallest. The boys compared their sticks and the second person to go into the closet with you was Han.

You were happy because you had known him the longest and you were the least stressed around him. Being teased but also hyped by others, you went to the wardrobe located in the hall.

The wardrobe was not large and filled with many things. Clothes lay on shelves, hung on hangers, but also lay on the ground. As soon as the door closed, it was dark. You couldn't see anything, not even the boy who was literally standing in front of you.

Only when Han turned on the flashlight on the phone did you see his face, which was close to you. The flashlight's bright light revealed his full lips, and his silvery gray hair looked even more fluffy than usual.

You stood like that for a while, staring into each other's eyes. Neither of you dared break eye contact. His gray eyes drew you closer to him. As if by magic, you melted into his gaze.

“Finally alone… You don't even know how long I've been waiting for this.” He said in a flirtatious, seductive voice, breaking the silence that was pounding in your ears.

You stared at him in surprise as he connected your lips. Your eyes got big like from a cartoon. You were surprised by the boy's behavior, but it would be a lie if you said that you didn't want this for a long time.

You closed your eyes and gave in to the kiss. You felt his soft lips against yours slightly. You felt his hands slowly move to your waist, pulling you closer.

Your whole body started to warm up again, especially your private area. Han must have been turned on as well as you, because he deepened the kiss. This time it wasn't such an innocent kiss.

He immediately parted your lips slightly and slipped his tongue inside. This is where all the fun started. Jisung grabbed your buttocks, squeezing them tightly in his hands. Your tongues battled for dominance, but you quickly gave up, giving all the initiative to the boy.

The knot in your lower abdomen tightened again, and the throbbing feeling of warmth in your pussy returned. It was just a kiss, but it was enough to get you turned on and horny.

The boy's hand quickly found its way to your shoulder, slowly slipping down the strap of your top and bra at the same time. He then parted your lips, placing one timid kiss on your bare shoulder. He watched your reaction the whole time and noticed you biting your lip again, he continued kissing slowly going lower and lower.

Your neck was your sweet spot, and every kiss he placed on it drove you crazy. Which Han used cleverly, he knew well what your weaknesses are, after all, you talked about everything.

His teeth gripped the skin on your neck lightly, leaving a faint red mark. A long-hidden moan of pleasure escaped your lips. He placed his hands just below your breasts, his fingers hooking over them from time to time.

He ran his tongue all over your neck leaving a wet trail. He paid special attention to your collarbones, where he sucked a little harder, leaving hickeys. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter, and if you don't release the pressure building up in your belly right now, you're going to go crazy.

You grabbed Han's hands and placed them on your breasts. You didn't have to ask him to start caressing them. First, gently, with slow movements, as if a little timidly, to rip off your top and bra after a while.

Your breasts popped out of your bra, bouncing slightly. The cold air that enveloped your breasts made you arch your body towards the boy. Your nipples were hard and your thighs clenched tight in a desperate attempt to satisfy your lust.

Jisung immediately grabbed one of the nipples in his mouth and the other between his fingers. A loud gasp escaped your mouth. You quickly covered your mouth with your hand, after all only a thin wardrobe door separated you from the rest of the boys. You didn't have to see it to know he had a sweet grin on his face.

As you fought with yourself not to make any loud noises, the boy sucked harder on your nipple until you felt dizzy.

The whole world was spinning and you felt like you were in paradise. No one has ever given you as much pleasure as Han does now.

Unruly, moving your legs in search of relaxation, you felt that your panties are slowly starting to get wet. You grabbed him by the hair and squeezed harder against your chest. All you wanted now was to feel fulfilled.

Suddenly, the boy stopped sucking your nipple, which was met with a quiet growl of discontent from you.

"I know you want me, I can feel it. You think I haven't noticed how desperately you tried to hide your excitement and lust after playing beer pong? Do you want to feel this unearthly feeling? Help you get rid of that awful feeling of dissatisfaction?" He whispered sensually right into your ear, slowly moving his hand lower and lower.

