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nereidprinc3ss · 25 days

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do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

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18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.

You look at it.

And then you set your phone down.

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.

He looks good. Almost too good.

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head.

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully.

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.

You cover his hand with your own.

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm.

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.

“Yes, please.”

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings.

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK.

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.

He knows.

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?

Maybe you have it all wrong.

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.

24 hours go by.

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence.

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans.

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown.

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration.

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute.

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment.

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry.

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!”

He knows.

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding.

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more.

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.

“You regret your first time?”

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.

You want to scream bloody murder.

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse.

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.

“Goodnight.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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justauthoring · 1 month

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jerk [2].

because bakugou katsuki is a jerk but he's also unfortunately your soulmate.

a/n: the LARGELY requested part two! honestly, i'd be willing to write more parts if people wanted :) this part ended up being more about the girls and y/ns friendship but i couldn't help myself - if you guys want some fluff with bakugou for future parts, just let me know!

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

part one.

“You’re hiding something from us.”

There’s a beat of silence, then another, then another and when finally, you realize you should say something, you blink, sputtering out a barely believable; “no i’m not.”

Mina and Jirou glance at each other, then behind them at the rest of the girls, and you feel a layer of sweat build up when you realize all of your female classmates are here, surrounding you, demanding an answer. And you’ve never really been all that good at lying before, it’s how Bakugou was able to figure out the whole “i’m your soulmate thing” rather quickly and it had only taken him as long as it had because, well, it was Bakugou.

So, to put it bluntly, you’re screwed.

“Come on, Y/N,” Mina laughs, “that wasn’t even remotely believable.”

You know it’s written across your face, your eyes wide and your lips parted and you’re sure you look like quite the picture in that moment surrounded by every single female student in your class, a group of girls you considered your friends but were feeling considerably more like your interrogators in that moment.

But you have to at least try.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you repeat, this time taking special care to make sure your voice is even and somewhat believable. “I’m just… tired. It’s been throwing my balance off. Sorry guys.”

You really are because you have been weird recently and you were hiding things (even if you were desperate for them not to know that) so the sincerity was there and it seems to be enough because they all glance at each other, frowning, and you can literally see the determination fade as Momo speaks up first.

“You have been leaving to train a lot,” she agrees with a solemn nod. “It’s no wonder you’re so tired. But you should still try to get some rest, don’t push yourself so hard.”

You let out a breath of relief, trying not to let it show as some of the girls shuffle back to walk away, until—

“Wait, that reminds me!”

It’s Jirou who calls it out and you feel yourself freeze.

“She hasn’t been training!”

Eyes widening, you turn to look at Jirou. She’s grinning your way, her figure pointed in your direction, clearly pleased she’d caught you in your lie.

“Jirou,” Uraraka calls out, confused. “What are you–”

“Two nights ago when she left to go training, I followed her, thinking we could train together… she wasn’t there.”

They gasp. Literally gasp.

“Now that you mention it,” Froppy nods, finger held to her chin in thought. “I haven’t actually seen her in the gym very often… nor does she look particularly like a person who’s just trained when she comes back.”

Their eyes fall on you and you take a step back.

“Y/N—”

And then you just run.

“I can’t believe she just ran!”

“I know!”

“Guys, I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Who?”

Mina’s lips are left parted at the sound of Kirishima’s voice, all the girls turning to face him in the living room where he’s sat with the rest of the class.

“Y/N,” Mina explains with a huff, falling into the couch dramatically. “She’s been ditching us constantly and always leaving right after we return from class with some excuse. When we tried to ask her about it today, she lied and then when we caught on to her lie, she ran! Literally just bolting down the hallway before we could even blink.”

Kirishima frowns, glancing over to Denki on his left.

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N,” Deku calls out from across the room, head tilted in curiosity. “Especially to lie to you guys.”

“I know!” Mina calls out, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Like I said,” Uraraka speaks up, trying to remain calm. “I’m sure she has her reasons. Maybe something’s wrong…”

“You think she could be in danger?” Shoto asks, quirking a brow.

Uraraka shrugs; “I don’t know… I hope not.”

Everyone falls silent, worried expressions plastered on their faces.

“Wait, Kirishima… bro.” Denki calls, reaching to shake Kirishima aggressively, to which the red-haired boy swats his hands away, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Hasn’t Bakubro been disappearing a lot too?”

All the girls straighten out.

Kirishima just shakes his head; “Bakugou is always disappearing. You know he doesn’t like hanging with us a lot.”

“No, Denki’s right,” Sero nods, “even if he isn’t hanging with us, he’s usually in his room or in the gym. Recently, he just completely disappears.”

“I guess you’re right…” Kirishima frowns.

“Wait,” Jirou calls out, “what are you saying? That Bakugou is disappearing with Y/N?”

“That’s crazy,” Mina brushes off. “I’ve never even seen the two talk to each other unless they’re forced to–wait.”

Everyone's eyes snap to hers, wide.

“What?”

“You don’t think… no. It’s not possible.”

“Oh my god,” Denki cries out suddenly, leaning forward with a manic look in his eyes. “Bakubro is hurting Y/N!”

“Wait–”

“No way!” Kirishima calls out, turning to Denki. “Bakugou is a lot of things, but he would never hurt somebody intentionally. Especially not a girl. That’s not manly. Right, Midoriya?”

“Right,” Deku nods confidently, before pausing; “I think?”

“Hey!”

“Guys, no!” Mina cuts in, shaking her hands widely before her. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay…” Momo nods, “then what?”

She leans in, pausing for dramatic effect. “He could be… her soulmate!”

There’s silence, then, “no way.”

Mina’s face falls; “why not?”

“Bakugou? Having a soulmate?” Jirou snorts, “I doubt that.”

“Everybody has one!”

“Okay, the odds of him actually caring about his soulmate are slim to none,” Froppy offers in response.

“Yeah,” Deku nods, “I've never once seen Kacchan show interest in his soulmate like… ever.”

Kirishima shakes his head; “even I have to admit that’s so not manly.”

Everyone shuffles around agreements but Mina is quick to argue; “have any of you guys ever seen Bakugou’s soulmate mark?” Slowly, one by one, all glancing at each other, the guys shake their heads. Mina then turns to the girls. “Okay, have any of you ever seen Y/N’s? Cause she’s never shown or told me.”

The girls all shake their heads.

“So how can you really know?” Mina raises a brow, “I mean, Y/N is always so secretive about her mark. She refuses to tell me.”

“Bakugou, we have—”

“Katsuki.”

Coming to a sharp halt, lips left parted, you blink up at Bakugou.

With a grin, Bakugou gently shuts your mouth with a hand to your jaw, laughing lightly; “say Katsuki. That’s my name.”

You can feel your cheeks warm, profusely, and a burst of heat flood through you as you pull yourself from his touch, avoiding his gaze. “Katsuki,” you oblige with a huff and a pout. “We have a problem.”

“Yes?” Bakugou asks, raising a brow your way as he lowers the weight’s he’d been lifting.

“The girls are onto us!”

Bakugou just stares down at you. “What does that mean?”

Exasperated at his obliviousness, you huff, stretching your hands out before you for emphasis as you stare up at him, wide-eyed. “They know I’ve been disappearing after class a lot. I tried to tell them I was training, which I guess we usually are but Jirou caught on to that being a lie too and now they’re onto us!”

Bakugou just blinks. “But what do you mean onto us?”

You let out a cry; “Katsuki! They’re gonna know we’re soulmates!”

“So?”

Pressing a hand to your face, you can’t believe your situation. Not only were the girls onto you, they knew you were lying, which made you feel awful and if they found out that you’d been spending all your time with Bakugou… well that was bound to bring up more questions. Questions you wouldn’t be able to avoid. Questions that would ultimately lead to them finding out Bakugou was your soulmate.

A hand gently reaches for your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face as Bakugou crouches to meet your eyes directly.

“Why is it such a big deal?” He asks gently, an odd tone that you’re still not used to hearing from Bakugou yet. His face remains neutral but there’s patience lingering in his eyes as he waits for you to explain why you’re so upset.

And you do. Your lips part and the words are at the tip of your tongue until, suddenly, you can’t say anything.

Nothing leaves your lips.

“Y/N?”

“I…—”

“You don’t want them to know?”

Blinking, you bite your lip. “It’s not that, it’s just…” But again, you can’t find the words.

“You don’t trust them?”

“Of course I do,” you argue instantly, “they’re my best friends.”

“Okay…” he says slowly, and then his face twists, “are you… embarrassed of me?”

Meeting his gaze, you frown. “...No,” you whisper, and you mean the words.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I…” Shoulders falling, you frown. “Nothing… I guess.”

“So,” he says, “let them find out!”

Sputtering, you lean back; “it’s not like you’ve told Kirishima or any of the other guys!”

“It’s none of their business,” Bakugou shrugs, letting go of your wrists to set his hand on your head. “But if it makes you feel better, I'll tell them.”

You find yourself silent with disbelief once again, Bakugou’s words echoing in your mind paired with the look in his eyes. Just staring down at you.

Looking at you.

Like you’re his whole world.

“I’m sorry.”

They blink at you.

“I’m sorry about running away yesterday.”

Another blink.

“And I'm sorry I’ve been lying to you guys for the past few weeks.”

Slowly, all the girls glance at each other, trying to gauge the situation, before Uraraka is the first to speak up.

“It’s okay,” she assures with a smile, setting her hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We appreciate you apologizing. We were just worried.”

“We wanna make sure you’re okay,” Jirou adds, smiling shyly at you.

You take a look at all of their faces, seeing the sincerity staring back at you, before settling on Mina who still has a hint of hurt in her eyes but there’s also hope.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Bakugou’s my soulmate.”

Silence echoes, once again, before.

“What?”

“I knew it!”

“Bakugou!?”

There’s a mix of words, gasps of disbelief and shouts of question thrown out at you as all the girls rush towards you, swarming you, desperate for answers.

You laugh a little at their reaction, and that catches their attention.

“Y/N?” Mina asks, confused.

“I’ve been sneaking off to see him,” you explain to her, meeting her gaze, before letting your gaze drift. “I didn’t say anything because I’m still adjusting to it myself and I still don’t know how to feel about it. But I realized it isn’t fair to lie to you guys like that and that I want you guys to know because you matter so much to me.”

“Y/N…” Uraraka mumbles, tears welling in her eyes.

Her expression mimics many of the other girls before suddenly there’s a body slamming against your own, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you stumble back, trying to catch your footing.

“Oh. My. God!” Mina screams, you wincing at the sheer volume, as she pulls back, grinning brightly at you. “You have to tell us everything!”

The next morning, you’re sitting at the island in the kitchen eating breakfast, chatting to Mina, Jirou and Kirishima. The rest of the students trickle by, some making breakfast, some in the living room, all in their own conversations, until suddenly it all stops.

It takes you a moment to realize Kirishima, Mina and Jirou are no longer listening to you, head turned to their right and following their gaze, curious, you blink when you realize it’s Bakugou they’re staring at. It’s not like he’s doing anything particularly odd, nothing except for the fact that his gaze is directed on you and he’s heading straight for you and then suddenly, he’s right in front of you.

His gaze drifts from you, to your plate, back to you; “who made you that?”

“Nobody,” you say slowly, still stunned. “I made it.”

He’s grabbing the plate before you can say anything else, pressing a kiss to your forehead that has your cheeks burning before turning and making his way to the fridge.

“I’ll make you something better,” is all he says in explanation.

Your gaze slowly drifts from him to Mina and Jirou who are grinning widely at you, before there’s the shout of;

“Did Bakubro just kiss Y/N?!”

“And offer to make her breakfast!”

“Wait,” Kirishima suddenly calls after Sero and Denki, turning to Mina and Jirou, “why are two grinning!?”

“All the girls are!” Deku exclaims, pointing at Uraraka and Froppy in front of him.

“You guys knew?”

“Of course,” Mina grins, sending a wink Kirishima’s way before shrugging. “Isn’t that right, Bakugou? You and Y/N are soulmates!”

Everyone expects him to ignore her or tell her to shut up, but instead, he pauses in what he’d been doing (cracking an egg for you), turning his head over his shoulders to meet your gaze before smirking.

“That’s right.”

And chaos follows.

Utter and complete chaos.

#mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader

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kamiversee · 1 month

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Sharing Is Caring ꨄ (part 1/3)

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ Sure, your boyfriend Choso gets jealous from time to time but that doesn’t mean you have the right to put him on sex-ban. Hence why he’ll show you he actually has no issues with sharing you (with a certain person).

[ { Need to know } ] ➤This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, lots of teasing and taunting, language, heavy sexual tension, buildup to a threesome, & two guys who are completely infatuated with you ^.^

[ { Parings } ] ➤ Choso x f!reader & Gojo x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 6.7k

“Oh my god Choso, shut up,” You whined, brows tense and eyes narrowed at your boyfriend who you’ve been arguing with for the past twenty minutes.

Choso scoffs, “Excuse me?” He tests, trying to see if he really heard what you just said to him, “Wanna repeat that f’me?”

With an annoyed roll of your eyes, “I said shut up. You just got home and you’re already starting up with this shit again. Choso, I’m not taking you off of sex-ban.”

Dating Choso is… an experience, to say the least. Sure, he’s a wonderful boyfriend and overall the perfect man for you but, that doesn’t mean you two don’t have your arguments or periods of being upset with one another.

Again, he’s amazing and all but there are times like now where you and him really get into it. He’s stressed out and you’re frustrated— both of which don’t make the best combination.

You’re standing by his living room couch watching him tug off his jacket. Choso’s face is ticked off but he won’t stop looking at you. As for you, your eyes are everywhere else except for his.

“Baby, it’s been three weeks. Three,” He emphasizes, “I can go without sex perfectly fine but you barely even touch me now.”

“Well this is what you get for being an overly jealous boyfriend,” You say with a scoff.

Choso cocks his head to the side and his eyes narrow, “What was I supposed to do that day, huh? Just sit there and watch some guy openly flirt with you like I’m not standing right next to you?”

“You’re being dramatic,” You tell him bluntly, arms crossing over one another, “I told you numerous times before, that if you kept up the jealous act I’d put you on sex-ban, and now; here we are and you’re complaining about it.”

“It’s not the sex-ban, baby. Did you even hear what I just said?” Choso asks. He then takes a single step closer to where you are, “You don’t touch me, hug me, or even kiss me as much anymore and it’s been three weeks.”

A nonchalant little shrug is given to him, “Maybe if you didn’t scold your girlfriend for someone else’s actions, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now-“

“I already apologized for that so I don’t understand why I’m not receiving any sort of affection from you,” Choso cuts off. As he nears you, his hand goes down to his belt and he starts to unbuckle it, clearly unwinding after his long day of work.

Your eyes just barely glance over to him and down at his hands fumbling with his belt. Then, you scan your boyfriend up and down and mentally curse yourself for being upset with him right now because fuck is he too attractive for his own good.

You swallow thickly and lift your gaze to his face, only to meet his eyes already on yours. For a moment, you maintain eye contact but then, you glance off to the side again, “Because all sorts of affection always lead to something more and I banned you from sex for a reason,” You explain with a sigh.

“Yeah well, how long do I have to go through this hell, huh?” He asks, tone stern and aggravated with you.

“Hell?” You scoff, “Choso you know there are other things to our relationship outside of sex-“

“Clearly you’re not hearin’ me,” He cuts off yet again, shaking his head at you as he tugs his belt off and walks even closer to you.

Unconsciously, you take a step back and Choso kisses his teeth as you do so before he tosses his belt on the couch along with the jacket he recently took off.

With a long sigh, Choso brings a hand up to his face and wipes it, as if that’ll help him focus his thoughts. Then, he voices out your name and you tense up a little, “It’s not about the sex,” He says yet again, slowly turning his head to you, “You don’t touch me anymore. Do you know how depriving that is?”

You shrug again, “It’s not the first time you’ve gone without my touch Choso, get over it-“

“Baby you practically live with me now,” He interrupts, “I wake up in the same bed as you almost every morning and when I try to hug you, you’re pulling away from me.”

“Again, every touch leads to something else,” You repeat, frustrated with your boyfriend and how he’s making such a big deal out of this.

Choso’s eyes narrow and a vein pops out in his forehead, “Do you think I lack that much self-control? If you put me on sex-ban then you put me on sex-ban. I have enough restraint to respect that, princess.”

You release a huff, “Okay, well-“

“Well what?” He cuts off impatiently.

Your face twists up, “Well if you’d let me—,” You blink and notice how close he’s gotten to you, your head angling up just a bit to make eye contact with him as he stands hardly an inch away from you. God, he smells good, “F-Finish…” You gulp, “I-I’m not an idiot Choso, you and I both know that self-control or no, when you’re pent up, you get more needy and I always let you have your way.”

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying to you?” Choso asks, head tipping to the side for a moment before he’s leaning down to you, “No seriously, are you rendering the words coming out of my mouth, love?” He asks almost in a way that makes you feel small.

A scowl washes over your expression as your eyes meet his once more, “Yes I’m rendering the words coming out of your mouth, Choso. Are you comprehending anything I’m saying to you?”

“I am.” He hums.

“Okay then why are we still having this conversation?” You ask in a dull tone, voice a bit softer now that he’s all close to you.

Choso cracks a little smirk but he still sounds annoyed, “Because you haven’t laid a finger on me in five days.”

“Choso-“

“That’s a hundred and twenty hours without a single touch from you,” He explains, eyes boring into yours.

Your brows raise and you snicker, “You can’t be serious-“

“It’s been seven days since I last felt your arms around me,” He continues, his body inching closer to your own.

You don’t move away this time and simply keep your eyes directly on his, “Why are you keeping track?”

“Sixteen days since you last kissed me,” Choso recalls, his voice getting lower.

“Oh come on-“

His hand is suddenly placed on your waist and he tugs your body up against his, “And three weeks since we’ve had sex.”

Your breath hitches a bit as your chest clashes with his and you keep your arms and hands everywhere except on him, pretty much proving all the points he just made.

Were you really trying not to touch Choso for the past three weeks? Yes. Is that because you’re worried about him getting carried away? No, you’re worried about you getting carried away. You know Choso has self-control but, it’s you who lacks it sometimes.

Swallowing hard, “Choso…” You murmur carefully.

“Baby I’m starved,” He nearly groans out, both his arms wrapping around your waist while his face inclines toward your own, “I need something from you-, anything.”

You bite down on your lower lip and stare at your boyfriend’s face. He’s so close to you, so desperate for you— it was cute how needy he was.

Purposefully, you lean closer to him and his eyes sink to your lips immediately as they nearly press into his own. Then, you stop a hair away from him, teasing him-, torturing him, “Not until you fix your jealousy issue,” You whisper to the man.

Oh Choso’s losing his mind right now. The urge he has to just press his lips into your plush ones is simply killing him. The arms around your waist tighten and his eyes are pleading with you.

“Baby please?” Choso begs, voice laced with the faintest whine.

You nearly folded at the sound of his begging. Hell, your eyelids began to lower and you wanted to kiss him just as badly as he wanted a kiss from you. You know just one won’t hurt but the fact that it’s been three weeks worries you.

He’s not the only one all pent up and starved, nor does he have any idea how horny you’ve been the past few weeks.

There was a day he came home from the gym and you watched him snatch his sweaty shirt off his body. You swore you were drooling for your boyfriend at the time because he’d been working out excessively just for you.

That was the last day you ended up kissing Choso because as soon as he went and showered, you were all over him. It was hard to control yourself when he smelled so good and his hair was all loose and damp with water— soft groans leaving his throat every time you pressed your lips to his jaw.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t considering eating him up that day. But, you managed to get ahold of yourself at the time and just barely pried your body away from his.

As of right now on the other hand… Your hands are carefully lifting to his arms, gently feeling his muscles through his clothes as your faces remain close to one another.

You wanted to kiss him so badly. It won’t hurt, right?

Slowly, your arms lift up even more and soon wrap around his neck— to which Choso’s breathing picks up and his heart rate increases. The smallest touches from you were already driving him crazy and his hands began to explore your back a little.

“Just one,” You whisper to the man, “One kiss, okay?”

Choso’s nodding eagerly, “Okay.”

The two of you are leaning in, anticipation bubbling in the pits of both of your stomachs as your lips gaze his and he gets the faintest touch of your skin— only to be interrupted by the sudden buzzing of your phone in your pocket.

You pull away and glance down and Choso swears his eye twitches. He was so close, he almost felt your lips again, your pretty soft and heaven-sent lips almost touched his, and yet someone had the nerve to interrupt.

Choso groans and you try to reach in your pocket for your phone but he suddenly smacks your hand away and reaches in your pocket himself.

You frown, “Choso-“

“Who’s callin’ us?” He cuts off. He sounds more pissed off than he was earlier.

The second his eyes lay on the contact written across your screen, he scoffs. The timing couldn’t have been better.

You move to try and see what he’s looking at but Choso shifts his hand on you and pushes your body away.

“Choso what the hell? Who’s calling-“

“You said I’ve been too jealous of a boyfriend, right?” Choso interrupts, his lips curving into a faint smirk before he lifts his gaze to you.

You nod slowly and wearily, “Y-Yeah, but what does that have to do with whoever’s calling m-“

“I’ll answer it for you, baby,” Choso says sweetly before flashing you a smile.

Your brows pinch together and you blink, “Who is it-“

He ignores your question and lifts the phone to his ear, “Hello?”

Someone speaks back to him but you’ve got no idea who.

“Ohhh, you called on accident? Yeah, no, I get that, happens to the best of us,” Choso hums with a shrug.

He seems all too calm and casual about this so you’re mentally trying to figure out who the hell could’ve called you to where your boyfriend is talking so calmly.

You just stand and watch in confusion for a minute as he continues his conversation.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Choso chuckles a bit but there’s a slight vein peeping against his jawline, “Nah man you’re fine. Actually, since I’ve got you on the phone, can I ask you somethin’?”

Your eyes widen and your heart is beating all over the damn place. Slowly, you try to get closer to your boyfriend, “Choso, who-“

He cuts you off by placing a single finger to your lips, quite literally shushing you. You’re taken back by his action and ticked off by his rude gesture.

“You used to fuck my girlfriend, right?” The man questions bluntly. Your entire face gets hot and you’re not sure if that’s because you’re pissed off or because you’re flustered.

Who the hell could he be talking to? Suguru? No, Choso doesn’t get along with him that well… Who else has your number that you’ve-

Gojo.

Your eyes go wide and you move to reach for your phone and snatch it from Choso’s hand but he swiftly and smoothly evades your attempt, mockingly scoffing at you.

“Choso what the hell is wrong with you? Give me my phone-“

Your boyfriend smiles at you. He finds entertainment in how ticked off you are and it only makes you angrier. Especially when he shakes his head no and moves away from you.

Then he has the nerve to laugh, “Yes, I do know the answer to that already. But my question still stands and I’d like to hear it from you since I have you on the phone,” Choso speaks.

You’re still following him around and trying to get your phone from him but he just moves and weaves all of your reaches.

“Yeahh see? There’s the confidence I was lookin’ for,” He says to the male over the phone, “So…” Choso makes eye contact with you and your heart sinks as his words come out, “Wanna do it again?”

The man on the call chokes on air so loudly that even you hear it despite not being near the phone. Then you hear a nervous chuckle, one that’s all too familiar to you.

You fold your arms at your boyfriend, who simply winks at you. “Choso, what are you-“

“Shut up,” He says to you sternly, “You said I’m too jealous of a boyfriend so now I’m trying to change that.”

“By being a fuckin’ asshole?” You spit out to him, both confused and annoyed by everything right now.

“No,” Choso negates, smiling sweetly at you again, “By calling someone over to please my pretty lil’ girlfriend since she won’t let me do it.”

You blink, “What? Choso-“

“Huh? What was that?” He interrupts, his attention back on the phone call, “Yes I was being serious. I-, oh…” His expression dips a little, “T-There’s a word for that kinda thing?”

You wish you could hear the entirety of this conversation because you’re so confused as to where this is going.

“Ohhh, then yeah,” Choso nods his head and looks at you with a smile, “I guess you could call me that—,” Something is said over the phone and he laughs, “What? No, she doesn’t know. Or, she didn’t know but, she’ll find out soon enough right?”

“Find out what soon enough-,” He starts walking away from you and you move to follow him, ��Choso!”

You’re ignored as his conversation continues and eventually, Choso walks into his bedroom, shuts the door in your face, and locks it.

You stand there for a while staring at the door in disbelief of your boyfriend. What the hell just happened? What the actual fuck is going on??

You go to knock on the door, “Choso, open the door!” You shout.

The sound of him still chatting it up with Gojo over the phone is heard and you’re feeling all too many emotions at once. From annoyance to anger to confusion and even very faint arousal, you were completely baffled.

Another groan pours from your lips and after beating your hand against the door for maybe five minutes or so, awaiting some kind of response from your boyfriend, you just give up and stomp off.

Annoyed beyond belief, you make your way back into the living room, grab his things, and toss them onto the floor before plopping down on the couch.

You hastily grab the nearby remote and press play on the TV, bringing your thumb to your lip and chewing on your nail a bit as you try to distract yourself from whatever the fuck your lovely boyfriend is talking about with Gojo Satrou.

Somewhere deep down, you think you’re thankful Gojo called when he did because you almost kissed Choso again and you knew you’d let him take things further if he wanted to. If Choso thinks he’s deprived, he’s got another thing coming because you’ve been aching for it.

Doesn’t he know it’s just as difficult for you not to touch him as it is for him not to be touched? Does he not realize how much of a tease he can be? How in the middle of the night, he’d snuggle into your back and his crotch would press into your ass? Waking you up horny and frustrated?

You scoff. Choso doesn’t even realize how whenever he comes home from his job, he looks so stupidly handsome undressing himself— slight grunts and groans leaving those soft lips of his as he does so.

Then, even when you were hugging him, he’d bury his face into the crook of your neck and his every exhale and inhale made your heart skip a beat.

Oh and let’s not forget how simple phone calls and text messages were enough to get you worked up. It’d be so random too how Choso would text you as you’re in class. Something simple like Baby I miss you would have your heart throbbing and your smile unwavering.

There was one weekend where Choso left town to go visit his two younger brothers and he called you late that night. His voice was deep, husked even, and his breathing was a bit unsteady as he told you he was trying to go to sleep but he couldn’t because he started thinking about you…

Thus leading to him with a painful boner. Then, to make matters worse, not only did he end up sending you a video of what you do to him even when you’re not around but, he had the nerve to return home that week looking fucking perfect.

His face had seemed clearer, his skin was as smooth as ever, he smelled heavenly, and of course— of course Choso decided to come home and touch all over your body, claiming to have missed you terribly.

He was such a fucking tease. And he knows it too, Choso knows what he does to you. He sees it in your face all the time— hears it in your voice.

Which is all exactly why he couldn’t bear with you reducing your touches. That’s what caused the argument today as he came home.

Normally, if you were at Choso’s apartment when he got off of work, which you have been more-so in the past few months, you’d rush to him and greet him at his door. Before the sex-ban, you’d help him undress and smother his face in kiss after kiss, telling him how much you missed him, etc.

And of course he appreciated this more than anything. Hence why he’d constantly note that because you do little things like that, he swears to put a ring on your finger if you’d let him.

Even so, ever since you told Choso you weren’t gonna have sex with him for a while, you stopped doing so. Which is all why he’s upset and you’re frustrated. Maybe you should just drop the sex-ban…

Or maybe just touch him more like he wants and learn some self-control. But, it’s not like it’s your fault your boyfriend is so irresistible. How are you supposed to keep your hands off him-

There’s a sudden knock on the front door and you flinch out of your thoughts. You’d been so caught up with them that you hadn’t even realized thirty minutes had gone by and you still didn’t have your phone, nor did Choso come out of his room.

Instead of moving a muscle, you groan, “Cho, someone’s at the door!”

There’s no response for a minute and your groan deepens as you toss your head back against the couch and frown.

“Choso!” You shout, voice projecting throughout his apartment.

“What?!” He shouts back from his bedroom.

You turn your head toward the direction of his hallway, “There’s someone at the door!”

Neither of you has moved an inch and both of you are just shouting across his home, “You can’t answer it?” He asks.

“You’re closer!” You argue.

Choso chuckles and then his voice gets a bit louder as he cracks his door open to yell, “It’s for you anyway!”

“I-,” You blink and then let off a scoff as you spring up from the couch, “Tch, it’s for you anyway…” You say under your breath, mocking your boyfriend in an annoyed tone.

Everything he was doing was pissing you off and you had half a mind to head back to your apartment. Every step you took was heavy and you wanted Choso to hear how agitated you were.

“Can’t even answer the fuckin’ door…” You grumble to yourself as your hand reaches for the knob, unlocks the door, and goes to open it, “…Getting on my goddamn-,” You swing the door open and your eyes immediately widen, “…N-Nerves,” You whisper out to finish your statement.

In front of you stands Gojo Satoru. All six foot three of him, bright fluffy white hair, black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, angelically handsome face, and stupid rose-tinted lips pulled into a smug grin standing right in front of you.

You had to blink once, maybe twice-, perhaps three or four times to figure out if you were seeing things before you scoff, “Satoru?”

Cocking his head to the side, “Trouble in paradise?” Gojo comments in response, voice just as playful as you remember it.

“W-What the fuck are you doing here?” You breathe out, brows tensing and confusion taking over.

Gojo’s shoulders lift into a casual shrug, “I was invited, duh.”

You stare. Then, slowly and carefully, you start nodding as you move to shut the door on him. Maybe you were dreaming?

A hand is pressed to the edge of the door, an arm nearing your head as this hand comes from behind you, and the door is pulled open. You instantly jump as your boyfriend seemed to have simply appeared right behind you and you swear your heart was pounding out of your chest.

Lips near your ear and Choso’s voice is smooth as he speaks to you, “C’mon baby, don’t be rude to our guest,” He murmurs to you, deep voice caressing your eardrums and making you lose all your thoughts for a moment.

You quickly snap out of it and whirl your head around to look at the dark-haired man, “Choso, what the hell is going on-“

“Oh c’monnn,” Gojo suddenly speaks, “You heard your boyfriend,” He chuckles and you turn to him, eyes going wide as he leans down to you, “Don’t be rude to your guest,” Gojo murmurs.

He was so close that you could smell the faint mint coming from his mouth. His proximity worried you and you stepped back, only to run into Choso and your entire backside to bump into him. Your boyfriend places a hand on your waist and tugs you back a bit to give space for Gojo to walk in.

Never in your life have you been more confused than you are as you watch Gojo Satoru enter your boyfriend Choso’s apartment.

Then, Choso leans over just a little so that he can shut the door but he doesn’t move from behind you. Your eyes are all over Gojo’s face, asking him a million questions with your gaze alone.

Gojo starts snickering, “Sweets, if you have a question, just ask-“

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You blurt out, tone heated before you proceed to give him no time to respond. You’re then turning to Choso, “What the hell is going on?”

Your boyfriend stares at you innocently, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, you’re a smart girl, you can figure it out,” Gojo chastises.

You swear you’re about two seconds away from popping a blood vessel. An arm of yours moves to shove Choso away from you and you scoff, “First off, fuck both of you. Start explaining yourselves, now.” You huff out sternly.

Choso flashes a sheepish grin, “I already explained everything to you, why are you confused-“

“You were being serious?!” You shout, “You seriously called Satoru over to fuck me?! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You said I was too jealous of a boyfriend so I invited him to prove to you that I’m not,” Choso tells you, the look on his face completely serious.

You couldn’t believe him right now. Not only were you feeling embarrassed having Gojo stand here and listen to you and Choso bicker like an old married couple but you were also fuming with your boyfriend.

“W-What?!” You huff out.

Choso gives you this blank stare he knows pisses you off, “I don’t understand why you’re confused.”

“You don’t understand why I’m-,” You cut yourself off with a sigh and move to pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, “Choso Kamo, this is the kinda thing you talk about with your girlfriend beforehand.”

“Are we not talking about it now?” He argues, moving to fold his arms across his chest and tilt his head.

You glare at him for a moment before glancing back to Gojo. Then, you chuckle in an annoyed manner, “We shouldn’t be talking about this in front of… him.”

“Him?” Gojo pouts, “Hey, I have a name y’know-“

“Satoru shut the hell up. You will be dealt with, just give me a moment,” You cut off warningly. Turning back to look at Choso, “As for you, I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you but we’re not doing this.”

Choso raises a brow, “Not doing what baby?”

“I’m not about to…” Your face twists up in disapproval, “…To cheat on you just so you can prove some stupid point-“

“Why not?” Your boyfriend asks nonchalantly.

“What do you mean why not? Choso what even possessed you to invite Satoru over?”

“I literally told you why already,” He says bluntly, “I wanna prove I’m not the jealous dickhead you keep making me out to be.”

Your brows raise, “And you wanna prove that by making me have sex with another man in front of you?”

“First off, I’m not gonna make you do anything,” Choso clarifies, “Secondly, yes, I do want you to have sex with another guy just to prove a point.”

“You’re crazy. I mean, Cho, you can’t be serious about this-,” You cut yourself off as you just barely glance down— spotting something that makes you eat your words. “Oh… Oh wow. You-, you’re…” You stammer as your lashes bat in disbelief.

Choso scoffs, “Yeahh… Still don’t believe me?”

“Why’re you…” Your brows furrow as you stare at the bulge in your boyfriend’s sweats, “D-Did just the thought of me and Satoru having sex in front of you get you like that?” You ask softly as you point.

Gojo suddenly pops his head over your shoulder and you flinch as he speaks, “Damnnnn, you seriously are a cuck,” He chuckles out.

Then his hands slither onto your waist and your entire body tenses up. Swallowing, you turn your head to Gojo and glare at him, “Don’t touch me.”

Blue eyes meet yours and he smirks, peeling his hands off your body but keeping his face close, “He wants me to.”

“Well, I don’t. I haven’t agreed to any of this yet-“

“Yet?” Both of the men point out in sync.

You swallow, “I-I mean, I… I wish you two would’ve given me some time to… t-to y’know, wrap my head around this,” You stammer out.

Having your stupidly attractive boyfriend and the annoyingly handsome Gojo Satoru in the same room, both taunting and teasing you was unbearably nerve-wracking.

Slowly, you look over to your boyfriend, “You really want me to-“

“Yes baby,” Choso cuts off.

“What’s even in this for you… aside from,” Your eyes narrow down at his boner, “A-Aside from getting off to this twisted fantasy of yours?”

He snickers, “Uh, I’ll be off of sex-ban after this.”

Your brows pinch together and you fold your arms, “Says who?”

“Baby, the point of the sex-ban was to teach me a lesson about bein’ jealous,” Choso explains, stepping closer to you. Your body was steadily heating up since Gojo was right behind you and Choso was nearing you, “Consider this my lesson learned.”

You scoff, “…Even if I did agree to this…” Slowly, you turn back to Gojo and his face is far closer than you anticipated it to be, his lips nearly on yours as your head turned, “A-Are you seriously okay with this, Cho?”

Gojo’s hands are placed onto your waist yet again but this time, you don’t push him off or tell him to move. You stare into those pretty blue eyes of his and watch as he smiles.

“He’s more okay with this than you think,” Gojo murmurs to you, tilting his head in a way that makes it seem like he was readying himself to kiss you.

You stare at Gojo for a second longer than you mean to before turning to look at your boyfriend once more and god damn his pupils are dilated and you swear his cock has doubled in size beneath his clothes.

Oh he was extremely serious about this.

Choso chuckles, “I can’t exactly fake my dick bein’ hard, can I? What more proof about this do you need to see I’m serious?”

“S-So… if I sleep with Gojo… you want the sex-ban to be over?” You ask for clarification as you glance back and forth between Choso’s left and right eyes.

“Mhm,” He nods at you, “And my point will be proved.”

“Right…” You look at Gojo again and his lips are a hair’s length away from yours at this point, “A-And you… you’re okay with this?”

“What kinda’ question is that?” The white-haired man laughs, “In what universe would I pass up the opportunity to fuck you again?”

You frown a little but, you’re no longer shying away from this, “Satoru… T-This is so wrong-“

“Is it any more wrong than the things I’ve had you do before?” He whispers lowly to you, low enough for Choso to miss what he uttered.

You swallow thickly at his words, “W-Well… yes, yes it is. I’m cheating on-“

“Is it really cheating if he wants you to do it?” Gojo argues.

You pout, “Yes-“

“No, no it’s not,” He interrupts while flashing a comforting smile at you.

“Satoru-“

“Can you two stop arguing and just make out already,” Choso groans, “I’m gonna blow my load before we even get to the good part…”

Gojo chuckles and lifts a careful hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek in his palm as he pulls you close, “Well, sweetheart? Your boyfriend’s gettin’ needy.”

You shake your head slowly and your gaze falls to Gojo’s lips, “…This is so wrong.”

“Yeah,” Gojo murmurs back before pecking your lips, you sigh immediately and Gojo whispers against you, “But he likes it.”

There’s one last lingering look shared between you and Gojo before he gently presses his lips to yours again, feeling as you sigh against him and just barely ease into this. After all, it was different and weird to kiss someone who wasn’t your boyfriend after a wonderful ten months of dating him.

There are a lot of things you could’ve predicted in your future with Choso but this damn sure wasn’t a part of it. No, making out with Gojo Satoru as Choso just watches the two of you was not something you could’ve ever planned for.

Gojo’s taking things slow, melting into your mouth and steadily parting your lips to push his tongue inside as you hum against him. Choso was losing his mind. Yeah, from the second he saw the way Gojo looked at you, his cock sprung up.

Did he understand why? Not exactly, no. Hell, only about forty-five minutes ago did Choso learn of the word cuck and what it means to be one. He’s watching you and Gojo make out for a little bit before his feet move toward the two of you.

Choso nor Gojo miss the way you moan against Gojo’s lips as Choso presses his own into your neck. Oh. You were about to experience both of these men at the same time? Gojo and Choso. Gojo Satoru and Choso Kamo. To what being must you thank for such a heavenly experience? Your possessive boyfriend and your obsessive ex-lover (if you can even call him that).

Your boyfriend begins to suck on the side of your neck as you hum and squirm in between the two men. Gojo’s got his large hands firmly placed on your waist and you whine into his mouth as Choso moves to kiss under your jaw. With Gojo behind you and Choso now in front of you, you couldn’t possibly wrap your head around the fact that you were being sandwiched between these two men.

Handling either of them one at a time was already too much for you and yet here you were having to deal with both. You feel Gojo’s clothed cock press into your ass and he groans into your mouth before pulling away, both of you making low-lidded eye contact.

“Satoru,” You whisper.

He hums, “Shit-, this is hotter than I thought it’d be.”

Choso’s busy sucking at your neck before he pulls away with a loud pop, his breathing heavy against your skin as you grow hazy in lust. Then, he wipes his mouth off and takes a step back, “Baby…”

You turn your head to him with wide eyes, your lips prettily messy with saliva from Gojo’s tongue and fuck if Choso didn’t find you sexier than ever. Your brows raise innocently and he smirks at you.

“Can you do somethin’ f’me?” Choso hums out. You try moving toward him but Gojo tugs you back and Choso chuckles, “Don’t worry, I don’t want you to touch me yet,” Your boyfriend explains, “I want you to take care of our guest first, can you do that?”

Your eyes widen and you glance behind you and up at Gojo who flashes you a smile, “Yeah, can you take care of me, sweetheart?”

Gulping, you fein cluelessness, “T-Take care of you how…”

“Oh don’t act dumb,” Choso scoffs.

Gojo snickers, “Right, don’t act dumb…” He coos at you.

You pout and glance back over to your boyfriend, “I’m not actin’ dumb… I just want you guys to tell me what you want me to do…”

“Oh?” Choso raises a brow, “So you’re done actin’ like a brat now, huh?”

“I-I wasn’t acting like a brat earlier, you were just being an asshole,” You huff out before rolling your eyes and looking off to the side.

Gojo quirks a brow, “That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend, now is it?” He murmurs to you, causing a chill to slip down your spine.

“But…” Your lashes flutter, “He was being a fucking asshole-”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on ya’...” Gojo interrupts.

Choso suddenly nods, “Yeahh… She does, doesn’t she?” You swallow hard as your boyfriend voices his thoughts, “Why don’t you shut it up?” He suggests.

A hand is placed on your jaw and your face is tugged so that you’re looking at Gojo again, his fingers digging into your cheeks, “I should, shouldn’t I?” He teases, shifting to run his thumb over your lower lip, “She talks way too much anyway.”

“E-Excuse me-“

“She can’t talk when she’s got a mouth full of cock though,” Choso comments.

You swallow down whatever argument you were going to spit out to these two men.

Gojo smirks, “Good point…” He hums before slipping his thumb past your lips, “But, that’s probably what she wants anyway.”

“Think so?” Choso hums, smiling a little.

Gojo nods, “Know so.”

“Okay well, who are we to deny her of such a thing?” Your boyfriend shrugs casually.

“Exactly,” Gojo agrees before placing his attention back on you, “Is that what you want, love? Hm? S’that why you’ve been such a fuckin’ brat? Y’need someone to put you back in your place?”

Yet another pout pulls at your lips, “I wasn’t-“

“Aht, aht, none of that,” Gojo interjects, scoffing at you and finding your expression cute, “It’s yes or no, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes,” You stammer in response.

He bites down on his lower lip, “Yeah?”

Before you can even nod, your boyfriend’s making your fluster state ten times worse, “Yes what, princess?”

“Yes please…” You whine.

“Be specific,” Choso demands, voice low, “C’mon, tell Satoru what you want.”

“I…” You gulp, “I want you to…”

“Aww don’t be shy, s’just me, sweets,” Gojo coos, his voice gentle.

You were losing your mind right now. Gojo being so careful with you while Choso forces you to voice your needs? Oh you’re not making it through the rest of this interaction, or at least, not in one piece and not mentally okay by the end of it.

“I want you to put me in my place ‘Toru,” You finally manage out.

Gojo hums deeply, “In front of your boyfriend? Seriously?” He teases as he moves the hands on your waist to spin you around. Then he tugs your body up against his, “You really are a lil’ slut, aren’t you?”

Your face twists up a little before you glance back to Choso who gives you a reassuring look— telling you through his eyes that this was okay.

After which, you look at Gojo again and nod, “Yeah.”

He chuckles before bending down a little and then lifting you into the air, your legs wrapped around him as he does so, “Well, if you insist. I guess I’ll have to start by punishing this mouth of yours for bein’ so mean to your boyfriend.”

You frown as you disagree with the claim of you being mean to Choso, “I-“

“Don’t act like that’s not what you’ve been wanting anyway,” Choso adds as he watches Gojo carry you past him. He trails behind the two of you, “I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at me lately, baby. You’ve been itchin’ to suck me off… Buuut since you put me on sex-ban, I guess that’ll have to do, right?”

You send the man a look and he smiles at you, completely obsessed with teasing you through this whole thing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Choso hums as you, him, and Gojo enter the living room, “You said you’d take care of our guest first, remember?”

“Yeah, sweets,” Gojo chimes in— God the way they keep doing that is getting on your nerves-, “I can’t wait to put my cock down your throat.”

Okay, by this point, you were beyond pooling in your underwear and it doesn’t get any better as Gojo takes a seat on the couch with you sliding into his lap, his erection poking up against your cunt as you sit comfortably. Then there’s Choso who takes a seat not too far away from the two of you, his cock aching for some kind of attention.

One last time, you glance at your boyfriend, and then at Gojo, and then you sigh.

This was really about to happen-

There’s a soft tap to your ass by Gojo, “Don’t start zonin’ out now,” He hums.

Then Choso’s talking again, “Yeah baby, hurry up ‘nd get on your knees— I wanna see how well you suck another guy off.”

Yeah, this was about to be a long night…

part two

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

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estrellami-1 · 11 months

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

He’s staring at him.

Steve Harrington is staring at Eddie Munson.

The thing is, people don’t just stare at Eddie. Not for any reason that means anything good for Eddie. So when, completely unprompted, the fucking King of Hawkins High walks up to Eddie and says, “I need to talk to you,” Eddie thinks he’s entirely justified in the squeak he lets out.

“You? Talk? To me?” Wow. Great job, brain.

“Please,” Harrington whispers, and Eddie thinks desperately this must be some kind of joke, except he’s good at reading people, and he knows the desperation in Harrington’s eyes.

“Okay,” he says, stammers. “Um. There- there’s, behind the school, a, uh-”

“Table,” Harrington nods. “That works. Just…” he sighs, rakes a hand through his hair. “Leave the lunchbox at home.”

Eddie’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Then what the fuck do you want with me, dude?”

“I can’t explain. Not here, not now. Just. Please. After school, okay?”

Eddie looks at him. Really looks, studies his face, understands the lines by his eyes, the tightness of his mouth. His heart thumps as he realizes. He’s scared. “Okay,” he says, and means it.

Eddie’s a man of his word, so after school he makes his way to the table, pausing when it comes into view. Harrington’s already there, sitting with his head in his hands. Eddie calls out from a couple of paces away. “You sure you don’t want anything from the lunchbox?”

Harrington jumps, hands up, eyes round. Relaxes a little when he sees Eddie. “No. I- I’m good. I can’t, actually.”

Eddie frowns. “What, like, a sports thing? No one’s gotta know, dude, I’ve never been busted, I can keep a secret.”

Steve gives him a half-smile. “No. It’s- it’s not a sports thing. Just… sit down? And promise to listen?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, because he knows how comforting it can be to just have someone there, and he’s not a dick; clearly Harrington’s going through something. Though why he approached Eddie, of all people, he doesn’t know.

“Okay,” Harrington repeats back, taking a breath before starting. “If I were to tell you I’m from the future, a future in which we know each other, how would you ask me to prove it?”

