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wndaswife · 8 months

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(fic request) pls write this w nun!wanda (if you want) 😵😵😵

to worship and submit | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Being the daughter of the man that leads the church choir means attending the services when you run out of excuses to be anywhere else, but a young woman who's recently joined the parish to become a nun has begun to make your time there worthwhile.

Word count: 7419

Tags: smut, fluff, humour, sacrilege, quite literally fucking in front of a crucifix, even i feel slightly guilty for writing it, strap-ons, rough sex, spanking, slapping, spitting, degradation, praise, daddy kink, mentions of masturbation, sub!wanda maximoff, dom!reader | MINORS DNI

A/N: SO... i did do some research for this fic... but only SOME... meaning some of the info may be incorrect fyi!!!

gif credit to evilly

Every Sunday since your dad joined the church as their choir leader, you’d been making yourself busy in advance just in case he’d ask if you wanted to come to the services.

You were proud of your dad — really, you were — because he loved music and loved the community the church brought him, and the church was closeby to where your mom worked as an elementary school teacher, so your parents were able to work together when there were community events that involved both the school and the church.

Though, being happy for your dad didn’t mean you also had to be happy when he invited you to the services.

Sometimes you’d attend special occasions like Easter and other holidays and church events wherein your dad prepared his own assortment of music and such for the choir to play, but only because you were there to support him and what he was passionate about — music and community and his family.

Such events were big deals at the church he volunteered at because it was well-known for its large community; the church itself was closely connected to a nearby convent where it had close ties to the nunnery there, as well as having one of if not the most ornate architecture all preserved within a historically-significant religious landmark.

But for the last few weeks, he hadn’t asked you to go with him because he was so busy with the new influx of students joining from the Catholic elementary school your mom worked at; they were all there singing on the weekends for their volunteer hours, but at the very least, your dad said they were still enthusiastic and friendly kids.

So on the morning of one of the very rare occasions in which you hadn’t had anything planned for the Sunday because you weren’t expecting him to invite you as he hadn’t for the last while, your dad invited you to the service.

You could’ve truly made up an excuse and flat-out lied about being busy, but it’d been a while since he asked and you knew he’d been working hard with the new students in his group, so you supposed it wasn’t so much trouble to accept his offer, even if you did groan it out in a superficial fit about having to get out of bed earlier.

It wasn’t that you not being religious had anything major to do with avoiding going to church, because you didn’t entirely mind when your religious parents brought you to the services for special occasions, but rather because you didn’t very much have the patience or sufficient concern for the readings and worship to attend the nearly-two-hour services.

That was truly your most pressing issue with attending the Sunday services with your dad, but today was different, with an unexpected experience to make you dread going even more than you did previously.

“Excuse me?” a timid, unfamiliar voice chirped from behind you.

You turned to see a young woman standing by the doorway of the back hall where the entrance to the choir balcony was.

Typically, you sat around there when your dad was conducting because you weren’t very involved in the church enough to sit at the pews nor were you part of the choir.

But from where you were sitting, you weren’t entirely uninvolved as you could still see and hear the services — it was the perfect spot.

“You aren’t allowed to sit here,” the young woman told you, running the pads of her two fingers along the edge of her sleeve.

Her dark brown hair was neatly pulled back into a conservative bun and she was wearing a black plain dress with a modest plain scoop neckline to show the buttons and collar of the crisply-ironed long-sleeved white blouse underneath that all of the church’s nuns wore, but the simplicity of her outfit and the uncovering of her hair meant to you that she was presently studying at the church to become a nun.

“I’m the choir dude’s daughter,” you said with a polite smile and looked away, expecting for your response to be all the elaboration she needed.

In a way that was subtle with the intention not to be offensive but in that very manner was offensive in itself because of how irritating her caution was, the woman cleared her throat.

“I-I know,” she pressed, “but this area isn’t open for seating. For anyone.”

When you didn’t answer for a moment as you stared at her, she quickly said, “I’m sorry. They told me to tell you.”