His slightly hoarse voice sent a pleasant current down your neck. Unable to utter a single word, you nodded. His touch dangerously close to your core was driving you to despair.

Glancing at you lustfully, Han pressed your cunt harder. You gasped as you felt the warmth of his hand seeping through your pants. You involuntarily rubbed against his hand, which was firmly holding your crotch.

"You're hornier than I thought, honey." He sneered, finally moving his hand.

A loud moan escaped your lips again, which pleasantly irritated the boy's ears. You felt like some horny teenager doing something with a boy for the first time, but Han had such an effect on you that you couldn't help yourself.

You pulled him to you, connecting your lips in a desperate kiss. This time you took the initiative and kissed him passionately until you ran out of air and had to catch your breath greedily. The boy seemed to enjoy it as much as you did.

Under Jisung's touch, your legs started to shake slightly. You put your arms around his neck to make sure you didn't fall. With each subsequent movement of his hand on your throbbing crotch, your breathing quickened.

Before you knew it, Han slid his hand down your pants and began slowly circling your throbbing clitoris.

“Agh Jisung, here.” It slipped out of your mouth as he pressed harder against your already sensitive clit.

“Do you like it sweetie? Here?" He also seduces you with his voice, gently stroking your sweet spot.

Your legs buckled slightly under you and you dug your nails deeper into his hands.

“So wet already?” He teased you by slipping one finger between your folds.

The material of the panties intensified the feeling of pleasure, additionally irritating your sensitive places. The knot in your lower abdomen began to squeeze tighter and you felt yourself close.

“Oh yes here. Do not stop. I'll cu… I'll cum soon." You weren't worried about anyone hearing you anymore. The impending feeling of accomplishment took over your mind.

The boy, hearing your pleading pleas, accelerated the movements of his hand and you didn't have to wait long for you to cum. With Jisung's name on your lips, you released yourself. Your whole body trembled with pleasure and your legs became like jelly. He had to hold you to keep you from falling as he continued rubbing your pussy as he guided you through an intense orgasm.

Only when you felt that the pleasant moment was over, your legs could not stand it and you fell to the ground. Your breathing was uneven and your body was still shaking from time to time, but you were content and very pleased.

He knelt beside you, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. There was no trace of lust in his eyes. Now tenderness has replaced them. The charming smile returned to his face.

“We need to repeat it, honey. Now let's go to the rest, because we were definitely here for more than 7 minutes.” He laughed sweetly and offered you his hand so you could lean on him after an intense orgasm.

The rest of the members were sitting in the living room sipping drinks and playing cards, but once you both entered the room, all attention turned to you.

“Well, someone was actually in heaven there.” Hyunjin started, pretending to come to annoy you a bit.

“After 7 minutes we wanted to pick you up but judging by the sounds you guys were having a good time so we didn't want to disturb you.” IN said innocently.

Your cheeks immediately turned red and you, trying to hide from your embarrassment, stood behind Jisung and snuggled into his back.

"You don't have to worry Y/n. What happened between us stays between us. That's one of the guiding principles we've established together." Chan tried to cheer you up somehow, pouring himself another drink.

After that, you felt a little better and sat down with the boys. You played board games until the morning. As the sun slowly crept into the sky, you felt a little tired. You thanked the guys for a great welcoming party and went to your room.

But before you left the room, you stopped.

“I have one little question. I forgot my pajamas from home, so could one of you lend me your shirt?" You asked timidly. Your question received a loud response.

Every one of the guys volunteered to lend you his shirt, even Minho, but he gave up after a while. Hyunjin almost fell off the couch trying to take off his shirt and Felix was so surprised by the question that he tried to take off Bin's shirt just to be first.

You ended up taking the T-shirt from Chan, who was extremely calm. You put on an oversized T-shirt and couldn't help but bury your nose in the soft material. The shirt smelled amazing, just like Chan, making you feel like he was enveloping you.

You made yourself comfortable on the bed, rolled onto your side, and pulled the t-shirt over your knees. Thinking about little fun with Jisung today, you fell asleep. You knew that living with the boys would be very interesting.

<;- PART 8 | PART 10 ->

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