Eddie blinks. He was ready for a lot of things, but not time travel. “Um. I dunno, man, I haven’t really thought about it.”

He takes another deep breath. “Can I try?”

“To- to prove you’re from the future?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie laughs, a little hysterically. “Man, where the fuck do I get the strain you’re on?”

He blinks. “What?”

Eddie gestures at him. “Come on, man, you have to admit you’re not really making sense here.”

Harrington sighs. Takes another breath. Says, “You live with your uncle Wayne. Your father taught you to hot wire cars when you were nine. You listen to Dio and Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne but your favorite song is I Will Always Love You, by Dolly Parton, because it was your mom’s favorite. The guitar pick you wear around your neck was hers. She taught you guitar. You love The Hobbit. Stop me when I’ve said enough.”

Eddie’s never been more scared in his life. “Listen, man, I dunno where you heard all that-”

“Eddie,” he says, implores, and digs something out of his pocket. Opens his hand to reveal a ring.

A ring Eddie already has on his finger.

“What the fuck,” Eddie whispers. Grabs for the ring before he can tell himself it’s a bad idea. Examines it, sees the dent from where his finger had gotten smashed in a door.

His hands start shaking.

“I’m from 1987,” Steve Harrington says, sure as anything. “And I’m trying to stop something terrible.”

“And what would that be?” Eddie asks, feeling strangely detached from the whole thing.

“Your death,” Steve Harrington says, still sure as anything.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect

#if I should stay #do I need to be starting another wip?#no #do I need help?#yes. probably #will I get any?#hahahahaha no.#probably not #anyways I don’t know why Steve went back in time. we’re gonna figure it out as we go along #or we won’t #this is my excuse to write Steddie #and to write Eddie into the script earlier than he actually was #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #starambles

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alphabetboyluvr · 8 months

Text

NIGHT CRAWLERS - JJK

title credit: night crawlers - kids in glass houses

pairing: drugrunner!jungkook x sugarbaby!reader, college au

synopsis:

jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

warnings: jungkook and o/c are polar opposites, but y’know what they say, opposites attract and all that jazz, jk is a college student but also a drug runner, mentions of gang dynamics and hierarchy, oc is a sugar baby, mentions of consensual but uncomfortable sexual encounters as a result of this (proceed with caution), drugs, violence, blood, motorbikes, hurt/comfort, all the good stuff, smut – fingering, tittie sucking (wow pretend to be shocked!), unprotected sex, jk has the hugest cawk in the whole entire world, jk is a lil aggressive but in a sexy way, he accidentally says something mean during sex (not sexy mean, actually mean (he makes up for it tho!)), jk on top, oc on top, mentions of his pubes (yummy), tummy pressing, kissy kissy kissy koo, creampie, post-coitus nap, they’re literally in love idk what to tell you, ambiguous ending!!

wordcount: 26K

note from holly: originally published to wattpad in 2021 and also briefly uploaded to tumblr, too. It’s just hit 100k reads over on wattpad so I thought I’d put it here too!! There are two additional chapters on wattpad, connecting the story another fic of mine and also showing us jk + oc four years on from the events of NC!! If you’re interested, you can find it here (x).

i write in british english!! both in spelling and dialect!!

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

IT'S BEEN SAID that with great notoriety, comes great responsibility to uphold the expectations of those who presume the worst about you.

Okay, so that's a lie. No one's ever said that - but Jeon Jungkook has never been one for sticking to traditions, and so he likes to live his life as if that's his motto.

That, and 'rather be dead than cool.'

Which is ironic, because it's only the heteropatriarchal bores - the ones from upper-class families, who want a white picket fence and 2.4 kids - that actually think he's lame.

And he doesn't particularly give a shit about their opinions.

Everyone else thinks he's actually pretty fuckin' cool.

Black nails, black cargo pants, black hair that waves loosely over his sharp features. An air of command as he walks, a swagger in his step that lingers in stranger's heads like the silage of his aftershave.

Yeah, Jungkook is cool, and he fucking knows it.

A rucksack is perpetually slung over his shoulder, the top concaved slightly to indicate there's very little in there, not much more than a tatty notepad and a few loose pens - or so you assume.

You've never actually spoken to him. Why would you?

Daddy's little princess, glossy lips, manicured nails. The kind of girl who gives him a second look, but only to sneer. He doesn't think of you often, but when he does, it's never nice.

Jungkook doesn't have time for you, and you don't have time for him. Your paths rarely cross.

At least they barely crossed. Past tense.

Now that you're taking a few of the same classes as him, he sees you a lot more than he likes. Hair always up in that stupid fucking ponytail that he can't see past, perpetually on your phone. Attention seeking little bitch.

He'd ranted a little to Jimin about it, told him that you really must have been a dumb bitch to swap from an economics major to a film studies major with only a single semester left.

Jimin hadn't said much in return. Unlike Jungkook and his insatiable hate-boner for you, Jimin really doesn't give a shit about you. Barely knows your name, let alone the fact that you studied economics before switching over. Was kind of curious as to how Jungkook knew that. Not enough to bother with asking, though.

Jungkook thinks it's normal to scope out the competition. A little Facebook look-up, Naver search, Instagram scroll. Surely it's rational to do that? Check out their LinkedIn, cross-reference their Twitter history to see what they've said about the course.

It absolutely isn't normal, but then again, nor is Jungkook.

He's exactly as he appears to be; the rogue look isn't a front.

But beneath the exterior, there are a few more traditions he's subverting.

He's the first in his family to attend college, and he needs to ace this class to keep his scholarship.

It's all just projection, the way he despises you.

You've got everything he wants. A well-to-do family, money, prosperity, financial security. He's never known that. And while he shits on you for having parents that have provided for you, all he wants in life is to be able to do the same for his own children one day.

"I've matched you all with students of a similar grade level, so no one is at an unfair advantage," your professor calls out, tearing Jungkook from his thoughts. "Not a single one of you will experience the city in the same way. From shortcuts to your favourite coffee spots, your lives here will have been different to those of your peers."

Jungkook smirks, leaning back on his chair. He knows this city better than most; its dark corners, where the monsters lurk... how to hide and where to run.

Again, the rogue look isn't a front.

But he also knows how to work a camera better than anyone in that room, how to time his shots, how to frame them, too. Top of the class, though modestly quiet about it (he's got a reputation to uphold, after all), he's curious to see who would be considered an even match for him.

"That being said, your experiences are also shared with those around you. For this assignment, with your partner, I want you to create a unique piece of film that captures what the city means to you. Think outside the box. Create something that excites, that invokes. You've got eight weeks. The partner list is on the noticeboard at the back of the hall. Dismissed."

Footsteps echo around the lecture hall as everyone trundles out of the room. You wait back, having already seen the list before you entered the class.

Instead, you pull out a pen - one of the ones that Jungkook hates, with a ridiculous fluffy pink pom-pom on top - and jot down your number. You aren't aware of his insatiable hatred, and either way, you don't really care.

He ignores you as you approach his desk, eyes only drifting upwards when you slide the torn-out piece of paper towards him.

"Mhmm?"

He's rude, you notice. Brows raised, expression flat, he's fed up with you before you've even said a word. Kinda hot, admittedly, but rude.

"We're partners," you say with an ambivalent shrug. Jungkook's jaw seems to tense, head tilting as he breathes out a short smirk.

Partners?

"You haven't even gone out to check the board."

"So what?" You scoff a little. He doesn't like your tone. The feeling is mutual. "I just made it up?"

It's his turn to shrug, now. "Dunno. You tell me."

His hair waves around his features, and you wonder how long it takes him to make it look so natural. The girls around campus swoon over his hair, like he's some kind of God. Other boys try to emulate it, but they can never quite pull it off like he does.

Another thing that all the girls giggle about are his doe-like eyes, but they're hard, now. Narrow, almost. Less of a doe, more like a dragon. Maybe if you get his nostrils flaring, he'll breathe fire, too.

Yeah, he's hot, you want to laugh to yourself, but not that hot.

"I checked before I came in. Didn't take a genius to work out what it was for."

He takes a moment before he nods. "Right. Well, you should probably know that I work better alone. Just let me handle the assignment, a'right? You can put your name on it, whatever, I don't care. Just let me handle it."

A control freak, you note. Nice.

You didn't transfer majors in your last semester, and face all the hardships that came with such a decision, just to sit back and let someone else do the hard work for you.

"With all due respect, it's a joint assignment. I'm not putting my name on work I didn't actually do."

A stickler for the rules, he assesses. Fucking fastastic.

"Look," he sighs, adjusting his body so that he's practically leaning halfway over his desk. As much as it sounds like he doesn't want to be a part of this conversation, his body language is oddly engaged. "I need to ace this class. You've been here, what? All of three minutes? Film what you wanna film, send it over to me for editing."

"I'm very much capable of editing-"

"And if you could do me a favour and keep the nail salon footage to a minimum, that would be much appreciated. Everyone's seen that shit. It's not interesting. Gangnam underground shopping centre B-roll, too."

It's a thinly veiled insult. Assumptions he's making about you based on the clothes you wear and the company you keep. He doesn't explicitly say it, but you know what he means: you're not interesting.

Jungkook doesn't mean to be an asshole. Not really. He's just got a lot riding on this course, and doesn't want to risk it all for the sake of keeping the peace with someone he doesn't particularly like in the first place.

"Like our Professor said, we all experience the city differently," you plaster a smile on your face, the plastic kind that Jungkook hates. "You might just be surprised at what I can offer."

Private tennis clubs and shopping sprees worth more than a second-hand car? Yeah, no. He'll pass, thanks.

"Whatever," he reclines back, giving your number the once over before tearing a strip of empty paper from the bottom of the note. His hand moves quickly, scrawling his own number onto it. He doesn't hand it to you, but instead tosses it down onto the desk as he stands. "As I said, I work best alone. Don't bombard me with messages about the project. I'll have it under control."

He vacates his desk with an air of arrogance that you don't think he's yet earnt. Sure, he's hot, and from what you've seen of his work, he's pretty talented, too. But no one likes working with assholes, and the whole point of being at college was to make yourself a desirable candidate for jobs.

Or at least that's what your parents had always said.

When they were still talking to you, that was.

Before they decided that you're a disgrace to the family name, all for the simple desire of not wanting to spend your life slaving over finances and spreadsheets.

Like inheritance and a slightly crooked nose (straightened out for your high school graduation gift), econ majors ran in your family - and just like you'd cut off your parents' dream of watching you become an economist, they'd cut you off. Full stop.

So as far as you were concerned, Jungkook could take his arrogant whining about your financial situation, and the hobbies you might have enjoyed as a result of your upbringing, and shove it up his ass.

You really wish he would. Shove it up his ass, that is. Might relieve him of the pent up tension he seems to have going on.

Swiping up his number, you tuck it into your back pocket, ruing the day you'll actually have to text it.

It comes as a surprise to both of you when, a week later, Jungkook is the first to type a message into your fledgeling chat window.

I'm filming tonight. Could use a Grip, if you're free. Dongdaemun Design Plaza, 7pm.

You wonder how much pride he must have had to swallow in order to send you that.

On occasion, during the past week, you've caught him looking at you in that slightly menacing way he always likes to do.

Part of you thinks he's unaware that he's doing it, just zoning out in your direction, but then you see him shake sense into himself - quite literally, a bunny with an itch behind its ear kind of shake - before he averts his gaze.

He does a similar shake of his head when your response pings through to his phone.

Can't do Tuesdays or Thursdays. Sorry. Maybe another time.

He doesn't reply.

REJECTION HAS NEVER been something Jungkook has taken well. It's why he works so hard, fearful of being told that he isn't good enough.

He'd only sent that text because he genuinely did need a Grip.

Well, no.

That's not quite right.

He needed a muse; a subject of his shots, a pair of eyes to catch the confetti of night market lights in. Someone's hand to film as they exchanged money with a hotteok stand server, another human to get lost and found all within the same shot.

But that felt awkward to ask, especially after his insistence that he could do it all alone, so he'd settled for pretending he'd needed a grip. Just someone to hold his gear while he took tricky shots. That's all.

Given your rejection, he was pleased with his choice.

"Familiar," Yoongi nods over lunch the next day, following Jungkook's gaze. "Yeah, I've definitely seen her around. Dunno where, though."

"Campus, maybe?" Jimin rolls his eyes, confused at the fixation Jungkook seems to have on you.

Yoongi shakes his head. "Nah... She looks like-" he glances over to Jungkook conscious of Jimin's listening ears.

"Like?"

"Just like a girl I see occasionally," Yoongi pauses again, making sure Jungkook's focus on him. "At work."

Jimin laughs. "So yeah, on campus. You work in the campus cafe, Yoongs."

It was the only legitimate place that would hire him. Dumb choices as a kid - and a questionable nickname that's now etched into his knuckles - prevents most places from seeing him as a viable candidate.

Yoongi laughs along with Jimin, but Jungkook knows Yoongi isn't talking about the once a week shift that he picked up as a form of extra credit.

Jungkook knows, because on paper, he doesn't have a job either.

On paper, he manages to survive on his scholarship bursary, The Holangi Honour, awarded to gifted students from underprivileged backgrounds.

On paper, Jungkook is the Korean dream of hard work and perseverance.

His reality isn't so pristine, but it never has been. He comes from a long line of high school dropouts with dubious morals and criminally reckless career choices. It was naive to have thought attending university would help him escape it.

Scholarship funds dried up pretty quickly, rent and t-money cards eating away at it, until Jungkook had no choice but to revisit old haunts.

Yoongi had told Jungkook that he didn't need to worry, that he could help him out if he needed money, but Jungkook was no leech, much to his older friend's despair. He didn't want the kid getting into the same trouble that he was in.

One meeting with Yoongi's old school friend, Hoseok and Jungkook was in the rat race again, delivering people's come ups for when the sun went down.

He'd always been good at running. Track, field, red lights, out of luck. Drugs, now, too.

Jungkook had managed a good year and a half on the straight and narrow. For that, he was proud. And sad.

But he's also determined.

Top grades mean top jobs in the future, which means never having to traipse around Daerim at ass o'clock in the morning.

He hates this part of town, but it's where business is currently booming.

Hobi texts him a drop-off list each morning, ensuring his nights are almost exclusively spent in Daerim.

This is how Jungkook sees the city: grotty back allies, groups of men huddled around a pack of cards and dice on the floor, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, phlegm spat onto the foor. He sees the women of the night in the early hours of the morning, and the sadness in the smiles they give to the men who approach them on street corners.

There's only one club of any worthwhile note in the area, and between jobs, Jungkook likes to sit up on the fire exit that rests above the back entrance.

It's where Hobi works, assisting some other reprobate that Jungkook doesn't care to learn the name of. Nasty piece of work, or so he's heard. The son of some powerful motherfucker that Jungkook knows to stay away from. He isn't interested in joining any stupid fucking gang. He just wants to get his money, get through university, and forget about this place.

That's the big dream at least.

His current wish, which feels much more immediate, is to outrun the fucker who has been on his tail for the past half a mile. Jungkook's pretty fast on his feet, and he gives a mean left-hook, but the guy chasing him has a pocket knife and that doesn't really feel like a fair fight.

It's his fault, and he knows it.

As per usual, Hobi had texted Jungkook his drop off list. Six of them, all in Daerim. He had no business being down by Jungang Market, especially not on a Thursday evening.

He couldn't even explain why he was; he was just curious about what life could be like if he ended up flunking out of college. He wanted to see where the monsters liked to lurk, or if they hid in the shadows like boogeymen.

But reprobate recognises reprobate, and drug runner recognises drug runner.

So now Jungkook really is running, out of territory that he shouldn't have infringed upon.

He's not out of breath yet, but he is conscious that his heartbeat feels like it's in his throat. A few streets over, his motorbike is parked behind an industrial-sized trash can, and he prays that no thieving cunt has tried to make a get away with it. They wouldn't have managed it - it's his prized possession and he never leaves it unprotected.

When he spots it a few minutes later, he laughs, relieved. "You beauty," he praises the engine, pulling his key from the pocket of his leather jacket.

The fucker chasing him is nowhere to be seen, probably nursing a stitch or panting down a different back alley. Jungkook doesn't want to risk it, eyes darting all over the place as he unbuckles the chain on his bike wheel with muscle memory alone. The metal clangs through the iron bars that protect the banjihas down the alley from break-ins. He always feels a little bit of guilt for chaining his bike up to the only source of natural light for the half-basement dwellings, but it's quarter past two in the morning. Not exactly sunshine hours.

And yet his eye is drawn to the light pouring down from a street lamp at the entrance of the narrow lane.

Usually, you ignore the noises you hear on your walk home - but, as strange as it sounded for Jungkook's voice to issue a compliment, you're almost positive that it is his voice.

Dark hair, dark eyes, he doesn't recognise you at first. You're wearing black, and your hair is down, but your lips still have that stupid fucking pink lipstick on, the one he'd seen you blot away onto a tissue in the middle of a lecture a few days prior.

His eyes linger, the lights flickering in his glossy dark irises as if there are fireworks inside that pretty little skull of his. For a moment, he thinks you must have been filming for the assignment.

The lack of a camera proves otherwise.

"Get on the bike," he yells over to you, tugging on the sleeve of his leather jacket, pulling it down. Cognitive thoughts aren't something Jungkook's really working with, the adrenaline speaking for him.

That, and the fact that he's acutely aware of what men like the motherfucker who was chasing him down did to girls like you. Might not like you, but he doesn't want that on his conscience.

Plus, he needs your signature on the coursework documents, too. You're no use to him if you end up chopped into little squares and scattered in the river.

"Damnit, just get on the fucking bike!" He continues, noticing that you haven't moved a muscle. His jacket is off now, held out for you to take. He's impatient, eyes darting down the alleyway, as if he's scared of the rain that's pouring down around you. "Look, I ain't asking again. Just get on the bike, or I'll fuckin' leave you here. Some nasty fuckers about tonight."

And while you may not trust Jungkook, you don't trust the alleyways of downtown Seoul even more. You've seen the horrors. You know the dangers. Your mother didn’t raise a fool.

She also didn't raise you to bow to the commands of assholes like him either.

You ignore his jacket, hiking up your skirt, revealing far more of your thigh than most get to see. He doesn't make a comment, but you know he sees a flash of your underwear as you do so.

For once, sex seems to be the last thing on his mind.

Rain pools in the gutter by the drainpipes, trickling down, collecting in the ducts. A puddle sits on top, a tell-tale sign that the street is going to flood soon, but Jungkook also doesn't give a shit about that. Not right now - but he does make a mental note to check that the drains are unblocked by his place when he gets home.

He's a fellow basement dweller, dependent on the cheap rent. A banjiha boy with big dreams of getting out.

You hoist your leg over, ignoring the droplets of water on the leather seat, as your hand wraps around his waist. The front of his white shirt is damp from the rain, elevating the scent of his laundry detergent. You don't hate it. Quite like it, actually.

"Wet conditions," he rasps, voice still hurrying out of his mouth. "So take the jacket. If I slide, the tarmac will rip your skin off." He turns, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders. "I'm not your father. Dress yourself."

"I'd be a bit concerned if my father was trying to dress me at the ripe old age of 21," you bite back, as if the fabric of his jacket doesn't feel like it's melting into your skin on account of how bloody warm he is. You push your arms through the material, shaking it ever so slightly as Jungkook begins to rev the engine.

"Thanks would have sufficed," he bites back a scoff, not wanting to waste time arguing. "Try not to fall off, a'right?" He gruffs.

Some would have considered his concern endearing. You know it's just because he doesn't want to spend his evening scraping your flesh off the sidewalk. Not because he gives a single flying fuck about you.

"Hold on."

He doesn't wait for longer than a second, just enough time for you to wrap your arms around his waist, before he pulls down on the accelerator. His exhaust chortles, spitting out petrol as he goes, water from the ground splashing up against your bare leg. You can feel goosebumps forming, and yet your arms are completely warm.

Of course they are. Jungkook's chest is a fucking furnace, heart pumping blood through him faster than the speed of light. Forward, forward, forward, he pushes his bike on, away from the downtown area he found you in, and away from the demons who were hunting him.

The vibration of the bike is a welcome disguise. Beneath the motor's veil, you're shaking. Partly terrified, partly the victim of an adrenaline surge.

Hardly a surprise. You've never been on a bike like his before.

There weren't many men on motorbikes around your neighbourhood as a child, only Old Jinyeon, who had a Harley that he only rode on the weekends, or when his wife was away at that spa retreat that everyone knew was really code for 'rehab'. Prescription medication was her poison, mostly. There were whispers that alcohol was a bit of a problem, too.

It was a shame, really. She was a nice lady - she'd just married into a lifestyle that didn't suit hers.

Old Jinyeon's father had also been called Old Jinyeon, and his father before that, regardless of their age. The name wasn't the only thing inherited, but a fortune too. Old by name, old by money.

He'd met his wife at a gentleman's bar; gambled all of his chips away just so that he could keep talking to her as she worked.

But the good is rarely easy, and the easy never good. Women like her weren't supposed to be with men like him.

And girls like you aren't supposed to be on the back of boys like Jungkook's motorcycle.

But here you are, hurtling through the city at a speed you're pretty sure isn't legal, clinging onto him for dear life. Your eyes are shut, streaming with tears from the wind, mascara blotting onto his back.

"Left turn," he calls over his shoulder to brace you. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, stomach losing all stability as he rounds the corner. You've never suffered from travel sickness before, but now seems like the prime time to develop it.

The lights of the city all bleed into one kaleidoscope of colour. Your sense of direction has been rendered useless, only opening your eyes once every few seconds to make sure that this is real. And every single time, you're surprised to find that it is.

You expect it to be like a dream where you fall, only to wake up at the last second - but you've never had one of those dreams. You've only seen them in movies. You're not even sure they actually exist in real life. Perhaps this would be the closest you'd get to one. A main character moment - though this felt more like a crime-thriller than the rom-com you would have liked.

The feeling of damp wind in your hair like this is new, and exciting, but all you can think about is the fact that you're pretty sure one of your fake lashes just flew off. You pull your hand back to stroke at your lashes, just to check, but it's caught by Jungkook grabbing for it.

"I told you to hold on," he shouts, though he doesn't need to. The vibrations of his vibrato can be felt through his back. "So hold the fuck on, a'right?! I don't say shit like that for fun."

Jesus, you think. Who pissed in his cornflakes?

But he's right. You do need to hold on. He proves it by not warning you the next time he turns, the bike leaning so close to the tarmac that you're convinced you can feel rubber burn. He eases as soon as he hears you shriek, the grip you have on his chest so hard he swears you might puncture his skin. Reaching back, he cups your knee with his palm, checking for any sign of blood or broken skin. Negative. And yet his hand lingers before he retracts it. He's just making sure. Double-checking. Over-indulging.

"The fuck was that, asshole?" You all but scream.

"I told you to hold on, didn't I?!"

He did. And if you weren't doing so now, tighter than before, you'd have hit him so hard in the balls that he'd have no choice but to adopt in later life.

"You could have fucking killed me!"

"Oh, boo-hoo," he sneers, catching his tongue before he says something he'll grow to regret.

Jungkook would never have killed you. He knows these streets like the back of his hand, and how to ride his bike almost as well as he knows how to get himself off. It's second nature. Innate. A gift.

But before you can argue back, he draws to a stop, his exhaust rattling, the motor purring. As much as he'd like to tell you to get the fuck off his bike, he can feel you trembling now. A part of him - a very slim, deeply hidden part - feels guilty for being so hard on you.

He's grown up with bikes. Trusts them. Lives, breathes gasoline.

He doesn't imagine you know how to change a bicycle tyre, let alone anything with a motor.

The hand that had checked you for damage earlier returns, his fingertips warm against your goosebumps skin. He strokes lightly, once, twice, quickly. "You're fine," he tells you, and you want to believe him.

"Never said I wasn't."

He snorts a small laugh, then taps your knee, encouraging you off of the bike. His hand remains close as you do so, conscious of the fact that you'll most likely be unsteady on your feet - feet that he now notices are clad in the strappiest pair of heels he's ever seen in his life. Perhaps he doesn't need to worry about your stability at all. If you can walk in those, then you can surely handle a pair of wobbly knees.

Without much thought, you take his offer of assistance, his jacket dwarfing you as you stand, hand clasped in his.

"Where are we?"

The alleyway you're down is unlike the previous one he stole* you from (*rescued). It's cobbled and damp, yes, but the doors down here lead to dwellings, garages too. Not an industrial-sized trash cart in sight. And it doesn't smell like fermented piss either, which is a surprise. You thought that was just the standard for side-streets around these parts.

"Doesn't matter," Jungkook shrugs ambivalently as he unhooks his leg over the bike.

He wants to ask why you're wearing such stupid shoes.

That's a lie.

He doesn't think they're stupid.

He actually quite likes them. You've nice ankles. They look good.

What he really wants to ask is why you're wearing them on a school night. The pair of you might be in college, but it wasn't student night at the clubs, and he hadn't picked you up from a particularly nice part of town.

There are only three types of women he ever sees in Daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. You aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get Percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. He's sure of it.

So it then further begs the question: why the fuck were you there?

Sliding off his jacket, you offer him a small smile. It's the least you can do, you suppose.

It's funny, because you only ever see three kinds of men in Daerim: drunks, gamblers, and dealers. Jungkook isn't any of those. You might not know that much about him, but you know he's a scholarship kid, and that he won the winter film festival on campus for his documentary on back-alley gambling.

"We're not too far from campus," he eventually states. Few blocks over. He assumes you live on campus. Got the money for it.

"Cool," you nod, sure that you'll be able to find your bearings from here. You don't live on campus. Not anymore. No money for it. "Thanks for the lift, I guess."

The atmosphere is awkward, dewy mist in the air dampening both of you. He nods back, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

He knows he should invite you in, offer you somewhere to wait while you call a cab or something, but he's embarrassed. Of himself. His living situation. The fact that he doubts you've ever even been in a basement that isn't a wine cellar.

"Look I-"

"So-"

Jungkooks nose scrunches, cringing at the awkwardness. You glance down, self-conscious.

"What were you doing over in Daerim?" he asks rather out of the blue. He doesn't even process that he's asked until it's too late.

You clear your throat a little. "Just had some errands to run."

"At two in the morning?"

You nod.

"Right," he doesn't believe you, but can't think of a better explanation.

"Well, what were you doing there?" You ask, albeit a little more confrontational than intended. You were on the defensive.

His mouth is flat as he speaks, a narrowness to his eyes that makes your lips purse to suppress a smirk. "Running errands."

So you're both dirty little liars. Who'd've thought?

"Fairplay," you say with a smile. "Look, I still appreciate the ride. I'd have been fine," you add."But yeah, appreciate it nonetheless."

"Was nothing. I was headed in this direction anyway. If you take a left at the end of the street and follow the road down, there's usually a bunch of taxis waiting for the university cleaners to finish their night shifts. I'm sure you'll be able to get one."

"Take a left," you hum. "Cool. Will do." Bracing yourself to leave, Jungkook wonders if he should offer you a lift to your place too. "See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow. Class? That thing we attend during daylight hours?"

"Oh right. Yeah. See you tomorrow."

Bizarrely enough, if this is how awkward Jungkook is when he's being nice, you think you prefer him being an asshole. At least he has a little spark in him then.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook feels overloaded with fucking sparks, like someone's holding an axe grinder against the metal of his earrings, deafening him. The reality of his evening is kicking in, and the knowledge that he came a few metres from having a hole in his abdomen becomes overwhelming. He doesn't let it show, though.

"Thanks, again."

You make a promise to punch yourself in the face if you say thank you one more fucking time.

"It's fine, again," he smiles, with a small laugh, before focusing those eyes of his on the floor.

And so you leave, walking straight past the taxi rank and taking a shortcut to your apartment, which is a lot closer than you had realised.

Seven steps below street level, you jog down to your front door, petting the neighbourhood calico stray on your way down. The door closes with a slam, but you don't give a shit because the people in the apartment above never seem to give a shit when they stumble home at four in the morning.

Before he sleeps that evening, Jungkook wonders how much of the skyline you get to indulge in. Your dad works in the accounting side of one of the largest law firms in the city, he knows that much from his research. Knows that your immediate family has more money than probably all of his relatives combined. Alive and dead.

He just isn't aware that you're not seeing a single dime of it. Not since you dropped out of the economics and business side of school to focus on the creative arts. All that money your parents had 'wasted' on your education? Well, they weren't wasting any more.

Because you're a commodity, to be bought and sold, apparently. Not their daughter, who they should have just wanted to be happy.

So now you spend your Tuesday and Thursday evenings down in Daerim.

Because you are a commodity; and if anyone's gonna be selling you, then it may as well be your fucking self.

A stack of yellow 50,000 won bills sit on your desk. Twelve of them. 600,000 won. Not bad for a week's work. 6 hours.

Might have been cut off from your Dad's money, but your replacement 'daddy' wasn't a bad substitute.

The bluntness of such a statement usually makes you laugh, but not today.

If Jungkook knows the Daerim area like you think he does, then he'll be able to work it out soon enough. A bitterness fills your chest, like coffee dripping through a filter, forgotten about and left to go cold. You've been so good at playing pretend.

Secrets are so much easier to keep when they're not shared.

Perhaps that should be your project piece.

Secrets of Seoul: The Seedy Underbelly of The City.

After all, that was your unique view of the city; the side you saw that you were pretty sure no-one else did.

At least, no one else except Jungkook. Go figure.

"SEVEN WEEKS LEFT!" Your professor reminds the class as they dismiss you from your lecture. There's a little chatter, partners sharing ideas and friends discussing what to have for lunch - and then there's you and Jungkook.

He waits by the end of his row for you to walk to meet him, an inconspicuous look on his face.

The girl who he's watching neatly put a fluffy pen into her handbag looks a lot like you, but a hell of a lot different from the girl he gave a lift to last night.

Who the fuck are you?

Jungkook has always liked a little mystery. Seen the romanticism in the unknown. Still doesn't like you - but you've gotten him curious.

"You haven't sent anything over yet," he notes, keeping a slight distance from you as you walk together up the stairs.

"You told me not to bombard you," you remind him.

"Sending me video files once in a blue moon is fine."

"Once in a blue moon. Gotcha."

It's Friday, so he knows it's not one of your pre-determined days of having prior engagements.

It's only now that he realises that must have been why you were in Daerim last night; that your 'errands' are actually scheduled into your routine. It doesn't bode well for his 'not a hooker, an addict or a sugar-baby' theory.

"I was thinking of heading over to Dongdaemun this evening, seeing as you weren't free on Tuesday," he starts a little awkwardly, but the more he speaks, the easier it becomes. Being nice, that is. "I could still use a hand, if you're free? If you're serious about helping out, I mean. It would be good to make a start on things."

Relief washes over you. You've been fearing a conversation about the night before, but Jungkook doesn't want to talk about it just as much as you don't.

You meet him at seven o'clock that evening at Dongdaemun Design Plaza. You've always loved the green roof, how organic the landscaping looks above such a futuristic building. He listens as you explain this, eyes wide and in awe of the sloping pathways and curved walls, showing him your favourite of all the trees in the park.

Jungkook looks at you for a second, observes your hands, how they delicately move a few leaves to frame the shot you're taking. You've a Midas touch, and Jungkook wonders if your fingers would turn him to gold, too.

It's a silly, fleeting thought, but it doesn't stop him from focusing the camera on you as you roam Dongdaemun night market later that evening, lights cascading over you like glitter.

He thinks you're pretty in this light. Pretty when it's just him and you. No distractions.

Except there's hustle and bustle everywhere, a vendor chasing a thief, groups of high schoolers laughing on their way home from Hagwons, food sizzling, vapours making his stomach rumble. Perhaps you're the distraction, instead.

The pair of you spend the next week traipsing the city together.

Somehow, you only ever come together when the sun goes down, but it's fitting. You're a pair of nightcrawlers, swarming through the city when traffic sounds like a melody and destinations are unknown.

He learns that you drink your coffee black, no sugar, lukewarm. You learn that he'd rather rub coffee granules into his eyes than drink it.

And despite your preference for no sugar, he always tosses a little white sachet towards you whenever you order a coffee. He finds it funny. Insists that you have to be a sugar baby. It's the only way he can explain that night he saw you Daerim.

He's just joking. And you pretend not to, but you find it hysterical.

Mainly because he doesn't realise how bang on the money he is.

But also because you can't help but laugh whenever he does.

There's a comfort that grows between the pair of you, a familiarity. A casual ease that doesn't feel dangerous, not even when he's pulsing through the city on his bike, you holding onto him, his leather jacket wrapped around your body. You begin to like the way that the wind feels in your hair, and you stop wearing fake lashes. Jungkook doesn't tell you, but he likes you better with a few freckles showing, dewy highlighter and a little mascara being the only makeup you wear for the midnight city roams.

It's only because you can't be wasting resources reserved for clients on a boy from your film studies class. Times are tough, money is tight. No point in pouring funds into a boy you won't make revenue from. It's a bad business decision.

A few months ago, you did your makeup multiple times a day just for fun. Now you have to ration it. Life... life isn't what it used to be.

But Jungkook is ignorant to that, and you quite like it. Escaping from your reality. Becoming the version of yourself that he thinks you are.

He isn't sure which version of you he wants to spend time with the most; the too-good for him daddy's girl who dresses in Celine and comes with a pout, the enigma who lurks in the shadows that he thought he had a monopoly over, or the master director who seems to rival his talents for capturing moments of life in 4K.

As he watches your brows furrow while you turn your phone upside down, trying to understand a map, he decides that he doesn't care which version he gets.

Jungkook wants what he wants.

There's an impulsion to his desires and subsequent actions that he takes to obtain them. He's driven by gratification, and little else.

On the days he wants to feel wanted, he'll go to a bar. He never whispers false promises or pretends like he's after anything more than what can be achieved in a single night. The girls he goes for tend to see that as a challenge. They think they can convince him otherwise. It's not his fault when they can't. It's not his fault that they end up falling for him regardless. It's not his fault that he never has any intention of loving them back.

He tells them this. They ignore him. It isn't his fault.

On the days he wants to feel accomplished, he'll stay on campus until the cleaners usher him out of the room so that they can prepare it for the next day. Their insistence is lost on him - no amount of Cif can polish the dirt out of the walls. Once a shithole, always a shithole. He'll offer his apologies for getting in their way, and they'll coo over him like he's their own grandson. It's all very sweet.

They tell him not to overwork himself. He lies and says he won't.

On the days he wants to eat more than a single cup of ramyeon - which is most days, given his absolutely mammoth appetite - he'll send Hobi a text and request more drop-offs for that evening. Yoongi will give Jungkook a subtle look whenever a message from Hobi pings through, knowing it mustn't be good news. It never is.

Jungkook tells Yoongi to mind his business - but with a grin and a glint in his eye that eases his friends worry ever so slightly.

Disapproval never stops Jungkook from doing what he wants, regardless.

Not from his friends, from the cleaning ajummas, and especially not from you.

So he ignores the look in your eye, as he encourages you to follow him through a gap in the chainlink fence, which surrounds a disused water tower on the outskirts of the city.

Jungkook wants what he wants.

And right now, he wants to get a shot of the midnight city from his favourite vantage point.

"You said you've taken thousands of shots here," You hiss as a twig snaps beneath your foot. He smirks as you utter out a curse. "Surely you can just reuse one of those?!"

He guides you round, ignoring the ground level rubble, until you get to a ladder that definitely isn't safe for use. It's rusting by the bolts, and has a few vines trailing up it, undisturbed for months. Remnants of paint are flaking from the structure, collecting like ashes on the ground below.

"I have," he shrugs, unhooking your camera bag from your shoulder, popping it into his rucksack for safe keeping. He crouches, putting his palms upwards to offer you a leg up. "You haven't, though. You see the city differently to me, remember?"

He's taunting you. Reusing the phrase from your Professor that you had quoted to him on the first day of the project. Asshole.

Asshole with a smirk that suggests he's only teasing. Suggests that he's fond. Words that suggest he remembers the things you say to him. Memorises them, even.

Curious.

"Can't we just pretend like we see it the same way?"

"No can do, sugar."

"Oh my god, stop calling me that."

You're thankful for the midnight sky and the way it disguises your blush.

As if throwing packets of the white stuff at your face in coffee shops isn't enough, he's taken to calling you 'sugar', too.

"Give me a reason not to," he says as he tilts his head, encouraging you to accept his leg up. You check your feet for mud, then put your trust in his grip.

"I've already told you, I was just running errands," you defend yourself for the thousandth time. A short yelp escapes your lips as he boosts you up, your hands gripping onto the flaking bars beside the ladder.

He doesn't believe you for a second. He also doesn't believe that you're actually a sugar baby. It's just fun to fuck with you a little.

Once you're up, he waits for you to safely sit on the ledge, and then he makes the climb too. He's up a lot quicker than you, coming to sit beside you with his legs dangling over the ledge of the railings.

"Tell me it isn't worth it," Jungkook says a little airily, enamoured with the view.

And he's right. It is worth it.

A maze of city lights twinkle like the Carina nebula, interstellar, yet entirely of this earth. Bright whites, reds and greens speckle the horizon, and for a moment, it's easy to forget that you're looking at Seoul. There's a magic that can only be appreciated from a distance, far away from the scent of alleyways and the void nothingness of grey brick buildings. Skyscrapers tower above the skyline, but still look small from where you and Jungkook sit, silently, in awe.

"Look over there," he points across the vast expanse. You follow his trajectory, but you have no idea if you're picking out the right spot. "Daerim. Can always tell. Know the street layout too well."

"You're gonna get me thinking you're a sugar baby," you nudge your shoulder into his, and he laughs.

Reaching into his rucksack, you expect him to pull out your camera. Instead, his hand comes back into vision holding a pair of chopsticks and a tub of instant ramyeon. Uncooked.

He pulls the seal back, stabs at it with the chopsticks and offers you the small chunk he's broken off.

"It's good," he promises.

You know what dried ramyeon tastes like. You know it's good. You just can't understand what the fuck is wrong with him.

"Are you broken?"

He grins as he tosses the chunk of dried noodles into his own mouth. "Absolutely - but ramyeon is ramyeon."

You tell him he's weird, and he continues to smile, not resisting as you take the tub from him and break off a chunk with your fingers.

It's one of his favourite snacks. He's impatient and impulsive at the best of times. Waiting for it to cook? Too much effort. Cooking it at the convenience store and carrying it up the tower with him? Disaster waiting to happen. It's just easier this way.

And so the pair of you sit, not really saying much, watching the city roll by. Every now and again, he offers you a chunk from his chopsticks.

By the end of the night, neither of you have gotten any footage of the city.

And neither of you really care.

AS YOU SPRINT home after yet another spree around the city with Jungkook, running late for your Thursday evening appointment, you curse your inability to send his calls to voicemail.

You should really be working more. You need to be working more - but for the past four weeks now, you've answered every single one of his calls.

His messages? Yeah, you ignore those. He's learnt this, though. He messages you regardless, because... well, because he wants to, quite frankly. He doesn't give a shit if you respond.

He knows you read them.

He knows you saw that picture he sent of a flyer detailing a live art event last week. He knows that you noticed the veins on his arms.

You don't know that he'd spent a couple of minutes tensing his arm before he took the picture. Deliberately.

It's been said before that Jungkook wants what he wants - and what he wants more than anything, frustratingly, is your attention.

The way you study his arms the next time you see him proves that he's gotten it.

If anything, the delayed gratification makes it so much more worthwhile.

You have been thinking about him.

So as far as Jungkook is concerned, you can ignore his messages all you like, because you still always answer his calls with an airy 'hi,' as if talking to him takes your breath away.

The only time you don't answer is between the hours of eleven and two on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.

Chances are, if he just so happens to be in the area - which he always is - he'll catch you down on the wrong side of the tracks at just gone quarter past two.

He still calls you 'sugar', teasing you for the reputation of the area. You just roll your eyes and grin, then banter with him about how even if you were a sugar baby, he wouldn't be able to afford your prices.

He argues that he'd pay in ways that didn't include monetary value.

You don't ask him to expand.

But as you wipe your watery lash line in the bathroom of a shitty rental apartment in Daerim, you think about what he could have meant. If he actually meant it.

The TV blares from the living room, faint vapours of a mango e-cigarette wafting through the gap beneath the door. You've always thought mango smells like cat piss. Rancid.

Whatever Jungkook could have meant didn't matter. His flirty tone and angel eyes didn't pay the bills. The cash tossed down on the bathroom counter did - or more specifically, the widower, who occasionally wanted company from a pretty young girl, did.

A hundred thousand won for an hour, three hundred thousand total. It takes you just a week, two appointments, to make up the month's rent - but you still need to eat, to study, survive.

And so you return, every week.

It's not his actual apartment. He lives over in Gangnam, close to his kids' schools. More money than sense. He doesn't tell you much about his personal life. You think a lot of his small claims are lies, anyway - but you smile and flutter your lashes as if he's reciting bible verses.

Some nights are better than others. Sometimes, he genuinely makes you laugh. Occasionally, he'll ask you what you want to do. Takes you to museums. Fancy dinners. Theatre shows.

But he has a nasty streak, and in those three hours, you're his. He owns you. There's no sex, that's not the arrangement, but his hands have been known to roam, and the disparity of equality within your working relationship becomes apparent. You brush it off, tell yourself that it's natural for a man engaging with you in a romantic capacity to forget the rules. You tell yourself that it's okay.

The churning in your stomach and dis-ease of such a situation tells you that no, it isn't okay. But if you laugh at his painfully unfunny jokes loud enough, you're able to drown out the noise in your head.

The worst nights are the ones where he pays you extra.

There's no discussion anymore. The stack of notes is just thicker than usual upon arrival, and you know that at some point during the night, you'll have to sit in silence and watch as he sinks his hand down into his pants.

It's easy to forget the way it looks. Your eyes glaze over, and the discomfort, the slight disgust, indicated in your features gets him hard. He thinks it's taboo. Thinks you enjoy it too. That your panties look a lot like his hand by the time he's finished.

The snort-like grunts are what you find hard to forget. The wail of a moan that comes when he does. You hear that shit in your nightmares.

But it earns you an extra two hundred thousand, so you endure it because you don't have much of an option at this point.

Come 2 AM, cash stuffed down your bra, you don't have to think about it anymore. The fresh air of the city, a little smoggy and polluted, hits you like a freight train. You thank it.

When Jungkook enters Daerim that evening, he expects to find you. He normally does. You never look particularly happy - in fact, he often tells you that you've got a face like a slapped arse - but it's more so today.

He whistles from across the street, clad in black, a thick hoodie keeping him warm beneath his leather jacket. "Oi, Sugar," he calls, that boyish grin on his lips. Teeth so pretty you wonder how much novocaine it would take for you to be numb to the way it makes your stomach flip.

Eyes dancing up and down your body, he likes what you're wearing. Black tights, black dress that cuts off at your mid-thigh, a sweetheart neckline and chiffon sleeves that puff around your slender arms. He decides your boots are far more sensible than the heels you're usually in.

"That'll be twenty thousand, Jeon," you call back, arms folded over your chest as you change direction to walk towards him.

"Per hour?"

"Per every time you call me that stupid fucking name."

"What would you rather?" he goads, leaning against a window ledge on the back of a restaurant building. There's nothing down the alleyway, just trashbags and the distinct scent of fermenting piss. "Shugs? SB? Baby?"

You smirk, walking to the wall opposite him, mirroring his position, hands resting beside you on the ledge. There's a safe distance between the pair of you. A look, but don't touch type of vibe - but this time, unlike earlier on in your evening, you actually enjoy it.

"You really gotta make your mind up," your eyes roll, lips rising into a crescent. "One minute I'm a trust-fund princess with Daddy's money on tap, the next I'm a sugar baby with a different type of Daddy altogether."

Jungkook shrugs. "Just don't see why you waste your evenings roaming fucking Daerim of all places."

"Best dandanmian in the city," you say, referencing the abundance of traditional Chinese restaurants in the area. "Can't get the authentic stuff in Itaewon."

"Can't get hookers in Itaewon like you can in Daerim, either," he taunts you.

He doesn't really think you're a hooker, but he likes the way you grin whenever your eyes roll.

"Ah, so that's why you're here."

He holds his hands up to playfully admit defeat. "Guilty."

You laugh, knowing that there's no way in hell Jungkook will ever have to resort to hookers. Not when he looks like that. All doe-eyed and charming, floppy hair just begging for a pair of hands to run through it.

The pair of you let the moment simmer, droplets of water dripping from the drainpipe and into the sewer. He's lit by the neon light of a restaurant sign, red and yellow painting him like an impressionist masterpiece.

"You look cold," he acknowledges, but you shake your head and insist you're fine. Your hair is a little damp from the small shower you'd been caught in a little while previously, mascara smudged around your eyes. You looked like that before the rain, mind you. He shakes his jacket off and tosses it across to you, snorting quietly as it hits your face and crumples over your feet. "C'mon. I'm now about to ride home. I'll give you a lift."

He asks for your address, and you tell him that you'll just get a taxi from his place like you normally do. There's no need for him to go out of his way.

"The princess doesn't want the pauper to see her castle, huh?" he teases, always talking in bloody riddles.

"See!" you protest. "Always changing your mind! A minute ago I was a sugar baby, and now I'm a rich bitch again. Which is it, Jeon?"

"I dunno," he reaches behind himself, adjusting your legs and pulling you a little closer into his back, tapping your side to make sure you've got the jacket on. "You tell me, sugar."

He doesn't see you roll your eyes, but he knows you do it. You always do. Even when your pretty pink nails are clutching the fabric of his shirt, you pretend like you don't enjoy his company.

You've gotten good at playing pretend.

Jungkook only jokes about you being a sugar baby.

He doesn't fathom that you actually are one.