“I’ll find a spot in the pews,” you answered and collected your things.

From the corner of your eye, it seemed that she wanted to offer a seating alternative just to make up for what she was forced to tell you, but there wasn’t very much else she could offer.

That Thursday, you were back at the church to pick up an ironed uniform for your dad; it was for a special event set for the upcoming Sunday, and the church pressed it for him and everything.

It was a nice gesture.

They were nice people.

On Thursdays, there were only morning services and events for children in another spacious room where they could colour and play with the church’s team leaders and nuns.

But in the afternoon — which it now was — there wasn’t anything going on.

When you arrived, the church was still and warm with gentle sunlight shining through the stained glass windows and casting a myriad of colours against the pews.

You looked over your dad’s text again and walked through the directions he told you to take to get to the back halls of the church, just a few turns from the stairway that led up to the choir balcony.

The room where you were to pick up the uniform was as pretty as the rest of the church; it was a small prayer room with a pedestal and stained windows and red carpeting, but it was much cozier and probably hadn’t been used for prayer for the group size it was designed for in a little while.

You could see through the glass door the folded uniform for your dad on the windowsill behind the pedestal with a name tag placed on top of it ready for pick-up along with a few other clothes for some other church volunteers.

Upon entry, you closed the door quietly behind you and stepped into the room where you could now see a small table by the window and a familiar young woman sitting with a notebook, jotting a few things down from what looked like a leather-bound book.

“Can I just get my dad’s uniform from there, or do I need to sign it off or something?” you asked, announcing your presence.

She looked up from the notebook and at you then to the uniforms on the windowsill.

“Oh, you’re…” She paused and thought for a moment. “The choir conductor’s daughter?”

“Yeah.”

“I can sign it off for you,” she replied and smiled.

She stood from the table and walked around it to the uniforms, where a piece of paper was set beside the line of neatly-folded clothes.

You watched as she jotted down a few things onto the paper with a pen before carefully picking up the packaged uniform and turning to hand it to you.

“Thank you,” you answered.

“Of course. Have a good day,” she replied and bid you a goodbye before heading back to the table by the window.

You were on the way to leave the room, but you couldn’t, for some odd reason, take your eyes away from the way she lowered herself into her seat and resumed her notetaking.

She didn’t notice when you changed your direction and walked towards the table she was sitting at until you were perhaps just a metre away from her, when she then looked up from her notes and up at you.

“Did I give you the wrong uniform?” she asked, worried and now standing up from her chair.

“No,” you answered quickly and waved your hand.

She stayed standing, curious as to why you walked back.

“Hard at work?” you asked, pointing at her notebook.

Confused for a moment, perhaps by your curiosity in speaking with her, she looked over to her notebook and then back at you with a friendly smile, “Yes, a little. They gave me something to study from. I’m just taking notes.”

Carefully, you reached forward and spun her notebook around so you could read it.

Her curiosity seemed to spike when you leaned forward to read her notes, and she looked at you with a small smile.

“Um,” she started awkwardly. “I want to apologise for earlier this week. For making you move seats.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you replied and looked up from her notes to smile at her reassuringly. “I know they just made you tell me because you’re new.”

The young woman seemed reassured, her shoulders even relaxing a bit when you said it.

“You’re still… What do you call it? Like, you’re studying to be a nun here? Not fully one yet?”

She shook her head.

“Yes, I’m in the study period before becoming a novitiate,” she answered.

Your fingers ran over her delicate handwriting, feeling the indentations of her pen against the paper.

“To worship and submit,” you read aloud from the notebook. “Fascinating.”

She caught onto your twinge of sarcasm but approached it with humour, laughing a little and conceding, “It is a bit medieval, but an important quality, I’d presume.”

Reflecting suddenly on how young the woman seemed much younger than the other nuns, you asked her, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

She was a bit older than you, but still quite young.

Her hair was down now, though still neatly brushed and free of frizz and tucked behind her ears. She was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and an ankle-length black skirt patterned lightly with gardenias.

“How did you get into wanting to be a nun, anyhow?” you asked and moved your attention away from the notebook and towards her. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I-I don’t?” she inquired, almost sounding nervous at the implication that she wasn’t training herself properly.

“I mean, pious and submissive — sure,” you said, referring to her notes, which made her seem a bit flustered, “but not like a nun.”

She questioned curiously, “More like…?”

After humming aloud in thought, you turned to her with your hip laying against the edge of the table and suggested, “Elementary school teacher. Vet. I don’t know, something like that.”

She was pretty — truly.

Cute, even.

“When I was younger, I wanted to be a vet,” she told you, smiling sweetly.

“Changed your mind?”

“Younger as in quite young, perhaps around ten,” she recalled. “My parents are both rather religious and ever since I turned fourteen it’s always been their intention to have me join a congregation.”

Interest piqued, you asked, “And your intention for yourself was…?”

“For myself?” she repeated as if taken by surprise.

You nodded once.

She paused for a moment to hum thoughtfully before saying, “I was happy to follow whichever path my parents intended for me.”

“You find passion in nunnery?” you asked. “Genuine question — not judging.”

“Of course,” she answered.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you quickly checked it to see that your dad had messaged asking if you were able to pick up his uniform.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been holding you back from something,” the woman apologised and stepped to the side to allow you to leave.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket and adjusting your dad’s uniform in your hand, you replied, “No, not at all. My dad’s just impatient. I should get going now though, since here’s a few errands I have to run before noon.”

She nodded in understanding.

“It was nice being able to talk with you,” she then said. “I haven’t been able to talk with very many people since I came here. It’s all just been about studying and the church.”

Before you left, you made sure to ask for her name, to which she replied telling you it was ‘Wanda.’

Cute name.

It’d been quite a while since you ever attended the services two weeks in a row. The last you did was during the last half of August the first year your dad started conducting the church choir, during which you had nothing else to do but wait for classes to start — so you went to the services.

This time, because the church was celebrating something special, your dad asked both you and your mother to attend the service because he’d been working on preparing a set of songs for the occasion.

Under the guise of being a supportive daughter, your parents didn’t second guess why you were so willing to attend the service this week, nor did they ask if there was a certain individual you were perhaps a bit excited to see again.

Truthfully, you couldn’t stop thinking of Wanda since you last saw her a few days ago. There was much to her you felt laid dormant and sleeping, awakened only just in the slightest during the conversation you had with her. She was kind and curious, but also painfully naive.

She was a few years older than you but knew far less about the truth of her own ambitions and strayed perhaps not even a foot’s distance away from behind her parents’ shadows.

Wanda was interesting, but intrigued you for far too long for her to be only that. Though you couldn’t very well figure out what it was about her that made her bounce around in your head like a pinball until an unassuming evening.

It was sincerely an unrelated act when you first started, travelling your hand down between your legs in the silence of the evening to relieve yourself of the pent-up stress from classes that’d come over you during the last few days.

Truly, it was completely unrelated to Wanda and anything and everything about her when you started, and even during, until you reached your peak of release and found your imagination flashing with curiosities about what she looked like under her garments, how she’d squeal if you spanked her ass and if she’d like it, or how she’d cry out in sheer pleasure if you forced her down and made her take her spankings regardless.

For a moment afterwards there was guilt, but every day onwards there was curiosity, wondering for hours about what you’d seen when you reached that point of pleasure during which Wanda was your only muse.

You’d like to tell yourself it was only that curiosity that guided your willingness to attend the service with your parents, but it was something else entirely too — something completely carnal.

For the first hour of the service, Wanda was still nowhere to be seen. Because of the church’s connections with its convent, the nuns had a large role in some of the day-to-day happenings, but mostly during important church events like what you were presently attending.

Wanda wasn’t a nun yet; she was yet to be even a novitiate as she had mentioned, and so perhaps she just didn’t get to attend events like these.