His engine begins to purr, and Jungkook kicks up the stand, setting off into the night.

The way you hold onto his waist is different tonight.

Physically, it's the same.

But it feels different.

And it is, because you're not just holding onto him; you're hugging him. Comfort in an old routine. You adjust your arms, keeping tight against his back, and he pretends like he doesn't notice the shift in dynamic.

He pretends as if he didn't notice your sad eyes earlier, too, and as if he can't feel the stutter in your chest as if you're trying not to cry.

Jungkook isn't a knight on a white horse, and nor does he want to be - but he doesn't mind being your rogue bandit who steals you away from the things that make you sad.

He's just an arc in your fairytale, not your happy ending.

But you've always been a sucker for a bit of a plot twist.

When you arrive at his, he wants to ask you to stay. He doesn't want an orange taxi cab to appear at the end of his lane and act like your actual knight in shining armour. He doesn't want you to ride into the sunrise with anyone but him.

And as luck would have it, your phone shares his desires.

Well, no. It doesn't. It's a mobile phone. It doesn't have cognitive thoughts - but it is out of charge.

"Different charging ports," he grits his teeth as he holds up his Samsung after you ask if he's got an iPhone charger. "I'm pretty sure I have an apple cable lying about though. You can come in for a second, get a little bit of charge just so that you're not stranded in a taxi without a way to contact anyone."

You nod appreciatively. "You sure?"

He doesn't answer, instead holding his door open and ushering you inside.

Jungkook cares in strange ways. He's practical, forward-thinking, trying to find solutions to problems that you'd normally shrug your shoulders at.

He's never told anyone that he loves them before, but he did once swap the hinges on his ex-girlfriend's bathroom door to the other side, so that it would stop hitting the sink basin every time she opened it. He shows his affections in meaningful ways, often without being asked or expecting anything in return.

Neither of you realise it yet, but this is one of those occasions.

It's not until you're perched on the worktop bench in his kitchen that he realises he let you in without hesitation. No longer embarrassed of where he lived, he kind of likes having you here.

You look out of place, silver pendant round your neck, expensive, and hair professionally coloured, nails done, toes, too. Not that he can see them. He just remembers a conversation you had once over chicken and a beer about the fact your toes always matched your nails.

Small details like that are what he thinks about when he's alone; like the way you blink a little faster when you're confused, and how you sprinkle Cheeto dust back into the bag off of your fingers instead of licking them like he does. He thinks about the way you laugh in his company, and how he's never heard you laugh like that with anyone else. And he tries to stop, but dammit, he thinks about how sexed up you look on those Daerim nights.

You're dressing like that for someone else, he knows that much.

But he gets to indulge in it too, when your body is pressed against his back as he takes you home.

He's stopped asking what you do in Daerim. He doesn't want to know.

For a few minutes a night, when he's alone, he likes to pretend what it would be like if he was the one you were dressed like that for. Only ever a minute or so. Gets him too hot. Finishes him off too quickly. Absolute sin.

"Kook?"

He doesn't even realise he's halted his movements until your voice breaks him from his thoughts. His jeans tonight are tight, and do a pretty good job of hiding the swelling between his legs. Fucking uncomfortable, though.

"Sorry," he doesn't turn to face you. "Was just trying to remember where I last had the cable."

"I was just saying that it's fine. It's really not that far. Don't wanna be a bother."

"Why'd you say shit like that?" he turns to face you, face twisted a little. He's annoyed.

"Like what?"

"Call yourself a bother. You do it a lot."

"I don't."

"You do," he insists, and you can't work out why he's so annoyed by it. You want to apologise all over again. "You just-" he takes a moment to find the right words. "I dunno who's conditioned you into thinking everything you do is bothersome, but it really isn't. If I didn't wanna help, then I wouldn't. It's not a bother. You're not a bother."

And you don't know why, but for some reason, you choke up a little. It's not like he said anything particularly groundbreaking, it's just for the last few months, your entire existence has felt like a drain on those around you.

The money you can live without, but you miss family dinners on Sundays, and face timing your little sister, more than you can even begin to explain.

And while no, you didn't want your parents' money, you didn't want to keep seeing a perverted old man just to be able to afford to eat, either. The flat rate was 500,000 now. Every single time. Without fail. You hadn't put the price up. He was just always paying extra. Always touching his prick. Always jerking himself off over your repulsion.

Earlier that evening, he had queried how much it would cost him to finish on your chest. You told him a million. He asked if you accepted bank transfers. You told him no. He offered 1.2 mil.

Part of you considered it. It's a lot of money. Not something to be taken lightly.

But when you ran into Jungkook, just like you knew you would, you were adamant you had made the right choice. He had scanned your body, getting a read on your mood, assessing what you needed, what you wanted, and then had offered up his jacket. All doe-eyed and sparkling. You finally got what all the girls swooned over, 'cause you were doing it too.

"Hey," he says softly, noticing the way your eyes are reddening. "Hey, hey, no. Don't cry, sugar."

You laugh through the first couple of tears. Stupid fucking nickname.

"I meant it," you sniff, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands. He's standing closer now, hesitant to touch, hands hovering around you. "20 thousand won, Jeon. Pay up."

His fingers tenderly wrap around your wrists, keeping them from rubbing at your face again. He's smiling, eyes ever encompassing, cheeks so appled that you bet you could get drunk off the cider he'd produce.

"Can we do it on an I.O.U. basis?" he speaks quietly, playfully. "I get paid on Monday."

It's a lie. He gets his commission cut straight from his sales figures. There's 2 million won in his rucksack. He only gets ten percent. 200K. His job's not nearly half as lucrative as yours, but it's still nothing to be laughed at. He's making bank.

"Nuh-uh," you sniff again, letting out a little laugh. He laughs too. "Told you that you couldn't afford me."

And then it's silent. You can hear your heartbeat. He moves a little closer.

"Told you I'd just pay in other ways."

His voice is hoarse, as if he's scared.

As if he fears the consequences of his claim.

Your eyes drop to his lips. They're trembling slightly. Preparing.

The grip he has on your wrists loosens. He's giving you freedom. He's giving you the chance to back out, to run away.

But you don't.

"Pay up, then," you all-but whisper, lips closing on his.

Jungkook doesn't stall, no, but it takes him a second to respond. To realise.

And once he does, his brows furrow into the kiss, demanding that you know just how much he wants this. Wants you. Has done for weeks, now.

He pulls your body into his, needing you close. Your body curves, his arm hooked behind your back to keep you balanced.

A surge of intensity washes over you like crimson paint. It'll stain you, and everyone will know: That's her. That's the girl who let Jeon Jungkook kiss her like he actually meant it.

He kisses, and he kisses, and he kisses, and he doesn't stop, as if he knows his first with you will also be his last - and when he finally does stop, forehead on yours, the pair of you are breathing so heavily into each other's mouths that it's as if you're sharing oxygen. Keeping each other alive. Both capable of first-degree murder.

And so neither of you pull away. There's no way he's doing time for you. There's no way you're doing time for him. Looks like you'll just have to kiss forever. Shame. Such a hardship. However will you cope?

"I-" he begins, before cutting himself off, easing his grip on your waist. One of his hands lingers, while the other pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes wincing. "Shit-" he finally lets you go. "I don't know what that was. I'm sorry."

You want to tell him that it's okay, that you didn't mind, that he could do it again - but it's clear he doesn't agree.

"Just adrenaline," you offer, sinking down to perch on the worktop bench. Your defeated posture is hidden well like this. "Don't sweat it."

He stays silent as he turns around to resume his rummaging, looking for a charger that will fit your phone. He knows there's one in there, he just can't for the life of him remember when he last had it.

Everything feels a little awkward. You half think that you should fill the void with something, that you should break the ice, but what was the point? You'll be out of his hair soon.

And you are, home twenty minutes later. You had only charged your phone for ten minutes at his, just enough to get you home. It's about to die again. Not before Jungkook pings you a message, though.

He doesn't expect a response, but he lies awake until he sees your read receipt confirm that you've seen it.

Sadness doesn't suit you, sugar. I'm not gonna pry, but if you ever need a ride earlier than normal out of Daerim, give me a call.

He spent a good six minutes debating whether or not to end his message with a kiss, eventually deciding against it. No need to make the message any softer than it already was.

To his surprise, a bubble pops up on your side of the chat thread.

His heart twinges, your response saying everything he wished he had with just one simple letter:

JUNGKOOK HAS A terrible habit of taking out his stress on the people around him; the ones that he holds closest.

"I just don't see why it's such a big issue," Jimin says through a mouthful of salad greens. His teeth chomp so loudly that Jungkook thinks they'll have to swing by the dentistry labs later that afternoon. Which Jimin'll probably like, considering he won't stop fucking rambling on about a dentistry student at the moment. "She's hot, she's got guys practically falling at her feet and she's interested in you. It's one party. Stop being so fucking boring."

Yoongi casts Jungkook a sympathetic look. He doesn't work so much at the moment, what with his chemistry finals coming up, and especially not in the Daerim area.

That's Jungkook's market now - but he did happen to have a drop-off for a last-minute order a couple of weeks back. Territory isn't an issue between the friends, with Jungkook respecting Yoongi far too much to ever tell him to back off, or to not take deals in that area.

He had been about to approach Jungkook that night, when he noticed you crossing the street, a smile plastered on your face. He couldn't see Jungkook's face from the angle he was at, but he could see how raised his cheeks were. And so he left the pair of you to it, knowing better than to stick his nose where it wasn't wanted.

Unlike Jimin, apparently.

"Not boring," Jungkook retorts, tossing the wrapper his chopsticks came in at Jimin's face. "Got a bunch of assignments due in."

"Dude, you've been MIA for weeks. If we didn't have classes together, I'd have sent out a search party by now."

"You're being dramatic."

"You're being boring."

"Kids, settle down," Yoongi interjects, and wonders why he doesn't just find friends his own age. Logistics, he decides. The perils of having to save up for university before he could actually attend.

Jimin, being Jimin, then proceeds to bicker with Yoongi, leaving Jungkook free to find your face amongst the canteen crowd. You're sat with friends, none of whom he's ever met.

Your hair is up, like it always is during school, but you've let your grown out bangs frame your face. Pretty, he thinks. Prettiest girl here.

But then you stand up, and Jungkook turns caveman. Head empty. No thoughts. Just nonsense. Jesus Christ. Who gave you the right? God damn.

A few months ago, he would have looked at you in that outfit - a silky sage green playsuit over a white tee, sunglasses resting on your head like an alice band and a pair of white converse on your feet - and he probably would have scoffed. Wouldda said some bullshit about the fact you're dressed like a child, or that the weather isn't good enough to warrant such an outfit.

A few months ago, he was a fucking idiot.

You feel his gaze on you, just like you always do.

And you ignore it.

You've been getting good at that. Pretending as if you don't feel his eyes. As if you're unaffected, unbothered by the simplest form of intimacy: a single look.

He knows you've been keeping your distance. Watching from afar is all he can do when you slink out of class before he can catch your attention. He tells himself that he doesn't care.

Jungkook mutes the audio track of the editing software he uses when he stitches together your footage, so he doesn't have to relive your conversations or hear you laugh, or worse, hear himself laugh.

It's all a bit nauseating.

Maybe a party would actually be a good distraction.

"Tonight, did you say?" Jungkook pipes up out of nowhere, only dragging his eyes away from you when he sees you pull your phone out to send a text.

He pouts. You never text him. Not once since last Thursday.

And you were nowhere to be seen on Tuesday.

He had called you, and for once, you didn't pick up. He didn't try again. Decided that it was on you just as much as it was on him.

That being said, he didn't get home till four in the morning, two and half hours after his last deal. Spaffed away an entire tank of petrol. Rode in fucking circles. Just in case.

"Now we're talking!" Jimin grins. "Tonight. It's her birthday, she's rented a bar in Itaewon - Dad knows the landlord or something."

Jungkook didn't know who 'she' was. Hadn't been listening to that part of the conversation.

"Well, you kids enjoy yourselves," Yoongi sighs as he gets to his feet. "Can't risk my finals over a few crappy drinks in a shitty bar."

"Oh boo-hoo!" Jimin pouts. "Spoilsport."

When Jungkook enters the bar that evening, he's greeted with everything he expects. E-cigarette vapours cloud the air, a cocktail of flavours violating his senses as he heads to the bar, shitty EDM pumping through the speakers. It's been a while since he let his hair down, so to speak.

There's something about him that commands attention. People gravitate towards him, even through the smoke clouds and sweaty bodies. Girls buy him drinks. Guys buy him drinks, too. Anything just to spend time in his presence. Like leeches, they hope to share some of Jungkook's aura.

It's impossible, though. It's Jungkook's authenticity that gives him such charisma. Trying to emulate it only ever comes off as tacky - like the guy towards the back of the room who's permed his hair to look like Jungkook's. Pierced his eyebrow, too. Looks like shit. Jungkook doesn't want to judge him, but he's a few drinks deep, and being kind is what got him into that mess with you in the first place.

No good ever comes from being nice.

He takes a shot. Tequila. Chases it down with lemonade. The girl next to him is playing with the bracelets on his wrist. Her nails scratch a little bit, and he quite likes it, so he doesn't resist when pulls him onto the dancefloor. He observes the way she moves first, and isn't disappointed. She knows how to move her hips, and seems to like it when he puts his hands on them. He can't really feel the sensation when she kisses him. The alcohol has numbed his lips. Maybe Jimin was right to force him into this.

By the time he goes to the bar for another drink, he's faded. Off his tits. Helped himself to some of Hobi's stash that he was supposed to be distributing that evening. A little bit of coke never does him any harm. He knows his limits. Tastes like shit down the back of his throat, but he kind of enjoys it.

At first, he thinks he must be seeing things when he catches you with an espresso martini in hand, laughing with people he doesn't know.

You've this whole life that he's no part of. A whole entire world. He really is an outsider looking in.

You're one of the elite; an old-money heiress. The type to own a miniature dog breed and only fly business class. It was stupid of him to think your interest in him had been anything more than entertainment. A 'little bit of rough.' Excitement away from the confines of the life he's sure your parents must have planned out for you.

It might just be because he's coked up, but he doesn't care about any of that.

All he can think about is the fact he's pretty sure you've never looked more beautiful.

He feels so lost looking at you like this, as if he needs to be closer, for fear of losing sight of you entirely.

And so he sits beside you at the bar, orders his drink, waits for you to notice him. Which you do.

You'd spotted him the very second you walked into the bar, his hands all over some girl you don't know.

In all fairness, you didn't realise he would be there. Sohyun, the girl whose birthday it was and an old friend from high school, has been fawning over Jungkook for months. Just superficial drawling, comments about his thighs and the fact she'd quite like to be suffocated by them. Harmless, really. You know she's never actually made a move.

Sohyun doesn't know you're working on a project together. You avoid the topic of him altogether, especially with her.

But she does notice the way Jungkook is looking at you like he's seen a ghost; haunted and comforted all in the same expression.

"You're here," he finally says, and it feels as if your chest is about to cave in.

Turning to face him, you're casual in your posture. Unbothered. Completely unaffected by him, and the lipstick that's painting those lips of his that you like so much.

You raise your thumb and swipe it across his bottom lip. He's silent as you do so, watching you, holding his breath. His lip moves like rubber beneath your touch, soft and supple, springing back into position once you release it.

You raise your thumb to study the lipstick you've collected from him. "Plum's really not your colour, Jungkook."

He doesn't say anything, a little transfixed. It's barely ticked past midnight. You should be in Daerim.

In all fairness, so should he. Hobi had some choice words for Jungkook when he told him that he wasn't working that evening at such short notice.

You swipe open your phone and repeat the step, filming your thumb as Jungkook becomes captive to your touch. You want to look, to see how wide his dark eyes are, but you're too busy feigning disinterest.

"There," you smile, forwarding the video along before you lock your phone. "Just sent you a video of how I see the city tonight."

You've no right to be annoyed. You know that.

Jungkook can be in a bar with another girl's lipstick on his chin if wants to be. He can stay out all night, and he can stay in beds that aren't his. It's his prerogative.

But you are annoyed.

It's irrational, and pathetic, and you shouldn't be.

You barely know him. Not really.

After you'd shown him your favourite tree at the Design Plaza a few weeks ago, he'd insisted on taking you across town to Garosugil, a street in Gangnam lined with beautiful tall trees. He questioned why you only had one favourite tree, when you could have had an entire row of them instead.

At the time, you'd enjoyed the way his eyes looked beneath the lights of the designer stores that neither of you could afford. You didn't question what he had meant.

It seems like you found your answer.

"I'm not the city," he eventually says.

And he's right.

He's not the city.

Fuck it, no, he's not the city, but his eyes sparkle like Itaewon on Friday nights, and his hands are strong like the World Cup Bridge. He's not the city, but you find it so easy to get lost in him without a map, and sometimes wearing his leather jacket makes you feel like you're eating comfort food at your favourite breakfast bar over in Myeong-dong. He's not the city.

He's not the goddamn city.

But it feels a little like you'd accidentally anchored your navigation pin in him regardless.

All you do is smile, and tell him that he's right.

"Look," he begins, and you can smell the spiced rum on his breath.

"It's okay," you interrupt. Who are you to make him feel guilty for his promiscuous encounters?

He doesn't know what you do in the dark. Not really. If he did, he probably wouldn't have kissed you last week.

"No, I-" he cuts himself off like he always does when he doesn't wanna fuck up his words. The alcohol is doing him absolutely zero favours. "I dunno, sugar."

Your smile is sad, and he hates himself. You lean forward, press a kiss into his rosy cheek and whisper, "That'll be 20,000, Jeon."

And because he's drunk, and he wants to make things better, he reaches for his wallet. You were about to walk away regardless, but damn, if the boy doesn't know how to hit you where it hurts.

"Really, Kook?"

It's like he doesn't know you at all; doesn't remember how you banter with him, how you flirt with him. Or maybe you were just stupid for thinking that you'd been flirting with him in the first place. Maybe he just speaks to everyone how he speaks to you. Must have spoken to whoever was wearing that lipstick in the same way.

He doesn't answer, not verbally, but his brows pinch together and his lips develop a frowning pout.

When he stumbles home that evening, he asks himself the same question: really, Kook?

In the morning, he wakes alone, with no recollection of how he got home.

He doesn't remember the girl from the bar, or the fact that Jimin threw up in a fish tank, or that they're now barred from three different establishments for encouraging people to snort fish food (which Jungkook had stolen while Jimin was emptying his stomach). Regretfully, he doesn't even remember your arrival at the first bar. Doesn't remember how, for once, you'd dressed to impress just him.

His lack of recollection means fuck all though, 'cause despite his headache, the thing weighing down most heavily on him is guilt. He feels a sense of duty when it comes to you; duty that he hasn't performed lately. Were you getting home safe? Getting harrassed by scummy fuckers on the Daerim path of destruction?

Out of habit, he checks his phone, ignores the messages from unknown numbers and goes straight to your message thread to check the damage. He's surprised to find that he didn't drunk text you, but even more surprised to find that you'd messaged him. It's a video, just a few seconds, but it's enough to provoke some of his memories back.

He watches your thumb as it glides across his bottom lip. Watches it again. Notices the lipstick. Notices the thumb ring he never realised you wore before, and the fact that your nails are black now instead of their usual pink. There's something erotic about it; the way you touch him. The way you filmed yourself touching him. He'll probably get in trouble for it, but there's no way he isn't adding that to your project.

You consider ignoring his call when your phone flashes with his caller I.D.

It's only just gone seven, and you're still in bed, still try to make heads or tails of your life.

But you're weak, and so you slide your thumb across the little green icon.

"Hey."

"Uh, hey."

"You good?"

"So hungover, I think I might die," Jungkook jokes, voice hoarse. You wonder if he always sounds like this in the morning. "Just wanted to check in with you though. Barely seen you all week, and then I end up with a weird-ass video in our message thread that I don't remember."

Ah. You cringe.

"Ran into you at the bar," you shrug, not that he can see you. "Didn't realise you were friends with Sohyun."

"Hmm?"

"Sohyun... the girl who's birthday it was?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Nah, no, not really friends with her. Jimin forced me along."

You don't know all that much about Jimin, but from your limited interactions with him, it doesn't surprise you. Not in the slightest.

"Good night?"

Your question sounds forced and awkward, and he doesn't quite understand why.

"No idea," he admits honestly. "Remember fuck all."

He sounds as if he wants to keep talking but doesn't know what to say.

You don't know what to say either.

It's a mess. You liked it better when he hated you.

"Were you at the bar for long?" He asks, genuinely curious. "You're normally busy on Thursdays?"

"Just a drink. Had a last-minute change of plans."

"Oh?"

"Yeah..."

You know he wants you to elaborate. He wants more without having to explicitly ask for it.

Which is apt. Seems like it's a common occurrence with Jungkook.

"So what did you call for?" you change the topic, not wanting to dwell. The aversion doesn't go unnoticed by him, but it does go unquestioned.

"I-" there he goes again, cutting himself off prematurely. Coward. "Are you free? Now?"

Oh.

Not a coward. Just cautious.

"Now? I mean, yeah, I guess."

Jungkook takes a second, and then he bites down on the grenade pin.

"Can you come over?"

THE WAY YOU keep Jungkook hanging on tenterhooks is deliberate.

You're unsure of him, of his motivations, and what he does in the dark. And so, while you want to let your guard down, you can't. It's probably something to do with your parents - the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally - making their love entirely conditional and withdrawing it so suddenly.

It's the kind of shit you would have spoken about with your therapist, but you can't afford her anymore.

Can't afford much of anything, anymore. So much of the money you've earnt recently is tied up in credit card debt or rent.

Foundation was the first luxury that you'd compromised, and you're still yet to buy any more. Cheap stuff always makes you break out, and thankfully your parents did give you decent genetics, at least, so your skin was pretty clear.

It's the lack of make up that suggests to Jungkook you're opening up; not hiding from him anymore.

But it's also what tells him something is incredibly wrong, when you show up at his door half an hour later with a graze beneath your eye. Little flecks of reddened skin creep up your cheekbone, and Jungkook thinks it almost looks like carpet burn.

He hadn't noticed it last night, but it was dark, and he was drunk.

He lets you in, takes your jacket, offers you a drink. Everything that he knows he should do. Asks how you are, keeps a safe distance.

You don't know why you're here. Why you didn't say you were busy.

Except you do.

It's cause you miss him whenever you're away from him.

"I like these," you smile as you look at the artwork he has up in his room. The studio space is small, cramped, like all semi-basements are, but it's distinctly 'his'. A lot different to yours. Everything you own is still in boxes, not yet unpacked.

You've refused to come to terms with that being your life now.

"Thanks," he nods, watching you as you explore the box of a room he calls home. "They're from a guy down by the coach station. Has a little stall."

"You'll have to show me," you muse, turning to smile at him. It's saccharine, but the graze on your face is just so bitter. He hates it. Hates that he doesn't know how you got it. "Think I'd like some for my place."

"I have a feeling they'd look a little out of place in a princess tower, sugar."

Your shoulders shake as you laugh quietly, not correcting him. He doesn't need to know that you're a basement dweller, too.

"How's the editing coming along?" You steer the question away from your living situation.

"Nearly there," he grins, brimming with quiet excitement. Something about the way your camerawork looks with his editing technique layered on top just really works. He's always been confident with his final projects, and this one scares him a little bit, but in a good way. It's his best yet. Maybe he did need you after all.

"Can I see?"

"Not yet."

"Kook," you say, and - oh god - you're pouting. Jungkook suddenly begins to feel nervous.

It's that scary feeling again. A fear of the good stuff. Trepidation.

"What?" he grins, walking a little closer to you, letting his hand stroke against your back as he sits down on his bed. His fingers catch yours. It's fleeting, but enough.

You both feel it.

"Such a tease," you say, talking about the project, but there's innuendo in your words, too.

"Some girls like it," he flirts back.

"The girl at the bar last night seemed to like it."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, boyish and charming. It's annoying, you think, how impossible it is to be mad at him. It's not because you're weak, or because you can't resist his charms, but because he has a way of playing things off as if they're no big deal.

The girl at the bar? A nobody, his shrug suggests. She doesn't matter.

And it's so easy to believe, because you're the one in his apartment. You're the one he wanted here, the one that he missed. Or at least, the one that he was thinking of when he decided that he could do with some company.

It might be nothing, just something to pass the time, but it makes you feel wanted. Desired. Needed.

So you accept his hand when he reaches out towards you, pulling you closer, positioning you between his spread legs. You're standing, his eyes level with your chest, unashamed as he looks at your body.

"You look warm," he husks.

Just like he always uses your body temperature as excuse to give you his jacket, he's using it as an excuse now, too. The desired effect is obvious.

His AC switchboard is on the wall behind his bed. You'd clocked it when you were walking around, observing his possessions. Yanmar, the branding reads, the plastic outer frame beige. Once, it would have been crisp white. Age has dulled it. The monochrome monitor has a clock symbol in the corner, an indicator that Jungkook has his AC set on a timer. It suggests a sense of permanence. This is his home.

You haven't set your timer yet. You just flick it on when you get hot. It isn't your home.

He watches you as you move, curious. He's smirking, because he just cant help himself.

And because he knows that you like it whenever he does. Gets you a little bit flustered.

One of your knees hooks over his lap, and then the other follows suit.

He'd have said you were straddling him. You'd have argued that you were simply reaching over to the AC.

And you do exactly that, flicking the switch, watching as it lights up. "There. Much better."

Touche, he thinks. Smiles. Grips your thighs, as if he's scared you'll stand up again. Scared to lose you.

In all honesty, he had been hoping you'd take your shirt off, but he isn't going to complain with you in his lap, instead.

Doesn't matter if you mix the eggs with the milk first, or the flour. You still bake a cake at the end of it all.

Jungkook looks at you in such a way that you find yourself thinking maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so horrible to let someone in. His eyes are honest, void of ulterior motives. He's doing this because he wants to. Because he wants you.

Wants that feeling back. The one where his lips are cushioned between yours, his tongue licking into your mouth.

Jungkook wants what he wants. Jungkook gets what he wants.

And, fuck, if it isn't bare minimum - but you know this, and you don't care. Bare minimum tastes pretty fucking good when you're licking it from his lips.

His hands roam, and you let them. He's rough with his movements, but the fleshy pads of his fingertips are soft, like silk against your skin. It's almost like he's afraid, filled with the knowledge that he can bruise, if he really wants to.

But he doesn't want to. He wants to ask about the graze that's sitting pretty where blush should be. Jungkook doesn't wanna hurt. He wants to heal.

"I catch you looking, you know," you tell him before he gets a chance, wanting to see how he responds. "Every now and again..." He hikes you forward in his lap. Places you dead centre over his cock. You can feel it. He can feel you. "...I catch you looking at me." He presses a kiss against the base of your neck, obsessed with the way it vibrates when you speak. "Why are you always looking at me?"

The fact that you're sat in his lap, grinding your hips against a solid bulge, should be indication enough.

Jungkook isn't going to spell it out for you. The eroticism of suggesting he's a fucking voyeur makes him want to laugh - but the way your nipples are tenting the shirt you're wearing distracts him.

His teeth graze your throat, hands creeping round to your tummy. His fingers are long, practically the length of the expanse between your hips and the underneath of your plump tits. Just a little further and he'd be holding them, cupping them, caressing. Just a little further.

"I look at you-" His hands continue their exploration as he leans back, watching the movement beneath your shirt. It somehow feels forbidden - like he can touch, but not look. After all, your question had sounded quite a lot like a telling off. "-because you like me looking at you."

He's fucking with you, trying to get a rise.

"Do I?"

The way that you whimper as he brushes against your nipples has him pulsing his hips. Your eyes close, head tilting back ever so slightly. You like this. The way he does it.

"Uh-huh," he mumbles, lips wet against your neck. His fingers knead into the flesh of your tits, nipples hard in his palm as he relieves his stresses. "Bet you think about it all day, don't you? Think about the way I look at you when no-one else does."

Yes.

"All day?" you smirk between dulcet moans. "You're lucky if I pay you any attention at all."

"I think you're lying," he declares rather boldly, hands all over you. "I think it plays on your mind. I bet you fall asleep thinking about it, don't you?"

Yes.

"Ddaeng."

"I bet you get yourself off thinking about it."

Maybe you do.

Maybe you've whispered his name in the dead of night, imagining how it would feel to have his body weight on top of yours. Maybe you get intrusive thoughts of that kiss every single time you try to draw close. Maybe Jungkook has made you cum without ever laying a single finger on you.

But even if he has, you won't tell him.

And you don't need to, because his phone buzzing on the bedside table behind you cuts the conversation dry. Jungkook glances towards it automatically, then back up to you. His frustration is evident, jaw tense.

"I gotta get this," he mumbles, encouraging you off of his lap. You don't resist, accepting the last five minutes for what they were: a momentary lapse in judgement. He sighs as he stands, adjusting his trousers, swiping his phone and putting it to his ear. He strolls just far enough away that you won't hear what or who is on the other line. "Hobi. Speak to me."

Hobi, you muse. A friend? A colleague? Another girl?

You swallow back the nauseating feeling in your throat, pretending as if the prospect of Jungkook with someone else doesn't chip away at your self-worth a little bit. It wasn't like you thought you had anything special between the pair of you.

But he was right. You did like him looking at you.

More than you had realised until the prospect of him looking at someone else arose.

From the corner of the room, you could hear Jungkook trying to interrupt the person he was talking to. The first syllable would escape, and then he'd hush again, never quite managing to get the words out in full.

"Ho-" His nostrils look quite cute when they flare, lips pursed, a pair of unique dimples becoming evident. They're different to the usual ones you notice. Full of surprises was Jeon Jungkook.

"Hobi, can I-"

He runs his hand through his hair, already dishevelled from your hands.

"Hobi will you let me fucking talk!"

Attaboy.

The pause that follows Jungkook's outburst would suggest that Hobi had said 'no' - and then a few more choice words. If Jungkook rolled his eyes back any further, they'd surely get stuck.

"Look, I'm a bit tied up right now- no! No, not that. Who? No. I don't know a Taehyung, and even if I did- Huh? Ain't got nothin' to do with Holangi. Don't know a single one of 'em."

You try to decipher the conversation, but fail.

"You're a real fuckin' cockblock, yanno?"

You blush.

"Fuck it, fine. But you owe me. I'm not saying yes next time."

He glances over to you, catching your raised brow. Next time?

A smile catches on his lips. You thought this would be a one time thing?

He's barely hit second base. If there's one thing you're yet to find out about Jungkook, it's that he loves to win. He won't be satisfied until he's got a home run.

Any other girl, and he'd have probably been running laps for fun by this point, but you... yeah, you didn't bowl him easy hitters, that was for sure.

Jungkook moves with confidence, like he always does, as he strides over to the sofa, the bulge in his pants considerably softened but still present. "Take a picture," he grins. "It'll last longer."

You roll your eyes, but it doesn't stop you from asking if that's an offer. He laughs - that soft, gentle thrum of his vocal chords that sounds so heavenly in your ears - and tells you to behave.

"I just gotta help a friend out," he says as he reaches over you to grab his rucksack. It's heavier now than it ever is at school, the jingle of crushed tin foil rustling as it briefly catches on your knee. He pretends not to notice the curiosity in your eyes. Pretty eyes, though. He quite likes them, especially when he's towering above you and can see the whites just above your lashline. Yeah, he likes them alot. "I'll only be an hour or so. You can stay here, if you like?"

The way he phrases it is so casual that it's almost like you're old friends.

That, or Jungkook's just used to having women he doesn't know very well stay at his place.

You're unaware of the mental gymnastics he's putting himself through. If he could kick himself without looking like a twat, then he definitely would.

Shrugging, you give him a polite smile. "I don't wanna overstay my welcome."

"Nah, you're fine. I can give you a lift back to yours when I'm home? I'll be an hour. Two, tops."

Finally you agree, watching as he leaves like a lovesick puppy, listening out for the familiar rattle of his exhaust pipe. There's a cough and splutter of petrol spitting onto the sidewalk as his motor roars into action, and then he's gone.

You don't hang around for much longer.

You tell yourself that you will. That it would be nice. That you and Jungkook might not be so ill-suited after all.

But as the clock ticks by on the wall, you find yourself getting antsy. You find yourself asking stupid questions. Who exactly is Hobi? What was in Jungkook's bag? Why is he always down in Daerim? Is that where he's gone now?

The thoughts grow, adapt, intrude. Before you know it, you're considering what you'd find if you opened the top drawer of his bedside cabinet.

Realistically, you know it would probably be a wank sock and a tub of vaseline - it doesn't matter though. Your mind is wondering. You need to scratch the itch.

Just a little peek. He'll never know.

Oh, how you loathe your brain.

What's the worst you could find? A revolver? His ex-girlfriends panties? Love letters? A crack pipe?

Somehow, you'd rather find a pipe than panties.

It's not that you want Jungkook to be a crack addict. It's just the more that you think about it, the more you come to realise that you really, really don't like the idea of someone else feeling how warm his torso is, or how his upper teeth always nip slightly when he starts kissing you, until the pressure of his pecks plump his lips. You've only experienced it a handful of times, and it's stupid to get carried away, but he just makes it so easy.

He didn't ask you to stay, you tell yourself. He asked you if you wanted to.

Moments of instability like this are exactly why girls like you don't spend time with boys like him. It's stupid. Futile. A game for fools.

You leave his apartment as you found it, with not even a note to say thank you. He's had a squeeze on your tits. You deem that thank you enough. If anything, he should be thanking you.

When he returns, just half an hour after your departure, he can still smell your perfume. He tosses his keys down, calls out your name, and is met with silence. It takes him a moment or so to realise that he's alone.

There's a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn't recognise. Doesn't like. Hates, in fact.

But fine. Fuck it. He didn't want you there anyway. He'd just been doing a good deed. Being kind because - if your face was any indication - obviously someone else had been particularly unkind to you.

Jungkook thinks he knows who, now.

Daerim nights have always been sketchy, but the days are no better.

He's just the lowest rung on a long ladder of criminals who turn a profit when the sun goes down in Seoul.

Hobi had asked him to drop the stash in his rucksack off at a club, some gang-run joint that Jungkook doesn't know much about, so that he could get them back to his boss.

That had been the plan, at least.

He slings his bag down, now empty, and sinks into the sofa, not bothering to get a rag to clean himself up. No point. The dried blood will just wash off in his shower. It's not the first time this has happened. He doubts it will be the last.

Jungkook's nose is currently bleeding, dripping down his chin and hitting the ceramic tiles of his apartment with small slaps. A bruise is forming above his left eye socket, and his knuckles are red.

A punch to the face means very little to Jungkook.

He's young, but he's strong. Fast, too. It could have been a lot worse if he wasn't.

He pushes the back of his hand against his nose, sniffing, before unlocking his phone, and dialing a number he knows now by heart.

The dial tone bleeds out, just like his nose.

And so he hangs up, and calls the only person he knows he can rely on.

"Wassup, kid?"

Jungkook doesn't mean to sob, but he cant help it. He knows Yoongi has finals coming up. He doesn't need his bullshit on his plate, too.

"I got jumped Yoongs."

Fuck.

"You alright? Sound pretty bad? Where?"

"Daerim-"

"The fuck you doing there at this time of day?"

"Hobi wanted me to drop off my stash."

"Kook..." Yoongi speaks slowly, coming to a horrific realisation. A few punches had never bothered Jungkook before. Something bigger was at play. "The stash...?"

Jungkook can hear it in Yoongi's voice: fear.

"Gone."

Yoongi sighs down the line. "Hobi know yet?"

"No."

"Alright, get outta your flat," Yoongi begins, not wasting time. Now is not the time for emotions, and it's clear that Jungkook isn't capable of that just yet. "I need you to go somewhere safe, somewhere you can lie-low for a little bit alright? Let me sort it-"

"Yoong-"

"Let me sort it. I got you into this mess. Don't sweat it."

"Ple-"

"Kook. Seriously. Trust me with this."

Yoongi doesn't let him debate it any further - and it's just as well he doesn't, because as soon as he hangs up the phone, another call comes through. Jungkook wants to answer it. Really, he does.

Jungkook's just very aware of the fact that the guy who jumped him had almost been waiting for him. Right by the entrance of the apartment block which he always picked you up from.

In between blows, he'd warned Jungkook to 'stay the fuck away from the girl'.

The girl who's now returning his call.

"Hey," you say animatedly, having not expected him to call. You thought the pair of you would resume your usual awkward routine of pretending like nothing ever happened. "Sorry, I was in the shower. You good? Sorry I left, I just did-"

"I need a favour," he doesn't bother with formalities.

You want to banter with him, to flirt, but the tone of his voice warns you not to. So instead you tell him that you'll do whatever he needs.

"Can I come over?"

Fuck. Anything except that.

"Please."

YOU DON'T EXPECT to say yes. You don't expect to care more about him than you do about protecting your own dignity. You don't expect Jungkook to traipse down the stairs that lead to your slovenly open door with a glum look on his bloodsoaked face, as you stand there waiting for him.

But he does.

He makes no comment, no remark about the building. Just wraps his arms around your head, cradling you against his chest as you stand in your doorway. You can hear his heartbeat, thud, thud, thud against his ribs.

Go somewhere safe, Yoongi had told him. It was a no brainer.

"I'm sorry," he says, eventually pulling himself away from you. "I didn't know who else to ask."

You tell him it's fine, and you mean it. Keeping up pretences doesn't really matter so much anymore. Perhaps honesty was overdue from the both of you.

"The fuck happened to you?" You ask, tenderly reaching up to stroke away some of the dried blood from his lip. He winces, hisses, body tense, but he lets you continue. "Sorry."

"Could ask you the same, sugar," he speaks kindly, not wanting you to think he's being critical as he nods to the entryway behind you.

You grit your teeth together and let your hand rest on his shoulder. "King kicked the princess out of the castle."

And, suddenly, it doesn't seem embarrassing anymore. In fact, it seems perfectly apt that Jungkook knows. He doesn't pry, don't push for further clarification. Just nods. Accepts your reality.

"Castles are overrated, anyway," he presses a kiss to your head, and gently guides you through the threshold. The corridor is short, opening up to an open plan studio. The layout varies from Jungkook's, but it's similar in size. Small.

"Ignore the wallpaper," you say of the awkwardly granny-ish floral print. It's beige, so not totally offensive, but dear god, you think it looks like vomit.

"No," he grins. "It's... wow. Your landlord really knows how to make a statement, don't they?"

You perch on your bed and cringe. "A statement... a crime against interior design. Whatever you wanna call it."

Jungkook continues to pace around your room with a curious smile. He's partially deflecting from the fact he knows you're probably dying to ask about his face, and why he was so desperate to be with you, but he's also interested in the life you neglected to share with him.

Brown cardboard boxes are piled high in the corners, your possessions not yet unboxed.

This place is just temporary.

You've got three and a half million won sat on your desk. A couple more weeks, just a few, and you'll have enough for a deposit on a decent flat. Then you can get a regular job, something stable, and you won't have to worry. You could work through the summer and then figure out what to do next. Just as long as you keep on moving upwards, you'll be happy.

"So," you begin gingerly, as you head to the kitchenette beside your bed, wetting a cloth beneath your tap. "You gonna tell me what happened to your face?"

He takes your previous position, inviting himself to sit on the end of your bed, anticipating your return. There's light coming in from the thin windows by your ceiling, hitting directly onto your back. He thinks it's apt. Thinks you're the kind of girl who deserves a spotlight. Thinks that Mother Nature agrees.

Jungkook shrugs, in that lazy, boyish way he so often does, as you walk towards him. He spreads his legs, encouraging you between them, letting his hands graze your thighs. You pretend not to notice as you press the damp cloth to his cheek. Tiny crows legs appear at the edges of his eyes, face wincing from the contact. It's painful.

But being alone would be more painful. He chose to be here. To be with you.

And so he tells you what happened, with as much honesty he can muster. There are some things better left unsaid, his occupation being one of them. You listen attentively, dabbing at his wounds, a frown etched into the lines of your face.

"Stay away from the girl, huh?" you muse, avoiding his eyes as you study his face. His nose is still bleeding, but every time you tell him to tilt his head towards the ceiling, it ends up back in its original position. He can't see you as well with his head tilted back. Doesn't like it. Doesn't wanna do it. "Could be any girl."

Jungkook's dimple forms in his cheek. "No. No, it couldn't."

His fingers that have been grazing at your thighs squeeze tenderly, letting you know he means it. More than he thinks you know. More than he knows he should.

There's a chance that any words spoken between the pair of you could be misconstrued. He doesn't know what his feelings for you are, and you don't really understand yours for him - but you understand your body, and the electric current running beneath your lips, dying for a connection. A little spark.

So you do the only thing that makes sense: you kiss him.

And he kisses you back. Slowly, tenderly, deliberately. His lips melt into yours, hand pulling your legs closer. He encourages you onto his lap, as if he needs to be insufferably close to you. Once you're positioned how he wants, just like you were earlier, he grips your waist, keeping you stationed there.

Jungkook knows he should stop.

He knows he should have paid attention to the pair of fists that warned him off you as his skull hit the pavement earlier that morning, knows he shouldn't let himself get so wrapped up in such a red flag - but he just can't help himself. It's like you're laced in the narcotics he deals, and slowly but surely, you've gotten him addicted.

He's craving. Dying for a hit. Just a little taste of your tongue on his, the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

Red flags, red stop signs, pretty red lips all plump from the kisses he's smothering them in. Red blood, too. His nose is still a little damaged, and the way he's painting your cheek in crimson should repulse you.

Should repulse you.

Like fuck it does, though. You can smell the copper twinge through his plasma, and suddenly it's as if the Cullen's had the right idea all along.

When he pulls back, only for a moment, hands clutching at the side of your face to assess the look in your eyes, he notices it too. Hard not to. You blush all the fucking time, so much so that he knew the shade by heart, and the rouge on your cheek is far too vibrant, too scarlet. It's his fucking blood on you.

It should scare him, he knows. But the way you're looking at him, eyes all wide and glassy, lips swollen and waiting for more, has him unable to think straight. It has him obsessed, the way you don't care. The way he's covered you in blood and you still seem to want more.

But there's a softness to the way in which you're looking at him, mild confusion, as if you've got the same strange warmth running through your veins as he does. It's not a feeling he recognises, pulsing through his bloodstream with every beat of his heart.

Perhaps it's nothing. Jungkook tells himself that it is. Just adrenaline, probably.

You look at his lips, all crimson and blushed, and realise you much prefer the shade of his blood to the plum lipstick that had tainted them the night before. You're delicate as you wipe your thumb along his pouted bottom lip, just like you did in the bar. Except this time, the jealousy that had blossomed in your diaphragm is nowhere to be found. There's still a pinch beneath your ribs, but this time it's in your heart, and it's far more aching. This time, you feel his hurt.

Jungkook reaches down to where you left the damp cloth on your bed. It's wet and heavy in his hand, a little warm, too. He brings it to your face and dabs silently, cleaning you of the mess he's made. Fixing you. Restoring you to your former glory.

Its futile, 'cause his nose is still fucking bleeding, and you don't plan on leaving it more than a moment before you kiss him again. You simply don't care. Want him for all that he is, blood, sweat and tears.

But still, he insists on ridding you of his stain. Doesn't want to tarnish you. He's soft with the way he presses the cloth against you, mirroring how tenderly you were with him earlier. He's learning from you, adapting to you. Wants to be like you. Wants to be 'better'.

You watch as his eyes scan your face, brows twisted like they always do when he's about to say something but stops himself. The vertical groove just above his cupid's bow is red, blood tacky as it dries. If he kisses you now, he'll leave a stamp; a mark that says 'you're mine.'

It's too much. Far too much. You aren't his, and he knows this. He never wanted you to be his, in fact, for the longest time, he had wanted to be anything but yours.

But now he sits beneath you, crestfallen, heart in his throat, blocking him from speaking.

This was never part of the plan. He was never supposed to end up here. He was supposed to escape from the trenches, to get on the path of straight and narrow. Thrive. Succeed.

And it's not your fault, he knows this, but there's a little part of him that wonders what could have happened if he hadn't seen you that night in Daerim, hadn't seen the way your eyes look beneath night market lights, hadn't heard your laugh as he looked at his favourite view of the city.

You whisper his name, your palm resting flat on his chest, and his brows soften.

It doesn't matter what could have happened, anymore.

All that matters is what is happening.

The shortness of his breath, the flutter of his lashes against your cheek, the swelling between his legs. You can feel it, feel him, and he knows it. The way he's pulsing his hips upwards is testament to that.

It's a comfortable position, you sat on his lap on the end of your bed, not one that either of you wishes to break from. Not even as he begins to breathe against your lips, unable to properly control his reactions thanks to the friction beneath his briefs.

"Want you," he mumbles, pressing his lips into yours, the air in his lungs giving itself up to you. "Want you so bad."

You shake your head, brows pinched just a little. "I'm bad news for you."

And maybe that's it. Maybe he just wants you because he knows he shouldn't - but fuck it, if he can't let himself indulge in simple pleasures, then why bother getting himself beaten to a pulp over you?

"I'm bad news for myself, sugar," he husks against your lips, tickling them as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Deeper, deeper. Closer, closer. He wants it.

Wants it all.

Wants you naked.

Wants to know what it feels like to have you gasp in his ear as his hands roam beneath your panties.

Wants to know if you'd still look at him like you're stargazing even when he's railing you.

Wants it. Wants you. Just wants.

And what Jungkook wants, Jungkook gets.

He slips his hand up your shirt and pushes it upwards, before letting it crumple to the floor. You know that you should be more bashful, a little bit ashamed, but it's impossible when he's looking at you like this.