Though you personally found that counter-productive, you weren't one to complain about the convent’s decisions, but you did wish you got to see Wanda.

If she wasn’t one to be able to attend such events, when would you see her next?

After coming to the realisation that you probably just weren’t going to see her today or perhaps even for a little while, you excused yourself after having been present for nearly all of your dad’s song arrangements and with enough time to be able to be back from the washroom with well-enough time to catch the rest of his songs.

To your surprise, you saw the very woman who’d been on your mind for the last hour was sitting in the hall by the stairway that led up to the choir balcony. She was wearing the same outfit as she had been the first time you met her, with her hair done up in the same way too.

“Excuse me, but you aren’t allowed to sit here,” you teased, approaching from the right and walking into the hallway.

She quickly swiped at her eyes and began to apologise before she raised her head and saw it was you who had spoken to her, and you who now stood beside the bench she was sitting on.

Though she smiled and seemed relieved and happy to see you, you could tell that she’d just been crying — alone in this hallway away from the service and the nuns and sitting at the far end of the bench so as not to be seen by the people attending the mass.

Wanda stood, running her palms down the sides of her dress with a friendly smile while saying, “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly as you focused on the slight redness of her eyes and the tip of her nose.

You then asked once you were sure she’d been crying, “Are you okay?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious after realising it must've been obvious that she’d been crying, Wanda carefully wiped under her eyes again and even tried making herself seem less dishevelled by tucking her hair behind her ears before you took her hands away from her face and made her stop fidgeting with her appearance.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” you pressed.

Dismissively as to not bring any more attention to herself, she told you, “It’s really nothing. It’s nothing to bother you with.”

“I wanna be bothered,” you answered lightheartedly. “Come on.”

Wanda smiled at your gaiety and you urged her to tell you what was wrong once more before she finally exhaled in surrender though she didn’t sit down before speaking, implying that in spite of the fact of giving in to you, she wasn’t very well planning on delving too deep into what had been bothering her.

“Earlier today, I had accidentally misplaced the leather book I’d been studying from — the one you saw me with a few days prior, if you can remember,” she said. “And I was scolded terribly for it. It was quite deserving as it was an important collection of notes and such, so I do not question from where my scolding had come, but it seems to me that all I’ve done since I started here is get myself in trouble with the other nuns.”

Here, you tried taking her hand and urging her to sit down, but she wouldn’t, and slipped her fingers out of your hold.

“They found the book in one of the small prayer rooms I’d been studying in, so at the very least it was not a mistake of ruining the integrity of the book by losing it completely, but rather the very principle of having been given something so important and misplacing it,” she continued.

Wanda swallowed and seemed to be contemplating whether to go into more detail, and you could tell that there was something else that had been bothering her that didn’t exactly have to do with misplacing the book.

Before she had the chance to make a decision, there was a passerby who came from the service in search of the restrooms, which interrupted Wanda’s train of thought as she and the man exchanged a brief hello.

“We can go somewhere else,” you offered, taking her hand and heading down the hallway with her. She didn’t take her hand away from you this time, but instead told you that she only needed time to be on her own and that she was fine now.

The only other place you knew was the prayer room you picked your dad’s uniform up in, and fortunately it was unlocked.

You ushered Wanda into the room and she smiled at you from behind and you led her forward to one of the front seats in front of the altar, regarding you with admiration for the effort you put into wanting to express your concern for her and make sure she felt heard.

The early morning beams of light shone through the stained glass like they had that afternoon you’d come here a few days prior, but the room was far less stuffy now, familiar and almost reminiscent of something nostalgic.

The feeling could easily be because of the fact that you’d been envisioning what you could remember from it nearly every hour since that past Thursday, with the room in the background of your mental portrait of Wanda.

She settled down in the seat beside you, feeling encouraged more so because she wanted now to be closer to you rather than solely to sit and talk about what had been bothering her.

But she could partake in the latter if that was what you asked of her — and it was.

“I know that I hardly know you, but I’ve been here for nearly a whole month and you are the person I feel closest to,” she confessed.

You felt flattered, though you knew telling you that she felt close to you wasn’t exactly the point of why she said that.

Wanda further reflected aloud, “I’m getting nowhere I’m supposed to, not finding the call to God like both my parents and the nuns told me about though I have even given it plenty of time. I studied English in college and yet can find not even a little interest in my religious readings.”

While she thought in silence for a moment, you didn’t interrupt her.

When she found the words to verbalise what she’d been meaning to say, she began with a question: “Do you remember when you asked what my own intentions were for myself? On Thursday?”

You nodded.

“It’s ridiculous, but I can’t even recall the last time I sincerely asked that to myself, but perhaps in shallower terms, such as wondering where I might be in a few years or what I might do with my time in the convent.

“But never what I wanted — never who I wanted to be.”

After a moment, when you were sure she wasn’t trying to find words to express herself nor contemplating whether to say something, you asked, “And do you know who you want to be?”

For a brief moment — half of one, really — Wanda looked thoughtful, and then she said and gestured to her clothing and the prayer room, “Not this.”

“So then, what?” you inquired further.

You teased, “A vet?”

Wanda giggled and sat back a bit in her seat. “Perhaps if I were ten,” she said.

Then more seriously, she added, “But now, I’m not very sure.”

“How did you come to realise what you were interested in?” Wanda asked. “For example, your studies. What are you studying?”

She was talking fast, obviously very invested in your conversation together and also rather curious about you.

You thought that was cute; you liked Wanda.

“I’m studying philosophy,” you told her to which she straightened and was eager to hear more about. “But with studies, it’s different, because you’re talking about more personal matters. Academics are far different from personal paths.”

Wanda seemed a bit disappointed because she was looking for a definite answer, but what you explained certainly made sense to her.

She pondered about something then instead asked, “So about personal matters, then. What about those?”

“What about them?”

“Give me a principle to follow,” she sought. “Something I might be able to apply here. Something as general as you’d like it to be, but applicable.”

Her steadily growing smile made it clear that though she was certainly looking for advice, she also thoroughly enjoyed exchanging quips with you and exploring more about you.

In a way, she was as eager to learn about you than how to help herself, if not more so.

You hummed thoughtfully and Wanda watched as you were deep in thought.

“A principle for you,” you said, “could easily be that it’s okay to be selfish, to think only of yourself when you’ve spent so long doing anything else.”

Wanda asked, slightly amused but far more curious, “You recommend hedonism?”

“To you?”

She nodded.

You replied, “Indubitably.”

If you hadn’t already been thinking of Wanda in painfully great amounts before that morning, then you certainly were afterwards.

The third week came around and by then Wanda was banging against every square inch of your skull like an intruder, necessitating the need to be seen and thought of every other minute in any way you could.

Perhaps the relationship you developed with her thus far was one of friendship and nothing more, yet her persistence that never strayed too far from your mind seemed to you that she had become reminiscent of something greater than a platonic figure.

In any case, you had to muster the ability to ask your dad in the most nonchalant manner you could if it were possible for you attend Sunday’s service.

You did it in a way that did not make it seem to him that you were about to become a familiar face in the church, but rather that someone had simply happened to ask you for help during the last service and wondered if you might be able to attend the next — which is quite literally what you told him.

It wasn’t a lie.

Not even when you said that it was a young woman who was studying to become a novitiate at the convent that was curious about the choir and the other volunteers and had asked you about it last week, because Wanda did truly ask about the choir and the other people who volunteered at the church once.

But that wasn’t at all the reason why you wanted to attend the service that Sunday.

“Y/N,” a voice called in a hushed tone when you passed the hallway leading up to the choir stairway where your dad had already walked up towards.

You slipped away from the people filing into the pews and quickly came to Wanda’s side.