He has a visual now that he didn't have earlier. The glow of your skin beneath his bruised knuckles looks almost sinful, like he's plucking forbidden fruit from its tree. He'll pay the price for this, and he knows it, but he just can't resist.

Jungkook has always been a boob guy, always loved the way he could get girls moaning with just a little pinch, but never had he had a pair quite like yours. So full, so round, he's not sure his hands are big enough, and that doubt makes him throb. Soft and pillowy, he groans as he watches his fingers sink into them, utterly enthralled. His hips adjust, pushing upwards, pressing himself into you. He wants this. Wants it so bad.

You can feel the metal of his rings against your skin, and then you can feel his lips, his tongue, his teeth as they graze against the plush skin of your chest. He licks around your nipple, letting the air cool the wet trail, hardening you for him.

He's utterly obsessed.

His mouth pulls at the sensitive skin, suckles, sucks. His lashes are splayed on the tops of his cheeks, lips pouting around your nipple as he does so, small groans of pleasure vibrating against you. It will be a miracle if he can't already feel you seeping through your panties.

You whimper as his teeth graze your hardened nub, and his eyes flutter open. He doesn't detach himself, but instead, he keeps your gaze as he sucks. The pressure varies, and then it's hard. Really fucking hard. So hard you'll think he'll somehow give your nipple a hickey - but fuck, if you don't love the sensation.

"Christ," you gasp, before biting down into your bottom lip.

"Too hard?" He mumbles against you, peppering you in kisses and soft licks as if to apologise.

"No," you pant. "Was good. Was great. Just - fuck."

You laugh, soft and airy, and Jungkook smiles from the sound.

He likes this. Likes how you react to him.

And while he’s patient and gentle with you in a way that he isn't with other people, Jungkook has only ever known how to have sex in one way. It's ingrained into him, as if he was made to fuck like it; like he doesn't give a shit about the person he's screwing.

Jungkook doesn't do love, and you know this. He trades. Works in transactions. Settles debts. You don't really know this part, but you aren't stupid. You know he's never in Daerim for any good fucking reason.

You don't question it as his hands move south, slipping past your underwear. In fact, you're smug as he curses when he feels how wet you are, fingers slippery in your panties.

He pushes a finger into you, and closely follows it with a second. They curl ever so slightly, and it's at this point that you realise Jungkook is absolutely going to ruin you. Just a few pumps. Just to ease you up.

He's bored of waiting. Wants you now.

The pair of you move fluidly, minimal discussion needed, just occasional checks of 'you good?', or 'this okay?'. The answer is, always, without a doubt, 'yes'.

He gets you on your back, panties pulled off, legs not quite hanging off the edge of your bed, but nearly. He strips himself of his shirt first, and grins as he notices the way you whine.

"What?" he toys.

"Nothing," you flirt. "Just wish you'd hurry up. I'm a busy woman."

"Oh yeah?" The sound of his buckle coming undone is enough to make you fucking leak. "Busy doing what?"

You neglect to tell him. Not because you don't have a witty remark lined up, but because he's fucking naked now.

What a sight to behold he is. Body lean, honey skin flawless, muscles defined. You pretend like you're looking at his body, but your eyes are drawn to his cock. You'd expected length, but not the girth - and he has both in abundance. The tip of his cock is blushed and wet, with Jungkook just as aroused as you are.

Noticing your gaze, he rolls his eyes, and toys with your pussy again, lightly running his fingers up and down your slick entrance. When he pulls back, his fingers are still connected by thick clear fluid. His cock throbs.

"You're gonna get me so dirty," he hums, as he crawls onto the bed above you, before holding his fingers to your mouth. "Clean them."

Part of you wants to say no, but the other part of you can see his darkened gaze and the way his cock is twitching. You can't refuse.

His fingers are on the tip of your tongue, the tip of his cock nudging so close to your entrance that he may as well just do it. You raise your hips, encouraging, but he retracts a little just to tease.

The fingers that were in your mouth come to grip at the soft flesh of your cheeks, his thumb on the other side. "Don't you fucking dare."

There's tepid aggression to his movements, and it makes you feel vulnerable - but you like it. You like the way he's gripping your face, the ways he's looking at you with narrow eyes, just like he used to do across the lecture hall. You like being reminded of when you were nothing to one another, because it makes the satisfaction of feeling his stiff cock jump a little against your pussy as you moan so much more worth it.

He used to hate you, now he can't wait to bury his fat cock in you. Victory is yours, even if he's trying to act like he's the one holding all the cards.

You don't correct him, though. You let him think he has the upper hand. You'll play pillow princess just this once if it means you get to see him a little bit mean again.

"Dare what?" you pout, cheeks still squished between his fingers. He grips a little tighter, your chest rising as you gasp. He pulls your face towards his, sinking down into your lips, until he decided he's done with you.

He stands by the edge of your bed, and yanks your ankles towards him, pulling you close enough to the edge for him to fuck you like this.

The loss of his grip is unwelcome by you, a frown forming. He isn't looking at your face now, eyes down on his cock, which he's rubbing between your soaked pussy lips, but he can almost hear you brace yourself to whine. He smirks, one side of his mouth lifting, head knocking to the side slightly.

"Don't you dare try and set the pace," he finally husks, still not glancing up towards you. He's taking his time, making sure the head of his cock kisses every inch of your exposed mess. "Nearly got my nose fucking broken for this pussy-" he spits, hard and fast, right onto your clit, spreading it with his cock. "- so I'm gonna make sure I get what I'm owed."

He spreads your thighs back, his fingers gripping harshly just how you like it. Perhaps you should pretend to be embarrassed by the fact your cunt is leaking for him, begging for him, but the way he hisses at the sight, chest heaving, prevents it.

Jungkook's thought about this before, about how pretty and pristine you'd be, about the mess he'd hoped you'd make. Thought about it so many times. Fingers wrapped around his shaft in the middle of the night when no one can hear him chant your name as he spills over. Yeah, he's thought about it a lot.

His imagination has never done you justice. One look and he's obsessed. Wants to spend hours touching, caressing, licking you.

"Take it," you whisper. "What you're owed, Jungkook. Take it."

He looks up now, brows threaded together. You don't recognise the contemplation his face is laced in, but he doesn't give you the chance to question it, for you begin to feel that burn. The one your fingers can never give you. It's alien, and yet familiar, inherently natural but intrusive nonetheless.

"Shit," is all you can manage to say, eyes locked on his.

He wants to watch himself sink into you, watch as his fat cock forces your slick wetness out of your pussy, but he can't. Not when you're looking at him like that. Not when your chest is heaving and your eyes are watering beneath tense brows. Not when your mouth is hanging open and just begging to be fucked like your tight little pussy.

And then he starts feeling something a little strange. A little unfamiliar. A little bit like his heart has stalled to beat in time with the contractions of your chest. And though he's not in pain anymore, too busy feeling you, he's aware that it hurts. Aware that he can't fuck you like he wanted to, 'cause his chest needs to be against yours. Needs to feel the beating drum beneath your ribs.

He doesn't even realise that he's paused until you whine a meagre, "please."

"That's more like it," he hums, as he pushes into you, the base of his thick cock plugging the weeping mess that he's made. You know that as soon as he pulls out, you'll be whimpering, begging for the tip of his cock to kiss your walls once more. "See how nice things can be when you just behave yourself, huh?"

His hips push just a little deeper, and he knows that it hurts. Knows that the little gasp isn't entirely from pleasure. He's seen his cock. Doesn't take a genius to work out that it can do damage.

"You can take it," he tells you, and like a pathetic, whimpering mess, you fucking nod. He's still inside of you, still deeper than you thought possible, and then his hand is on your stomach. He grabs your hand and places it beneath his. "You feel that?" He retracts just a little, pushing back in just as deep. Beneath your hands, there's a bulge. External or internal, it doesn’t matter. It's him. He does it again. "You feel me taking what's mine?"

Whatever the fuck you moan is incoherent, but he doesn't give a shit, 'cause he's ploughing now. Bucking his hips into you like pneumatic fucking drill. Shit. He's done this before. Got it mastered to a fine art. Momenta worthy of a museum exhibition.

Your tits are pillowed on your chest, nice and round, wobbling as he takes command of your body. He slaps one of them, just to watch it ripple, before that firm grip of his is on it. "Perfect tits," he growls the compliment, not really meaning for it to come out. "Gonna put my cock between them later," he tells you. "Gonna cum all over them."

He doesn't tell you that he'll also clean them with his hungry tongue, before delivering his cum into your mouth. Figures he'll just let you find out. His brain is working at a mile a minute, trying to reign back thoughts of sharing his cum with you in such a filthy manner. God, he wants to do heinous things to you. With you. For you.

But for now, he needs to focus on his cock. It's rubbing inside of you, nuzzling. He knows he's weeping, and that his precum is getting mixed with your slick juices. Knows he won't last long if you keep whining like that. Mewling. Purring.

He stalls his hips, letting go of your tits as they jiggle back into position. Your cheeks are flushed, imprints of his fingers reddening your skin. Lips pouted and resting ajar, Jungkook thinks they've never looked more fuckable. More kissable. More whisper-sweet-nothings-against-able.

"You ever shut the fuck up?" he teases, but is quick to notice confusion flash in your eyes. He didn't mean it as an insult, but it's easy to read the hurt in your perplexed features, and the way you begin to try and push your legs together. It's futile. His cock is keeping you open.

But you feel embarrassed, as if your natural reactions to him are a turn-off. It's silly, because he's quite literally inside of you, fat and solid, using you to milk himself. Of course, he's not turned off, but you're hyper-aware of how vulnerable you're feeling right now. It had been fun to pretend like you were in control, but as soon as he slipped inside of you, all sense of power had evaporated.

He doesn't realise this though. Doesn't realise that his cock is nudging so deep into you that it's practically knocking against your heart. Knock, knock, knock. Who's there? Your mind taunts, but you daren't answer.

"Hey," he coos, one of his large palms stroking on the inside of your thighs. That uncomfortable, obscure feeling is back again. The one that tells him he needs to be closer to you. This time, he doesn't ignore it. His hips pulse, just the once. A reminder he's still very much into this. Into you.

His hands grip your waist, softly this time, as he manoeuvres himself onto the bed with you, keeping himself snug. Your head is by the pillows, Jungkook's knees on either side of your ass, his chest flat against yours as one of his hands cradles your jaw. He presses a chaste, airy kiss against your lips, and whispers, "I love the way you sound." He kisses you again, hips rocking. You're trying not to, but you whine. "Fuck, sugar. You're my favourite fucking sound."

Your legs hook over his back, and he groans now. The angle change lets him delve deeper, your walls massaging him so well. Jungkook thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He's slipping in and out of you with minimal force, skin slapping together. He makes sure to let his moans roll off his tongue and into your mouth. You eat them up and give them back. The pair of you aren't kissing anymore, just gasping and humming into one another's mouths. He's stuttering.

There's a pause as he adjusts his grip, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs. He likes it, the way you seem to melt around him in all capacities. His lips nudge against yours as his steady hips begin to rock into yours again.

You groan as he pushes down on your legs, pushing you as far apart as your bones allow. It's typical of him, seeing how far he can take things. Push them to the limit. Always gets him in trouble. There's a click, as air escapes from the socket where your leg meets your pelvis.

"You good?" He checks and you respond with a kiss. Hands tangled in his hair, you hope it conveys the fact you've never felt better. He laughs a little, soft and serene, into your mouth, the weight of his body keeping you trapped beneath him.

You're morbid in your thoughts, and consider how nice it would be for Jungkook to suffocate you like this; steal you of the air you breathe with his tiny giggles of satisfaction. So, so nice, you think.

And so you tell him. You tell him that you want his hand on your throat. He takes a second to respond - not because he doesn't want to, but more so because he can't believe you actually asked.

He doesn't normally fuck the girls he cares about like this. Then again, he never really cares about the girls he fucks.

"God," you moan as he pushes one of your legs over his shoulder. His body is clammy against yours, skin hot and damp, chest lean but built. He's working hard; not just for his release. For yours too. Rams into you, stuffing your cunt with his cock, dipping his head to lather your clasped throat in wet kisses.

"That's it, sugar," he growls as his teeth graze your neck. "Need to hear how good you feel. Need to hear what my cock does to you. You owe me."

You want to laugh. You're about to laugh. But then his head dips down to your chest, and he latches onto one of your pebbled nipples, sucking so hard that all you can do is tremble. He knows you like this. Knows it makes your pussy all creamy and slippery for him - and like clockwork, he's proven right. The sounds are lewd. He loves it.

"On your back," you husk, punctuating your instruction with a whimper as he suckles even harder. He shakes his head, eyes closed, mouth vibrating and full of your tit. Not a chance, he tries to say, but it just sounds likes he's forgotten how to speak. Too busy. Too close to spilling himself into you. Doesn't wanna get distracted.

So focused, he doesn't realise you're pushing him over until you're on top. He frowns as he detaches from your nipple with a pop, but his hands are running all over your body regardless. Obviously doesn't care that much. Course he doesn't. That ache in his chest has settled.

Until he starts thinking about it, and oh god, it's back and it's fucking unbearable.

"C'mere," he pulls you flush against him, as your hips begin to work against him. His hands cradle your face so he can kiss you as deeply as he likes, tongue slipping into your mouth, as his cock slips up and down your pussy. This, he thinks, is it. This is what fucking should feel like.

"Shit," he whispers. "Shit."

The friction of his surprisingly neat hair that rests at the base of his cock is nice. Real fuckin' nice. You're not even fucking him anymore, just grinding against it. Using it, using him, to get yourself off.

You think you're being slick, like he won't notice - but he does. Of course, he does. He's obsessed with your body.

"God, yeah, baby," his back arches, pressing his chest against yours, eyes closed. "Use me like that. Use me," he bites into your shoulder gently. "Fucking use me."

He means it. Doesn't give a shit about himself anymore. Just wants to feel you tremble as he holds you close. Wants to press kisses against your lips as your moans become undignified. He needs to be the reason you cum; needs to be responsible for your oxytocin rush.

You sit up a little, and Jungkook holds back a pout from the separation - but how can he complain when you're sat like that, his cock buried inside of you, hair a mess and with eyes like his favourite constellation? He's hypnotised as your boobs begin to bounce, pussy working up his shaft like the true Daerim woman of the night you are. He's forgotten about all of that, now. Can't think about anything except for how to not fucking cum.

He can't and he won't. Not until you do. But you're bouncing, and it's wet, and he can hear it, and it feels so fuckin' good. His toes are curling, torso tensing, eyes half-shut, pretty little pout hanging open. He's fucking whining. "Yeah like that," he encourages. "Gonna milk me so well, baby. Gonna... ah. Fuck. Gonna-"

Jungkook can't fucking speak. He wants to. Wants to tell you how fucking beautiful you look, how he wants this endlessly, how he never wants to let you go. Needs to tell you how right this feels, how good you make him feel, how he doesn't understand his feelings but fuck, just that he is feeling. Feeling so much.

You're not sure at which point he started calling you baby, but you're actually convinced that the name alone could tip you over the edge.

The pace of your hips is slowly, savouring. He doesn't quite get it. You were so close. Why stop?

The stillness of your movements makes way for something new. He feels a throb around his fat cock, which is begging for release. Notices the way your chest is shaking like you've got hiccups, tiny whines of pleasure making themselves known. Your pussy was always warm, but it's hot now, contracting around him.

And then he gets it.

"Oh, shit," he mewls, his hips slowly pumping upwards. "Yeah, that's it, baby. Let yourself cum. All over my dick," he encourages, hedonistic and self-serving. "That's it. Cream for me."

His slow movements as he fucks up into you amplify the sensation, the tip of his cock nudging languidly against your tight walls. Your entire body shudders, the feeling rippling from your chest right down to your toes. You rasp out moans, the sensation all too powerful, a creamy mess pooling at the base of his shaft. There's a jerk as your muscles spasm, your orgasm well and truly delivered. He pulls you down and into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around your back.

Your body rests on his, spent and sensitive, and he can tell you can't hold out for much longer. He pushes back the hair that's sticking to your clammy face, and presses kisses into your temple.

"So big," you hum, voice hazy, eyes shut.

"Just a little more, baby," he promises. " You're doing so well. Just a little..."

You've considered how Jungkook would orgasm on more than one occasion - and you're pleasantly surprised to find that your imagination was wrong. There's no grand declaration, nor large grunt. He's not aggressive, either, like you'd half-hoped he would be.

Instead, Jungkook kisses you as his hips begin to stall. His brows are creased, moans muffled against your lips. His torso shudders, abdomen as tight as his balls. "Baby," he drowsily mewls, and then it's happening. His cock pumps into you, unloading thick creamy spurts with every stroke of your pussy. The first one is so desperate that you're almost positive you can feel it paint your insides. You moan along with him, utterly obsessed with this, him, whatever the fuck just happened.

He doesn't withdraw immediately. Just lays there and kisses your skin, absolutely spent.

You don't move a muscle. You don't want it to be over. Don't wanna lose this. Lose him.

When you tilt your head to look at him, he's smiling. Eyes closed, cheeks appled. Serene. In a state of fucked-out bliss.

You tell him that he's pretty, and he lets out an airy laugh, covering his face with one of his hands. You move his hand and watch him fondly, enthralled with the grin that he's struggling to fight.

He turns to look at you, and the smile he's been boasting amplifies. "God, you're gorgeous."

It's not a new observation; just one he's never voiced before. One that he was able to resist saying. But you're naked now, chest pillowed against his, eyes glowing and nose blushed.

You hum, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "I'm glad you chose to come here."

Just like that, there's a knot in Jungkook's stomach that seems to anchor that feeling he keeps having.

"Yeah," he nods. "Me too."

IT'S THREE IN the afternoon by the time you wake from your post-fuck snooze. Jungkook's never had one of those before. Hated being sticky after sex with anyone else. Always had to shower - but with you, he wants to stick to you like glue.

"Should have filmed that," he hums, the tips of his fingers stroking up your arms. You aren't sure if he's joking or not. "Would have given us a unique take on the project. Probably wouldn't have gotten us very high grades, mind you, but art is subjective."

"Some would argue that the critique of art is objective," you muse back, still blissfully cum-drunk from the events prior to your nap. Jungkook's nose has stopped bleeding, and the pair of you have almost forgotten the reason he showed up in the first place. "Documentary maker by night, porn star by day," you flirt. "Although it's cute that you think you fuck like a porn star."

"I felt you shaking," he says, knowing there's no possible way that you didn't enjoy it. His nose feels a little cold after all the trauma of the morning, so he buries it into your hair. "Can't fake that."

"That's what I'm saying," you simper, pressing a kiss against his bare torso, just below the meeting of his collarbones. And then another, simply for good measure. "Porn stars never actually look like they're making the woman feel any good." You trail down his chest, tongue licking gently at the darker skin around his nipple. "You... yeah you don't fuck like a porn star." And then you suck a little. He hisses, in the best possible way.

"Don't," he says. "Not ready to go again."

You laugh.

Jungkook thinks he's reached Nirvana. Almost certain, in fact. Never had a girl do that to him before. He loves to give it, but hasn't ever thought to receive it. Wonders what other things you'll do to him that he's never had done before. He can feel his cock fucking twitching again, achy and sore, definitely not recovered yet from how hard he went earlier - but god, he wants it. Wants to bury himself inside you again. Belong to you.

His hands paw at you, one gripping on your chest, the other on your ass, pulling you closer. Your leg hooks over him, and he can feel how wet you still are on the side of his thigh. His balls fucking tighten. He can feel it happening, blood rushing to his crotch.

Yet despite it all, he just kisses you. Softly. Tenderly. Merely his lips languid between yours. Withdraws slowly. Keeps his eyes closed. Bliss.

"The fuck have you done to me, sugar?" he whispers, dark eyes opening to look into yours. His speech is husky, like he trying to steal the answers of a pop-quiz from you. You can't help him. You don't have a clue what the answer is. You're just as stuck as he is. "Got me feeling all fuzzy 'n' shit."

"Just a sugar rush," you smile. "It'll pass."

You're both acutely aware that it won't, but that will be a problem for another day.

"Tell you what," Jungkook muses, though his thoughts are shallow. He's not digging deep. Just talking for the sake of it. "I might not fuck like a porn star, but you don't fuck like a hooker."

He pulls your arm up so that he can study the crease of your elbow. You let him move your body like you're a barbie doll. You'll be his toy, you think, if he wants. No bother.

His fingers press at the thin skin that covers your veins, inspecting.

"Not a scratch," he assesses. "So you're not an addict either."

You laugh, slightly amused. "No? Maybe I just don't inject."

Jungkook gives you a stern look. Hopes you're joking. Tells you that you better fucking be joking. The sweetness of your laughter tells him that you are.

"So?" you press. "I'm not a prostitute and I'm not an addict. It's your lucky day. What of it?"

Jungkook tilts his head down so that his nose is nestled into the crown of your head again. Comforting, he thinks. Smells like laundry. You must have washed your sheets recently.

His next statement takes you off guard.

"Only ever see three kinds of women down in Daerim."

And you know.

You know he knows.

You can feel it in the way he protectively presses his lips into your skull, as if he's Prince Charming trying to rid his Sleeping Beauty of the nightmare she's been living. Wake up.

But Prince Charming rides a white horse, not a petrol-spitting, air-cooled, steel-framed shadow that rips through the city at night.

There are no nightmares, either. You're already wide awake. There's no saving you.

He sighs against your head. Pauses. Resists, and then confronts.

"I know what you do in the dark, sugar."

You don't say anything for a moment, and then you're pulling away from him, reaching for your shirt. He doesn't like this. Misses your warmth, but doesn't stop you. Instead, he follows, sitting on the edge of your bed, the corner of your comforter lazily protecting his modesty. His muscles are relaxed now, a little crease in his stomach from the way that he's slouching, hands in his lap. Those Bambi eyes of his are peaking through his hair, cheeks red and grazed from the morning encounter he'd had in Daerim.

He watches as you pull your shirt over your head, hair just as messy as his, and a graze on your cheek to match. He was pretty certain before that it had been carpet burn, but now that he's seen it up close, softly rubbed his thumb against it during pretty kisses, he's sure of it.

You avert his gaze. Feel shameful. Hate that he knows. You never cared before. It was just a fun little secret, the fact that he didn't know you were no angel.

But you want him to think that you're one, now.

For a moment, you were sure that he had.

Instead, now, it feels like you're falling from grace.

He reaches for your hand, but you pull it back. "Please don't."

And so he doesn't. Just sits for a little while instead. "Do you want me to get dressed?"

You really don't.

But your tongue is lodged in your mouth and it won't budge. You turn away, internally furious with yourself. It's been a while since you've gotten like this; so dreadfully panicked that you can't talk. It's a once in a blue moon kind of thing, the early onset of a panic attack, but you're hoping it won't reach the stage of no return. Praying.

"Babe?"

He sounds worried now, and it's making it worse. Feels like you've just reached the top of Bukhan Mountain without taking a second to catch your breath.

Has your chest always been this tight? Or has someone just been wrapping rubber bands around your torso without you noticing?

It isn't possible, and you know this, but it feels like it and - oh God - you can hear him shuffling, the buckle of his belt clanging. He's leaving, he's leaving, he's leaving, your ribs cackle as they close down on your lungs.

There's a light hum behind you, like a wasp is coming to send you into a state of anaphylactic shock and then it stops. His jeans are tossed to the floor once more.

"Yoongi?" Jungkook speaks quietly behind you into the receiver of his phone. "Wassu- Yeah, yeah, I'm safe. I'm good."

I'm safe.

I'm good.

"Where are- Yoongi stop. Stop it. I'm being deadly fucking serious-"

You don't realise it, but your chest begins to mellow as you listen in to his conversation.

"It's my mess!" He shouts now. "I'll fucking fix it. I don't give a fuck what Hobi says. Where you at? The Zoo? I'll be there- Yes, I will. Don't do anything fucking stupid."

And then he hangs up, chucking his phone into your bed with more aggression than he'd ever wanted to show in your presence. You don't see it, back still turned, but you hear it, the way his phone rebounds against the springs of your mattress.

"Shit," he hisses, and when you turn to face him, you find that his head is in his hands, elbows on his knees.

Crouching by him, your chest expands. You don't give a shit about yourself anymore. Your palms rest just behind his elbows, eyes anchored below his, looking up.

"He's got his fucking final in an hour," is all Jungkook says. "He's gonna miss his fucking final."

He lifts his head, tender lips pouted, eyes bloodshot from the pressure he's been placing on his palms. Looks right at you. Decides he'll never trust another pair of eyes more.

"I know what you do in the dark, sugar," he relays. "But I do worse. So much fucking worse. And I've just gone and fucked it all up."

And while he blames it all on himself, you know it's your fault.

He didn't stay away from the girl. He tempted fate, tugged on the red string, and accidentally snapped it.

Forlorn, he slumps, tongue wetting his bottom lip as he bites down on it. It's only to stop it from trembling. Clouds lurk in his eyes, trying to block his vulnerabilities from you, but it doesn't take a genius to work out that he's scared.

"Take it," you say, lips in a flat line, eyes stern. You nod towards the pile of cash on your desk, and his eyes follow. "Take it. Pay your debts. I can earn it again. I don't have a deadline. You do."

He shakes his head.

"I'm not taking the money you've earned."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not," he protests and you've got it in your right mind to slap his pretty face silly. "Gonna be totally honest," he adds, "Don't really want your sugar baby money. Kinda resent it a little. Resent the fucker who gave it to you."

Jungkook hates him.

Doesn't know him.

Loathes him.

"So then give him the middle finger and take it," you plead. "He got you fucked up into this mess, he got you jumped, he got your stash stolen. Take his money and get yourself and Yoongi out of it. You don't have time to be fucking arguing with me."

He wants to fight back. You stop him.

"We can argue later," you promise.

And that ever-present effervescent feeling is back in his chest.

"Sugar," he speaks quietly. "Don't do this."

"Kook," you respond, voice much firmer than his. "You gotta do this. Yoongi shouldn't be fixing your mistakes and you know it. We can work it out on an I.O.U. basis. It's okay."

"I.O.U. suggests I'm gonna keep seeing you for a while," Jungkook mumbles. He isn't feeling as confident in himself as he had done earlier.

You stand, offering your hand to him so that you can pull him up with you. Neither of you acknowledge the fact that he's stark bollock naked. It's really not the time. Nothing you haven't seen before, after all.

"Well, yeah," you shrug with a straight face, but there's a glint in your eye. "I'd hope so. Pretty sure you said you were fuck my tits later? Gotta hold up your end of the bargain, sugar."

And despite it all, he laughs, toying with your hands before slipping his finger between yours. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?" You squeeze his hands. "You're technically my sugar baby now."

"That's not how it works."

God, he knows he shouldn't be fucking about, wasting time flirting, but he just can't help himself.

"No?" You question, equally distracted.

"No," he says. "If you're paying me, and I'm fucking you, then that makes me a hooker."

He's not wrong.

"Oh, that's kinda hot," you smile, pulling gently on his hands to encourage him to lean down. He does as he's told, and kisses you like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"You're so fucked up," he whispers against you, knowing that it's exactly why he enjoys you so much.

You don't let the moment linger, though, tossing him his clothes and going to grab the money while he dresses himself. You stack it together, all nice and neat, using the desk to straighten the edges. The wedge is thick in your hands. Yellow 50's are laughing at you. Stupid girl thought we'd fix her problems, they chatter silently to one another.

"Three and half million won," you hold it out to Jungkook. He hesitates, so you force his grip around it and let go. It's his problem, now. Not yours. You smile so warmly that Jungkook can't help but let that feeling in his chest simmer. Your hair is still messy, mascara still smudged. He wants to kiss your cheeks.

Jungkook hasn't disclosed what exactly was in his bag.

But in the same way he knows there are only three types of women in Daerim, you know there are equally only three types of men.

There's only one demographic that he belongs to. Yoongi, too.

You don't say it explicitly, not like he does.

"Holangi are nasty fuckers," you acknowledge. "I know they raise the stakes just for the fun of it. Whatever got stolen, the street value doesn't matter. Take it all. You'll need it."

Take what I owe you.

When he kisses you goodbye, it's just like the first time; all breathy and needy, lips parted and pouting. Again and again, he presses down into your lips. His brows furrow, hands on your cheeks, chest pressed against yours.

The crimson paint that had stained you from his very first kiss returns. You're painted in red for the second time that morning, but this time only you can see it. Only you can feel it.

That's her. That's the girl who let Jeon Jungkook kiss her like he actually meant it.

But it's funny now, because you know that he does mean it.

When he finally leaves, his nose is blushed, his cupids bow too. Eyes glassy. Smile forlorn.

Disappointingly, as you close the door of your apartment when he's no longer in your line of sight, you remember exactly how Jungkook had kissed you for the first time:

Like it was going to be the last.

And it consumes you, because the kiss you just shared felt exactly the same.

Your chest is uncomfortable again, but it's not rubber bands this time.

It's that stupid red string that Jungkook had tugged too tightly on.

The one that he'd snapped right in half.

WATTPAD // AO3 // KO-FI // CARRD

#jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot

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freedomfireflies · 6 months

Text

Outlawed*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Knockout*

The one where Harry just wants to fight, and you just want to love him.

Word Count: 10k (folks...we made it!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, blood, violence, brief use of a knife, pain kink, size kink

“Cherry?”

Instantly, your head lifts. The familiarly warm nickname sewing up the frayed seams of your heart and sending it into a tizzy.

However, instead of the handsome stranger you’ve come to miss, you find Owen. Eyebrow raised and expression curious.

With a quick clear of your throat, you pull your attention back. “What?”

“Cherry,” he repeats, nodding now toward the pastry in front of you. “Is it cherry tonight?”

You look down as well. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yup.”

“Hm.” His lips press together in thought. “I like the cherry. The way you make it, it’s…it’s sweet. But just a bit sour.”

“Yup...”

“It’s very good.”

“Thanks.”

His hands disappear into his pockets with a short nod of his head. “I know the customers really like it, too. Get comments about it all the time.”

“That’s good.”

“You could probably make it every night. If you wanted.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

There’s a bit of a tense lull now as you continue rolling the dough, and you notice Owen begin to shift just out of your peripheral. He doesn’t normally hover when you’re working, not unless he’s got something he’d like to talk about, and his lingering glances make your insides begin to itch.

So, you raise a brow, and look over. “Is something…wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, no. No, not at all,” he stammers. “I just…wanted to check in. See how you’re feeling.”

Curious, you straighten up.“Oh…why?”

“Well, I’ve just noticed how quiet you’ve been,” he explains. “And I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just…trying to get my work done.”

He steps closer. “I noticed your friend hasn’t been coming around as much. The sullen one, with the dark clothes and broody temper?”

And despite everything else, you can’t help but smile at the memories. “Oh, yeah, well…I don’t think he’ll be coming by anymore. Don’t worry.”

“Ah.” A brief pause. “Is it because of Jesse?”

Instantly, you lean back, pulling the rolling pin away from the counter in surprise. “What?”

“Jesse. The other boy who was in here,” he says. “The tall, snobby one in the fancy clothes? Kind of annoying?”

“I…yeah.” Your lashes flutter. “I guess, I mean. They don’t really…get along. But…it’s probably my fault, too.”

He hums to himself almost contemplatively. “You’re not back with him, are you? The Jesse one?”

“Uh…no. Why?”

“I just…I don’t like him,” he sighs, arms crossing over his apron. “I think he’s trouble, and truth be told, you don’t always look that happy when he’s around.”

And you know he’s right, although you are a little surprised that he noticed. “Oh…well, no. No, not at all.”

“Good. Good.” He nods again. “Honestly, you can do a lot better than him, darling. Especially considering everything else he’s involved in.”

Now slightly more startled, your head tilts. “What do you mean?”

“Well…you know,” he begins, moving even closer before lowering his voice. “I don’t want to talk out of turn, and I certainly don’t want to scare you, but…I imagine you already know a little of what he really does, yeah?”

And even though you should know better than to answer, and even though you have Harry’s stern voice ringing in your ear not to trust him…you nod.

“Right, well…I know how much trouble that might put you in,” he continues. “And I know that with the fighting, and the betting, and the outsourcing…I’d hate to see you get dragged down with him—”

“Wait, what? What outsourcing?”

After a quick glance around the rather empty kitchen, Owen sighs, and murmurs, “Look, I don’t know everything, but a few months ago, he approached me with a proposal. He explained about the fights, and about the betting, and said that I’d be making easy money. That it was a guaranteed win because his fighter never lost.”

And suddenly, the image of Harry in that ring – night after night, hit after hit – paints itself across the forefront of your mind. You lose your breath, chest constricting with the thought of all the pain he endures at Jesse’s hand.

“And from what I could tell, he was taking the betting outside of the fights,” he explains. “I don’t know where or to how many other people, but he was pretty confident. And truth be told, I started to wonder if he’d maybe rigged it.”

“Rigged it? How?”

He shrugs. “I’m not really sure. Maybe he was paying the other fighter to lose or maybe he was paying his fighter extra to make sure he always won. Either way, I said no, and he took his business elsewhere. I think he was afraid of getting caught.”

And it makes sense. Every little detail clicking into place as you recall that night at the match. Jesse’s threat and his insistence on Harry’s win. Harry’s refusal not to play his game.

You straighten up. “Right.”

“Look, I just…I don’t want to see you get dragged down with him,” Owen finishes softly. “You’re a good kid, and he’s…you can do better. You can do a lot better than him, and I hope you know that.”

And you do now.

“Thanks,” you murmur before placing the rolling pin down. “I know this is a bit last minute, but is there any way I might be able to leave early today? I think I need to go find him.”

“Yeah. No problem.” He checks his watch. “Joshua’s supposed to be coming in soon. I could have him cover for you if you’d like to leave now.”

“Really? Would that be all right?”

“Sure. The pies probably won’t be as good as when you make ‘em, but…” He throws you a smile and you laugh. “Do what you need to do. And if you need any help, just give me a call, okay, darling?”

Nodding quickly, you wipe your hands down the front of your apron before ripping it off. “Of course. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

You’re out the diner door in under two minutes, nearly sprinting to your car as you work out a plan.

You’re almost positive that outside betting goes against the league’s rules (although you wonder if an illegal, underground fighting society even has any rules at all). But especially if it means Jesse ends up making more money on each fight than anyone else actually involved. The fighters included.

And if Jesse truly doesn’t want anyone else to know, you might have just found your loophole. A way to get him out of the picture and still keep Harry safe.

You aren’t sure where to start. Truth be told, you aren’t sure what you’ll even say. But perhaps you don’t have to say much. Perhaps you only need Jesse to know that you know, and he’ll take care of the rest.

You head for the one place you know he might be. Your heart aches to call Harry, but without an address, a last name, or a phone number, you don’t really have very many options. You can only hope that he’ll find you once this is all over.

When you finally make it into the darker part of town, your pulse begins to pound. Slamming against the sides of your ribcage as you pull up to the familiar building and park. Right beside the only other car in the lot.

It’s not until you step out that you realize who it is.

“Well, well, well,” Jesse calls with a devious smirk, exiting his vehicle as well. “What a surprise, sugarplum. Come to watch tonight’s big fight?”

You take in a brave breath and begin toward him. “No. I’m here to talk to you.”

His brow raises, but he seems relaxed. In fact, far too relaxed for your liking. “I see. And can I assume this has something to do with your little boytoy?”

“Not quite. But it does have to do with you.”

“Ah.” He grins to himself before dramatically gesturing toward the warehouse. “Then, by all means.”

So, with a shallow exhale, you oblige, trailing after him and toward the front door just as you did the other night. It’s an eerie deja-vu.

And perhaps you should feel a bit more nervous than you do, but deep down, you know him. You know that he’s lacking any real emotion or regret, and maybe, that might just give you an edge.

After typing in the passcode, he leads you inside. The once glorious space now dark and empty. Sporting nothing but the large boxing ring and the stunning chandelier.

“I’ve gotta be honest, sugarplum, I don’t know what you said to him…but it worked,” he begins as you both walk further into the room. “I’ve never seen him fight like that before.”

You purse your lips together in an effort to resist screaming at him. “Well, that’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is.” He stops near the ring and turns around, leaning on it as he studies you. “And I knew you’d come through.”

“Great. So, you’ll leave him alone now, right?”

“As long as he wins, sure.”

“You mean, as long as he makes you money.”

His arms cross now, and that smug expression makes you want to slug him. “As long as he does what he gets paid to do, then there won’t be a problem.”

“Right. And as long as you can keep outsourcing the bets.”

For the first time, he hesitates, that arrogant grin slipping ever-so-slightly as he raises his chin. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I stutter?” You step closer, and you notice him tense. “The money that you outsource to other bettors. The money that you make – that Harry makes you – on these fights every time he wins.”

His jaw ticks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“No? You wanna bet on that?”

And you don't think you've ever seen him so livid. Not even on his worst night when you were together, and your insides begin to wrench.

But before he can reply – before he can really do anything – a door opens. Allowing a rather bright stream of light into the warehouse as you and Jesse both reach up to shield your eyes.

And then...you see him.

Harry.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s really looking at, but you catch the exact second he realizes. The way his face contorts and his fingers curl into his fist.

And you want to explain, want to take back everything you said and tell him the truth, but he’s already speaking up before you can.

“What the fuck is this?” he calls, and it’s so very angry. But he’s not talking to you.

He’s talking to Jesse.

Jesse merely rolls his shoulders back, attempting to settle back into his condescending façade. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“No?” He scoffs. It’s bitter and full of disdain. “Because anything you fucking say to her concerns me.”

Your heart skips.

Jesse, however, merely snorts to himself before glancing at you. “It’s a wonder you manage to get anything done on your own.”

Harry instantly strides closer, and you suddenly feel safer. Relieved to be near him again and desperate to feel him. To wrap yourself in his arms and never let go. To make things right.

But not once does he look in your direction. Instead keeping his focus on the man near the mat as he approaches. “Don’t fucking speak to her that way,” he nearly growls. “In fact, don’t speak to her at all.”

“Or what, hm?” The haughty cadence is back. “Do you really think you have any power outside of this ring?”

“I think I can knock your fucking teeth down your throat anywhere I goddamn please.”

“How incredibly barbaric.” Jesse’s brow cocks upwards. “Is he like this when he fucks, too?”

This question is directed at you, and no sooner has it left his mouth does Harry suddenly surge forward, grab him by the collar, and slam him back into the ring.

You gasp – or maybe you scream – before Harry removes one hand in order to send it flying straight into Jesse’s nose.

Blood is everywhere. Dripping from Jesse’s mouth, smeared across Harry’s knuckles, splattered along the concrete floor.

And you want to intervene. Want to do anything that might make you feel a little less useless, but Harry is delivering the second blow before you can decide.

“You fucking—” Punch. “—piece—” Punch. “—of shit.” Each comment is swimming in vile contempt, his expression livid and incensed.

You’ve never seen him this outraged. Didn’t even know a person could hold this much resentment, but it sends chills down your spine.

“Harry,” you murmur, taking a tentative step closer. “Harry, wait—”

“After everything you’ve fucking taken from me,” he sneers in Jesse’s face, “you wanna take her, too?”

Jesse’s only response is to suck in a large gasp for air that becomes gargled by the blood in his throat, and you feel sick.

“Harry,” you try again, grasping onto his other arm in an effort to tug him back. “Harry, wait, there’s another way—"

He brushes you off almost too easily. “And now—” Another hit, this time to Jesse’s stomach. “—you think she can save you? You think you can use her to get what you fucking want?”

He sends his busted knuckles straight into Jesse’s teeth, and your insides twist.

“Harry, stop,” you plead, yanking on him a bit harder. “I found another way, okay, please—”

“You fucking think…I’m gonna let you use her?” he seethes before pulling his arm back for the next hit. “You’re out of your goddamn mind—”

Without much thought, you suddenly rush around him, and place your hands on his chest. Wedging yourself between the two just before he can land the next strike to Jesse’s jaw.

It’s stupid and it’s impulsive and it’s rash, but it works. And it’s the only thing that seems to pull him back from that treacherous edge as his eyes find yours and his arm instantly drops.

It’s the first time he’s looked at you in days, and you want to cry. Because he’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before. Void of any emotion or understanding except for the realization that he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Harry,” you whisper, and his name cracks from your throat. “Harry, please, I…I found another way. Okay? He…you don’t have to do this—”

“I know. I want to,” he replies, still rather hostile.

“But I don’t want you to,” you argue. “Okay, I think we can get out of this. There’s a way to get him out—”

“I don’t want a way. I want to fucking kill him.”

“Harry, you…” You suck in a quick breath and move closer, nearly gluing yourself to his tense frame. “He’s outsourcing the bets. He’s stealing money from the fights, okay, and we can get him out.”

He looks surprised for all of a minute before the look suddenly vanishes and he attempts to brush you away. “I don’t care. He deserves this.”

“Harry,” you nearly gasp, “if you do this, they’ll kill you. Okay, and I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you—”

His features soften, although he still begins to push past you. “You’ll be all right—”

“Stop, just listen—"

“Cherry,” he warns now, “get out of the way.”

“Harry, please, don’t do this. You can’t do this—"

“I don’t care. Move—”

“Harry—”

“Cherry, move—”

“I love you.”

He stops. Seems to freeze right where he stands, but you barrel on. Clutching onto his dark, familiar hoodie as though trying to grab at his heart.

“I love you,” you repeat in a strained whisper. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I lied, I…I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was helping, or…or doing what was best, but it wasn’t – I wasn’t. I wasn’t, and I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. Blinks. Doesn’t move.

“And I love you.” You suck in a shaky breath as the tears fight their way to your waterline. “I love you so much it makes my chest hurt, and I can’t lose you, and…and please. Please don’t do this.”

And you’ve never felt so vulnerable or afraid. And not because of his silence, but because you’ve never loved anybody the way you love him. And you’ll understand if he no longer feels the same or if he’s changed his mind. If he wants to punish you for your lie or for your attempt to say it now.

Instead…he moves to rest his hands over yours. Keeping them over his heart before dipping down…and kissing you.

And it fixes everything. Absolutely everything. Because it’s perfect and familiar and so incredibly Harry.

And you’ve missed him.

You feel an arm slowly snaking around your lower stomach, and you begin to smirk against his lips before you realize who the arm really belongs to.

It yanks you back, ripping you away from the man you love until you’re cemented against Jesse’s chest.

Something cold and sharp is settled against your throat, and you take in a quick gasp for air.

Harry attempts to remain calm as he’s forced to watch, but you can see the edges of his sanity coming loose. Jaw clenching, teeth gritting, brows furrowing. His shoulders are tense beneath his sweatshirt, his hands are balling into fists, and his head is cocking to the side like he’s debating whether or not to lunge.

Jesse merely laughs in your ear. “This is so fucking pathetic. And so goddamn cliché, sugarplum. Is this really what you want? Him?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, and Harry takes a brave step forward. But almost instantly, the blade of the knife begins to press further into the soft skin of your throat, immediately forcing Harry back with a dark scowl.

“Easy,” Jesse warns as you both go still. “Come on, now, I think you both know better than that.”

“Jess,” you pant, reaching for his wrist. “Jesse, please—”

“It’s so simple,” he continues, ignoring your attempt. “So fucking simple. Just win the match. Win the goddamn match and you get to go home."

“I don’t fucking care. Let her go,” Harry seethes. “This isn’t about her—”

“Except that it is.” Jesse’s smirk widens. “Of course it is. You wanted to leave to protect her, so you will stay to protect her. You made it about her, dear Harold. I’m only following your lead.”

Something shifts now in Harry’s expression, and it nearly ruins you. He looks…lost. So very lost and helpless. Like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do without you.

Jesse presses his nose to the side of your cheek, and you feel the warm blood smear across your skin. “So, if you wanna take this away from me, then I have no problem returning the favor.”

The knife is pulled taut to the curve of your throat, and you hiss, making Harry’s face pale.

And when his eyes finally flitter to yours, you realize what you have to do.

“Harry,” you whisper, nodding once. Subtle enough to go unnoticed by the man behind you before you smile gently. “It’s okay.”

You’re not sure he truly understands, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. He will soon.

So, you slowly lift your arm until you can bend your elbow, only to send it flying straight back into Jesse’s stomach.

It’s not enough to really harm him. In fact, it’s hardly enough to even surprise him, but it does distract him just enough to loosen his grip on the knife. Giving you the room you need to spin around in his hold and deliver your fist to his face.

The shock of the blow seems to do more than the strike itself. But he goes stumbling back, nevertheless, and the moment his arm has dropped from your waist, Harry steps forward and rips the knife from his hand.

Once it’s in his possession, he grabs onto your wrist, and wrangles you behind him.

“Don’t ever…” he begins, stepping closer until the tip of the sharp blade can rest just beneath Jesse’s jaw, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

Jesse says nothing. He merely stares through his swollen eyelids and bloodstained lashes.

“You’re no longer Harry’s sponsor,” you add. “And you’re no longer a part of the league. Do whatever you have to do to get out. Or we’ll do it for you.”

Harry smirks, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so smug.

When Jesse doesn’t answer, the weapon is nudged further into his bruised skin, forcing him to suck in a sharp breath as he finally grits, “Fine.”

Satisfied with his response, Harry lowers the knife, and steps back just far enough to let Jesse slip by. And the two of you watch as he stumbles toward the door without a single glance before disappearing into the parking lot.

Leaving you both behind.

The moment he’s gone, Harry turns to you, wraps his arms around your waist, and hoists you into the air. Keeping you snug in his embrace while you squeal and fling your arms around his neck for stability.

“Oh, that’s my fucking girl,” he nearly groans, and you laugh. “M’so goddamn proud of you, baby. Never seen something so fucking hot.”

You dip down until you can nuzzle your nose with his. “Well, I learned from the best.”

“Yeah? Good.” His grin nearly splits his face. “Can I please take you home now?”