“Don’t you have places to be aside from fraternising with the guests?” you teased as she took your wrist and led you towards the room you both seemed to like talking in the most.

“After last week’s ordeal with the book, I’ve been put on some kind of probation from participating in the services so I have more time to study independently,” she told you, not seeming particularly worried.

She added, “On Sundays, the convent is rather empty, so they wouldn’t notice that I’m off not studying. Though I could very well say I chose to study in one of the extra prayer rooms here.”

“And I’m sure they remember how much you love the prayer rooms here,” you said, wiggling your eyebrows at your reference to her having lost the book in one of them.

Wanda faked a laugh in the driest manner you’d ever heard and you nudged her arm to which she told you to stop joking around with her so she could tell you something important.

She closed the prayer room door and sat you down beside her.

From a small bag on the chair to her left, she pulled out a small dictionary.

Here, you were tempted to make fun of her and ask why she was carrying around a dictionary so tiny, but you recalled that she had wanted to ask you about something serious.

She flipped open to a page she had bookmarked.

“Hedonism,” she read aloud. “In philosophy, the belief that pleasure and the absence of pain is the most important principle in determining the morality of an action.”

Wanda looked up at you from the dictionary. “This is what you meant?” she asked.

You nodded.

Curiously, you inquired, “Do you agree with it?”

She looked back down to the page in which had written three definitions of hedonism, the third being the one defined by philosophy.

The first two you could not quite read upside down.

“I have never heard of it in such detail before the time you mentioned it last week,” she said, running her eyes over the words in contemplation, “but it’s interesting.”

“What would be your first endeavour to pleasure, if you had to make a guess?” you asked her.

Wanda ran over the words of the definition again with her eyes, perhaps still deep in thought about it or absently doing so while she contemplated an answer to your question.

“My first?” she repeated.

You looked down at the dictionary page now that she was holding it at a slightly different angle that oriented the letters better for you.

The first definition read, ‘Pursuit of pleasure.’

And the second — you had to tip your head to the side a bit to decipher it — read, ‘Sensual self-indulgence.’

During your deep concentration, Wanda had come to an answer to your question, and it wasn’t until she leaned forward and kissed your unsuspecting lips that you realised she had even stopped looking at the page.

It was the uttering of her muffled words against your lips that triggered something deep within you, perhaps equally as restrained as her own.

An unfinished sentence, but one on its own nonetheless.

‘I want…’ she had uttered, breathless and with one hand cupping your cheek and feeling with the pads of her fingers the softness of your skin.

With that, you hastily reached forward and grasped at her ass, lifting her from her seat and stripping her down so she was in nothing but her undergarments.

The paths of your nails streaked red against her pale skin while you devoured her every step of the way, your lips following every inch of skin that became exposed to you while your hands made quick work of unzipping her dress and unbuttoning her blouse.

She sighed when you kissed her breasts and squeezed your hands around her waist and hips, taking her selfishly and finally spreading her legs and sitting her down in your lap.

“Are you…” you began between breaths, pausing to figure out your wording and sitting back in your seat to look at her. “Have you had sex?”

Wanda giggled, finding your question amusing. “Of course I have,” she replied and took your hands and placed them on her hips again.

“Cocky,” you jested, hooking your thumb under the clasp of her bra and releasing it so it snapped against her back, causing her to arch her body into you with a soft gasp. “Thought you might’ve been abstinent or something.”

“I don’t mean to be cocky,” she said in a low voice. “But I am certainly not abstinent.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Only if you choose to be.”

“I choose to be,” you said with conviction. “So for whom should I be jealous, then?”

“College students.”

You gasped superficially.

“You fuck college students? Exclusively?”

“No!” she laughed. “I mean I haven’t been very active since my time in college.”

“Haven’t had sex since college?”

She corrected, “I didn’t mean that either.”

“So what did you mean?”

“This conversation is like pulling teeth.”

“Why? You want me to fuck you hard against this floor right now, baby?” you asked. The very crudeness of your words, albeit teasing, made Wanda’s breath hitch, and so within that reaction you found her first tell. “No foreplay or anything?”

“This isn’t foreplay?”

“Hardly.”

“Then what is?” she asked though sounding slightly pouty about it.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re all turned on and impatient from just that. Teasing gets you off?” you pressed. “Didn’t even have to be told how I wanna see your gorgeous ass bruise when I fuck your cunt from behind like you’re my sick little fucktoy whore?”

Her hips twitched.

“Y/N…” she muttered, perhaps out of impatience or forewarning for how you were teasing her, either way you could not tell and weren’t very rushed in trying to figure it out.

You pulled her bra down and released one of her breasts, slapping it lightly with your fingers and causing her to gasp before pinching one of her sensitive pink buds.

There would be no indulging her past what you were willing to indulge; you were careful not to touch her more than what was intentional.

You bucked your hips up under the guise of adjusting your seating, grinding your stiff cock against the soaking panties which were now beginning to soak your pants.

Her cunt was sensitive beyond the thin fabric, causing the strap to rub her perfectly through her soft, swollen folds; you could practically hear how sticky she was without even looking.

“What is that?” she quickly asked, looking down between her thighs. She tried moving back to get a better look, but you quickly held onto her hip with your other hand and pulled her harshly back to her original position, making her throbbing clit rub directly onto your cock.

A strangled yelp was breathed past her lips.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to, you understand?” you told her.

She nodded.

“Everywhere else in this building, there is only one God, but here in this room, I am yours. You will listen to what I tell you and take what I give you, even if it hurts. You’ll be grateful that I make you hurt as much as you will when I give you pleasure.”

In spite of everything, Wanda repressed a tiny smile and said, “You’re scary when you’re authoritative with me.”

You laughed through your nose and replied, “I can get scarier.”

Her smile widened into a grin and Wanda’s hand came to the back of your neck when you leaned forward and kissed her, one arm circling around her waist and carefully slipping her off your lap as you stood from your seat.

“We’ll get caught,” she voiced concern against your lips.

“Then be the lookout.”

You made sure she didn’t trip on her way up to the podium, and soon you had her chest laid flat against the lectern and facing the front doors, the shadow of the large crucifix behind the both of you casted against the red carpet from the morning sun shining from behind the stained glass.

Wanda listened as you unzipped your pants and when she made an attempt to turn her head and look at what you were doing, you put your other hand against her upper back and pressed her back down, reducing her line of sight to your face and shoulder and nothing else.

Her clothed cunt was prodded at, the stiff tip of your strap finding her hole through her panties and nudging at it teasingly. She groaned impatiently and reached back to take hold of your hand, to grab onto anything and urge you forward.

In response, you spanked her harshly and made Wanda yelp out in surprise and wince.

“You dirty, impatient slut,” you spat.

She immediately whimpered, “I’m sorry, daddy.”

That satisfied something in you that you hadn’t even known you wanted, and you were more than happy to share in that satisfaction.

You hummed and tucked a finger under the waistband of Wanda’s panties, making her twitch impatiently while also doing her best to listen to her orders. Then you laid your hand flat against her lower back, rubbing her supportively and making a warm flush form across her face.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Wanda?” you asked, looking up her bent-over half-naked body to the back of her head.

She nodded.

“Good girl,” she confirmed with a nod.

Gently, you squeezed her ass and danced your fingers up to the waistband of her panties that you finally pulled down, exposing her gorgeous, glistening cunt.

It took just as much resistance from you not to shove your cock right into her as much as it took Wanda to not thrust her hips back and grind her clit against your strap.

“Why don’t you tell me all you’ve been studying about the last little while?” you said, running a hand down her ass and sliding a thumb into her pussy, feeling heaps of pride with the way you slipped inside with no resistance.

She was incredibly wet and so, so warm.

Distracted by the way your thumb probed shallowly at her hole, giving her just enough pleasure to make her throb but just short of enough to satisfy her entirely, it took Wanda a few moments to regain her focus before she finally asked, “S-Studying? About what?”