And you nod so quickly, you’re nearly dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, easy. Easy, sweet girl, deep breath. I’ve got you, yeah? Know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon.”

With a sharp exhale, you motion your head up and down, allowing Harry to pull your hand closer in order to continue dabbing the alcohol swab over the torn skin of your knuckles.

His tiny bathroom falls quiet as you sit on the edge of the sink. Him between your legs, attention trained on your bruise. And while the sensation is rather uncomfortable, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so cared for. So…fulfilled and secure.

And you realize, this is how you were always meant to feel.

With him.

“It’s gonna sting for a bit, but I’m almost done,” he promises, eyes softening when he sees your pained wince. “You’re being so good for me, Cherry, I’m so proud of you.”

You pout and it makes him chuckle. “You made it look so easy.”

“S’cause it wasn’t my first time.” He reaches for the gauze. “And we already know how I feel about pain.”

With a smirk of your own, you jut your chin toward him. “Yeah? And how are you feeling now?”

“Now?” His expression is wicked as he now leans just close enough to ghost his lips over yours. “Now…I feel fucking insatiable.”

You waste no time kissing him. In succumbing to his games and his endless teasing. You kiss him, and you don’t care if that means he wins, because you’ve never needed anyone or anything more.

And he’s so entertained by your desperation. His own bandaged hand finding your cheek as you sigh against his tongue and settle into this moment of adoration.

When he pulls back, you’re winded.

He goes back to work dressing your knuckles, wrapping the white gauze around and around until your torn skin is thoroughly protected.

And you watch him as he does this. As he sweeps his thumb gently along the ridges of your hand before bringing it to his mouth in order to leave yet another kiss.

“There,” he murmurs, trailing his lips across the fibers. “All better.”

It’s the most beautiful and romantic thing you think anyone has ever done for you, and your heart lodges in your throat. “Harry?”

“Hm?”

“…do you hate me?”

Surprised, he instantly straightens up and leans back. “What?”

“Do you…do you hate me? Because of what I did? What I said?” You attempt to ward off the influx of impending tears, but you can already feel the first one slipping free. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

His expression immediately drops as he reaches up to grasp onto your face once more. Thumbs brushing quickly along your warm skin as you sniffle. “Cherry…I could never hate you. Ever.”

“But maybe you should,” you whisper. “I hurt you, and I lied to you, and…and I don’t deserve you—”

“Baby,” he breathes, surging forward to press his forehead to yours in an effort to silence you. “Don’t ever fucking say that again, do you hear me? I know exactly why you did it, and I could never be mad at you for that. I was only hurt because I didn’t want to lose you. But you were only trying to protect me. I know that.”

“I said I didn’t love you,” you nearly croak. “I said I loved him. After everything you’ve done for me—”

“You had to,” he interrupts, and his understanding only hurts more. “Cherry, you had to. It was the only way, and I know that. I knew it then, too. You’ve only ever tried to protect me, and I wasn’t letting you.”

You grab onto his wrists and vow to never let go.

“And it’s not fair that you were put in that position,” he continues. “It’s not fair that you were forced to make that call, and it’s not fair that I dragged you into this. You were expected to choose between somebody you’ve known your entire life and somebody you just met. That’s not fair, and I never should have made you—”

“It wasn’t a choice,” you hiccup. “It was never a choice. It was always you.”

Those pretty pink lips pull back into the softest grin you’ve ever seen. “You were trying to save me, sweet girl. I know that, and I will never, ever hate you. I love you.”

I love you. The three best words you could ever hear, and your first sob wracks from your chest as you fling your arms around his neck to kiss him.

He kisses you back, but it’s soft. And sweet. And meant to convey exactly how he truly feels.

And it works because this is all you’ve ever wanted. Just him, and this moment, and those three words.

“Easy,” he warns through a strained breath. “Baby, careful—”

“Please,” is all you pant. “Harry, please, I can’t…I can’t wait any longer, please.”

And he nearly coos with amusement as he nuzzles his nose under your jaw in order to paint more kisses along your throat. “Can’t wait, hm? But what if I want to make this special?”

“It is. Is special—”

“Cherry,” he chuckles, “it’s all right. M’not going anywhere. We don’t have to rush, all right? S’been a long day and I don’t expect anything—”

“But I do,” you huff. “I’m ready, I want to. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

He laughs a little louder now, leaning back in order to see you. “I’m just trying to take care of you, sweet girl. We didn’t wait this long to throw it away because of him. I want this to be good for you. I want you to be sure that this is really what you want.”

And you appreciate the sentiment more than you’ll ever be able to explain. But right now, there is only one true way you want to spend the rest of this horrid day.

So, you lift your leg and hook it around his hip, pulling him back between your thighs with a pleading look.

In turn, he smirks, fingers returning to your chin with a playful squeeze. “Thought I was the insatiable one.”

“We’ll take turns,” you exhale before surging forward to kiss him again. Capturing his lips between your own and savoring the feeling you never thought you’d feel again.

And you can see his resolve crumble. Can see the way his eyes fall shut, the way his chest rises and falls beneath his dark shirt, the way his hands grasp onto your waist to keep you close.

He’s hungry. Ravenous. Losing the fight before it even begins, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Because now – now – he can have you. He can give you exactly what you want, can be exactly who he wants to be for you.

“Where do you wanna be, baby?” he asks through teasing nips to your neck. “The bed? The couch? D’you wanna go back to your apartment? Might feel more comfortable for you—”

“No, I don’t care,” you interrupt anxiously. “I don’t care, I just want you.”

He grins against your throat. “My greedy girl,” he murmurs, and your stomach flips. “Let’s go to the bed, yeah? Wanna lay you out and see you.”

And you want nothing more than to let him.

Regretfully, he pulls his lips from your skin and steps away, and you feel like you might die without him. But he’s quick to remedy this by taking your hand in order to help you hop down from the sink. Leading you out of the bathroom and through his apartment toward the bedroom.

His apartment isn’t what you expected. Although, truth be told, you didn’t know what to expect. It’s a bit bigger than yours, but there’s something…empty about it. Hollow, almost. The furniture is scarce, the colors and décor are few and far between. It doesn’t even look like anybody lives here, something he pointed out the moment you entered.

“Hardly spend any time here,” he’d said as you glanced around. “S’just a place to sleep, really. It’s never really felt like a home…until you walked through the door.”

And it was wildly cheesy, and perhaps a bit lame, but it was everything.

His bedroom doesn’t seem to be any different as he leads you inside. The walls are a dark grey, and his bedding is a similarly dark shade. He’s got one chair and one dresser. It’s quite clean, all things considered. No clothes lying on the floor or towels slung over the closet door.

It’s so very…Harry.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as your eyes flicker about the room. “Know it’s not very romantic.”

But you merely grin as you shake your head and grasp onto his hand. “Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You drag him toward the mattress before plopping down rather contently. “It’s so you. And I love that.”

And he only smiles before chasing after you and wrangling you into his arms.

It’s a faster dance from there. His hands and lips are everywhere they can reach. Slipping up the backs of your legs, ghosting over the curve of your hips, pulling at the zipper on your dress.

You merely settle in his embrace and allow him to take whatever he’d like. To touch and kiss each lingering thought away until all you know is him.

He’s careful but practiced. Treating you with the same adoration and gentle precision as he always has. And you’re so very thankful to feel so safe in his arms. A kind of security you weren’t sure you’d ever find in a partner the way you have him.

With anyone else you’ve ever been with, sex has always been transactional. A means to an end. This thing that you do to get off and nothing more. And despite your submissive preferences, there have been times when you truly felt powerless to your partner. Simply…there. Until they decided they no longer needed you.

But Harry…

He looks at you like your body is sacred. Like he’s undeserving of being so close to you. Of getting to touch you, hold you, feel you. Completely in-tune to every noise you make and every flutter of your lashes. Constantly on guard for your enjoyment and consent so he never goes any further than you want him to.

But you know, undoubtedly, that no matter how far he goes…it’ll never be enough.

You want his everything. His all. Anything he’s willing to offer, and you imagine you feel about as grateful as he looks to be here with him like this. To witness this kind of tender reverence.

He settles onto his back and pulls you on top. Placing you in a straddle over his waist until he can gaze up at you. “You okay, Cherry?”

You nod quickly – breathlessly – before resting your hands on his chest to brace yourself. “Just excited.”

His smile is boyish and charming, showcasing that familiar dimple that makes your cheeks warm. “Good. Want you to be.” He rubs soft circles into your hip before his brows furrow. “Y’know what I just realized?”

“Hm?”

“I still don’t know your name.”

And despite it all…you laugh. “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

You smirk. “I still want to be your Cherry.”

He chuckles as he squeezes your sides and drags you closer. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs as you dip down to kiss him. “Always.”

With a soft smile, you trail your lips from his cheek to his ear, whispering the forbidden name almost timidly.

And to your surprise, he only grins wider. “That’s beautiful, sweet girl. S’perfect, too. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You feel the blood rush to your face as you bury your lips against his throat and gently tug at his skin. “Okay, all right.”

“I mean it,” he insists, palm slipping around the back of your neck to tug you back out. “Cherry, you’re beautiful. I don’t say it to say it. I look at you…and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

And maybe they are just words. Maybe they’re meant to make your insides twist and make your heart swoon. To be romantic and suave.

But you believe him. Because you can see in his eye just how much he means it. Can feel it in your stomach that he’s never been as honest as he is right now.

Further proving that everything in your life…has led you to him. Every decision, every regret, every mistake. It brought you right here, to this moment, in his arms.

You don’t waste any time on replies or longing looks. You kiss him, and you resume this frantic dance, and you beg him to make things better. To ease this ache in your stomach as well as your heart.

So, he does.

Nimble fingers pull at the zipper along your side, loosening your uniform until he can guide it up and over your head. Only stopping once to whisper, “S’this okay, baby? Can I see you?”

You nod almost impatiently. “Yes, yeah. Whatever you want, promise.”

“Hm. Careful what you wish for, sweet girl,” he hums warningly. “Or I might just take you up on that.”

The moment your frame is revealed to him, he nearly groans. Allowing his hands to smooth up and down your shivering silhouette as you anxiously wait for more.

However, instead of allowing him the time to indulge in your body, you begin to tug at his sweatshirt. Silently requesting he reveal himself to you, too.

He smirks. “All right, hold on.”

He barely has a chance to sit up before you’re reaching for his hem in a desperate attempt to remove it. Making him chuckle as he grabs onto his collar before swiftly pulling it over his head.

And you nearly sigh. Because he’s so ethereal to look at. Every ridge, and tattoo, and scar. The way he breathes, the way he flexes. You can’t help but reach for him, skimming your fingers down the dips and curves of his toned chest and stomach almost reverently as a breath catches in your throat.

And he lets you. Studying you closely while you study your hand. A moment of silence passing before he mumbles, “Baby?”

“Hm?”

He reaches up to tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. “M’gonna have to stretch you a bit before we start, okay? Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” you answer almost too quickly. “That’s fine. I’m not worried.”

He seems amused. “I know you’re not, but I am. You know I’d never want to hurt you. And I just want to make sure we go at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

There’s an odd sort of fluttering in your chest as you scoot closer and slip your fingers into the curls on his neck. Stroking his roots in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m okay with any pace as long as it’s you.”

“Promise?”

You nudge your nose against his. “Promise.”

Finally, he seems satisfied. “Okay, sweet girl. Then can you lay down for me?”

You’re on your back before he can even finish the question, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his and drag him along with you.

“Cherry,” he laughs again, and the sound is like music. An orchestra of joy and infatuation that you can feel all the way down in your toes. “Can’t be that greedy, can you?”

“I can,” you pant, hips bucking up as he reaches for the silk around your waist. “Just please…”

“Please,” he repeats thoughtfully, pulling his focus to the material he’s slipping down your legs. “You really are my sweet girl, hm?”

Another nod. “Mhm.”

“Guess I have made you wait, yeah?” He discards of the delicate panties before smoothing his palm up the inside of your thigh. “Made you sit and be good?”

“Harry…”

“And you have been,” he muses, ignoring your mewling. “Been so good for me. Think I need to show you how proud I am. And apologize for being so mean to you. For making you go so long without.”

He moves to settle between your parted legs, one hand beside your head to brace himself while the other travels down the expanse of your stomach. Calming the trembling skin and leaving goosebumps behind until he reaches what he’s looking for.

He looks at your face first. Examines your expression and the flutter of your lashes. Stilling just long enough to listen to you breathe. “It’s okay, Cher. I’ve got you.”

You run your fingers through his hair and smile. “I know.”

His thumb is the first thing that finds you. Ghosting gently over your clit and down in order to prepare you. Ease you into the sensation.

You take in a satisfied inhale that melts into a whimper and he grins.

Pushing through your folds, he slows when he finds your arousal. Glancing down to see it for himself. “So warm, baby. Missed this.”

“Missed you,” you nearly whine, and he seems pleased.

The tip of his digit pushes in just far enough to tease you but not enough to satiate you. Leaving a rather hollow feeling in your stomach the moment he pulls back out.

You just about slump into the mattress. “Harry…”

“M’just trying to be gentle,” he says. “And I wanna take my time. Wanna really feel you. Remember this moment.”

Your heart swells. “How oddly sentimental of you.”

He shrugs before pushing the finger back inside. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

Your back instantly arches from the bed when he reaches his knuckle. And the gratified look he wears seems to worsen this untamable ache.

“There you go,” he coos. “See? One’s not so bad.”

His pace is slow to begin. Torturous in a sense, but he knows that. He wants to work you up, make you squirm. Have your pleas falling from your tongue like water from the sky.

And of course it works, it always does. You weren’t sure what else you expected, but as he continues this steady rhythm, you feel your sanity slowly begin to come undone until you only have one choice.

“Harry…Harry, please, can’t…can’t—”

“What, sweet girl? Need more?”

Your head quickly motions up and down. “Please…”

“All right.” He pulls back before going again, this time with a stretch a bit more prominent. “Know you can handle two, yeah?”

And he’s right, you can, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t nearly ruin you to do so. Because while two is decidedly much better than one, it’s still not nearly enough. And more importantly, it’s not the one thing you really need.

You pull harder on his hair while you writhe beneath him. Eyelids growing heavy as the sound of his fingers driving into your pussy grows louder. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” He dips down and trails his lips along your cheek. “Gotta let me do this, baby. Just a bit longer, yeah?”

“Can’t…can’t wait—”

“Yes, you can.” His tone is firm but kind. Encouraging. “Know you can. Let me make you feel good.”

He begins to go faster. Thrusting into your cunt until your pulse is racing at about the same speed.

And he’s beautiful. He’s so goddamn beautiful, it makes you dizzy. Hovered over you on the bed, muscles flexing with each roll of his arm. There’s a soft glow behind his head from the light of his window, illuminating his curls like a halo.

It’s rather fitting, you realize. After all, he is your guardian angel.

“Breathe,” he instructs, kissing down the curve of your throat before finding your chest. “Almost done, yeah? Doing so good for me, look so pretty taking my fingers. Know you’re gonna be so beautiful taking my cock, hm?”

Again, he dangles the image right in front of you, only to take it away before it can fully render. “Har—”

“Shh,” he says again, mouthing at the swell of your breast that’s being pushed up out of your bra. “Gonna give you another. Want you to be still for me, okay?”

With a rather disappointed huff, you oblige, watching as he scoots back just far enough to get a better visual.

Three fingers brings you to the gates of heaven. As does that look in his eye when he sees the way your pussy stretches around the larger digits.

You can quite literally see the groan leave his body as he stares at you, lips parting in mesmerized bliss.

“You okay?” he manages to ask through a strained exhale.

“Yes,” you pant. “Can take more, I promise.”

“More, hm?”

“Yes…yes, please…”

He only hums.

Seconds go by before you’re gasping for air. Nails scraping down his scalp in desperation as he works you open. He’s incredibly focused, proud of the work he’s doing, and of the way your body bends to his will.

“There we go,” he praises softly. “Just like that. So fucking wet, sweet girl. Know it must ache.”

“It does…it does, Harry, please—”

“Got an itch you can’t scratch, yeah? Need me to reach it for you. Need me to fix it.”

“Please…”

“Almost, baby, almost.”

You feel the fourth begin to push in and you suck in a sharp breath.

He stops. “It’s okay,” he murmurs soothingly. “Gonna take me like a good girl. Already doing so good, just a little more. Relax for me.”

You do your best to obey, allowing your limbs to fall limp beside you, despite the tightening of the coil in your stomach.

Even still, it works just enough to allow him more room. Slipping in the added digit until you see stars.

The pumping is loud and driven. Truly an exercise in restraint – for both of you – as the pace begins to quicken and the noises begin to increase.

Then, he brings his other hand into play, and brushes his thumb over your clit.

And you don’t mean to – you didn’t even realize you were so close – but you cum suddenly and with a rather lewd moan that makes his eyelids flutter.

“There,” he whispers, as though entranced. “There we go, good fucking girl.”

You can’t seem to get enough air in your lungs as you come down. And Harry chooses not to help as he finally removes both hands…and begins to pull you apart.

He exposes your clit to the colder air in order to dip down and ghost his mouth across the top. Releasing a warmer breath that sends chills straight down to your toes, making you squirm rather violently.

“Har…Har—” you gasp, fisting the blanket below. “Please, can’t…can’t—”

“Just wanna look at it,” he says simply. “S’so pretty—”

“Harry,” you whimper, writhing beneath his hold. “Harry, this is mean.”

“Mean, hm?” He smirks now and you want to die. “Well, I don’t wanna be mean, baby. Wanna be good for you, just like you are for me.”

You choose to take this as a sign to continue, sitting up just enough to reach for his belt and begin to tug it undone.

He laughs now, glancing down at your frantic fumbling with a knowing grin. “Cherry—”

“No,” you huff. “No, it’s my turn.”

To your surprise, he only hums. “Go ahead, then.”

You do, yanking the belt through each loop before tossing it aside and moving for his zipper. You don’t imagine you’ve ever worked so fast or so hard for something (specifically a cock) in your life.

The moment he’s able to wrangle his dark jeans down his legs, you’re dragging him back down. Ignoring his protests and his reminder that he still has one article of clothing left.

Instead, you work on ridding yourself of your own, unhooking your bra and tossing it into the same pile as his boxers.

And now, as you both settle into your nakedness together, every imperfection on display, you realize you’ve never been more content. Because baring your heart to him was far more vulnerable than baring your skin.

And because this is where you were always meant to be.

“Okay, baby, m’gonna start slow,” he repeats yet again, and you nod. “Just tell me if you want me to stop or slow down, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nearly whine. “I will, I swear.”

“Good. And…shit, a condom, do you…do you have a preference—”

“Pill,” you pant. “I’m on the pill, just go.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes, please. I need to feel you, Harry, please…please.”

“Okay, all right.” He takes hold of your hips and positions you where he wants you before settling between your thighs. “Deep breath, okay? Just keep your eyes on me, I’ve got you.”

Another nod – quicker, more frenzied.

He takes hold of his cock and your eyes nearly roll back. It looks so beautiful in his hand. Just as stunning as you remember, and even though you never imagined you’d find one so appealing, your mouth seems to water.

Your leg hooks around his hip, subtly urging him closer, and he obliges. Giving himself a tug or two before gently trailing the tip down your aching cunt.

He moves up and down to collect a bit of your arousal before he finds your hole and slowly begins to push inside. Sinking in about half an inch before checking with you.

You nearly scream. “It’s okay. It’s okay, keep going.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes.”

His mouth curls up into a knowing grin as he continues. Allowing his cock to slip even further into your waiting pussy while your walls slowly stretch open to accommodate him.

And you’re hardly afforded the chance to enjoy this newer sensation before he suddenly dips down to kiss you. Perhaps an attempt at distraction, although it’s hardly needed. Because now you aren’t sure what to focus on, what feeling to indulge in. From his lips, to his cock, to the way your stomach nearly caves in on itself.

“Fucking shit, baby,” he groans against your tongue. “Shit, you’re so tight…feels so good—”

“I know,” you agree. “God, please don’t stop—”

“No. Never.” He sinks in a bit further and you dig your teeth into his bottom lip. “M’almost there, you still all right?”

“Yes…yeah, I’m perfect. Perfect, promise—”

“That’s my girl,” he nearly seethes before he suddenly drives forward, sheathing himself all the way.

You both still the moment he’s fully inside, his face now disappearing into your shoulder as though to brace himself.

And you wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt not to let go. Allowing your body the time it needs to understand this new intrusion and find pleasure with it.

When it finally happens, the stars align.

“Okay,” you pant, gently scratching at his back to garner his attention. “Okay, go.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Need more, Har, please.”

He pulls his hips back and the whimper you release is almost feral. But it seems to do wonders for him, because his expression twists into something desperate, and you feel your chest implode.

He settles into a soft, slow pace. In and out, in and out, in synchronicity with your eager pants for more.

And there’s too much happening all at once. Too much to watch, too much to take pleasure in.

The curls that drip down his forehead, the way his body looks as it connects with yours, the feel of his mouth going down your chest.

He’s everywhere all at once and somehow, it’s still not enough.

“Taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself. “Could taste you forever.”

He takes your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking at the pebbled skin before nipping at it gently.

You keen, arching from the bed until you nearly knock into him. “Har—”

He hums around your nipple, and you almost cry with frustration and pleasure.

Everything feels slow. Almost too slow but there’s something tender there. He’s not trying to fuck you, he’s trying to feel you. To mold your body to his and it’s rather effective. Because the way you crave him feels like heaven and hell all in the same second.

“Harry,” you whisper, practically deranged as you drag your hands down his chest. Nails tracing patterns down the tattoos across his abdomen. “Please…”

The noise he makes in response to your scratching is almost animalistic in nature, and you nearly flinch as you quickly lower your arms. Upset to have caused him any pain.

“No,” he groans, lifting up to nudge his nose under your jaw. “No, don’t stop. Keep going.”

“What?”

“Keep…shit—” His rhythm falters and you can almost feel the way his dick seems to twitch. “Keep going, s’okay. Want you to scratch me. Want you to hurt me, baby.”

And somehow, this reminder of his pain kink feels almost like a blessing. “Yeah?”

He nods faintly before attempting to resume his pace, and you happily take the lead.

Your fingers hesitantly return to his broad torso. Delicately tracing the muscles as they roll beneath your touch until you gingerly begin to press in. The sharp edge of your nails dancing across the expanse of his already torn skin.

In turn, he releases a strained noise that becomes lost beneath the grateful kisses to your collarbone. And you realize how much he truly enjoys it.

He gives you complete control of his body, of his pleasure. Because the harder you scratch at his scars, the more urgent his thrusts become. Until the sounds echoing around the room begin to echo between your ears. And the slapping of his hips into yours is inescapable.

“Feels so good, Har,” you nearly cry, lifting up just enough to kiss him quickly. “You’re so good to me. Always.”

“Shit.” His eyes about roll back before there’s a sharp snap of his cock into your eager cunt. “Always gonna take care of you. Promise—”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know, I love you.”

You say it now, and suddenly, everything changes.

It doesn’t matter if he’s heard you say it before or if he already knows because the look in his eye nearly guts you.

He’s so…happy. So incredibly happy and endlessly enchanted that he begins to grin. “You love me,” he repeats. Not a question.

You smile as well, and the sentiment seems to explode out of you. “I love you.”

And it’s perfect, this moment. This connection of two bodies and two souls into one. The way you stumbled through the dark until you found each other, and it makes sense. Everything makes sense now with him. Clarity in the truest form.

“I love you,” he echoes, and he means it. You can feel it in every thrust, every syllable, every brush of his lips against yours. “I fucking love you, Cherry—”

“Please,” you gasp, leg dropping to the bed while your arms follow suit. “Har, please—”

“Gonna cum for me again?” He begins to go faster, chasing after your orgasm. “Let me feel you around my cock, sweet girl, come on. Already feel so good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Can’t what, hm? Can’t hold it?” It’s almost sadistic the way he speaks, but you know he’s merely enamored. “I know. I know, it’s okay. You can cum for me, don’t have to wait. Promise I won’t be mad.”

You aren’t sure what you’re about to do, all you know is that you never want this feeling to end. This moment, this security. You just want to touch him, and look at him, and taste him for the rest of your life.

He interrupts your silence as a request for something more, and he offers it in the form of his dominance.

He takes hold of your wrist and hoists it above your head, pinning it to the mattress before settling his weight atop your chest. Trapping you beneath him until you have no other choice but to indulge in everything he has to give.

And you do.

“Sweet little cunt is all mine, isn’t it?” he purrs, teeth nipping below your ear as his fingers intertwine with yours. Holding your hand as he keeps it caged to the bed. “Spent all this time just waiting for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes…yes, fuck, Harry—”

“You were so patient. So good.” He’s growing more determined – sloppy – and your head begins to spin. “God, but you just needed me, yeah? Needed me to make it better—”

“Better,” you repeat almost mindlessly.

“Needed me to erase him—”

“Please—”

“Leave my mark. My fucking mark—”

“Harry—”

“You were never his,” he grits, and you aren’t sure who he’s really trying to convince. “You were never fucking his, you were always mine. And he knew it—”

“Shit, I can’t…can’t—"

His other thumb moves for your clit and you feel tears fill your eyes. “Yes, you can. Know you can, baby, and you will. Always do so good for me, gonna take my cum, aren’t you—”

There’s a strain on your muscles from the way they’re being stretched above your head, but you realize there’s something satisfying about the subtle pull. And when it’s coupled with a firm pinch of the sensitive nerves between the rough pads of his fingers, you start to lose it.

“There – shit – there you go,” he inhales, glancing over your face before watching the way his cock slips in and out of your pussy. Dripping in your arousal and smearing across your thighs. “Take me, just like that. Feels so fucking good, sweet girl, keep going…keep—”

You cry out and writhe helplessly beneath him. Pulling your arms from out of his hold in order to sling them around his neck and cement yourself to his chest.

And you have no choice but to succumb to the pleasure before you feel him follow.

“Fuck—” He surges forward, burying himself in you completely, moans melting into your feverish skin as you cling to each other. “Shit…I love you. I really fucking love you, Cherry.”

You smile lazily before bringing his mouth to yours. “I love you, too.”

He kisses you. All through the moment and then some. Until the sun has disappeared and the moon has been hung between the stars.

And you know that you have never been happier than you are in this moment, right now.

Just you, and him, and a pussy full of cum.

“Darling, we've got some at table six, could you go check on ‘em?”

With a quick nod of your head, you readjust your apron, and grab the notepad Owen is sliding toward you before slipping from the kitchen.

You find the eager customers waiting just beside the counter and take their order with a charming grin and a promise to slip them some leftover pie.

The diner isn’t too busy tonight, and you’re grateful. Now that you’re on dessert duty, you spend a majority of your shifts working on new recipes and finalizing the specials for the coming week.

Truth be told, you rather enjoy this new task. It keeps your mind occupied and your thoughts from drifting.

And baking is your happy place. Your sense of calm amidst a sea of uncertainty, almost rivaling your own true source of serenity.

Harry.

Once you’ve returned to the kitchen, you sneak a glance at the clock. 12:06 A.M. He should be here soon. Probably tired. Perhaps a bit stressed. Hopefully no worse for wear than usual.

Fight nights always tend to leave you on edge. You know he’s more than capable of taking care of himself, but you can’t help but worry. It’s what you do best.

Still, you’re happy for him. Because while pies are your happy place, the boxing ring is his. He’s only ever wanted to fight – to make money, channel his anger into something good. And perhaps it’s not a sustainable lifestyle, but for right now, it’s what he wants to do.

And you respect his choice. You’ll respect any choice he makes, as long as he’s the one making it. Instead of it being made for him.

Besides, without Jesse there, you find that Harry tends to have a lot more fun. He leaves the fights with a busted lip but a bright smile, and it makes your heart swell until it feels as though there’s no more room in your chest.

Last you heard, Jesse left town. Harry refused to tell you what really went down at the club once the other members found out, but you decided that was probably for the best. No matter what fond memories you still have of your childhood friend, he’s not who he used to be. And you won’t ever be able to change that.

But for the first time in a long time…you’re okay with that.

The clock continues to tick the seconds away, and with each passing one, you grow a tad more anxious. Your guardian angel is late. At least by a few minutes, and you scurry about the diner as your thoughts race about a mile a moment.

And then, just as you’re readjusting the cake stands and tidying up the dessert display, you see it.

Your not-so-strange stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in that familiar, white gauze, and are stained with streaks of red.

But he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

And you grin wider than you have all day.

“Hi, Cherry,” he calls the moment his head lifts, allowing you a better look at his stunningly damaged face as you scurry closer. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you nearly giggle, slipping off your apron before sliding into the seat across from him. “How was it?”

“Easy,” he snorts, but there’s a sparkle in his eye. “And I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“M’off for the next few days. Thought you could come over…and not leave.”

You laugh as you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Good.” He glances down at your interlocked fingers almost fondly. “Hey, you know what I just realized?”

“What?”

Now, a mischievous expression begins to form. “I never introduced myself.”

And for some reason…you can’t help but laugh.

“So,” he begins, rather charmingly as he raises your hand in order to shake it formally, “hi.”

And you really fucking love him.

“I’m Harry Styles.”

I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE AT THE END!! This has been such a fun story, and SUCH a wild ride that I feel very lucky to have gotten to take with so many incredibly wonderful people!!

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along and left the nicest comments or notes!! I cannot tell you what it means to me!!

Harry and Cherry will def be back for extras soon, but until then...I love you 🥹♥️ Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Previous Part:

~ Uppercut*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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messylustt · 6 months

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boss, i have a question — miguel o’hara. ( nsfw ). amazinggg scenario based on this request. so tasty wtf. cheating. bj. innocence. secondhand embarrassment? finally posted, oml i’m so sorry for the long wait :(

you had one question and too many awkward outcomes. you couldn’t ask the people you’d rather ask. they’d ask more questions, and most likely not tell it to you straight. you needed to know, but nobody got that.

all except miguel.

you wouldn’t dare look at his face as you mumbled the words out. wanting not to say them but also wanting an answer to them. the silence feels like two hands at your neck. you can feel your feet shuffling, unintentionally sliding back. maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

your mind and gaze focuses on a speckle of dust on the floor, as you wait. yeah, you really shouldn’t have asked.

at first miguel’s reaction was shock. you asked what? he thought he had heard wrong. he had to have heard wrong. but you’re still here, feet shuffling, gaze down, but nonetheless still here. you wanted an answer. why from him? he doesn’t know.

“you can ignore my question.” you suddenly say, feet a lot farther back then before. “you can — ”

“no boyfriend to ask?” miguel’s questions is simple, said in that typical unfazed tone. “um…yes, but…i can’t ask him.” you say back, with a tilt to your head, your gaze just below his eyes.

“why not?” he asks, but you don’t answer, again repeating your question. “what’s a bj?” your innocent tone tells miguel how you really don’t realise the implications of asking him something like this. your innocence is telling him to tell you. answer your question.

“do you know that it’s an abbreviation?” he asks, his gaze staring at your face a little more focused. you look to the side, sucking part of your lower lip between your teeth before glancing back. “i’m not dumb”

“mhm.” miguel just hums, glancing up at his shut office door, before looking back to you. “why ask me?”

“because i’d think you’d know.” you reply. “many people here know. your friends would know.” miguel states, crossing his arms. “they’d ask questions”

“i’m asking questions.” miguel answers straight away. “yeah but not the invasive ones.” you reply, now tapping at your fingers.

miguel eyes you, more narrowed, more intently. “you want to know what a ‘bj’ is?” miguel asks, now meeting your gaze, but you’re quick to look away. you nod, glancing to the far wall behind him. one word and a tap of his finger at his desk behind him, makes you shift it back. “c’mere.”

you now slide your feet closer, a little hesitant. miguel watches you, not missing one movement. then his hand is behind your head, his fingers in your hair, as he draws you closer. you should have backed away then, said you changed your mind, but you stay still, staring at him.

miguel, with his hand in your hair guides you down onto the floor, on your knees as he mutters. “kneel down.” you’re slightly confused as you look up at him. miguel grabs your hand and guides it to his hard on, that you just now notice at your eye level. your eyes expand as you realise. “you ever done anything with your boyfriend?” miguel asks, his suit beginning to disappear, as he keeps your head held by his hips.

“i…” you can feel your breathing pattern change, as miguel begins pump his already hard cock in one hand. “i’ll take that as a no.” he says, as pre-cum leaks out from his head, as he tilts his head down at you. “open up.” he utters as you gulp, big eyes staring at his tip. he taps under your chin as he lets go of his cock, urging your mouth to open, as you part your lips.

“a bj…” he begins as he pulls your head closer, tapping his cock on your tongue lightly. “is short for blowjob.” he coats your tongue in his pre-cum as you scrunch your hands into fists at your thighs. “is your boyfriend wanting one?” he asks, just looking at the way the white slips around your mouth before he pulls your head closer, your lips being moved to wrap around his head.

you try to speak around his cock, it twitching in your mouth at the vibrations, making him clench his jaw. “just shake your head or nod.” you nod. and that’s when his grip in your hair begins to slowly drag your lips up and down his cock. “hollow your cheeks” he instructs, as you try to do so, getting used to the feeling of a dick in your mouth.

“i don’t know why you’re not asking him, but i won’t ask any ‘invasive’ questions.” miguel says, his hips begin to slowly meet your mouth. you try to copy his movements. the up and down motion, that your head soon picks up. with his grip still in your hair, he notices the way you try to to take him deeper.

you’re soon choking, gagging around his head, as water pricks at your eyes. miguel could’ve warned you, told you about your gag reflex, but selfishly he wanted to see what you’d look like spluttering over his dick. “careful.” he mutters, not sounding very apologetic, as you glance up at him, his hips beginning to move a fraction faster.

miguel taps at your throat. “loosen up.” he says, as his hands pull your head further down, guiding your movements. you try and loosen your throat, having had to swallow all that extra spit. you meet his gaze, worried. but he just strokes your hair “gagging’s fine, cariño. you’ll get used to it.”

he pulls you completely onto him, your nose brushing his pubic hair. you then repeat those up and down movements, clenching your hands back into fists as you gag. “that’s it...” miguel hums, seemingly pleased. you can feel his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip practically tapping at the back of your throat.

with him stroking your hair, and holding the back of your neck, his abs tighten. he waits till the last second, your head obediently bobbing, before he pulls out, coating your suit-clad chest in white. you’re catching your breath, your cheeks stained in loose tears. miguel still pets your head, pushing the strands of hair out of your eyes, as he glances down at the mess he made, tilting your chin up. “does that…answer your question?”

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 20 days

Text

(Dark!) BNHA: Toxic Relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Bakugo + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Moments from your toxic relationship with your Pro-Hero boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation; Non-con.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know if you like this reaction format or what 🙂

–

Hawks

“Y/n is a real clutz, y’know. Can’t even walk on even ground without tripping over her own feet.”

Your cheeks flame with humiliation as the camera pans to the crowd that laughs heartily at the demeaning words, as if Keigo had dropped the funniest joke they’ve ever heard.

“That’s adorable.” the woman laughs, “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has no quirk? I believe you said she is quirkless, right?”

Keigo chuckles, nodding as he crosses an ankle over his knee.

“She sure is. Can’t even imagine what type of quirk she’d have, she’s just not the type.”

Your hand grips the remote tighter. What does he mean by that? Does he think you’re not good enough to have a quirk?

You consider turning off the TV, but fortunately the interviewer changes the subject. They casually speak about the current stance of heroes and their struggles on fighting off criminals and villains.

Keigo is charming as usual, delivering answers that are a perfect portrait of responsibility with a sprinkle of humor. He’s good like that, even though his previous answers left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Somehow, they end up reaching the topic of hobbies and free time.

“Going Pro Hero leaves little time for myself, so sadly I don’t really have much time for hobbies. Wish I had.” he says humbly. “My girlfriend has lots of them, though.”

You inhale sharply. Not again.

For your misfortune, the woman gets interested.

Perhaps because it’s an exclusive interview and her network channel gave her orders to squeeze every drop of information they can get on Hawks’ personal life.

“What type of hobbies? She looks like she’s a great cook.” she tries to guess, but Keigo bursts laughing, holding his belly in an exaggerated mannerism.

“Nah, cooking isn’t really her department. Burned eggs and half-cooked pancakes are more her style. She doesn’t even-”

You change channels in a heartbeat, bursting in tears at the low insults.

You’re not that bad. Sure, you’re not amazing at cooking, but never once did Keigo complain when he eats the food you diligently make after he returns from patrols.

And now he slanders you on national television?

And the worst part? It’s not even the first time he’s done this.

Dabi

“There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.”

“There is.”

“There isn’t.”

You stop writing your notes, swallowing back an annoyed sigh, already aware of what was happening.

“There is food in the fridge.” you repeat, “You just have to cook it.”

Dabi looks at you, unimpressed.

“No shit Sherlock. Maybe you can do it for me.”

“You serious?”

Meeting his arrogant smirk, you huff.

“Dead serious, babe. Not like you’re busy anyways.”

Your mouth drops at his audacity and you open your arms to indicate the mess of books, papers and pens in front of you.

“I’m studying, Dabi. Can’t you see that? Grow up and cook for yourself, yeah?” you snap your attention back to your books, but your mood has already turned sour.

You pretend to scribble down a few words when Dabi walks to you slowly. He peeks into your annotations, snorting.

“That handwriting is kinda shitty.” he mocks you. “Besides, what exactly are you even studying for? You’re not exactly cut out to be a doctor, y’know? Not enough brain cells in you to become that.”

You glare at him, angrily swatting away the hand that condescendingly tries to pet your hair.

“You’re such an asshole, Dabi. Maybe if your life revolved around something other than your stupid daddy’s issues, you would actually get a job. Not like Endeavour is worried sick about you, not when he’s got Shoto.” you spit the words venously.

Not the nicest words, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to bother.

A dark shade crosses Dabi’s face, his amused expression turning colder. You’d be lying if the sight didn’t ignite some fear in you.

“Is that so?” his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why would I need a job - or Endeavour, by that matter - when I have you?”

His hand reaches for your shoulder and there’s an edge in his eyes that immobilizes you. You shouldn’t have mentioned Endeavour.

“I’m not with you because of that bitchy attitude, you know. I like my girl to know who’s in charge. Respect is really important in a relationship and your behavior is making me really upset, baby.” his tone is scaringly soft, and his hand travels to your neck.

You hold your breath when the staples on his hand scratch against the delicate skin of your throat. “So, if you need me to remind you of your place, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

His fingers heat up at a low temperature, not enough to actually burn you but it doesn’t stop the lonely tear that slides from your eye, the only sign of the chilling terror you’re feeling.

He leans forward, kissing your forehead before sliding his hand away.

“Are we understood?”

The nod you give him is shaky at best, but Dabi smiles nonetheless.

“Now, how about that food you’re gonna make me?”

Bakugo

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Besides a low hum, Bakugo doesn’t acknowledge you much, too busy French kissing your neck.

His hands head for your ass, provoking a wince in you when he gropes it with unnecessary strength, your left ass cheek being kneaded like it’s dough.

Katsuki uses his grip on your ass to push your hips forward even as you complain again. The thin fabric of his sweatpants does nothing to hide the hardness that shamelessly rubs against your thigh.

“Katsuki.”

Once again he gives no sign of hearing you, rolling his hips with more urgency and you barely catch the tired groan that almost rolls away from you.

The clock on your side reminds you that despite the early hour, you’ll only have 6 hours to sleep.

You really have to sleep and if you’re being honest, tonight you’re not feeling sexy or horny enough to sleep with your boyfriend.

But that doesn’t make you feel any less awkward when Bakugo’s movements turn more vigorous and needy, humping your naked thigh as if he’s fucking it while you remain as alive as a statue.

“Fuck, this isn’t enough.” he growls against your skin, and your heart skips a beat when his hands reach for your shorts, tugging them down halfway until you panickedly grab his wrist, wiggling your body away from his.

“Seriously, Kats, I’m not in the mood tonight.” you say, quickly pulling back your shorts.

“You fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls through gritted teeth, still hovering above you.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you timidly nod.

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow? It’s just that-”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like you haven’t used that stupid excuse on me before.”

Your eyebrows raise with surprise at the bitter tone on his voice as he gruffs, pushing himself off you.

“I’m not making up excuses.”

“The hell you aren’t.” he looks at you, angry. “Every time I try to start something, you turn into a damn nun. Always too freakin’ tired, too busy or not in the mood.”

He scowls, spiky blonde hair falling to his eyes.

“All you have to do is open your goddamn legs and let me do the rest, and you can’t even do that.”

His words hit a sore spot and he turns his back on you, settling on the distant side of the bed after delivering strained punches to the pillow to soften it up.

“Maybe I go after those Dynamite's groupies that are always throwing themselves at me. Since you never want to fuck anymore.”

You’re left too stunned to speak, sadness blossoming at the cruel meaning of his words and it’s a struggle to swallow the tears.

He wouldn’t really, would he? But your mind lingers on the disturbing thought. He’s popular with girls, even with his angry mood.

Bakugo is tall, muscular and not even the ever present scowl in his face is able to contradict the attractive facial features he’s been blessed with. Meanwhile you’re just mediocre, if even that...

Your insecurities strike back, taunting you.

Your hand reaches for his arm before you even realize it, and you’re mildly surprised when he doesn’t shake you off.

“The hell you want now?”

Pulling on his arm until he finally turns to the side, you kiss him.

He groans against your lips, allowing your hand to rest on the warm plane of his chest and you let it slide lower until it touches his clothed member.

Neither of you speak a word, but you feel Bakugo smirking against your lips while he practically shoves your shorts down.

You allow yourself go limp underneath him, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the way he wants to. Holding back a tired sigh when the fluorescent numbers on the clock mock you.

You really have to wake up early.

Deku

“Are you serious, Izuku?”

The tall hero jumps, eyes widening almost comically when he realizes you’re standing on the bedroom’s doorway and not cleaning the kitchen, like he clearly assumed you to be.

“I wasn’t- The phone-” he stammers with his words, plowing your phone onto the bed with a bit too much force.

Crossing your arms, you flash him a frustrated glare.

“You promised me you wouldn’t spy on my phone anymore, Izuku.” your stern tone has him frowning and Izuku practically sprints closer to you.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just- just checking the time.” his words aren’t convincing enough for you to actually believe in him.

You squint your eyes at him, dodging his grabby hands with a nasty slap, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“Izuku.”

“I wasn’t! C’mon, you gotta believe in me.”

You don’t.

“Even if I did go through your phone - which I didn’t - why would that be such a problem?” he complains, dragging his voice. “Do you have something to hide or what?”

You point a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who went behind my back because you’re just too insecure to fully trust me.”

He shakes his head, emerald eyes turning feverish.

“You’re being dramatic, of course I trust you.”

“You don’t, stop lying.”

“I do trust you!” his voice rises in volume.

“No, you don’t!” you scream, voice breaking before you crumble in tears.

You’re exhausted. Of arguing, of dealing with Izuku, of everything. When did things turn so frustrating, so tiring? Why does he always have to ruin things for you?

Izuku curses under his breath before rushing to you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace as you cry on his chest.

“You don’t. You never will and I know that.” he stays silent, not contradicting you this time.

He lets you cry on his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair as he mutters apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Izuku hugs you harder, arms tightening around you. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise, I will.”

And like a fool, you accept his promise - even if you know it’s meant to be broken.

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talaok · 1 year

Text

A little favor

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem! reader

summary: You fucked up a trade and want to make it up to Joel

warnings: smut | dub-con, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, virginity loss, daddy kink, a touch of dacryphilia, dumbification, and a bit self insert

"I'm sorry" you sobbed "I'm so sorry Joel, I swear I didn't see them and when I did it was too late and- and I'm sorry I didn't run in sooner" you were out of breath "I'm so sorry"

Your face was drenched with your own tears, even the sleeves of your shirt were in similar shape.

You had fucked up

Once again, one might add, but that's not the point.

You were supposed to keep guard as he traded some things, you didn't really know what, he never told you what, or anything really.

He just brought you with him and stuck you outside to look out for FEDRA people.

That's how it had been for the past month,

And this time,

it went wrong.

The FEDRA people had in fact come, and you hadn't noticed them until they were practically in front of you.

It was a miracle you had gotten out of there alive

as for the other guy, the guy Joel was trading with... well, he hadn't been so lucky.

And so now here you were, sobbing on his - your- bed, because you had made a mess again, and he had to clean it up.

"I'm sorry"

God, did you never get tired of saying that?

"y/n" his deep voice interrupted your sobs

You looked up at him, or at what you could make out of him from the glassy fog your eyes had become.

"It's fine sweetheart" he raised your chin, settling in front of you.

Another tear escaped your eyes, and you sniffled

"but-" you bit your trembling lip "I was stupid- I was- I was inattentive"

"you should be mad" your voice cracked

But you knew he never did, get mad, and if he did, he certainly didn't let you see it.

You had no idea why, or how, all the men in your life before him (which were just two, your father and your ex-boyfriend) would get mad at the littlest thing, from you spilling some water on the precious - worthless-coffee table to you not understanding something as quickly as they wanted you to.

You weren't the smartest of the bunch, never were.

"at least she's pretty"

that's what everyone always said,

at least she's pretty,

at least she's not gonna realize you're insulting her even when you do it right in front of her, she's not gonna be an engineer but at least she's gonna find a man to take care of her.

"men don't like it when women are smarter than them anyway"

Every single phrase, every word was engraved in your brain,

in your tiny little brain, a mantra you repeated over and over, until inevitably, it became the truth.

It still amazed you how diffrent he was though,

You expected it, at this point, to be called stupid and worthless for the tinies mistake, but he had never as much as raised his voice.

He had never called you names,

he had never laughed at you, or made fun of you, or treated you like you were used to, like you were supposed to.

"I'm not mad"

"why?"

"it was a mistake" he shrugged "it happens"

"it happens a lot to me tough"

"well that's fine" his voice was warm "everyone's diffrent"

You still couldn't wrap your head around it "why are you so nice to me?"

He smiled "I like you"

"b-but I'm-" you avoided his glare "I'm-" you didn't even know how to say it,

how to describe how useless you actually were

"Baby it's fine" his thumb stoaked your cheek.

"what about the cargo?" you asked, raising your head again

"We lost it"

"I'm so sorry" another sob "it's my fault"

The room fell silent

"Can I do anything?"

You saw something happen behind his eyes

"really" you urged " Is there anything I can do to make up for it?"

"I can look for other contraband" you suggested even though both of you knew you had no absolute idea where to look for it "I can-" you were already out of ideas "I can cook dinner"

God that was stupid

He smiled and you wanted nothing more than to be invisible.

"Please tell me what I can do" other tears fled your eyes

"Please daddy"

Shit

You instinctively covered your mouth

You didn't mean to, it had just come out.

You were scared to look up at him, to see the amused grin he would have on his face as he made fun of you in his mind,

but as you wiped the tears off your face, glancing up at him, the only thing you did see, were his eyes darker than you'd ever seen them before.

"I'm sorry" you whispered "I didn't mean to-"

"don't apologize"

"b-but-"

"There is something you could do" his thumb was tracing your jawline as your eyes sparked with excitement

"Really?"

His lips twitched into a grin

"What?"

"well" he was looking at you differently than before "you could do me a little favor"

"anything" you immediately answered, making him chuckle.

"it's more of a personal one" he explained, moving some hair out of your face "more... physical"

You frowned, confused, and he took one of your hands to slowly place it on his crotch.

"I've never- I've never done that before"

"I can teach you"

You looked up at him, your big eyes hiding under your lashes.

You really wanted to make up for your mistake.

"ok" you murmured

"good girl" he said, as a strange heat pooled between your legs "undo my belt" he ordered, and you looked at him hesitantly before obliging, your nervous fingers fumbling with the buckle for a moment before you were able to undo it.

You looked up at him for approval and he only nodded, urging you to keep going.

So you did, you undid his zipper and slowly pulled his pants down.

Something hard was straining against his boxers, you could see the tent that had formed.

"Don't be scared sweetheart" he reassured you, and you gulped as you timidly pulled his underwear down.

Oh wow

It was big,

not that you had any means of comparison but it definitely looked big.

He must have noticed your eyes widening because he said "don't worry baby, I'll go slow"

You nodded, hesitantly taking it in your hands

"w-what do I do?" you asked, looking up at him, and you felt his member twitch in your palms.

"oh baby you're so precious" he groaned, and you genuinely didn't know if it was a compliment or not.

"you just have to open your mouth,"

You did it

"just like that baby, perfect" he praised

"and put it in"

You looked at his threatening dick and then at him, fear clear in your iris.

How was all that gonna fit?

"It's gonna fit" he read your mind "don't you trust me?"

You did.

You trusted him more than anyone.

And so you did it, you widened your mouth even more, and took him in, looking at him questioningly once your lips were wrapped on not even half of his shaft.

He groaned nonetheless "that's good baby, you can move now"

You did, you started experimentally bobbing your head up and down, and according to his heavy breathing, you seemed to be doing a fairly good job.

"hollow your cheeks for me baby"

You obeyed and were rewarded with a loud groan

You looked up at him, your eyes evidently asking -is this good?-

“That’s good” he breathed, his hand going to the back of your head “that’s good baby, keep going”

The room filled with a lewd noise as your lips and chin soaked with saliva.

You forced yourself to take more of him in, but your jaw was begging you to stop.

You tried to lean away but his hand didn’t let you.

“Go deeper baby”

You peeked at him worryingly

“You can do it, sweetheart”

“Don’t you wanna make it up to daddy?”

You hummed in agreement around his cock,

of course you did.

"then be good and choke on it"

you could feel your heart beating in your ears, but you ignored it as you did what he said, taking all of him in, until his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag softly.

A tear fled your eye, but this time it wasn't because of an emotion, it wasn't fear or patheticness, no, it was just reflexes, and for once, you liked it.

"that's it" he breathed "that's my good girl" he said, and you found yourself involuntarily rubbing your thighs together, desperate for some friction.

"fuck- that's it baby" he hissed as you kept moving your head, careful of every movement "that's it- keep going"

" 'knew you could take all of me baby" his fingers grazed your chin, as his eyes somehow darkened some more "do you think you could take daddy inside of you?"

His hand left your head and you leaned away

"inside?"

wasn't this already inside?

He seemed pretty inside to you.

"yes baby inside"

he leaned down to get closer to your face.

His fingers found your bare thighs, and danced until they were at the hem of your skirt

"do you think you could take me in your pretty pussy?" he explained better, and your mouth gaped open in surprise,

the real surprise was that your jaw was still able to do that after all that work.

"but-"

"be a good girl for daddy" you felt his digits get under your skirt as he breathed against your mouth "it's just a small favor"

"I've never-"

"I know baby" he pushed you onto the bed "But don't worry, I'll take care of everything" he promised, crawling on top of you "I'll take care of you"

he kissed your neck, a whimper fleeing your mouth "I'll make you feel really good" his quick hands freed you of your shirt and bra before you could even register it, and just after a few moments there went also your skirt and panties.

He hissed as he took you in.

"You've got such a pretty body sweetheart," he said as he kissed it all over "wish I could just stare at it all day" it tickled when he kissed your belly "touch it all day" he murmured against your skin "fuck it all day"

You whimpered as his mouth got inches from when you needed it the most, but he leaned away, taking off his own shirt and stepping out of his pants.

"so pretty" he mumbled as he used your legs to bring you closer to the edge of the bed.

He spit onto your cunt and you hissed, the cold sensation taking you by surprise.

His finger slipped between your folds, coating his digits with your liquids.

He groaned "such a pretty pussy baby"

"here" he drew his finger towards your mouth "taste yourself"

You could feel your cheeks color, but you did it nonetheless, tasting yourself around his finger.

He grinned at the sight "good girl" he hissed as he retracted his finger, and used the hand instead to position his dick at your entrance.

"stay still baby" he grabbed your hip, and you froze.

You could feel his tip graze at your entrance and it both excited you and terrified you.

You shut your eyes, biting your lip, bracing yourself for the inevitable pain.

"no look at me baby" he urged "keep those pretty eyes on me when I'm inside you"

"o-ok" you whispered, and he smiled

"god you're such a good girl" he said, as finally, he pushed himself in, or better, his tip in, and as you felt like a volcano had just erupted inside your body, you winced loudly in pain.

"I know baby" he cooed

no, you don't

You felt a tear travel from the corner of your eyes down to your temple.

He kept going, making you gasp in pain again, your hand gripping the sheets.

"It's-It's too big daddy" you cried out

"no it's not" he didn't give your pleads importance as he kept going, slowly but surely "You can do it, baby"

"I- I can't"

"yes you can" he stated "be a good girl and take it all for daddy"

"b-but it hurts" another tear

"it's gonna feel better after" he promised "trust me"

"daddy" your voice cracked as a sob came through

"come on sweetheart you almost did it"

" 's too much" you cried

"sh- sh- sh" he shushed you wiping some tears off your face " do it for me baby " he said, "you said you wanted to make it up to me"

"I-I do"

"then do" he cocked an eyebrow, and you nodded, sniffling.

"good girl" he praised, as he took your waist and with one harsh move, thrust fully into you.

"see" he admired his cock so deep inside of you "knew you could do it" he smiled at you before retracting his hips, briefly noticing the blood on his dick, and then slamming it back in.

"oh my god" you moaned

"fuck" he grunted " got such a tight pussy baby," he said, developing a rhythm as weak shocks of pain mixed with overwhelming ones of pleasure.

"knew it would be good" he kept talking through labored breaths "just like you sweetheart" he grabbed your hips more harshly as he slammed into you mercilessly now "always so obedient" he purred " so good for me"

"knew you'd take me well"

"knew you'd have such a perfect little pussy"

He bent down and to your surprise, he kissed you, messily and sloppily, but heavenly nonetheless.

"daddy" you whimpered, your back arching against the bed

"It's like it was made for me" he grunted " just designed to have only me in it" he hissed "to be mine"

"is it mine baby?"

"y-yes" you nodded, all the pleasure fogging your brain "it's yours, daddy- all yours"

He kissed you again "and what about you?" he asked, his hips still working like it was his life-long duty to slip you in fucking half "are you mine, sweetheart?"

"yes" you whined

"You're my good girl?" his hand found your clit and you gasped, a breath getting stuck in your throat "you'll do anything I want you to?" he asked, "when I want you to do it?"

"yes daddy-yes"

"that's my girl" he smirked, as you felt a weird pressure form in your stomach.

"so if I tell you that I wanna come inside you're gonna let me right?" he asked breathlessly "because you're my good little girl and I can do anything I want with you?"

"mh-mh" you nodded mindlessly

"that's right baby," he said "I can feel you're coming"

"your pretty walls are squeezing me"

"do you wanna come?"

"yes!" you moaned "yes please daddy "

He crashed his lips with yours "then come all around me sweetheart"

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro Pascal smut #smut #joel miller dumbification #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us

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thebearer · 10 months

Text

follow me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: the bear needs a social media rebrand. sydney hired you, and carmen gets more than just followers after meeting you.

an: bad descript i'm sorry lol. basically you're a social media manager and carmen likes you lol or how you and carmen meet <3 also thinking this will be a part 1???? lmk if you want a part 2!!!

contains: reader is a social media manager. language. carmen denying himself happiness ofc. mentions of mikey. fluff, fluff, fluff!!!

“What the hell is this?” Sydney’s voice raised, brow raised even higher to heighten her suspicions. Maybe her disgust.

After Carmen looked at the snarl on her face, he decided it was definitely disgust.

“What?” Carmen shrugged, looking at the screen in front of him. “It’s the, uh, The Beef’s old Instagram.”

“Right.” Sydney said slowly, blinking at Carmen obviously. “The Beef, and we are not that anymore. We are The Bear.” She scrolled for a moment. “They also haven’t posted since twenty-twenty, which is-”

“-Well, Mikey ran it, alright?” Carmen huffed, glaring at Sydney with annoyance. “I just found the fuckin’ password on a fucking gum wrapper in a folder labeled ‘important shit’ so I don’t know what to tell you.”

Sydney nodded slowly, looking back at the phone, before sighing deeply. “I know what you should do.” She said, typing on her phone. Carmen grunted, still looking at the piles of order forms for produce in front of him. “You need a social media manager, because Carm, this? It's not gonna work.”

“Social media what?” Carmen’s brows creased, shaking his head. “I don’t- no, I don’t need to do that. I’ll just, I’ll get Gary or fuckin’ Sweeps or Fak to run-”

“No, no, Carmen, seriously? Look at this. There’s- oh my God- there’s a thing here that says bring your own plate and you’ll get a free drink, Carmen… What the fuck?” Sydney sighed, shaking her head at him.

Carmen nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I-I’m thinking that was a, uh, a Mikey special.” He muttered, pinching his eyes shut. “I can’t afford to hire someone on the payroll for that long, ok? Not when I could hire another hostess or-or a runner.”

“They only come in to revamp and get it started. Just a little kick start for now. To get us started.” Sydney explained, clicking on her screen. “Look, I have a mutual friend with this girl who’s really fuckin’ good, ok? She did Lobo’s that pizza place? Got them from two hundred to eighteen thousand followers in like two or three months.”

Carmen’s eyes flashed, looking at Sydney with a raised brow. “Seriously? Fuck…” Carmen looked at the screen, the crisp photos, videos, fun and trendy- vibrant and alluring. He hated to admit it, but it was good.

“Look, Carm, it’s free advertising, ok? You catch the influencers if it goes viral. Could really put this place out there.” Sydney countered. “It’d be a lot cheaper than paying for some shitty advertisement on the news that no one watches anyways. Could bring in a lot of business and attention.”

Carmen’s fingers drummed against the counter, sighing sharply. “Fine, whatever, see if you can get her in and just… Just tell me how much I need to put aside, alright? I’ll push the new glasses until then.”

Sydney smiled triumphantly, nodding at Carmen. “Yes, Chef.” She saluted, walking out of the office.

Three days later, you were standing outside of The Bear, newly opened, freshly renovated, and steady but not booming. “Uh, excuse me?” You waved through the window at the man in the beanie, looking at you carefully.

“Hey, we’re closed until dinner, alright? But you can-”

“Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not here for eating.” You cringed, shaking your head. “I’m looking for Sydney? Or Carmen? I’m the new social media person?”

“Social media?” The man repeated, pushing the door open further. “Oh, shit! You’re the girl who does the, uh, Lobo and Avec!”

“Yeah, I am.” You blushed, walking into the restaurant.

“I love watching those reels of the asmr cutting the bread. Ugh, I watch it every night before going to bed.” The guy laughed, locking the door behind you. “Oh, I’m Marcus by the way.”

You took his extended hand, introducing yourself, while you took in the fixtures on the wall, the art, the overall ambiance. “I am going to get Carmen, but you can stay right here if you want.” Marcus grinned, pushing the sliding doors open.

You set your things down, pulling out your notebook, and looking around the restaurant. You knew that this was once The Beef, Sydney had sent you a few things about Carmen’s credentials and you looked up the rest. Impressed was an understatement, a guy your age that had ran the best restaurant in the world? Quite possibly was the best chef in the world or at least Chicago and needed your help? You were nervous, to say the least.

Marcus called your name, making you jump slightly as you turned around. “Uh, so this is Carmen. He’s the owner, the head chef.”

“Hi,” You were met with piercing blue eyes, hidden under a stray blonde lock of hair. Carmen’s hand reached for yours. “Nice to meet you. Sydney, uh, she couldn’t stop tellin’ me about your work. Thank you for helpin’ us out.”

“No, no, thank you.” You reached for his hand, strong, a little rough, trying not to stare at his inked fingers. “It’s a pleasure to work with you. She told me a little about you, about the restaurant. It’s very impressive. Surprised you needed me.” You grinned.

Carmen bit back a smile, looking down to hide his blush. Fuck, Sydney said you were good at your job, she failed to mention that you were so fuckin’ pretty too. Carmen could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, taking flight like he was a middle schooler again with a school yard crush.

“So, if you have time, I want to go over some goals with you?” You say, gripping your notebook tightly.

“Goals. Right, uh,” Carmen looked through the back doors. “Sydney is on her break, and-and my sister, Sugar- well, her name is Natalie, she’s like our manager. Richie too, uh, shit- I’m sorry that’s a lot of people, I know.” Carmen shook his head, an anxious laugh pealing out from his lips. “Those are the people you need to talk to, basically. I can grab them, just-”

“-But you’re the owner, right?” You asked, lifting a brow gently.

“No, I mean, yeah, I am.” Carmen stuttered.

“Then I need to talk to you, too.” You gave him a small smile. “I mean, you know this place better than anyone, right? All the ins and outs? And from what Sydney told me, you redid this entire place. Right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Carmen nodded. Fuck, he kept staring at your lips, he didn’t mean to, he was just… he was distracted.

“So, we can all meet if you want, or I can do it one at a time.” You pulled your pen out of your notebook, looking at him with a gentle smile. It had Carmen’s heart racing. “I just have a few questions about the vision.”

“The vision?” Carmen repeated, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat.

“Yeah, the vision.” You smiled. “Just… tell me about this place. Tell me about you.” You slid into the chair across from him.

Carmen wiped his hands on his pants, turning to look at the doors, hoping someone would come to his rescue. He wasn’t good at talking, especially not to pretty girls, especially about himself. Still, he couldn’t leave you sitting there. He’d hired you after all, and you were here to help him. So he sat down across from you, hoping you didn’t see the way his knee bounced under the table, hoping you couldn’t hear how his heart pounded.

“So, Carmen Berzatto,” You grinned, every syllable of his name rolling off your tongue so sweetly, Carmen was sure he was going to faint. “Tell me about The Bear. Why did you start it?”

“Well, it was The Beef before. And-And my parents owned it, then my brother Mikey did…” Carmen started, watching the way you scribbled, eyes flickering to him with a small smile.

“Hello!” You called, pushing through the back door. They’d given you the code a week ago, so you didn’t have to wait or pound on the front door until someone took mercy and let you in. “It’s content day!” You sang, cheery and bright.

Carmen could hear the pretty trill of your voice, trickling down the hall and into the kitchen. Tina smirked, watching the way he stopped, turning to look at you, blush rising under his white shirt. “Hey, Jeff,” Tina smirked, his head snapping to her. “Your girl’s here.”

The staff had been teasing Carmen relentlessly about how smitten he was with you. Something he’d been so reluctant to do, he now looked forward to. Carmen swore it was because of your work. You had taken them from the measly six hundred followers they’d had since they started the account in twenty-eleven to six thousand, strategic posts and tags and tagging a few buzz accounts that were Chicago foodies. Business had gone up, reservations filling slowly. Followers poured in from TikTok, from the reels, from the posts. One tag from a micro Chicago influencer had brought in a good chunk and was still, all because of a photo with the pretty light features and the dessert.

“Where’s the Bear?” You grinned, passing Sydney, camera in hand, bag slung over your shoulder. You pushed open Carmen’s office, dropping your bag in there. He’d told you that you could keep your things in there, since you didn’t have a locker, of course- and not at all because that meant he’d see you before you left.

“He’s in here, baby!” Tina called, smirking at Carmen.

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head, a deep breath to keep him from looking so flushed. It worked for a moment, of course, until you rounded the corner. All bright smiles and fuck, you smelled so good. Camren wanted to drown himself in your perfume. “Good morning, Bear.” You beamed.

Carmen grinned, cheeks heating with every step you took forward. “Mornin’.” He muttered, looking at the clock.

“It’s content day.” You grinned, shaking your camera lightly. “Tell me you got something good for me, Chef. What's the special this week?”

“A lamb tenderloin with a gorgonzola sauce served over pasta- house made, of course.” Carmen answered.

“Of course.” You repeated with a tiny grin. You turned on your camera, taking a test shot, before you looked at Carmen carefully. “Ready whenever you are, Chef.”

Carmen bit back his own grin, clearing his throat lightly. “How do I start it? The same as last time?”

“Yep.” You nodded, pressing the camera to your eyes. “Tell me your name, name of the restaurant, and then just this week's special.”

“On your mark.” Carmen nodded, picking up his clean utensil.

“On yours.” You laughed. “I’m already recording.”

Carmen spoke to the camera easily, trying to stay trained on the lens and not at you. How you’d grin and nod encouragingly at him, zooming in closer as he chopped, seasoned, pulled the already prepared and finished product out of the oven.

Richie crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to Sugar, lips pursed knowingly. “I know you’re thinkin’ the same shit as me.”

Sugar hummed. “That Carmen’s into her?”

“Way fuckin’ into her.” Richie grinned, watching as Carmen blushed, grinning back at you, genuine and a little shy at your compliment.

“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t make a move.” Sugar looked at Richie.

Richie snorted, scoffing with a shake of his head. “Alright. I’ll take your bet. I say he does.”

“Get ready to be out of fifty dollars, Cousin.” Sugar said smugly. “This is Carmy we’re talking about. Not Mikey. Carmen’s not gonna make a move on her.”

“Eh, not so quick, my dear, Natalie. Carmen’s changed a little since this place.” Since the horrendous freezer incident with Claire. “He really likes her too, look at ‘em.” Richie nodded, watching as Carmen held the spoon out for you, blushing when your hand touched his to take it, groaning before smothering him in compliments. Tina looked at Richie, amused and grinning from across the room.

“Carmen will seal the deal. It’ll be last fuckin’ minute and it will be a mess, because it’s fuckin’ Carmen, but… I believe in him.” Richie nodded.

Natalie snorted. “I genuinely hope you’re right, Cousin.” She looked at Carmen with a small smile, watching the way he looked at you, eyes cutting like he was being so cool about keeping his feelings underwraps. “I really do.”

That night, Carmen lied in bed, scrolling through his footage from the day, seeing the video pop up from @/thebearchicago. Set to classical music, snobby and dramatic, the cuts, Carmen’s voice laid over describing the meal for the week, and a particularly good close up of his hands cutting the onions fiercely. Carmen was shocked to see the number of likes… the number of comments flooding in.

“the cameraman knew exactly what they were doing lmao”

“New necklace available!!!”

“I will give you my vital organs and let you chop them up like that if you let me watch chef please”

“What the fuck?” Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head, scrolling through the comments. He clicked to the main page of the restaurant, seeing you were just a few away from ten thousand followers. Fuck… Sydney was fucking right. You were good.

Carmen’s face fell, mind racing and screaming with the reminder that you were only there for a few more days. He’d only hired your for two months- two glorious fucking months. You seemed… permanent now. Like he couldn’t imagine you not coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays and after three on Fridays. You were a staple there. The staff loved you, you were good, and-

And Carmen really liked you. Liked having you around. Looked forward to talking to you. To get the chance to lean over your shoulder as an excuse to touch you when you showed him a preview of a post. Or when you’d send him cute text messages, a funny comment attached, your text reading: “you’re a hit, bear! they love you!”

It was like you could read his mind, your contact flashing across the screen at him.

To: Carmen

‘told you this would be a good one! the fans love you berzatto!!!’

Carmen grinned, the faint twinge of a blush on his face. He could feel his heart racing, fingers dancing over the keyboard, and worst of all- he could hear Mikey’s fucking voice in the back of his head. A nagging tone repeating over and over and over, “Let it rip, Bear! Don’t be such a pussy! Ask her out!”

Carmen looked at his screen, fingers typing out the message, a short, less than smooth invite to make you a special thank you dinner and his place- a date. He hoped you picked up on it. Heat hammering in his chest, he could feel his chest tighten, ribs knitting together uncomfortably, stomach twisting in the worst way.

So, Carmen did what he always did.

From: Carmen

‘Never doubted you. Thank you. The video was great.’

He watched as the blue sent, the delivered turning into seen, and followed by your thumbs up over the text. Carmen put his phone on the table, lying back on his pillow, but he couldn’t sleep. His stomach still turned, unsettled with regret.

“Oh! Marcus stop!” You gasped, Carmen’s head turning at the sound of your voice. “You didn’t need to do all of this!”

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus beamed. Carmen turned the corner, seeing a beautifully piped cake there, candles and icing cursive that read “thank you!” in the middle of the buttercream. “You’re cool and you got us on the map, girl. Plus, we’re gonna miss you.”

“Yeah,” Sydney nodded, holding a small balloon that said that exact phrase on it. “We will miss you.”

“I’ll miss you guys.” You grinned, hugging them both tightly. “This has been my favorite job so far. You guys have been so nice. Way nicer than a lot of these assholes around here.” You grinned.

Richie stood on the wall, foot tapping, eyes darting back from you to Carmen. He could see his cousin’s stuttering movements, hesitant and careful, before retreating back into himself. C’mon, Carm, fuckin’ do it, Richie thought, shaking his head. Carmen wouldn’t though, wouldn’t let himself be happy. Richie took a deep breath, head shaking with annoyance.

“Goddammit, Berzatto,” Richie muttered, pushing off the wall. “You know, sweetheart, it’s been so great having you. Seriously, you blew us all away.” Richie said, walking towards you.

You smiled. “Thanks, Richie. I really appreciate it.”

“And you know what, we want to really show how much we appreciate you.” Richie’s eyes cut to Natalie, a silent plea to help him out. “I had a cancellation for this evening, and I would love for you to come instead. Let us really cook for you, give you the whole experience. No bill, of course. All on the house, for you, my dear.”

“Oh, I-I couldn’t let you guys do that.” You shook your head politely, eyes cutting to Carmen’s.

“No-No, please.” Carmen nodded, finally speaking. Richie sighed silently in relief. “It would be great actually. Please?”

You felt your heart melt, nodding softly. Before you could even reply, Richie was stepping up again. “And you know what? You gotta do one last post for us, right? The big chef spotlight one. The, uh, c’mon, Sydney what am I lookin’ for here?”

“Oh, the one about the staff spotlights?” Sydney asked.

“That’s the one. See, that’s it. And you’ve done everyone except the big boss.” Richie pointed at Carmen, ignoring the way the younger man’s face fell.

“I didn’t get one-” Fak started, Richie shoving him out of the way.

“You gotta end with Carmy, and it's funny because it’s gonna be real slow tonight anyways. Wednesday, ya know? And I think what better way to experience the night, really craft that staff spotlight thing, than with Carmen. The two of you, have dinner and get to talk.” Richie knew it was rocky, not at all smooth, but it was the best he could do.

“What? Cousin, what are you-”

“-No, you’re right, Richie.” Sugar added, stepping towards Carmen, and cutting him off. “And Carm, you were saying you wanted to see everything in action for yourself. You do the customer experience so you make sure everything’s good, and we’ll serve you both dinner. All the stops.”

“How’s that sound?” Richie clapped his hands together, nodding at Tina, who grinned.

“Jeff, it would be really nice to make sure we can work without your instructions. A good night for it too.” Tina added.

“Yeah, and Sydney’s got it.” Richie nudged the girl beside him.

“Totally, Carm- uh, Chef. I’ve got it.” Sydney nodded, catching on to Richie’s glare at her.

Carmen felt like he could melt into the floor, face red and palms sweaty. His ears were ringing, tongue swelled thick in his mouth. You looked over at him with a small smile. “I mean, that does sound really nice. If-If it’s ok with you guys, you don’t have to-”

“-Oh no,” Richie shook his head, walking over to Carmen to clap him on the shoulders. “We insist, don’t we, cousin?” Richie laughed, leaning down to Carmen. “Don’t fuckin’ stand there like a jagoff, say somethin’.” He whispered.

“Yeah.” Carmen said, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh, yeah. That-That sounds great.”

“Wonderful.” Richie beamed. “Six o’clock sounds good for you kids? Give you enough time to get it together.” Richie looked from you to Carmen. “Maybe for some of us to take a shower.”

Carmen could feel the heat rise from his neck to his cheeks, covering him in a furious blush. You giggled. “Definitely gives me time to get a blow out.” You laugh. “See you at six then?”

“It’s a date.” Natalie added, practically bouncing on her toes behind Carmen.

Carmen glared at her, before turning back to you. “Yeah, I-I’ll see you then.”

3K notes · View notes

thepersonnamedsam · 10 months

Note

Could you do reader gets her wisdom teeth removed and the drivers take shift in watching her ?

anesthesia

pairing: the genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: the genz!driver wakes up one day with so much pain that she has to take out her wisdom teeth

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of depression and anxiety, reader on a high

note: sorry, it got a bit depressed here and there, but it’s still a very fun post to read, well at least i hope so

masterlist / taglist

Everything hurt, like everything. Not just a limb or a stomach, her whole body hurt, but mostly her mouth, her teeth actually. But she would never say that, afraid someone would accuse her of not brushing her teeth.

Oh and she was whining. Everybody she encountered had to listen to her whine. Show her body hurt and everything pulsated and how she just wanted to sleep and it was the worst. People war starting to worry about her. And Charles was the first one to suggested to pay a visit to the medics.

„Would you like me to bring you to the medics, y/n?“, he had asked her. But she just whined and shook her head. „Are you sure, you seem like you are in a lot of pain“, he checked with her, but she still refused. She didn’t want to know, if she had a bad tooth.

It was only Wednesday, so just media for the day, or that’s what y/n thought. When you’re in pain, even media is hard. She was thankfully paired with Max, Lando, Fernando and Kevin. At least she had some people she felt comfortable with. Max sat on her left, whilst Fernando sat on her right. Next to Max was Lando and Kevin sat on the other side of Nando - she was squished between the drivers. Her body leaned slightly into Nando and he just let her, he had heard about her pain and was just glad she was up and walking.

They asked some questions, y/n not really present and not actually listening, until Max poked her and pointed to an interviewer with his index finger.

„I am so sorry, what was your question again?“, she asked the nice looking lady. She smiled and repeated her question to the young driver: „There were some rumours going around that you are in pain, is that true and can you elaborate?“

y/n groaned internally, of course her pain made the talk. She was half expecting the question, if she could race this weekend with her pain and if she would’ve answered truthfully, she would’ve said I don’t know.

„Thank you for your question. Uhm, yes, I am experiencing some pain at the moment, but it’s not as bad as it seems. I can still race on Sunday“, she talked into the microphone. The interviewer seemed only kind of content with her answer, but it’ll have to do, because y/n was back on leaning against Fernando and had closed her eyes.

When she woke up on Thursday morning, she had to clutch her cheeks. Groans left her mouth and she was ready to die, or that’s what she thought. Something wasn’t right. She wanted to call Seb and ask for his opinion on things, but when she opened her mouth, she almost screamed. She opted for a text, explaining how much her mouth hurt and what she should do.

Seb immediately saw her message and had to ask Hanna. His wife told him to ask someone on the grid to take her to the dentist - immediately. So, that’s what he did.

„Hey Lewis, what’s up? Listen, I have a request for you“, he told Lewis over the phone. He explained how the young driver has felt pain in her mouth for the last two or three days and how she woke up that day with unbearable pain. „Aw man, that’s bad, she can’t race with that now, can she?“, the Brit asked back. Seb shook his head no, even though Lewis couldn’t see the action over the phone.

„Hanna said to take her to the dentist, and you know I would do it myself, but you guys are in Silverstone and I myself are in Switzerland.“

Lewis promised him to take the girl to the dentist as soon as possible. Seb exhaled, glad to have helped in some way. He texted y/n back, told her that Lewis was gonna take her to see someone for the pain.

You can’t imagine how glad y/n was, that Seb handled all of that for her. She texted him a thousand thank yous and she hugged Lewis so tight when he was standing in front of her hotel room.

„Ready to leave?“, he asked her. She nodded and the two left the hotel together. As always, paparazzi were waiting for the drivers and flashed them with their questions and pictures.

„Where are you going?“

„Is it related to your pain, y/n?“

„What do you think about the track, Lewis, will you bring it home?“

y/n‘s eyes hurt, well everything hurt, but the bright flashes didn’t do anything against the pain, it much rather made it worse. Lewis saw how y/n had to shut her eyes closed, so he took off his Mercedes hat and placed it on her head. The journalists would have a feast with that.

In Lewis‘ car, she took his hat off and placed it on the dashboard. The car ride wasn’t long, only about twenty minutes. And as the two walked into the dentists office, her heart started racing. The last thing she wanted to hear, was her having a bad tooth.

y/n struggled with depression and anxiety, so normal tasks as brushing teeth, was sometimes very hard to maintain. Her daily trains and meals were easy, because she had her personal trainer who tracked her and was always by her side. But as soon as she was all alone again, the easiest daily routines became the hardest. Brushing teeth and hair, showering and washing her hair. Cleaning the kitchen or the bathroom. Washing her clothes on the Monday after a race. It was all so hard, but she didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t want people to know and pity her.

That’s why people noticing her unfinished tasks or her habits, it made her anxious. So, so very anxious. And she especially didn’t want Lewis to know. He would just tell Seb and Seb would probably order her to Switzerland and make an appointment with the best psychiatrist he knows and she could forget her racking career. No, that was not gonna happen.

„Lewis, can you please wait outside?“, she begged him. But he wasn’t budging. He knew of her fear of dentists and was not having it. He was going in with her. So, he took her by her hand and dragged her to the treatment room.

Her mind raced with anxious thoughts, but the dentist did not confirm her worst fear. Her wisdom teeth were growing and they had to be taken out eventually. But not at the moment, because she had Free Practice, Qualifying and a Race she had to attend in the next four days. They made an appointment on Monday, they would bestanden out under anesthesia, because of her fears.

The dentist sent her home with some pretty strong pain meds, which she was glad, because for the first time in a week, she didn’t feel any pain.

The days flew by, she placed P11 on the race. She was so happy for Lewis and Lando, a bit sad for Oscar. But so, so happy for the Brits. As she was standing from the sidelines, Lando offered her a the champagne bottle, but she couldn’t eat or drink 14 hours before her surgery and definitely no alcohol. So, she kindly declined and opted for a quick thumbs up and a air kiss for her favourite boys.

Fernando had heard from Lewis about her wisdom teeth and offered to come with Lewis, so he wouldn’t be all alone with the young and high driver. He may have also talked to Carlos about it, who told Charles, who told Daniel, who told Max. They were all coming with. Some to help the young driver and some to laugh at her. Their group chat was going to be full of videos and photos of her.

Monday morning, the girl was waiting anxiously for Lewis‘ car. And when he finally pulled up and she saw who were sitting in it, she groaned.

„Lewis, I told you not to tell anyone“, she whined. The addressed only laughed, so did the whole car. She squeezed herself between Charles and Carlos, who were sitting behind the drivers seat and the passenger seat. Lewis was driving, obviously, Fernando was sitting next to Lewis and Max and Daniel were seated in the backs seats. Even though it didn’t make much sense with Daniel, because of his long legs, he had to sit in a weird cramped position.

When the seven arrived, the assistants looked at them funny and the dentist had to hide a snort. The young girl with her seven bodyguards.

The procedure was short, all four teeth were removed and now they were waiting for her to wake up. The dentist warned them, that the anesthesia doesn’t wear off for about ten more minutes, so she’ll be sleeping until then. And after that, she’ll still have some after effects. Max was waiting for that to happen.

Her mouth was dry and it felt like she had sand in her mouth? Anyway, her body felt like she was hit by a truck, possibly a Haas or an Alfa Romeo. She blinked slowly, why was it so bright? And why were her hands not moving up to her face like she wanted them to? What was going on?

Something loud an obnoxious forced herself through her ears, it was almost painful. What the fuck was happening? She tried to wiggle her toes, but they didn’t move. She looked panicked and tried to find a familiar voice. That’s when she saw Daniel laughing, pointing his phone at her, probably filming this whole thing. Her eyes followed his movements and she found Lewis slightly smiling at her. She saw him move his mouth, but she couldn’t hear anything.

Lewis saw the watery eyes of her and wanted to reassure her that she was safe and all went well, but the more he spoke, the more tears spilt out of her eyes. She full on started crying. You could sense, that everyone in that room was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do. Until Fernando went up to her and took the girl in his arms. Shushing and humming a light tune. Soon her tears turned into hiccups and she was calm again.

„My body isn’t moving they way I want it to“, she whined, but it was hard to understand her with all the gauze in her mouth. „And I’m thirsty.“

Carlos stood up and got a cup of water for her, which she was very grateful for and she met him know very much.

„Thank you so much, Carlito. I love you, I hope you know that.“

The boys laughed at her, but she looked at them mean and said: „Don’t be jealous because he receives my love. And stop laughing, it’s so loud.“ That made Daniel laugh even louder and she just glared at him. Max was snickering silently and hit Danny on his arm, to signal him to turn it down a nudge, but that he was enjoying that just as much as he was.

„Danny, I heard you’re gonna be back on the grid in Hungary?“, she smiled at the Australian. „Yeah, yeah, but different than you might think.“ He smiled back at her and she made grabby hands at the older driver. He laughed and went to hug her. She nuzzled her head into his crook between shoulder and head and sighed.

„You know, I don’t think Heidi would enjoy you snuggling like that with y/n“, Max made the remark, but Danny just showed him his middle finger and put his arms more around y/n. It was soon time to take the girl back to the hotel, but that was harder than it sounded. Her limbs were still not reacting at the same time and walking was a no go. Lewis and Fernando immediately backed out of carrying her to the car, reasoning with their age and their backs. So, Charles was the one volunteering to piggy back ride her to the car.

„It’s like she’s drunk. Has anyone ever seen her drunk, by the way?“, Carlos mentioned. „Oh, yes. Let’s get drunk, guys. Carlito, that’s a very good idea of yours, that’s why I love you so much“, y/n responded to Carlos question. Max started to laugh and got out his phone to record the conversation.

„Okay, let’s not address some stuff with her in the car, okay? Stuff that could make her cry, or bring stupid ideas to her head or any stuff like that“, Lewis said from the drivers seat, his head turning slightly to look at all his passengers. „Agreed“, said Fernando.

„Can we listen to some music?“, she whined. She was whining for everything, so you couldn’t really call it whining anymore. Fernando turned on the radio and Speak Now was playing. „Omg, Nando! It’s your girlfriend!“, she patted Fernando excitedly on his back. He just grinned and said: „Hasn’t she been linked with someone else now?“ - „Well yes, Matty Healy, that greasy singer from The 1975, but you were a much better candidate for mother.“

„Is it Taylor’s Version“, she asked. „What is Taylor’s Version“, Max asked. She gasped and turned around to face the Dutch driver. „You don’t know what Taylor’s Version means? Shame on you!“

The car ride was short and they were soon in the garage of the hotel. This time it was Daniel who was carrying y/n to her hotel room. Charles was still rubbing his shoulders, as she gripped him so hard, out of fear she could fall off. Until then, everyone on the grid knew about the girl getting her wisdom teeth removed. That’s why Lando, Oscar, Alex and Lily, George and Pierre were waiting in front of her room.

Fernando was the first one to notice the bunch and laughed out loud. y/n covered her ears, as she was still thinking that laughter is too loud and was hurting her head. Lily was the first one she noticed, so she sprung from Danny’s back and sprinted towards Alex‘ girlfriend. „Lily, hi, what are you doing here?“, for Lily it was hard to understand her, not yet having learnt what her gibberish meant. For the others in the car, it became noticeably easier the more she talked.

„Hi y/n, I heard about your wisdom teeth and I just wanted to check if you were good and if you need anything. But I see that you already have a bunch with you.“

The young driver nodded and hugged Lily once again. She looked at Lewis so he would open her door. He smiled and made his way through all the drivers. And as soon as he opened the door, y/n was on her way to lie on her bed. The others went one by one into her room and either sat on the few chairs or opted to sit on the floor. She soon was snoring slightly, y/n was out cold.

„So, how do we do this? We can’t all be watching her or can we?“, Pierre asked the group. „We can take turns“, suggested George. „I would probably go, I mean, we, right babe?“, Alex turned towards his girlfriend who nodded her head. „I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t alone, s‘all“, she said.

„We can take the first round, right mate“, Lando looked towards Oscar, who nodded at his teammate. „Okay, thanks guys, I think me and Fernando will be back in, let’s say, three hours?“, Lewis asked. „We can look after you guys, me and Carlos“, Charles said and everyone nodded. „Max? You and me?“, Daniel wiggled his eyebrows at Max who laughed in response. That only left George and Pierre, who were content that they were last, which meant, they had a high chance of not looking after the driver.

Everyone left, expect the two McLaren drivers. Lando soon set up his phone and would start recording everything when she woke up. She did after a 20 minute nap and was very confused where all her favourite people went. She started to cry and Lando tried hard not to laug. „Hey there, what’s wrong?“, Oscer asked the girl. „Where did everyone go?“

They explained the situation to her, but she didn’t stop crying. She wanted to drink something, but the last time she couldn’t hold the water in her mouth. „I can ask for a straw, maybe that’s better?“ Lando frantically searched for the phone to the reception. Unfortunately they didn’t have any straws. „Oscar, go to McDonalds or so and get a straw!“

„Lando, I love you so much, the things you’re doing for me“, she whispered and Lando almost didn’t understand her. Nevertheless, he was still touched.

She mostly slept, took some pain meds and slept again. It wasn’t really necessary to watch her anymore, but all of them still stayed. Even on the next morning, where most of the grid flew home again. Lewis accompanied her home and they facetimed Seb together. He’s seen all of the videos already - she doesn’t remember a thing. He was just glad that she was okay.

y/n said her hellos to Hanna and his two girls and cooked for Lewis - vegan of course. She was so glad to have all of her friends working with her, she wouldn’t know what to do without them.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret, @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @whatthefuckerr

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allywthsr · 9 months

Text

I‘LL NEVER LEAVE YOU | (l.norris)

part two to Finding Lando on Raya

summary: part two to Finding Lando Norris on Raya, how you spend the evening, flying to Spa for tire testing and a date in the evening

wordcount: 9.8k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT! (p in v, oral, taking pictures while doing it)

notes: sorry for the delay, but I was kinda blocked! The end feels rushed, but I genuinely didn’t know what to write, sorry. Anyway, second smut so be gentle. And thank you for all the positive feedback!!!!❤️‍🩹

”You want to order some McDonald’s and stay over?“

You looked at Lando, how could he be so perfect? Only minutes ago he was buried deep inside of you and now he was a sweet angel.

”Sure!“

He grabbed his phone from his night table and opened Uber Eats.

”What do you wanna eat?“

You named him your go-to McDonald’s order and he chose a chickenburger menu.

”It should come in like twenty minutes. Enough time to repeat what we just did.“

”Let’s eat first, you tired me out, two orgasms are more than men normally become out of a woman.“

”I‘m just a pro, what can I say.“

You shoved his shoulder playfully and he laid down next to you. He opened his arm and you laid your head on his naked shoulder, pulling up the duvet to cover you both. He slowly caressed your shoulder with his fingers.

”So where are you from, Y/N?“

”I was born in Y/H/N and moved to London two years ago for this job. I meet new customers that want to buy some products from us.“

”Do you travel a lot?“

”Not really. Every now and then, yes. But mostly I meet them in London in our office. But tell me, what’s it like being a Formula One driver? Is it as luxury as it always looks like?“

”Sometimes, I mean we get to stay in fancy hotels and whatnot, but it’s hard work as well. The G-forces your whole body has to resist are heavy, so we need to train a lot, I hate it so much, you have no idea. The traveling is also tiring. I hate being away from my family and friends so much, but at the same time, I have more free time than you probably have. But that free time is mostly filled with training, it’s rare I have two weeks off in a row.“

”I get that, but it’s still your hobby, no? I can imagine that having your hobby as a job is the best thing.“

”That’s true, but I don’t know, I‘m super happy and grateful to be where I am but at the same time, sometimes I‘d like to have more privacy. It’s always dangerous for me to hit up women because they could always post it on social media and I‘m the asshole you know. Or when I’m in Monaco, I can’t go out with a woman, she‘s immediately my girlfriend. My cousin once visited me and she got death threats afterwards. That’s not nice. But it comes with being a ’celebrity‘ I guess.“

When he said celebrity he did quotation marks in the air.

”So you meet up with a lot of women?“, you asked him jokingly.

”I poured my heart out and that’s the only thing that stuck in your pretty head?“, he let out a laugh.

”But don’t worry, I never had such a pretty and nice girl before, you‘re truly special. Not one of them wanted to eat McDonald’s with me, claiming they‘re gonna be fat afterwards.“

”Don’t worry, I was just kidding. I can’t say I know what you’re feeling, because I don’t. I can wander through London and no one asks me for a picture, but I imagine it to be hard. Having no privacy I mean. But if you ever want to talk, you know who to call. And whoever turns down a free McDonald’s meal is just stupid. Especially if you have such a hot man next to you.“

You put your hand on his chin, caressing it, where a slight stubble grew.

”I actually don’t know who to call, I don’t even have your number yet. I’ve been inside of you and don’t even know what your profile picture looks like.“

You smiled up at him and chuckled.

”We can change that later, I‘m too comfortable right now“, you pressed a kiss on his neck.

”You said something about Pirelli tire testing earlier?“

”Yeah, tomorrow in Spa. I drive around the circuit in different cars and my F1 car, testing possible new tires.“

”Oh really? That’s fun.“

”You should come.“

”Isn’t that something only people from the team can attend?“

”You can sit in my garage, that’s fine.“

”Lando we barely know each other.“

”And? I like you, I think that you like me. Come as a friend, I won’t say you’re my fuck friend.“

You chuckled at that. But should you? What if people see you somewhere because someone posts it and you get the same treatment his cousin got?

”Won’t there be paparazzi?“

”No, at least not that I know of. It’s only an event for included people, it’s not even publicly announced.“

”But still, won’t it be weird?“

”Let’s get to know each other then, I won’t be weird.“

”Are you sure? I‘m just the girl you fucked because you needed it.“

”Y/N, you’re a human, not an object I am using. If you wouldn’t have stuck out to me, I wouldn’t have liked you. I would’ve never texted you.“

You stayed silent, didn’t know what to answer. Only your hand went to his neck and fondled it, wanting to show your affection somehow.

”What’s your favorite color?“

”Really?“, you chuckled.

”Answer it, then we won’t be strangers anymore and you can come tomorrow.“

”I like a light blue, but it changes. You?“

”I like a neon yellow, like the color on my helmet. Favorite ice cream flavor?“

You told him your favorite ice cream flavor and you asked him the same question.

”Vanilla Ice cream, classic.“

”Favorite Holiday?“

”I love Christmas, I get to spend most time with my family, and also presents. Yours?“

”Must be Christmas as well. I love it when everything is gloomy and stuff.“

”You‘ve ever been on a yacht?“

”No, I’d love to, but I‘m not rich.“

”Want to come with me on holiday?“

”Lando.. it’s the same with tomorrow. I can’t just go on your family holiday with you.“

”Why not?“

”Because I‘m not your girlfriend or something.“

”Want to be my girlfriend?“

You scoffed and sat up, ”You need to calm down.“

”I was just kidding. I‘m leaving in a week, but we still have enough time to get to know each other. Consider it. You‘re different, I can feel it.“

”Let me think about it.“

”Take all the time you need, but I before our flight takes off I need to know.“

”I need to buy a plane ticket then.“

”No, we‘re flying with a private jet, we still have a few seats left.“

”Boujee, I see.“

”I am collaborating with a brand, so I don’t have to pay anything.“

”That’s even more Boujee!“, you laughed.

”Well, we could join the mile hig-”

Before Lando could finish the sentence, it knocked on the door. He jumped out of bed and pulled his Boxershorts, which lay somewhere on the floor up to his hips. When he opened the door, a hotel employee stood in front of it, holding a brown bag.

”Sir, you ordered from McDonalds, is that correct?“

”Yes it is.“

”Then here you go, bon appetit!“

”Cheers!“

Lando closed the door and walked back to the bed, where he sat down and opened the back, giving you your food while he laid his‘ down in front of him.

You took the first bite and moaned: ”I needed this.“

Lando looked at you with a crooked eyebrow.

”What?“, you laughed, ”never saw a woman enjoying her food?“

”I‘ve never seen such a gorgeous naked woman in my bed enjoying her food, no.“

”You‘re a flirt, you know that?“

He only smirked at you and took another bite of his chickenburger, while eating a fries right after.“

”Are you more of a McDonald’s or Nando’s type of girl?“

”I enjoy McDonald’s more, to be honest, I feel like it has a bigger variety of things I eat.“

”Same, if I had to choose my last meal, it would probably be McDonald’s.“

He took a sip of his Sprite and thought about more things to ask you. He wanted to get to know you, it felt like you knew each other for years already, yet it only has been a few hours. He felt super close to you, as if you‘ve been best friends, he wanted you to meet everyone, his family, his friends, and even Zak.

”What’s you’re favorite free time activity?“

”I like hanging with friends or family, I love to play golf and I like gaming. A mixture of all of them. I could never choose my favorite, I also like to photograph, but I barely do it anymore. What’s with you?“

”Well, I like reading, watching sports, or just chill at home. Shopping is great too, I always wanted to watch someone golf professionally.“

”Well, I‘m not a professional baby.“

”But probably more than I am.“

”Alright, when you come with me on holiday, we‘ll play a round of golf.“

”Lando..“

”Come on, it’s gonna be fun! Everyone will love you and you‘ll love them.“

”Let me think about it, okay?“

”I can give you a week, we’re flying from Heathrow, so just text me and join us.“

You took the last bite and thought about it, should you go on vacation with him? What would you tell your family? ’Hey mum, I’m going on a holiday with a stranger I met on a dating app, we fucked and he invited me, I’ll come back in a week!‘ Not so much fun.

”What should I tell my family and friends? I can’t just leave with a stranger on a holiday.“

”Why not? It’s not like we‘re strangers. I’ve been in you thirty minutes ago.“

You scoffed, he was right, but you still didn’t know him at all.

”I still don’t know you.“

”Hi, I‘m Lando Norris, born in Bristol, twenty three years old. I have two smaller sisters and one bigger brother, my parents are together, and together with my sisters they still live in Bristol. My mum is from Belgium, which makes me half Belgian but I can barely speak it. I went to school and went karting, had to re-take my theory driving test, and moved to the higher formula classes on my own accord, not because my dad was rich. I currently live in Monaco because I wanted to do something new. That’s basically everything about me. I live and breathe motor sport, that’s all I have in my life. And now it’s your turn.“

So you did the same, repeating everything he just said, talking about your family, about your passions, your job, and yourself.

”You see? Now we know each other and you can join me for the holiday.“

”Take me out on a date and then maybe.“

”Alright, it’s a deal. Tomorrow after tire testing.“

”Okay.“

You smiled shyly at him, you couldn’t believe you actually said yes to tire testing, but in the end, you only live once and who would turn down a free paddock experience with Lando Norris? Even if it’s tire testing.

”So you‘ll come with me to tire testing tomorrow?“

He got really excited and sat up in the bed.

”Yes Lando, I‘ll come with you.“

”You’re the best!“

With that, he laid himself on top of you and kissed you on the lips, which you returned with a moan. You moved your foot to give him more space and heard a crinkling sound.

”Lando wait, the bag is still on the bed.“

You tried to say in between kisses but he only hummed, clearly already in a headspace where he didn’t care. He distracted you with neck kisses and the bag was long forgotten. He wandered lower with his kisses and stopped at your boobs, sucking your right nipple slightly and licking over the left one when he decided the right one has gotten enough love. With each touch, you gasped, grabbed his hair, and pulled at the strands. You could feel him hardening against your lower stomach and you clasped his shoulders, trying to get closer to him.

”Lando, I need more“, you pressed out.

”More already? God, you’re such a needy little baby.“

He grinned and his hand slipped towards your slit, slowly pushing his pointer finger through your lips. He felt your wetness and moaned at the sensation, he couldn’t believe how wet you were already, he barely touched you.

He pressed his thumb to your clit and slowly circled it, you let out different sounds that made Lando shake, in a good way. He couldn’t wait to be in you again. He inserted two fingers and pumped them slowly in and out, getting faster with every thrust.

”You‘re so wet baby, it’s crazy.“

”All for you Lando, it’s all for you.“

He moaned, kissed your neck, and slightly sucked it, leaving a faint purplish mark. He licked over it to claim his territory once more, tonight you belonged to him and only him, maybe for the next weeks as well. He already loved your company, he didn’t need to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. With you, he could just be Lando even if you just met.

His pumps and circles became faster the louder your moans got, the pleasure you felt was almost unbearable, you wanted to cum but you needed a little more.

”I need more, a bit more“, you pressed out and with that, he added a finger, now you were filled with three fingers and that was what you needed, after a few pumps you came around his fingers with a loud moan, clenching.

”Fuck Lando, you‘re so good at this.“

He smirked and pulled his fingers out of your pussy, looking at them, he pulled them apart and your juices created little strings that connected between his fingers. His eyes focused on your face watching you, as he put his fingers into his mouth, sucking the juices off. With your pussy still sensitive, you felt the next wave of arousal rushing towards your lower area, that was the sexiest thing he did and the way he moaned when he tasted you again, made you go wild.

”I need to be in you again, you have no idea how gorgeous you are.“

”I need you too Lando, I need your dick.“

He laid on his back and removed his underwear he was still wearing from getting the McDonald’s bag earlier, and his dick sprung towards the ceiling. You almost started drooling at the sight. He was perfect, not too long but also not too short, thick enough, and little veins covered his length, making him feel amazing inside of you. With a grunt he positioned himself on top of you, pumping his dick with his hand a few times, getting ready for you. He coated his tip with your juices, by moving his length through your slit and slowly pushed it inside of you.

”You feel fucking amazing, I hope you know that.“

You moaned and pushed his head to yours, pressing your lips on his‘ and sliding your tongue against his lips. He opened them and you fought for dominance, he won but only because you needed to catch a breath, he stole your breath, that’s it.

He deeply looked into your eyes, feeling more connected with him than ever.

With slow movements he began to move, the room getting filled with the dirtiest slapping sounds you could imagine, his thrusts making you feel on cloud nine again, you were so happy you met him, this was way better than sightseeing in Amsterdam. His hand found its way to your clit, rubbing slight circles to get you to your orgasm faster, which worked. You were stimulated by your many orgasms today, you didn’t need much to cum. Just after a few minutes of him thrusting into you and circulating your clit, you came with a loud cry, no one could make you finish like he did. He pulled out of you, and with a pout, you looked at him, how dare he do that, you now felt empty and missed him already.

”I want to cum in your mouth angel.“

With big eyes, you nodded and he got up and sat at the edge of the bed, you followed him suit and sat on your knees in between his legs. His length hit his stomach and you grabbed his dick with both of your hands, you loved how heavy he laid in your hands. With slow movements you started to satisfy him, pumping up and down while you looked through innocent eyes at him. That made him go even more wild in the head and his eyes rolled back, his hands found their way into your hair and he pulled slightly on your strands. You jerked him off and his tip started to leak pre cum, the slight white drops oozed out of his slit and your mouth watered. You opened your mouth and took him in your mouth, you could still taste yourself on his dick and moaned at the taste, the vibrations made him moan. Your tongue licked off the pre cum, the salty flavor wasn’t your favorite, but now you tried to get every drop. Lando guided your head a bit with the up and down movements, you couldn’t fit his whole length in your mouth but you tried with every stroke to fit more. You almost had it, but when you wanted to take the last bit, his soft tip reached your throat and triggered the gag reflex, you tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t.

With that, you pulled back to give yourself a second to breathe.

”Fuck, look at you. Eyes watery, makeup smudged, spit leaking out of your mouth, you look so fucking sexy.“

You grinned and darted your tongue out, licking a long stripe from bottom to top from his dick and with a swift move, you had him in your mouth again, but now only what fitted in without gagging again, jerking the rest of his dick with your hand.

”Such a good girl, fuck baby.“

His moans got louder and you could feel his member starting to twitch, you removed him out of your mouth and just jerked him on your tongue, and before he could warn you, his cum shot into your mouth, painting your tongue white. You looked up at him and he looked like a Greek god, his muscles prominent, head in his neck, and his eyes rolled back. You stroked him until he came back down and looked at you with a big smile, now you swallowed his cum while letting him watch you.

”You are something else darling, fuck. You look so pretty like this. Fucked out. Come here, I need to feel you close.“

With that he shuffled back and leaned with his back against the headboard of the bed, patting his legs, symbolizing you to sit down in his lap. And you did just that, you swung your leg over his leg and sat down, feeling his now soft dick against your pussy. This time there were no sexy feelings involved, you just went in for a hug, also needing the cuddle session you two had going on.

”Do you want to go and pee real quick? Then we can continue our cuddles, I just don’t want you to get sick.“

With a smile, you nodded and he helped you getting up from the bed, with an extra sway to your hips you went to the en-suite and did your thing, coming cleaned up back to see him looking comfy under the covers. You went to the living room where you first sat on the couch today and saw both of your phones laying on the table, you took them both in your hands and returned to Lando. He opened the blanket he was laying under and you slipped in, immediately you were pulled towards Lando, settling into his body nicely.

”You are really comfy, you know that?“, you said to him, he was the perfect mixture of trained but cuddly.

”You know that you are fucking gorgeous?“

You chuckled and gave him his phone you had in your hand.

”So we can exchange numbers.“

With that you opened yours and clicked onto the contact app, creating a new contact with the name ’Lan <3‘ and giving him your phone, at the same time he gave you his phone to save your number. When you saw the contact name you let out a quiet laugh, he saved you as ’Chicken nugget❤️‘.

”Chicken Nugget? Really?“, you laughed.

”Yes, the way you ate the chicken nugget earlier was super sexy. And also you are a chicken nugget. Small, the outside crunchy and perfect, the inside soft, and the taste perfect in general.“

You shook your head while laughing.

”The inside soft?“

”I could only feel you with my dick but you felt really soft.“

With that, he wiggled his eyebrows and smirked at you. You slapped his chest lightly and smiled, he‘s such a goofball, you were glad you met up with him.

You exchanged phones again after putting in your numbers and put them on the bedside table, wanting to feel close and you didn’t need your phone for that.

”So Y/N, tell me, do you meet up with random guys often?“

”Not really, I went on a couple of dates with guys, but nothing more, one or two led to a one night stand but I left as soon as we were done, no need to stay. They all didn’t treat me right, too much in their own head, only talking about themselves. What about you? Do you hit up girls often?“

”Sometimes, but the most girls only come to get a picture with me or to kiss me, you know, to brag about it on the internet or something. I rarely go on a date with a girl that is not interested in Lando Norris but in Lando. I‘m glad I found you, it feels like we have a different connection.“

”I feel the same, you know. It feels like we‘ve known each other for years already. And by the way, I‘m interested in you. Not Lando Norris the racing driver but the boy Lando, that lives in Monaco and loves spending time with his friend.“

He just smiled at you and kissed your forehead.

”I‘m happy you agreed to meeting me, I just wanted a quick fuck but I’m not gonna let you go now. I want to take you on actual dates and get to know you. I will schedule something for tomorrow night, yeah? After tire testing.“

”I‘d love that Lan.“

With that, he kissed your nose and you closed your eyes, kissing his chest.

”What do you want? Italien or something else?“

”Italien sounds good. Thank you.“

”I‘m gonna make a quick call.“

With that he got up, grabbed his phone, and went to another room to call a restaurant or something, you didn’t know. But with that short time, you grabbed your own phone and looked at the notifications, some from Instagram and other socials, and messages from friends and family. Your best friend's messages stuck out to you.

He returned, still naked and with his phone in his hand.

”We have a reservation at 7:00 pm tomorrow, wear something nice.“

”We have to get my stuff tomorrow before we go. When do we even leave and how? Spa isn’t exactly around the corner.“

”The helicopter takes off tomorrow at 11:00 am. That’s the easiest and fastest way. We can go to your hotel before we leave for the airport and gather your stuff, don’t worry.“

”And it’s really okay I‘m coming with you?“

”Yes baby, don’t worry. I invited you. What do they wanna do? Kick you out? Then I‘m out as well.“

”Okay“, you sweetly smiled at him and opened your arms. ”But now come cuddle again.“

He did just that, falling into your arms, and now he was the one settling on your chest, hugging you and you closed your arms behind his back as well. His arm reached for the nightstand, where he placed his phone and grabbed the remote control for the room. He pressed the button to close the curtain and then he turned on the lights, dimming them to create a nice atmosphere. Lando put the remote back on the table and caressed your side, which tickled slightly.

”What’s your favorite position?“

”Lando!“

”What? I need to know, this won’t be the last time I was in you“, he let out a laugh.

You giggled.

”Well, I like good old missionary. It’s underrated I think. Everybody is always saying that it’s boring, but is it too much to ask for that I want to look my partner in the eye or kiss him? But I also like speed bump, something where you are close to the other. If it’s just a one night stand I wouldn’t mind doggy. What about you?“

”I can only agree with you, I like missionary as well, I want to feel close to my girl or else I don’t need to have sex with her. As you said, a one night stand is a different story. But I also think that I‘m open to new things. I’d rather try out new stuff with my girlfriend rather than a stranger.“

”So I‘m not a one night stand to you? We fucked twice and it was only missionary. Technically I‘m a stranger to you.“

”But it doesn’t feel that way you know? As soon as you stepped through that door it was like meeting an old friend, I felt comfortable. And during sex, I just wanted to be close to you, hold and kiss you“, with that he left a kiss on your chest.

”You’re pretty sweet you know that?“

”How can I not when you’re around?“

You just smiled and combed your hands through his hair, enjoying the silence. After a while of just listening to each other's breaths you wondered what time it was, so you grabbed your phone and it was already 10:42 pm.

”Would you mind if I would get ready for bed? I‘m kinda knackered.“

”Go for it, I‘ll join you, I have to brush my teeth as well.“

With that, you both got up and you pulled your stuff out of your bag, putting the charger next to the bed and you took your toothbrush and your makeup remover with you to the bathroom, where you saw a through his phone scrolling Lando. When you walked in, he locked his phone and looked at you, smiling.

”I just asked Zak if it would be okay for you to come and he agreed, so you won’t be a bother tomorrow.“

”That’s nice, I‘ll thank him tomorrow.“

You both stood in front of the sink and you brushed your teeth together.

”It feels like we’re a married couple, brushing our teeth together“, Lando mumbled due to the foam that formed in his mouth.

You just nodded and noticed how true that was, it felt like a routine how you brushed your teeth together. When he spit the foam out and washed his mouth and face, he left with a kiss on the back of your head and the words: ”I‘ll wait for you on the bed.“

You took your makeup remover and removed everything you had applied to your face earlier, you indeed looked fucked out, smudged eyeliner and mascara, concealer that wore off due to you crying when you choked on his dick. You were a mess. So when your face was Makeup free and cleaned up, you returned to Lando in the bedroom, still naked by the way.

”Can I lend a T-shirt? I forgot to pack an extra.“

”Sure, you can grab the one I wore today, I swear I didn’t sweat in it.“

With a smile you looked for it and found it on the floor, you took it in your hands and pulled it over your head, secretly inhaling his scent that lingered on his T-shirt.

”You look cute in my stuff.“

You blushed and laid down next to him, plugging the charger in your phone.

”When is your alarm ringing?“, you asked, needing enough time to gather everything from your hotel room before taking off to spa.

”I think like 8:30 am? It’s pretty early but like that, you have enough time for packing your stuff in your hotel. I think it’s easier if I pack everything here and then we go together to yours. That way we won’t have to drive multiple times to our hotels.“

You nodded and cuddled into his side. He let his fingers slip through your hair, caressing it.

”Can I braid your hair?“

”What?“, you sat up.

”I want to braid your hair, I always saw my sister do it but I never was allowed to try it on their hair, they always said I would tangle it.“

”Do you even know how to braid hair?“

”Kind of? My ex girlfriend always asked me to do it but I never wanted to, but your hair is so gorgeous.“

You blushed at the compliment, he didn’t want to braid his model ex girlfriends hair but yours? Your hair hasn’t been braided in ages, it would be nice to feel that feeling again.

”Sure, it would be fun. I need to get my hairbrush first, they’re kinda tangled.“

You got up and went to your bag, where you kept a small hairbrush for emergencies. You quickly but carefully brushed your hair and sat on the bed, where Lando already waited for you.

”Three strands, and then just put one over the other, right?“

”Yeah, like that. Do you know in which order to put the strands over the other?“

”I think so, I‘ll just try it out.“

With that he combed through your hair with his fingers and created three strands, gently putting the right one over the middle one, repeating it with the left one.

”Can you pull it a bit tighter? That way it won’t be that loose.“

Before you could end your sentence he already pulled it a bit harder, now it looked better, he thought. He kept on braiding your hair until he came to the end.

”Do you have a hair tie?“

You grabbed one that hung around your wrist and gave it to him, feeling how he tightened it around your hair.

This moment felt so intimate, you found it hard to believe, you just met today. This was soulmate behavior, you got along perfectly.

”I think it’s decent.“

With that, you turned around a saw a smiling Lando.

”Wait let me take a picture of you.“

You blushed and mumbled an ’okay‘. He got his fancy photography camera out and instructed you to lie down.

”Lay down on your front, that way your face won’t be visible, just your hair and I can put it up on my jpg side.“

”You want me to be on there?“

”Sure, you’re a beautiful girl with an even more beautiful personality.“

”You’re a simp.“

”That’s not what you called me earlier tho.“

A grin slid across your face, when you thought about that moment. He wasn’t a simp when he was buried deep inside of you, that’s true. But the thought of you being on his jpg side gave you butterflies in your stomach, that meant you were a little special to him, you‘ve never seen a girl on there.

So you did just what he asked you to, laying down on your stomach, he made sure you could see your braid and you heard the camera click, indicating he took a picture. He took a few more pictures and then tapped your shoulder to tell you he was finished.

”Let me see!“

With that, he clicked on a button and the pictures he took appeared, it didn’t even look stupid, like a good Pinterest inspo even.

”You’re actually good at it. The braid looks good too!“

”Thank you love, but how can it be ugly when the muse is perfect?“

You pushed his chest and he fell down on the bed, the camera still in his hand. So before you could react he took a picture of you sitting on the bed on your knees and you let out a scream.

”What are you doing? I don’t look good, I‘m not even wearing makeup.“

”You don’t need makeup, you’re gorgeous without it, and I want to have a beautiful picture of you, is that too much to ask for? Pose for me baby.“

You let out a laugh and you heard the camera click. Next, you squeezed your cheeks with your hands, creating a little pout. Now he got up and put his left hand on your right cheek, cupping it gently, camera now full in your face, click. His thumb on your lips, click. You opened your mouth and sucked on his thumb, click. He put the camera away and removed his thumb from your mouth, pressing his lips on yours, his tongue entered your mouth and you fought for dominance.

”Baby you taste so good“, he whispered in between kisses.

A whimper left your mouth and you kissed him ever more, the more kisses that passed the filthier they got, creating loud smacking noises every time they met.

”I need you“, you moaned.

”You have me.“

You looked into his eyes and they got darker, now a lusty dark green. The excitement was very present in your pussy, due to you not wearing panties, you could feel your wetness forming and slowly dripping down.

”I want you out of my T-shirt and then I want to take a picture. Is that alright with you?“

You moaned at the thought of him taking pictures of you doing the deed. So the only thing you could do was nod your head.

”Words, baby, I need words.“

”Yes, Lando.“

”Good girl.“

With that, he pulled your T-shirt up and tossed it over his shoulder somewhere in the bedroom. He cupped your breast and kissed you. Taking the camera in his hand, while still cupping your boob, you heard the camera doing a click sound. Fuck this is so filthy.

”Look into the camera.“

You did what he asked you to, hearing a moan from him when you did.

”Fuck baby, you’re so hot and sexy, I hope you know it.“

He squeezed your nipple and let go of his camera, fumbling with his underwear, struggling to get it off. When he finally did, his cock sprung towards the ceiling, obviously being turned on by the filthy things you were doing. You laid on your back and spread your legs, he now got a good vision of your glistening pussy. Taking the camera back into his hand, he took a picture of you laying like that, and another of his thumb brushing through your pussy lips, collecting the juices you created again.

The room was filled with click sounds from the camera and your moans or heavy breathing. The sexual tension was almost unbearable in the room.

He now took his cock in his hand and smeared your wetness, that lingered on his thumb, on the tip of his cock, prepping it. Sliding into you, was one of his favorite things already. You could hear the camera click, taking pictures of his dick shoved inside of you, you couldn’t wait to see the pictures. He threw the camera to the side and now concentrated fully on you, moving in and out of you. With each thrust, you both came closer to your orgasm and when he circled your clit with his fingers, you were done for. Quickly he grabbed his camera and could take a picture of your face when you reached your climax. Eyes rolling back, mouth slightly open, and quiet little moans escaped your lips. Shortly after he pulled out and finished on your stomach, he rolled off of you and calmed down next to you. You wanted to clean his cum off of your tummy, when he let out a loud: ”No! I want to take a picture, give me a minute.“

You laughed and waited for him to recover, he snapped the picture and you got up and went into the bathroom, cleaning the mess up with toilet paper. Returning, you pulled the T-shirt from Lando over your head again and laid down, you were tired out from all the sport you did today. Lando also looked like he was tired out, ready to sleep.

”But now, let’s actually go and sleep, it’s late and we have to get up early tomorrow.“

You nodded and turned to lay on your side, facing Lando. He did the same, after turning off the light with the remote that laid on his bedside table and you both looked the other in the eye. Eventually, Lando pulled you close and you cuddled, until you both fell asleep in the other's arms.

—————————————————————————

The next morning you woke up lying on your back, with Lando lying on his side, facing you. The brown haired boy was still fast asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. You took a deep breath, smelling Lando everywhere, it was like taking a bath in his smell, a bath that you never wanted to get out of. Turning around, you looked for your phone, tapping the screen gently it showed 7:49 am, great, you had another fifty minutes of sleep and you weren’t even tired. With that you turned around again, showing your back to Lando and shuffling close to him. When your back met his chest, he laid his arm around you, even in his sleep he wanted to be as close as possible.

You did fall asleep eventually, Lando’s scent lulling you back to sleep. But a loud beeping sound woke you up again, after what felt like two minutes of sleep. You groaned and pressed your back more into Lando, who let out the same sound as you did. He turned his body to snooze his alarm and cuddled back into you. With you being pressed tightly against him, you could feel something hard pressing in your lower back, you didn’t need long to figure out what it was. You wanted to tease him a little and wiggled around, acting like you tried to get comfortable.

”If you don’t stop, we‘ll not make it today“, he growled. Letting out a chuckle you stopped and turned to face him. When you looked into his eyes you let out a: ”Good morning.“

”Morning baby. How did you sleep?“

”Very good, thank you.“

”We sadly don’t have all day in bed, we need to get up in like thirty minutes, I need to pack everything, we go to your hotel, pack everything, and then we leave for the airport at 10:30 am, where we take off at 11:00 am.“

”Okay.“

You put your hand on his cheek and stroked it.

”You are very handsome, you know that?“

”Not as gorgeous as you are, tho.“

You smiled and pecked his lips, letting your thumb glide over his eyebrow. You both were startled by the loud ringing of his alarm, he ended it and clicked on a button on his remote control to open the blinds and let more light in. He laid down on his back and opened his arm to come closer to him. And you did just that, cuddling to his side and stroking his bare upper body, slowly but surely your hand wandered lower to where his dick was.

”Baby I swear, if you don’t stop, we‘ll never leave.“

”I can give you a handie or a blowie, I won’t need thirty minutes for that.“

”But it’s only a morning boner, he‘ll go away soon. And I don’t want our relationship to be built on lust you know? I genuinely like you, and not only because you are fricking hot and you give good blowjobs.“

”I really like you too, you know. And I don’t want it either, but a boner is a boner and it would be a shame to waste it.“

You looked up at him and blinked in a flirty way. When he didn’t protest, you positioned yourself on top of him and freed his dick, which sprung towards you when he did. Saliva formed in your mouth at the sight, you didn’t waste any time and got to work, spitting on your hand, wetting it to gently jerk him off. When you touched him he let out a moan, you were some kind of magician, he was sure, a handjob never felt better. After you got him fully hard with your hand, you put your mouth on him, swirling your tongue around the head and helping with your hand on the rest that didn’t fit in your mouth. The louder his moans got, the closer he was to a release, you wanted him to cum, so when you cupped his balls and slightly tickled them he came with a loud moan, painting the insides of your mouth white. You swallowed like the pro you are and came back up to him, laying down on top of him. His arms closed behind your back and he kissed your nose.

”You’re incredible, you know that? Not only a gorgeous soul but also incredibly good at giving blowjobs.“

You both laughed and he gave you another kiss on the forehead.

”We need to get up, or else we will be late. Breakfast is at the circuit, is that okay or do you want to order something from the hotel restaurant?“

”I‘m good, don’t worry.“

With that, you got up and Lando followed you into the bathroom where you brushed your teeth, hair, washed your face, and got dressed in the sweats and T-shirt you had on yesterday. You didn’t bring any makeup with you, so you had to go barefaced for now, but that wasn’t a problem. You packed your stuff in your bag, which you brought and sat back on the bed after asking Lando at least five times if you could help him pack, which was five times denied, Lando scattered his stuff in his suitcase. In between you went, folded the clothes, and packed them back neatly, as well as sorted out everything else so they would fit and it would have a system. After twenty minutes he claimed he had everything and when you reminded him of the bathroom he rushed there and gathered everything. You could only shake your head at the way his brain wasn’t fully working in the morning, but in a cute way.

So when he was finally finished and zipped his suitcase, he said: ”You didn’t need to do that for me you know? I appreciate it anyway, thank you love.“ And he gave you a kiss on the cheek.

You made your way to the lobby and then outside, hopping in one of the many taxis that waited outside. Lando named the driver your hotel address and paid him generously after arriving. Both of you went up to your room and you started with doing a light makeup for the day, you didn’t want to look too caked up but a little bit never hurt anyone. You also changed into something fancier and looked not too much. Lando chilled on your bed just like you did in his room minutes prior. When you had everything packed, it was 10:28 am, just like Lando said, you had to leave for the airport at 10:30 am.

”I‘m done!“ and with that he got off the bed and took both of your suitcases in his hand, rolling them behind him.

”You do know that I can take my suitcase as well, you don’t need to.“

”But I want to, I wish I had another hand to hold yours but sadly I don’t.“

You smiled and went to the lobby where you again, hopped in a taxi that brought you to the airport. Due to traffic, you arrived at 10:49 am, giving you only ten minutes until the helicopter was to start.

”Lando, why are you so slow? We need to catch it.“

”Will you calm down? I don’t think the helicopter, that is specifically rented for me, will take off without me“, he laughed and when you thought about it, it did make sense, now you could only laugh after slowing down as well. When you arrived at the VIP check in, you were taken to the place where the helicopters were, one guy loaded both of your stuff in the back and another guy showed you what and what not to do on a helicopter, just a safety check. And when you finally sat in it, with your headphones on, you got butterflies. You were really doing this, going to spa with a boy you met the day before. He could easily kidnap you now, nobody would know, well your best friend would know. You had faith that he wouldn’t do such thing and before you knew it, you took off and flew through the air to another country.

The flight was fun, you and Lando talked without a break and took funny pictures, but only selfies this time. Which reminded you, that you haven’t had a look at the ones you took yesterday evening. So when you landed, a car picked you up and drove you to the circuit, the butterflies only intensifying now. You were about to meet people that were holy to Lando, what would he say? Would he introduce you? And if yes, as what? Girlfriend? No, you guys aren’t together. As a friend? Technically you weren’t even friends. As the girl, he chatted up on Raya and took her to spa because she‘s a good fuck? No, he couldn’t. But you reached the circuit before you could think about it more, the door opened, Lando got out and held his hand out to you to help you get out. You took it gladly and hopped out of the car, you thought he would now release his hand, but no. He kept yours in a tight grip when he started walking toward the entrance. You followed him and smiled. Holding his hand was a good feeling, you felt protected and safe, especially in this new surroundings. Walking towards the McLaren hospitality, you now were shaking with nerves, you didn’t even know why. Meeting new people always made you feel this way.

”Are you okay?“

”Yes, Lan. I‘m just nervous. Meeting your people and all that.“

”Don’t be, they‘ll love you. I spend a lot of time with them and I know how they are, you will love them too, they’re just like me.“

”Just don’t leave me alone for the first ten minutes please.“

”I‘ll never leave you, darling.“

With that, you entered the building and you were met with a lot of people. He immediately greeted everyone that came up to him to say hi, he even took a few minutes to chat with them. So when you made your way to the offices of Zak and Andrea, you were shaking again.

”Relax love, there are barely any people here. It’s not a race weekend, only tire testing with Pirelli.“

”Barely any people? Lando that place was filled with humans!“

”Yeah, but don’t worry, the garage won’t be as filled.“

You reached the offices and Lando knocked on a door, when the door opened you were met with Andrea.

”Morning Andrea! I just wanted to let you know that Y/N will be joining me today, I spoke with Zak and he said it wouldn’t be a problem.“

”Of course not! Welcome Y/N! How are you?“

”Thank you, I‘m good, a bit nervous, it’s a lot to take in.“

”Yeah I get it! Why weren’t you there on the weekend? You missed a good weekend!“

”Well I uhm“, you looked at Lando for help, what should you say?

”She wasn’t free so I took her today, I wanted her to see what I do“, Lando said for you.

”What a shame! Maybe you can come to a race after the summer break, it’s way better than just tire testing.“

”I‘d love to, thank you.“

With that, he said his goodbyes and went back to work, and Lando was already knocking on the other door, which belonged to Zak.

He opened the door and was met with the same smile Andrea had.

”You must be Y/N! It’s nice to meet you.“

”Thank you for letting me come. It’s also nice to meet you!“

”Ah don’t worry, Lando always has free spots for a plus one. What exactly are you to Lando? I’ve never seen or heard about you before, no offense.“

”None taken, uhm I‘m uhm, a friend of Lando’s?“

You wanted to sound confident but it came out more like a question, because you really didn’t know what you were.

”Yeah exactly, she‘s a good friend and we met in Amsterdam, I figured why not bring her you know.“

”I get it, I get it, well have fun Y/N. Maybe we‘ll see each other again.“

”Thank you, I hope so too.“

You squeezed Lando’s hand and he said his goodbyes as well and pulled you to his drivers' room.

”Wasn’t that bad, was it?“

”It was fine, yes.“

”Come on, meeting the guys will be easier.“

Due to the rain, he pulled a rain jacket over his hoodie and gave you one as well. You pulled it over and it was too big on you, but you loved an oversized look. So you went to the garage where people stood and worked a little on the car, just cleaning the remainders from the weekend.

”Guys this is Y/N, my uhm friend.“

Lando did the rounds with you and introduced you to everyone. They were lovely, they all welcomed you with open arms and made you feel comfortable. When it was time for Lando to make his way around the track, you had no trouble with staying with the crew and chatting.

It did get uncomfortable when one of his mechanics asked how the two of you met, but you said online, and judging by their looks, they understood what you meant.

After two hours Lando was done, he had already done his meetings and now was fully released for his summer break. He, again, took your hand and held it until you walked to the car, picking you up to drive to a hotel. You thought he would let go of your hand once you were in the car, but you were wrong. He held it even when you sat next to each other, talking and getting to know each other.

When you arrived at the hotel, Lando checked you in and you both went up to the room. It was a rather small room, but enough for one night. It now was 4:00 pm and you still had three hours until the date with Lando. Lando removed his shoes and jumped onto the bed.

”It’s bouncy, the last bed was hard, what do you think is better?“

”I think hard, when you fuck me, the whole bed will shake.“

He smirked and patted the space next to him, on which you laid down. When you cuddled into his side you noticed you tired you actually were, you didn’t catch much sleep during the week due to you working late and having to get up early, and last night, Lando kept you up for most of it. You needed a nap, and when you looked Lando into his eyes, you noticed that he felt the same.

”Should we take a nap? I‘m fucking tired.“

You nodded with your head, ”I was about to say the same actually.“

You both removed the denim you had on and now laid down on the bed again, cuddling under the blanket. You were glad he texted you, it felt like he was the best company ever and you only met him a day ago.

Two hours later you woke up, feeling completely out of this world, you needed a few minutes to figure out who and where you were. When you saw Lando being asleep, you thought about waking him up. After all the date would start in an hour but did he need that much time for getting ready? You doubt it.

So with that you got up and started to do a little heavier makeup look, nothing bad, just a touch up and the eyeshadow got a shade darker. You picked out the clothing for later and after thirty minutes it was time to wake Lando. With your hand on his shoulder, you started to quietly shake him.

”Lando, baby, wake up. It’s almost time for us to leave.“

You felt him stir and look at you with the same expression you had earlier, he clearly was somewhere else, so you laid down next to him and let him wake up in peace. After five more minutes, he finally came back and started getting ready as well. When he saw you in your outfit, you just put on, he couldn’t help himself but stare. He‘d never seen such a beautiful girl.

”You look fantastic baby.“

You could only blush.

The restaurant he chose was only a five minute walk, so you didn’t need to catch a taxi.

At 6:50 pm you left the hotel and made your way to the restaurant, Lando held your hand and you couldn’t feel more safe than now. It didn’t even bother you, when you passed a group of young men, which normally would have freaked you out.

When you arrived, the nice lady showed you to your table, it was in a more secluded area, where you two could have some privacy. Sitting down, the waiter came and took your drink order, after a few seconds you both settled for a fruity cocktail. The pizzeria wasn’t as filled with people as you had thought and you were thankful for it. You skipped through the menu while talking with Lando, he couldn’t choose either, too many yummy things were listed, and you eventually both settled on pizza. You could never go wrong with a pizza, could you?

You liked how easy things were with Lando, you never had a silent minute, and you were always talking about something. Learning new things from the other with every word. He was such a goofball, always making you laugh and giggle, as well as he was a gentleman, paying for the meal and helping you with your chair. He complimented you with everything you did.

When the pizzas arrived you only stopped talking, when the mouth was full, otherwise, you talked about your future plans, family, your jobs, hobbies, and whatnot. You couldn’t remember anymore, it was so natural at this point, that it felt like your hundreds date.

Lando ordered the bill and paid the meal, not listening to your protests of wanting to help him with that, he only gave you a stern look, but in a funny way. When you made your way out of the restaurant and into a park that was nearby, Lando wanted to ask you a question, he had on his mind the whole day.

”So will you come with me and my family on holiday?“

part three

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #formula 1

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dumbseee · 9 months

Text

just friends, right?

when you and daniel are just friends, or maybe more?

daniel ricciardo x reader.

fc: kendall jenner.

liked by y/n, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1 729 991 others.

danielriccardo: happy birthday to the light of my life (and the bane of my existence.)

fan1: anthony bridgerton said the same thing about his future wife 🤭

fan2: the whole world knows except them

fan3: JUST DATE UGHHH

fan4: drop the act and get married omg

landonorris: mommy and daddy <3

fan5: not lando shipping them too

fan6: i just know his camera roll is full of her

maxverstappen1: @.fan6 it is.

fan7: AAAHAJJSOSLSOPXPCPC

fan8: not lando AND max exposing them

fan9: they’re so meant to be

fan10: "the light of my life" when is someone going to refer to me like this??

fan11: daniel is so sweet with y/n :(

fan12: mind you he posted that one minute before midnight so he could be the first one to wish her a happy birthday :((((

view all comments.

you were dancing along the music with your girls when you suddenly felt a presence behind you. you were in a crowded club with some friends to celebrate daniel’s return to the grid as a driver for alpha tauri. you turned around to face the guy who clearly was seeking your attention and you smiled when you saw a cute blonde guy smiling back at you. the two of you started dancing together, his hands on your waist and yours around his neck. he was cute, and you could take him home with you but something was off. your mind tried to think of why but your heart already knew.

suddenly, the guy was ripped away from you and pushed far back. you blinked in confusion and saw daniel, now standing in front of you, he glared at the guy before returning his attention to you. his usual warm smile was gone and his eyes were now cold. "what is wrong with you?" you yelled over the music. he didn’t respond but instead he grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the crowd. he ignored your complaints and finally stopped when you two were now in the parking lot. "care to explain what’s gotten into you, joseph?" you crossed your arms. he took a step closer to you which made you frown and almost take one back. "he was too close to you for my liking." you scoffed and laughed at his answer. "so what? you’re not my dad." you rolled your eyes and tried to go back inside the club but daniel blocked you again. "then what am i to you?" he asked in a low tone, sending shivers all over your body.

"daniel. you’re my-…" he cut you, closing his eyes and pinning you against the wall. "say that we’re just friends, i fucking dare you." you looked at him, completely lost, your cheeks were burning hot because of the way he was looking at you and how close the two of you were. your lips remained shut as you didn’t know what to say, you knew daniel your whole life, he was your best friend, your favorite person on earth, basically your soul mate. in all those years or friendship you did question your true feelings for him, but you never crossed the friendship line. what you had with daniel was too precious to ruin it because of your feelings. "say it, y/n." he repeated, you swallowed and closed your eyes, keeping the eye contact was way too hard for you. you couldn’t see it but seeing you being so flustered made daniel smile, he was happy to see the effect he had on you, and that his feelings weren’t one sided like he feared. "can i kiss you?" you opened your eyes and nodded slowly. daniel gently kissed your lips, his hands resting on your hips while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing yourself against him. the kiss grew more passionate, more eager.

you dreamed of that moment for years, you couldn’t believe that it was finally happening. you were kissing your best friend, and it felt right.

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, isahernaez and 729 019 others.

y/n: random dump because i still don’t have a jpg account to empty my camera roll

fan1: AAAAAAH THE CUTIES

fan2: the first couple pictures we get 🥺

fan3: that’s mom and dad right here

isahernaez: finally!!

maxverstappen1: @.charles_leclerc you owe me 100€ man

charles_leclerc: damn it

fan4: NOT THE BOYS MAKING BETS ON THEM

fan5: y/n was already the queen of wags even before she became a wag

fan6: their love story is the cutest ever

fan7: who said friends to lovers was a boring trope because look at THEM

fan8: the speech he did after his first race since his hiatus, when he thanked her was so cute tho

fan9: i just hope it won’t end badly bc their friendship was superior

fan10: now be happy

fan11: YESSSSSSSS

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taglist: @ferrariloverr

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gojoux · 10 months

Text

『 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 』

· Pairing: Geto Suguru x Reader

· Summary: The girl you're supervising for a mission is a spoiled brat princess. Once her eyes met your boyfriend, she becomes obsessed with him. You decided you've had enough once she took the chance.

· CW: 11.6k (sigh) // Fluff. Angst. Annoying behaviour. Act of deception. You and the girl having a beef. Jealousy. Suggestive themes. Implied and mention of sex. Implied past oral sex. Mention of genitals lmao.

Female reader, uses she/her pronouns, called ‘girl’ and ‘miss’.

“Excuse me, but what?” You look at your teacher, Yaga, after he tells you what your next mission is.

“You heard me. Your next mission is to look after one of the higher-ups' grand-daughter. Her parents are going out of town for a five days, and they want you to look after their only daughter.” Yaga explained once more.

“Your job is to keep her safe from cursed spirits. She's not a sorcerer therefore she can't use cursed technique, but she does see them.” He adds.

“But, why me?” You complain but make it sound as polite as you can since he's the teacher. “Shouldn't I be going on a mission to exorcise cursed spirits around the city instead?”

“You're the only one available right now,” Yaga answers straight to the point. “Anything else you want to say?”

‘The only one available, my ass.’ You curse in your mind.

“How about Utahime-san? She doesn't go much on a mission, right?” You try to bargain, hoping he would change your position.

“That's exactly why you're assisted. You're a frontline sorcerer, Iori is not, she's a support. What would happen if a cursed spirit attacked?” He answers sternly, not buying your suggestions.

You huff at the reasonable answer he gave you. “Any more questions?” He looks at you intently. “No.” You shake your head. Yaga nods at your response, “Good. You're dismissed.”

You turn around to walk out of his office before he speaks again, “Three million yen of reward will wait for you if you complete this mission.”

You stop your track, turning back to him slowly. “Three million yen?" You repeat as if in disbelief. “For taking care of a rich man's daughter?” You ask again.

Yaga nods at you for confirmation. “Just another piece of information.” He said. “For motivation purposes.” He adds tad a bit quietly.

‘Well, I'll be damned.’

You walk side by side with your boyfriend in the school's hallway, heading out to grab some snacks and drinks before heading out to your respective missions.

“What about your mission?” He asked, looking at you. “Anything special, or just some lower-grade curses?”

You huff in annoyance. “My next mission is actually to look after the grand-daughter of one of the higher-ups because her parents are out of town. You know, keeping an eye on her from cursed spirits.” You shrug. “I hope she's not a brat.”

“Oh? So you’re just a glorified babysitter for now.” He chuckles. “Don’t screw up now, okay?” He said playfully, then looked at you and smiled. “Are you at least getting paid extra?” He then adds in a joking tone.

“Hey!” You nudge his side with your elbow. He chuckles again, smiling brightly before looking at you and stroking your cheek.

“If I had a yen for every time you make that face, I'll be able to buy myself a house.” He said with the most teasing tone. “But seriously, is that all you’re doing? Looking after a girl? It can't be hard, right?”

”Yeah, but she's the only daughter from a rich family, her parents paid a lot for this.” You answer.

”So, they're rich? Do you get to be fed delicious food, perhaps?” He suggest with a sly smile.

“You just earned yourself the easiest mission ever, love,” he then said with a small nod. “Well, that depends on the princess you're going to babysit.” He jokes a bit while still leaning close to you with a smirk.

“I could lend a hand for you if you want?” He jokingly asks you with a wink.

“Please, do. I'll split the mission's reward with you, just a bit, though.” You shake your head at the thought of something that might happen in this mere mission or is it just you overthinking.

“I have a feeling I'm the one who's going to have a hard time.” You let out a harsh sigh before shaking the negative thoughts off your head. “After that, we can get some good food.”

“I'm just messing around. I'm not taking your reward, love." He chuckled a bit, patting your head. “So long as I’m with you, it’s already a reward.”

Then, he thought for a moment before nodding. “Hey, maybe we can also cook some good food ourselves.”

“What do you say?” He asked. “I can show you how to cook some dishes that my mom taught me.” He smiles sweetly at you.

“Really? That sounds wonderful. We can do that, too.” You nod at his suggestion. He pats your head again in response.

“So, are you excited to have a new job as a babysitter?” He asked you while walking, a little smug smile appeared on his face again. “I'm sure you can manage.” He added.

“Or... Do you want me to try babysitting you first to see what it's like taking care of a child?” He asked you jokingly, looking at you.

“I'm not a child.” You pout at him as you both walk closer to the vending machine.

“Hmm? You're not?” He asked with a teasing smile, knowing that you were being affected by his comment. “Are you sure? I'm seeing a certain toddler in front of me right now.” You huff at his words.

He reaches into his pocket and takes out a few coins. “Say, do you want anything, love?” He asked you, then looked at the vending machine in front of you and the snack options.

“Cola, please.” You step closer, standing next to him. “Such a spoiled little girl.” He said jokingly before chuckling. He inserts the necessary amount of coins and waits for the cola to drop down.

“And snacks.” He took out some more coins and put them inside of the machine before getting out some chips for the two of you.

“Here you go, my child.” He said jokingly before handing you a can of cola and some chips. “Don't eat too much.” He ruffles your hair gently.

“Yes, Father. Thank you for the treats.” You play along with the game and kiss him on the cheek as gratitude.

He takes out his food, looking at you while he talks to you. “So, I guess we both have our own missions now. Who do you think will have it easier first, me or you?” He asked you, trying to initiate a little conversation.

“You.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. “I'll be stuck with a brat here instead. The only child of a rich family is not far from being spoiled after all.” You complain once again.

“You never know.” He said while eating his snack. “This person could be the sweetest thing on the face of the earth, but with the way you're talking, she probably senses your dislike for her, which will make her act out in return.” He said, still joking around with you to ease your mood about the mission.

“Please, don't jinx it.” You groan at the thought. Geto chuckles at your reaction. “Maybe this brat of a princess can be your bestie, you'll never know.” He said playfully.

“And if the brat ends up acting up like you're expecting them to, you can always ask Daddy for help.” He teases you more. “I think I will.” You roll your eyes.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, you take it out with your free hand to see that you got a text from Yaga, saying that the rich man's daughter you're assigned to has arrived at school, which means your mission starts now.

“The brat is here. I'll see you later, okay? Be safe on your mission!” You give him a short kiss on the lips. You gathered the snacks on your one arm and hold the cola on your other.

“I'll see you later, love.” He replied with his soft smile, waving goodbye to you. “Don't worry about me, I'll be back before you know it.” He added.

“Just be a good babysitter, okay?” He then smirked playfully, still waving goodbye to you. You wave back as you walk towards Yaga's office again to begin your task.

Once you reached the office, there's Yaga standing with a girl beside him outside of the office's door. They turn to you at the same time, expecting your arrival.

Did Geto really jinx it or did your instinct come true, you don't know, but you're cursing fate and whoever has sent this evil spirit to your presence.

“Oh, how kind of you.” She grabs your chips and cola from your hands. The one that your boyfriend bought for you, and this brat thought you bought this for her.

‘It's the first day, come on. You can do this.’ You mentally cheer yourself. Pessimistically.

“This is Hanada Yui, the girl you'll be looking after.” Yaga introduced you to the girl as she held the chip close to her chest. “And this is (L/N) (Y/N), the one who is going to look after you for the next five days from now.” He adds, introducing you to her.

She looks young, but not far younger than you. She dresses well with expensive brand clothing, as expected from a child coming from a rich family.

“Nice to meet you, Hanada-chan.” You forced a smile, trying to be friendly with her, grimacing at the word ‘nice’ since you know it's not true at all.

“You, too.” She answers casually, a small smile gracing her face, you're not sure if it's genuine or not, but you brush it off, trying not to care so much.

“Alright. She's yours now.” He said to you before pointing toward the girl. Yaga walks closer to you before leaning a bit closer, “Be nice to the girl, okay?” He then said to you before looking at the girl. “Try to have a conversation with her, too.”

Yaga knows that you're not exactly the friendliest around new people, let alone the ones that don't strike well with you.

“Yes, got it.” You nod at him, assuring him and yourself. “Good, good.” Yaga gives you a small approving smile before excusing himself, letting you both talk with each other.

Yui, on the other hand, looks up at you with a slight pout. “So, you're my babysitter?” She asked you, her arms crossed in front of her and still holding onto the chips and cola.

“I thought so.” She said, sounding disappointed. “I was hoping for a hot guy who's going to look after me.” She shrugs, her decorated pigtails moving as she tilts her head to the side.

“How long am I stuck with you, by the way?” She asks. “Five days.” You answer shortly, trying to not let any annoyance come out of your tone.

“Ohh, that's long.” She groans as she eats the chip. After a while of her eating her chip in silence, she suddenly asked you a question. “Why are you even a babysitter in the first place? Shouldn't you have a real job?” She asked you, curious at your response.

‘Because I'm not.’ You grumble to yourself in your mind.

“You can see curses but you can't use a cursed technique, that's why your parents sent you here and assigned me, a Jujutsu sorcerer, to look after your safety. It's my mission.” You explain to her.

“Well, that's boring.” She looks at you in disapproval.

“Why can't you at least play games with me?” She said to you while continuing to eat her snack. “I'm sure they pay you to let me have fun, I don't see the reason why you want me to just sit here all day. Do you plan on watching me until I sleep?” She asks you while sounding slightly annoyed.

“I'll do whatever you want.” You answer her, keeping your cool together. You just know that this brat is going to be a pain in the ass.

“You'll do whatever I want? No way. You're probably just trying to mess with me. I mean, you already seem like a boring babysitter to me.” She said while giving you the most unimpressed look ever.

“Hmm...” She looks at you curiously, tilting her head while looking at you with her arms crossed. She then grins at you when she sees that you're actually taking her words seriously.

“You'll do whatever I tell you to do, right? You're going to be my slave the entire time.” She then says with a smirk, and by the way you two are interacting, it seems like this is what she wanted.

‘Babysitter to slave? What a downgrade.’ You roll your eyes.

“Whatever you said, princess.” You answer with a hint of mocking. It's official, you got beef with this brat.

“Oh... Did I strike a nerve there?” She asked you with a smirk, clearly enjoying this. “I like you.” With her still smirking at you, she finally finishes her snack and hands you the empty packet of chips, looking at you while waiting for your response.

You grab the trash from her, “You're welcome.” You smile sarcastically at her as walks past you. You roll your eyes once more behind her back before following her.

“Hhmm... Alright, what should we do next?” She asked you, clearly looking for some fun. “Oh, how about a shopping spree?” She suggested.

“I think my wardrobe needs a bit of improvement. Don't you think so?” She said, expecting you to obey her orders.

“Yeah, sounds good.” You answer her, clearly not enjoying it. From now, you just have to answer her straight on, not entertain her ego even more even though Yaga just told you to be nice and talk with her.

“Ohhhh, you're actually going along with my idea, huh? I thought you'd be more resistant. Well, this is going to be fun!” She said with a slight snicker.

“Hurry up! We don't have all day!” She yelled at you as she walked ahead. It seems like she's the one in control of the situation right now, which might become a big problem if she keeps on treating you like that.

Yui wanted to go to the mall for shopping, and who are you to deny that? Your job is to look after her anyway, which means you'll be stuck around her to your own dismay. Good thing you're going to get paid well with this mission.

After the assistant manager drives to the mall and drops you both off, she excitedly enters the mall with you following close behind her.

It seems like Yui has a specific place in mind where she wants to go. She quickly makes a beeline towards a boutique store, pulling you along by the sleeves of your uniform.

“Come on, hurry!” She said as she opened the store door for you. “You better get me everything I want, okay? It's your job after all!” She said, looking at you with a smug smile before stepping inside the store.

“I thought the little princess was rich? Did Daddy not give you enough pocket money, sweetheart?” You answer mockingly with an equally smug smile. You're not going to let this brat have whatever she wants.

“Hmph.” She grunted once she heard your comment. Your words got to the little princess. She made a pout on her face, crossing her arms in front of her while letting out an angry groan.

“Of course, he gave me money! I just don't want to use it.” She said, trying to act tough. “Why should I use the allowance my daddy gave me when I could use your money instead?” She said, sounding bratty now.

“Oops, sorry, didn't bring any.” You pull the inside of your pockets out from your uniform, showing nothing with a feign apologetic tone.

It seems like that's not the right answer to say at the moment as Yui's expression immediately changes, her eyes widening as she lets out another groan of annoyance. She was pretty obviously expecting you to be her piggy bank, but that was quickly put to a stop.

She then tugs on the cuffs of your uniform sleeve aggressively, almost pulling your arm, before speaking to you in an angry voice.

“What?! So, you're saying that you're my babysitter but you didn't bring any money?” She asked you, sounding outraged by your reply. “How are you going to buy things for me then?” She then said, sounding demanding. “You better fix your mistake!”

“The garbage outside is free. I could get you that.” You shrug, looking around the boutique, not giving in to her bratty needs.

The comment you made clearly stung her heart, causing her to ball up her fists with anger.

“How dare you suggest to get me garbage, are you mocking me?” She said, her tone becoming a little more aggressive than before. “I'm not some poor kid that you could trick into thinking that getting garbage is even a good idea.” She then said, her voice getting raised a little.

“Now, let's find something to spend your money on.” She then added, pointing at you to get moving.

“Alright, alright.” You lift your hands in defense, letting her pull your uniform sleeve by force once more. “Good, you're understanding.” Then she just walks forward, expecting you to follow her.

She starts looking for something that she'll like while you're left to look after her and make sure she doesn't get into trouble.

She quickly walked over to a dress rack, and without even looking at you, she started to pull out some dresses that she wants to try

“Hm... I think I'll get this red dress.” She said to you, pointing at the red dress on the mannequin. “What do you think?” She then asked you, seemingly wanting to hear a response from you.

“That's pretty.” You look at the dress she's pointing at. What an expensive-looking dress with an equally expensive price.

This got her smiling a little bit. “You really do think it's pretty?” She asks you while still looking at the dress that she's currently pointing at. “Do you want to go ahead and pay for me?” She adds with a proud smile.

“Oh, what's the limit again? Can I get more than one dress? Hmm... I'm sure you have enough to pay.” She said before looking at you with a cheeky grin.

Oh, how you want to wipe that off her face.

“Yeah, I'm filthy rich after all.“ You cross your arms smugly. “Pick any clothes you want, princess.” You play along with her game.

She seems happy to hear that. “Great! Then, I want this green dress as well.” She said while pointing at the green dress near the red dress. “And also those shoes, they'll go great with my dresses.” She added, pointing at a pair of white shoes.

“We might as well get some accessories too. Let's see...” She strokes her chin, looking at the accessories. “I'll get this headband and... How about... This one, this one, and... This one?” She picked more dresses out of the rack. “Is that a yes on my request, Miss Babysitter?” She then asked you still with a smug smile on her face.

“Yes, princess.” You roll your eyes. She keeps going here and there. You followed her with boredom, choosing to stay on your phone. After she was done, we went to the counter to pay.

“How about you wait outside while I pay for this?” You offered. She tilts her head in confusion but does exactly what you ask her to do.

You wait at the counter, holding the things that she's chosen to buy while the saleslady is scanning the barcodes to price them individually.

“What a funny girl.” You shake your head, eyeing her from inside the boutique to make sure she doesn't go anywhere, and there are no cursed spirits around her.

“The total would be three hundred forty-six thousand yen.” The saleslady put the clothes and accessories in the bag. You give her the credit card, watching her intently.

“With the name Hanada Yui?” She asks to make sure. “That's right.” You nod, trying to hide your sly smile. “Just type in the code here.” She turns around the card swipe machine for you to enter the pin.

The thing about being a sorcerer, you got to learn how to be sneaky and smart, never let them know what your next move is. That is exactly what you did.

While Yui was busy, you sneak inside her purse, grabbing the card from one of the pockets. You're kind of surprised she doesn't notice, well, that's what people do when they're too focused on one thing. You spend your time on your phone to search for the numbers of her credit card and get the code.

‘Filty rich, I wished.’ You chuckle at your words earlier.

Poor girl really thinks you're buying all her stuff, which she chooses many on purpose, even though you feel bad for deceiving her.

“Thank you for shopping.” The saleslady gives you back the card along with the bags with a respectful bow which you return.

She waited outside while you paid for all of the dresses that she picked out. When you got out of the store, she looked at you, expecting you to hand the dresses to her.

“It took you forever.” She said, not seeming too pleased by your actions. “Are you trying to make me unhappy? Because it's working.” She added, still not getting the dresses you bought for her as she looked at you with an annoyed expression.

“Here you go, princess.” You hand her the bags full of clothes and accessories she bought. “Wanna go back now?”

She took the bags you gave to her while looking at you with a surprised smile. “Thank you, Miss Babysitter.” She said, sounding much more pleasant and bratty in a way.

“Of course, I want to go back. What? Do you think I'll willingly spend the entire day out here?” She sound annoyed by your question.

“Oh, right, I don't have to worry about that.” She then said, smirking once more. “Since you're my babysitter, you'll be with me for the entire day, whether you like it or not.”

You let out an annoyed sigh, dialing the same assistant manager to pick you up from the mall. As you wait, you got a few text from Geto.

I just finished the mission in Yokohama. Heading to Hachioji right now.

How was the babysitting duty, love?

You smile at his texts before typing,

Okay, stay safe ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎♥

It's horrid.

After a while, he read the your response and replied back,

I'll be back after a day. Be a good girl, okay? ♥

Tell me about it.

Yui seems to be curious on why you're smiling while on your phone, “Who are you texting?” You look up from your phone with a shrug, “No one.”

I'm always a good girl!!!ヽ(`д´；)/

I will later.

You put your phone back into your pocket as the car arrived. You wonder what tomorrow would be like with this brat around.

The second day doesn't get any better. This spoiled brat Yui keeps demanding things, and the more she does it, the more irritated you become.

“Can I have that?”

“Can we go here?”

“Can you buy me this?”

She keeps on asking you in a pushy tone, but you can't refuse her demands if you want to accomplish your mission.

She still doesn't show any signs of calming down as she keeps on giving you multiple different requests for you to do. She seems to be trying hard to make your mission harder than it actually is.

She's not just asking for normal stuff either, like eating snacks or drinking cold drinks in the afternoon. No, she asks for the latest fashion accessories, the newest phone model, or the trendiest hairstyle.

In other words, she's the most bratty princess you probably have seen, which makes your mission harder than you'd think.

“I thought I'm your babysitter? Not your sugar mommy?” You look at her ridiculously, refusing the things she wants. Expensive stuff? Hell, no.

“Awww, Miss Babysitter doesn't wanna be my sugar mommy?” She asks you, putting on an exaggerated fake-cute voice. “Are you too poor to buy these things for me?” She asks you mockingly.

“Oh, I suppose I am, that's not good.” You feign the act of being sad, putting a hand to your forehead for the dramatic act, before relaxing back against the couch, crossing your legs.

“I'm starting to doubt you're actually rich when you keep refusing to use your own money.” You say, trying to get a rise out of this brat. “Is your credit card actually zero?” You feign surprise.

She tilted her head in confusion for a few seconds before her face suddenly grew tense with anger. “You dare say that I'm lying about being rich, huh?” She asks accusingly.

“I'll show you, Miss Babysitter.” She reached for her handbag before taking out a big bundle of money. “Look.” She shows you the money. “Is this zero to you?” She asked with a smirk on her face, wanting to hear your answer.

“Oho...” You chuckle at the sight, amused by her reaction. “I've seen more.” You say nonchalantly as if you're not impressed.

‘Yeah, Gojo's money when he lost a bet.’ You snicker to yourself.

“More? Who do you think you are?” She asked, offended by your remark. “Are you trying to say that you're richer than me?” She said like a spoiled princess. “You want to play the ‘I'm superior to you’ game now, huh?”

You let out a yawn, choosing to play on your phone instead as you relax on the couch, letting her talk whatever she wants. She doesn't seem to like your behavior right now, especially since she's trying her best to make you entertain her.

“Hey! Aren't you supposed to be looking after me?” She snapped at you, wanting your attention. “It's your job, isn't it? I thought you'd been hired to look after my safety, not to sit on the couch and be lazy!” She added with a scolding tone.

“Do you want to get fired? You won't get paid if you don't look after me.” She said, trying to intimidate you.

“Jujutsu sorcerers don't get fired, smartass.” You answer nonchalantly as you keep playing with your phone. “What do you want me to do anyway?”

This seems to make her even more angry again. “Is that how you react when someone hires you? By ignoring their orders?” She asked you, sounding annoyed.

“As I said before, you were hired to look after my safety. Now, do your job, or I'll complain to the teacher!” She then said, sounding a little bit more stern with her words as she looked at you, waiting for your response. “Do I really need to give you instructions, Miss Babysitter?”

The princess is angry again. Text you later (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

He replied soon after you sent him the text,

wwwwwww alright. Later, love ♥

“Okay, then, princess. What would you like to do?” You put your phone down, leaning against the couch with your attention on her.

Her frown is replaced by a smug smile when you finally give in. “Can't you be imaginative by yourself? Do you need me to tell you what to do?” She asks you sarcastically while crossing her arms in front of her with a smug smile.

“But, I could give you some ideas on what to do.” She added before uncrossing her arms. “There's a cute cafe nearby. We could go there and have a chat. What do you say?” She sounds somewhat sweet as she says this.

“Alright, we can go there.” You get up from the couch. She seems delighted to hear your approval. “That's the spirit. Let's go there now.” She said excitedly, and with that, you both walked out of the dorm to get a ride from another available assistant manager and go to the said cafe that she mentioned earlier.

Once you manage to reach the cafe, she takes a seat and beckons you to sit down with her. “Come, sit down with me. I want to get to know you better.” She says to you, sounding pleasant. You sit in front of her right across the table.

“Now, let's begin by getting to know you first, Miss Babysitter.” She leaning towards you a little bit. “What do you like to do in your spare time? And are you in a relationship currently?” She asks you while looking at you with a small smile.

“Well, I like watching movies in my spare time. Maybe rest when I have no missions or school work.” You shrug.

When you didn't answer her last question, Yui made a curious sound. “Oh, then you're single?” She asked with a smirk on her face.

“You want to know?” You ask back teasingly. “You still didn't answer the last question, aren't you in a relationship? Don't be scared.” She sounds a little bit frustrated.

‘Damn, she's pushy as always.’

“I am.” You smile smugly. “He's a Special Grade sorcerer, he's on a mission right now.” You answer with a sense of pride.

“I see.” She leans back into her chair and crosses her arms. “So... You're saying that you're in a romantic relationship with some Special Grade sorcerer right now, huh?” She asked you, trying to make you tell her about the sorcerer she's talking about.

“How about you? Do you have any hobbies?” You avoid the topic. She seemed to be in a bit of a mood after hearing your reply, trying to change the subject.

“I asked you a question, I want you to answer that first. Tell me about this Special Grade sorcerer.” She asked you. “And no, I don't answer your questions while you're not answering mine.” She added, sounding a little bit more annoyed than before.

“Why would you want to know your babysitter's love life, hm? You wanna know if he's a hot shot or something?” You answer teasingly. Yui let out a groan while rolling her eyes.

“I should've known you won't give me a straightforward answer.” She said, annoyed. Her frown slowly changed into another smirk after you answered her question like that.

“Actually, I'm curious to know what kind of man your boyfriend is. Is he cute? Is he handsome? Does he have a great personality?” She asked you, sounding a little bit sarcastic while holding back her giggles.

“He's all of that.” You lean back on your seat, crossing your arms as well. Rubbing to her face about your boyfriend.

She raises both of her eyebrows in surprise, seeming to be a little bit frustrated now after hearing your answer.

“Wait... You serious? You actually have a hot boyfriend? He's both cute, handsome, and has a great personality?” She looks like she couldn't believe what you just told her. “No wonder you won't tell me about him.” She said with a pout on her face, crossing her arms and looking at the table.

“What? You jealous?” You snicker at her reaction, knowing exactly where this is going.

“Jealous? Me? Jealous over your boyfriend? Ha!” She answers sarcastically, shaking her head while looking at you. “I'll have you know that I can steal your boyfriend when I want to.” She added arrogantly while looking at you with a smug smile.

“So, you might want to watch what you're saying, otherwise, you might find yourself without a boyfriend by the end of the day.” She said sarcastically but a little bit intimidating at the same time.

“My boyfriend doesn't like bratty girls. Sorry, you don't have a chance.” You answer back with a feigned sympathy tone.

Her face turned into a displeased one upon hearing what you said. “What did you just call me?” She asked you, her voice sounded a little bit shaky as she gripped the arms of her chair very tightly.

“I'll have you know that I'm not a bratty girl at all.” She's defensive and a little bit prideful while giving you a cold stare. “You shouldn't assume that your boyfriend doesn't like bratty girls just because you don't like them.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Whatever you said, princess.”

We spend more or less two hours at the cafe. Yui also leads you towards the arcade since she wants to play there, this time, you really paid for it.

You can't lie, you did enjoy playing the arcade with her despite her attitude problems. After it gets darker, she requested another meal at a restaurant before heading back to the school dorm.

It's 10:34 PM once you head back to your room after assisting Yui to her room. You plop down on the bed, drained after the day.

Not long after, you heard knocking on your door. You get up with a groan, walking towards the door, ready to be greeted with the sight of Yui with her night cravings.

But to your surprise, you see your boyfriend, already home from his mission. “I'm back.” He opens his arms wide with a smile on his face. “Suguru!” You quickly jump into his embrace.

“Aww, you missed me, too, love?” He asked, holding you close into his warm body. He gives you a long kiss on your forehead before leading you back inside your bedroom before closing the door.

“I've missed you so much.” He rubs your cheek slowly while he stares at you lovingly with his soft eyes.

He chuckled slightly as you jumped into his arms, wrapping his arms around your body to hold you.

He laid you down on the bed as he lay beside you. “How was your day?” He asked you sweetly, caressing your hair.

“Tiring.” You groan, remember how you're babysitting a bratty girl who's almost the same age as yours. “The brat did give me a hard time, but she was okay today.” You've been talking about this through text, and he wants to hear it directly from you.

He chuckles lightly at your reply. “Oh, that girl again?” He asks you in a playful tone. “I see she got you all worked up, huh?” He looks at you amused.

“So, what did she do this time? Or should I say, what didn't she do this time?” He asked, curious and teasing at the same time.

“She asked if I have a boyfriend or something. She doesn't seem pleased when I answer her.” You shake your head with a dry chuckle. “Are you interested in bratty girls?” You caress his cheek with your thumb, remembering Yui's words from earlier.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise upon hearing your story, “What did she say when she found out that you're in a relationship?” He asked you while stroking your hair lovingly.

“And no, I'm not interested in bratty girls. Well, when you are being bratty, then yes. You're the only one for me.” He added in a flirty tone before leaning in to kiss your lips. “Good.” You said after returning the kiss. “Because she said she can steal you from me.” You huff.

“Steal me from you? She said that, huh?” He asked you with a chuckle, still stroking your hair. “She really thinks that she has a chance to be with me?” He asked you in a bewildered voice.

“Right? Glad you think so, too.” This time you lean to kiss him first. “Don't worry, my love. I'll always be by your side, only you.” He said assuringly.

“She can keep trying but she won't succeed.” He gave you a kiss on the forehead before adding, “She probably just said that just because she wants to make you jealous, darling.”

“Yeah, I know that.” You frown, your hand slowly sneaking under his t-shirt for comfort, feeling his toned abs and cold skin. Seems like he just took a shower before coming here.

He lets out a hum as he feels your hand touching him underneath. “Ah, you're a one handsy girl. What's getting you in the mood, darling?” He seems to be enjoying the moment as he leans closer before kissing you.

He takes off his t-shirt and tosses it to the side, holding your hands onto his chest to feel his body more. “Mmm... Forget about the bratty girl. Let's enjoy each other.” He whispers to you, the mood starting to get intimate. “Let's focus on us.”

He lets out a small groan of pleasure as you pull him into an even deeper and more passionate kiss, one that could lead to something more. He closes his eyes in bliss as he deepens the kiss, his hands gently caressing your waist.

He makes no attempt to stop you, allowing the kiss to go on for as long as you want it to. He immediately holds your body in place, wanting you to be on top of him instead.

He looks at you as he continues to kiss you, his hands traveling down your back before he holds both of your hips. He starts to unbutton your sleeping shirt, his eyes still looking at you.

“Let me give you a good time, darling.” He says in a seductive voice. His eyes traveled slowly from your shoulders to your hips, his tongue teasingly sticking out for a moment before he finally took off your shirt and threw it beside him.

“My princess deserves to be treated like a queen tonight.”

In the morning, you wake up at the continuous knocking on the door. You snuggle onto Geto's bare chest, ignoring the sound.

You're still tired after last night, and you can't even think straight right now. But the knocking is getting louder and it's starting to annoy you.

Geto wakes up as well after hearing the knocking sound. He looks at you while lying down on the bed, annoyed.

He groans, bothered by the knocking sound, so eventually, he gets up from the bed and puts his pants on. “Hmm... Who's knocking so loudly like this...” He adds, still sleepy.

He heads to the door and opens it slightly, only to see Yui, standing outside. She seems surprised to see a man, a very handsome man opening the door of your room, shirtless even.

Geto is only wearing his pants, showing off his gloriously upper body from his v-line, abs, and chest. Not to mention there's a bulge from his pants since he doesn't wear anything underneath. His long hair is disheveled across his shoulder.

She just stares at Geto silently for a moment, then starts to blush as she turns her gaze away from him, feeling a little bit embarrassed at her actions. After a moment, she speaks up.

“W-what are you doing at (Y/N)-chan's room?” She asked, still looking away as her face looks a little bit red now.

“What are you doing? Knocking on someone's door this early.” Geto answered back, leaning against the wall. His face is not pleased after being disturbed in his sleep, especially after the mission and intimate moment with his girlfriend last night.

She looks up at Geto now, her body in a more confident position. She raises an eyebrow at his reply. “Why? I'm checking in on my babysitting assignment, she's supposed to take care of me by now. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?” She replies angrily.

“Plus, I've been hearing some noise coming from this room. Is it normal for you to let your assignment make all the noise at such an hour?” She adds with more annoyance in her voice. “I could've been sleeping instead of hearing all that noise.” A scowl appears on her face.

“Ah, right, sorry for that. We were busy last night.” He gives her a small apologetic smile, even still in his half-sleep state. She seems to be flustered upon seeing Geto's smile.

"A... ah... I see. You were busy last night doing... things." She looks away once again as she blushes slightly. “Well, at least, you're sorry. As for the noise, make sure it won't happen again.” She says while looking back at him.

“I expect you to be a proper babysitter. That means, no noise past your bedtime. Is that clear?” She asked while sounding a little bit like an annoyed teacher.

Geto shakes his head with a chuckle, starting to know why you're always rambling about this girl over the text. She has quite an attitude, and he knows you don't like being on the receiving end.

“Got it, princess~” He replied with the same tone you used on the nickname. Yui can't help but feel even more flustered at the nickname this handsome man just called her.

“What were you two doing last night? What do you mean ‘busy’?” She crossed her arms, always wanting to know everyone's business.

“Having sex?” Geto answered casually, saying the most obvious thing. “Why?”

“What?!” She exclaimed as she looked at him in shock, her eyes widened at his sudden answer.

“That's... A bit inappropriate for you to say in front of someone.” She then said, sounding a little bit embarrassed for him. “I'm sure your girlfriend wouldn't like it either.” She added.

“I know my girlfriend, she doesn't mind.” He chuckles at Yui's reaction. “By the way, what do you need this early?” He asked, back to the topic.

The answer seems to fly out of her mind once she sees Geto like she's charmed so badly that she got a few seconds of amnesia.

“N-nothing... Just tell (Y/N)-chan that she's late for babysitting. She need to accompany me, right now.” She crossed her arms in annoyance, yet her eyes are somewhere else, trailing over Geto's body, and he doesn't seem to be bothered even though he noticed.

“She's still sleeping. Do you mind a bit later?” He offered. “Are you still busy?” She raised a brow before mumbling under her breath, “Fine, then.” She said before walking away.

He could only raise a brow for what just happened before letting out a sigh and closing the door. He takes off his pants before climbing up the bed with you, cradling your body against his.

“What does the brat want?” You ask him sleepily. “She wants you to accompany her.” He answered you, still sleepy as well.

"I told her that you're still asleep, but she doesn't seem to believe me. She probably thinks that you're busy with...” He then said as he pointed at himself, wanting to imply that you're busy doing intimate things with him.

“But I told her that I'll convince you to accompany her, so please wake up.” He said to you in a stern voice, but he's definitely smiling.

“Ah, yes, my babysitting duties to take care of the brat.” You groan before slowly waking up. He smiles at you, laying his head on the pillow, “Yeah, she's really persistent in having you accompany her.” He said while rolling his eyes playfully.

“Yeah. Two more days and I'll be free from this miserable duty.”

You noticed how you feel less annoyed with Yui around. She doesn't seem to need your company like she always whined about. And you suddenly come to the realization that this brat is paying attention less to you, and is locked onto her new target.

Your boyfriend.

You frown as you sit on the dorm's living room couch, crossing your arms and looking at their interaction as you slump against the couch.

‘This little brat...’

Geto seems to be aware of Yui's presence as he looks at her while she's clinging to him, and the way she occasionally leans towards him is making him uncomfortable. “Why are you clinging to me like that?” He asked Yui with a curious look on his face.

He doesn't want to say anything mean to Yui, but he also doesn't like the way she's clinging to him.

“Do you want me to buy you something?” He added, confused but a little bit annoyed at the same time. “You shouldn't be so clingy with strangers, you know?”

“Let's get to know each other more, then!” Yui exclaimed happily, her personality changed when she was with him compared to when she was with you.

Geto seems quite troubled by this suggestion. “Why should we get to know each other more? I mean... you're already being clingy with me right now and I barely even know your last name.”

"You should be thankful I'm even tolerating you right now." He said in a stern tone. Not even a few seconds after, he sighs for a moment before deciding to give in to her demands.

“Alright, let's get to know each other more.” He said in a soft tone, sounding somewhat reluctant, but he didn't want to come off as rude.

You could see him roll his eyes while talking to Yui. “What do you want to know about me? I'll answer your questions sincerely. As long as it's not too personal.”

Yui seems to still be thinking about what to ask, but she eventually comes up with a question to ask. “Okay... Um... What's your type? Oh, and don't be embarrassed about your answer.” She asks him in a soft tone, a tone she never uses with you.

Geto raised his eyebrows in surprise upon hearing her question. You roll your eyes in annoyance at the sight. What kind of shameless ass would ask a man his type when his girlfriend is right here? The brat.

He thinks about his answer for a moment. “Well, I think I have a thing for nice and beautiful girls.” He said, looking at you when he said the word ‘beautiful’. “Which means, my girl right here is my type.” He added with a loving smile as he looked at you.

He noticed your annoyed expression, turning to Yui again. “Why did you ask me about my taste in women? Do you want to know if you're my type or not?”

“Yeah!” Yui answer. “Do you think I could be your type?” She asks in a flirty tone. You roll your eyes in annoyance once more at the sight.

Geto looked at Yui and you while rubbing his chin, trying to come up with the right answer. Instead, he gets an idea. He just wants to mess around with you, wondering how you'd react if he responded to Yui's flirting.

“Hmm... I'd say, yes, you're definitely my type.” He said with a flirtatious tone while looking at Yui, clearly trying to get you jealous.

“Who wouldn't love a cute girl like you, right?” He then said while stroking Yui's hair, looking at you while doing it. He wanted to see your reaction to their small flirting.

He kept entertaining her for a while, right in front of you. Responding Yui's flirt with his own with the gesture he only uses with you.

‘What the actual fuck?’ You scoff in disbelief. The audacity of him to mess around like that.

You're already been annoyed for the past two days stuck with this brat, and another annoyance just added to the list of your headaches.

Can't stand the sight any longer, you get up in a harsh manner before walking away, every step of your feet is hard against the wooden floor with how irritated you are.

He smiles a little bit while looking at you, noticing that you walked away after feeling annoyed.

“I see that my darling is jealous.” He said with a smile on his face before looking back at Yui. “I guess I'm going to spend the entire day with Yui, then.” He said in a playful tone while looking at her, wanting you to get even more jealous.

You frown at his words, clearly not entertained as you keep walking, not minding his comments.

He seemed to notice that you were hurt by his words as his smile turned into a soft one and got off the couch to catch up to you.

“Hey, sweetheart. Don't feel sad.” He said while reaching out to you, pulling you into a gentle hug from the back.

“You know how serious I am when it comes to our relationship, right? And I'm just joking when I was talking to Yui, you should know that by now.” He said, sounding a little bit defensive. “I was just trying to make you jealous.” He then added while caressing your hair gently.

“Yeah, I know. Why shouldn't I?” You pull yourself away from his grasp, starting to get mad at him. “Darling...” He called out to you, sounding a little bit disappointed when you pulled yourself away.

“If you know I was just trying to tease you a little bit, then why did you get mad, huh?” He asked you while caressing your arms. “I'm just trying to have some fun with you, my sweetheart.”

“I'm not in the mood, Suguru. Thank you for that.” You glare at him before walking away.

He widened his eyes in surprise when you called him by his name instead of his usual nickname, knowing that you're seriously mad right now.

“Love... Can't we just talk things out?” You can feel him following you while trying to talk to you, he still calls you by your nickname even though you called him by his name earlier.

Before he could catch up to you, Yui grabs his arms. “Just leave her, okay? You still have me.”

He looked annoyed as Yui grabbed his arm, causing him to stop in his tracks for a moment, giving her a stern look on his face.

“Stop trying to get me away from my beloved, Yui.” He looks at her, pulling his arm out of her grasp.

“Hey, hey!” Yui holds his arm yet again to hold him back from going after you, this time with more force, like how she did with you on the first day at the boutique. “We were talking before, right? Shouldn't we continue?” She smiled at him cheekily.

He lets out an irritated groan. “You really have a lot of boldness for a brat, you know that?” Yet she doesn't seem amused by his words.

He wants to talk to you and resolve this problem between you two, but it seems the brat is not letting him go that easily. He decided to give you space for a while.

“Fine, okay. We will continue, but after that, I'm going to try to talk to my girlfriend again, alright?” He said to Yui with a serious look on his face. “Yeay!” She gladly pulls him back to talk his ears off.

A few hours have passed and they're still at it. That brat keeps clinging to him wherever goes, like a parasite. You watched from afar this time, the girl has someone who's looking after her right now, why bother staying close to that nuisance?

The longer you watch her and Geto together, the more you feel frustrated and annoyed.

Geto was smiling, and Yui, at some point, laid her head against his shoulder while giggling at something he said.

“What a joke.” You mumble under your breath, feeling irritated. It almost felt like they don't even have a care in the world like they're not even thinking about being in a relationship with you or that you're right here.

Once the day comes to an end, you enter your room with a frown on your face, not planning to talk with Geto since you're still pissed at him for what he did earlier. You lay on the bed and tried to calm down, wanting to cool off a little bit in the room first.

After he escorts Yui back to her room, he lets out a sigh, “No wonder she's in a bad mood.” He shakes his head, understanding your behavior, because, damn, being close to that girl really drains your energy. Maybe she does have a cursed technique after all.

He walks towards your room, hoping to finally talk to you after making you wait for so long. He decided to not go in immediately but instead wanted to wait for a few minutes in case you're not ready to talk yet.

“Love...” He says to you from the door, not even going in yet. “Are you ready to talk?” He asked softly, guilty and worried about what he did earlier.

“Go away! Go with that brat you're having fun with earlier!” You yelled from your room, not even moving an inch from your bed.

He flinches a little from your sudden yell, slightly surprised by your tone as he tries to speak up once more. “But, love, you know I was just joking around, right? I just want to mess around with you.” He said in a soft tone while scratching his head.

“Is it really that bad?” He asked you, sad from your reply. “Please talk to me, love.” He added softly.

You keep on quiet, too tired to deal with this, but he's persistent. “Darling?” He calls out to you again, still standing right outside the door of your room.

“Please, could you just listen to what I want to say? At least give me a chance to explain.” He sounded desperate, wanting to fix whatever problem you two were having right now. “I just want to talk and spend quality time with you, is that too much to ask?”

His face filled with disappointment as he hears your silence outside the door, unsure if he should just enter and try to talk with you or not.

He sighs, trying to figure out what to do before he decides to try and enter your room in a moment. He hesitates and then, he finally does it. He slowly opened the door and entered the room without saying anything.

“What do you want?” You heard the door open and close. “I want to talk to you.” He said, somewhat defensive from your tone toward him.

He looks at you for a moment before sitting near your bed, deciding to stay in your room for the moment to talk things out. “Darling, you need to understand that I'm just trying to have fun with you. I wasn't being serious when I was flirting with Yui earlier.” He said, sincerely.

“I know.” You mumble. “I'm just not in the mood, okay? That brat gave me a hard time, I don't need my boyfriend adding the fuel.” You grumble, not even looking at him. He seems more relieved to hear that you understand his intention, but he didn't know how to react to what you just said.

He sighs before laying down on the bed and turning his body toward you, still looking at you. “I'm sorry that I have made you feel this way, darling. You're right, I wasn't thinking about your feelings at that moment.”

“Fine. Now just go to sleep or whatever.” You mumble, your back is still on him. “I can't, love.” He immediately answered.

“Do you know how worried I am right now? I don't want to lose you over something like this.” He added. “You're not. I'm not that dramatic.” You answered shortly before silence fill the room again.

“Are we really going to sleep like this? I don't want to leave things like this between us.” He said while stroking your head from the back.

“Talk to me, love.” He's desperate from your continued silence. “You're so difficult to handle sometimes.” He said in a playful tone, hoping to lighten up the mood between the two of you.

You pout against the pillow at his words. He chuckled softly at your response before he slowly lifted his body to move your front so he could see you.

“Do you always have to be like this when you get moody?” He said in a teasing tone before he started to poke at you playfully. He can't help it, he always feels like poking you whenever you pout and act like a child.

He suddenly stops poking you and sits down, sighing loudly before he speaks up again. “I'm sorry, love.” He said again. “I didn't know this would turn out to be a serious issue. I thought you would laugh or play along with me like you always do whenever I tease you.”

“Can you forgive me?” He asked in a pleading tone. You only nod against the pillow, “Okay.”

“Is that really all I get?” He whispered with a soft chuckle while trying to joke with you. “I know you're still a little bit upset with me from what I did earlier.” He went silent for a moment. “Could you smile for me, please?” He asked softly as he looked at you with a smile of his own.

“Not in the mood.” You mumble the same words again. “Just hug me.” He gives you a small nod and moves even closer to you before opening his arm and pulling you in for a warm hug.

“You're not allowed to move away from me, okay?” He said playfully before kissing you on the forehead, stroking your hair gently while still hugging you.

“You don't need to talk or smile if you're feeling moody.” He kisses you again on the forehead. “I just want to feel your presence here right now.” He said before giving you a squeeze in his embrace.

“She's going to cling all over you again tomorrow, don't get attached to her, okay?” You mumble with a hint of worry.

“Attached to her?” He asks you curiously while stroking your hair. “Is that what you're worried about?” He chuckled softly.

“Darling, why would I be attached to her? You're the one I love, and I love you for a really long time now. I'm only treating her like another girl, nothing else.” He added without sounding offended by your possible accusation.

“Now, don't get jealous of her, please.” He then said while smiling sweetly at you, wanting to reassure you that he loves you and only you.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” You nuzzle your nose to his chest before looking up. “Kiss me. I miss you today.”

“You're such a child, aren't you?” He chuckled at your demand as he got closer to you, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on your lips before he deepened the kiss.

He presses you closer to his body as his other arm wraps around your waist, holding you in place while he was still kissing you, causing him to moan softly.

His hands are now grabbing your body, wanting to feel you more. He's holding you tightly while his lips and tongue are still playing with yours. He breaks off the kiss briefly and lets out a deep breath before he continues kissing you again.

Just like you predicted, Yui is all over your boyfriend again. This time, you're not as annoyed as yesterday after getting his assurance last night.

“Suguru-kun~ Let's walk around?” She clings to his arm as she speaks with her exaggerated sweet tone.

“Uh... Sure, I guess.” He said, sounding a bit unsure of his answer. He starts to figure that Yui can be very persistent, but it's not worth it to push her away so he gives in.

You followed closely from behind. Seems like you're no longer looking after her from cursed spirits, it's more like looking after her so she won't do anything beyond the line with your boyfriend.

“Miss Babysitter! I'm thirsty, buy me something to drink.” She turns around to talk to you, again with the demanding tone.

You roll your eyes with a sigh, ”Yes, princess.” before you walk away to find the nearest vending machine.

He looked at you when Yui asked you for a drink, not liking the way she talks to you, it makes him irritated by how demanding she was. “You can't buy it yourself?” He asked her with a raised brow.

“It's her job as my babysitter, isn't it? She's paid to do that.” Yui shrugs, not seeing the problem with this.

“You know... You can ask her in a nicer way, Yui-chan. I'm sure she will get you a drink without your demanding tone.” He advises Yui in a soft tone, like how he would scold Gojo for the way he talks.

“But, I'm being nice, though? I didn't ask a lot, didn't I?” She answered as if it was a normal thing to her. He was a little bit stumped by her remark, not expecting her answer to be like that.

“You could've said ‘please’, Yui-chan.” He chuckled softly without sounding annoyed. “But, seriously though... You should be nicer.” He switches his tone to a stern tone. “Don't ask it like that, it's rude.”

“So boring!” She whines. “Ah, by the way, I've been wanting to say this since last night, but I like you.” She lets go of his arm and steps in front of him.

He stares at her, both surprised and shocked at her sudden confession right in front of him. “What? You like me?” He asks back, somewhat confused.

“You... What do you mean?” He said in a rush voice, trying to process his thoughts right now since he doesn't know how he should respond.

“Do you mean you like me as a person or...?” He then said, still sounding confused and unsure about what was going on with Yui right now.

His eyes then widened as he finally realized what she meant with her confession, not believing what he just heard.

“What?” He sounds surprised and more scared this time, also wondering if she just made a move toward him.

“You can't be serious, right? You do know that I already have a girlfriend, and I love her.” He brushes it off after a while with a small chuckle, thinking that her love confession was just a joke of some sort.

Yui's face quickly turns into an annoyed one when he doesn't seem to take her confession seriously. “I'm serious!” She frowns at him. “I'll prove it to you.” She reached his shoulder before leaning up to kiss his lips.

He flinches back when Yui leaned in quickly to kiss his lips, taken by surprise by the sudden action that the brat just did. He stepped back, looking at her with a mixture of surprise and disappointment.

“Yui, what are you doing?!” He said in a hurried and panicked tone, asking her what she was trying to accomplish by kissing him right now when he already has you as his girlfriend. “What was that for?” His tone turns cold by the second, still trying to process what Yui has done just now.

At the same time, you just come back and are greeted by the sight. You slam one of the three soda cans that you just bought in anger, which it's supposed to be for her.

“What is this?” You glare at them. Geto immediately turns at you, wanting to explain himself and what the brat, Yui, just tried to do earlier.

He notices your angry look, but he can't really say anything against you. You have the right to be mad after what Yui was trying to do.

“Darling, I can explain everything. She's just... trying to get a reaction out of me...” He explained, sounding worried and desperate. “It's nothing like what you think it is, love!” He continued, the panic in his voice as clear as day.

He pulls himself out from Yui's hold and quickly walks towards you, holding both of your hands in tight grip. “Darling, please, trust me. I would never do anything that would hurt you like that. I love you, I only love you!" He looks at you seriously, still with a hint of panic and concern in his tone.

“So?” You turn to Yui, still standing there as if she did nothing wrong. “What does my pussy taste like?” You ask Yui straightforwardly, tilting your head to the side and crossing your arms as you glare at her.

Both of them instantly freeze at your vulgar and embarrassing question to Yui, as she lets out a surprised yelp at your word. She didn't expect this to happen, and she didn't expect a harsh word like that from you.

“If you want to taste his dick so bad you should have kissed me instead.” You look at her in disgust. Yui's eyes widened as she heard what you said and that you were serious about it.

Geto then looks at you, feeling surprised by the way you confronted her right now. “Darl—” He started, wanting to say something, but then he stopped, letting you do the talk and let out your frustration at her.

“Don't you dare talk about such things, (Y/N)-chan! I only want to be close to him because I like him, not because I want... something else." She said nervously, clearly not telling the truth, before she started to tremble when a mixture of fear and embarrassment washed over her.

“Yui-chan, what makes you think you can try to kiss me without any hesitation? You need to learn that everyone has boundaries, including yourself.” He looks at her disappointedly as he scolds her once again.

Yui's face turns red from how angry and humiliated she is after being confronted like this. And for the first time in four days, she doesn't know how to talk back like she usually does.

“I'm sick of her ass. I really am.” You take out your phone, quickly texting your upperclassmen. “I'm switching with Mei-san. She knows how to handle a brat like this one.”

“Go back to your room! I'm not assisting you again this time.” You raise your voice at her after days of keeping your annoyance back. She looks at you wide-eyed, ready to complain but when she sees how Geto looks at her, she shakes her head and runs away to the dorm.

He nods, glad that you made a good choice. “Yeah, that's actually not a bad idea. Mei-san is a good choice... I think she'll be able to handle Yui.”

He then looked at where Yui is going, wanting to confront and advise her more about her behavior, but he doesn't want to continue talking to her for too long, as he knows it will only lead to another argument and possible trouble.

He turns to you, sensing your silence while you're busy on the phone. “I'm sorry about Yui, love... I know you're still mad at me, but, please, hear me out.” He looks at you, wanting to talk to you right now as he wants to clear out this misunderstanding between the two of you.

Eventually, he walks to your side and stands close behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He then leans on your shoulder before kissing it gently. “Are you angry... with me, too?” He said in a quiet tone as he gently caressed your hair with his free hand.

“My baby...” He sighs softly when you don't answer and takes your hand gently on his own. “Can you look at me, please?” He pleads, wanting to see your face, hoping to get a chance to see your beautiful smile again.

“I'm upset.” You put your phone down. He lets out a small chuckle as he looks at you. “I know, you just gave me ‘the look’ of your sulkiness just now.”

“Still, can you look at me for a little bit? Even if you're mad at me at the moment, I still want to see your beautiful smile... I miss it.” He said softly, stepping in front of you again as he held your cheek.

“Mei-san wants the reward of my mission in return.” You pout, showing him your text with Mei-Mei, another reason you're upset.

3,000,000 yen for 5 days? Interesting. I'll take the last-day offer, then.

I'm expecting the 600.000 yen in return~

“Huh.” He reads her text. “Well, that's Mei-san for you. She loves money more than anything else.” He said in a light tone.

You look at him again. “You know, I really want to wipe your lips after that kiss with Yui.” His eyes widened at your comment. He then lets out a small chuckle, feeling slightly embarrassed by your comment.

“But, she forced herself onto me.” He said, guilty but still wanting to make things clear. “I'm sorry... If you want me to wipe my lips, then you can do so anytime.” He said, not refusing your offer.

You smile at him, cupping his face to give him a long, deep kiss. He let out a soft sigh, enjoying the feeling of your kiss, even for a moment. “This lips... Is mine to taste...” You say between kisses.

“Mmm...” He lets out a soft sound in response to your action, leaning toward you even more. He returns your kiss, making sure that it's deep and full of affection for you. His eyes were closed as if he just wants to savor your kiss as much as possible. He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your body while caressing your back.

“Mm, I needed that..." He said softly after you two broke off from the kiss, looking at you with a smile on his face. He kisses you again, one of his hands going up to the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

You pushed your tongue against his lips to part them open, letting your tongue enter his mouth to savor him. “Mmm... Love that... Your taste...” He murmur between kisses before he pressed his lips more against yours with a bit of aggressiveness, wanting the kiss to be as fiery and lustful as he feels inside from this moment of the kiss.

He slowly moves both of his hands to your hips and pulls you towards him, wanting to feel you closer to him. He starts to kiss you down your neck, his lips trailing down your throat, nibbling the skin of your sensitive spot, his teeth lightly grazing against the delicate skin around your skin until it leaves a mark there before licking it.

“Speaking of taste...” His lips trail back up from your neck to your cheek, kissing the side of your lips. “What did you say I tasted like?” He reminds you of what you said earlier, wanting to hear it again.

“Mine.”

Got carried away with this 😮‍💨 It's originally longer, but I decided to cut some parts and replaced it with shorter words because it's already long enough 😭

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