“You’re a smart girl, Wanda,” you encouraged, slowly sliding your thumb out and grazing the pad of it lightly over her swollen slit and across the hood of her clit. “Methods on how to be a proper nun. For example, swear yourself to the Lord, abstain from sex, so on and so forth.”

Wanda swallowed and tried her best to focus with the way your thumb began spreading her cunt out, revealing to you the glistening folds of her pussy. She began stuttering and finally squeezed her eyes shut hard enough to be able to recall some of her studies.

“Um, there was…” she uttered and ran her fingers along the edge of the wooden lectern, “living in modesty; not showing off one’s body in any crude manner, not partaking in pleasures of the flesh.”

Three of your fingers began rubbing slow circles against Wanda’s hole, squelching against her dripping cunt and making her tremble and moan shakily.

“And what next?” you asked.

“I-I can’t… Can’t focus…” she told you helplessly.

Your thumb flicked at her clit and Wanda’s body jerked forward.

“One more,” you urged. “Come on. Give me one more good one and I’ll fuck you with my cock. You want that, don’t you?”

Intentionally, you began to focus on her clit now, having your index finger graze it as your middle and ring finger slowly began delving in and out of her sticky hole, purposefully making it even more difficult for Wanda to find the words for herself.

“I want… I want that,” she shuddered, hanging her head and squeezed her eyes shut again.

“So, then, give me one more.”

Wanda’s breathing deepened as she tried her hardest to focus.

With every intention to make it more difficult for her, you reached up with your other hand and pulled her bra down, allowing you access to knead her breast and feel her nipple harden against the palm of your hand.

She whimpered into her arm and bit down on her bottom lip.

You stepped forward and removed your fingers from her cunt to rub the length of your strap through her pussy, wet fingers taking hold of its base and running it through her swollen folds.

“A-Ah, Y/N, please…” she mewled, though neither of you were quite sure whether she was begging for you to stop and allow her to think thoroughly or for you to have mercy on her completely and just fuck her.

“One more,” you reiterated and aligned the tip of your cock with her entrance.

You placed both hands on her hips and began pulling her backwards, fucking her shallowly and watching her pussy take your cock with just as much anticipation as Wanda was struggling to withhold.

She hugged around you beautifully and it was truly only the tip; you couldn’t wait another moment to fuck her until she was begging for you to fuck her until it hurt.

“A-Another,” she finally trembled out, “is to be, by nature, a woman of submission, to worship your God and seek no amount of personal domination over–”

Fully satisfied with her answer and terribly impatient yourself, your fingernails dug into Wanda’s hips and you jerked her ass back against you, forcing her to take your entire cock in one swift movement.

She cried out and you wrapped a hand around her waist, running your nails down her side and feeling an inexplicable need to mark her, to cause her pain, to reduce her to a whimpering trembling, bruised mess so cock-drunk that all she’d feel for the next three days is the aftermath of being rough-fucked like a slut.

“Hit me, please, daddy,” she begged, wrapping her fingers around the edge of the lectern and arching her back.

So you did — repeatedly.

You spanked Wanda over and over, having the sound of your palm meeting her ass echo through the room and only reiterating to the both of you how she was much less of a nun or a student or any reflection of purity, but a braindead nympho whore good for nothing but getting her pussy fucked raw.

She was a loud fuck, crying out in whimpers and moans and other strings of partially-comprehensible words telling you how good your cock felt and how much she loved getting fucked by you.

The playing organs and belting choir playing during the service muffled Wanda out, but Jesus Christ, if any of them out there had been able to hear her getting fucked down the hallway, they might just think for a moment that it was the calling of an angel or at least something in some way divine.

But none of them would ever know what it looked like to fuck Wanda from behind, pulling her up with their hand around her neck so you had access to slap her face and spit into her mouth like you could, pinching her clit and fucking her through to her third orgasm.

How beautiful she looked, sweaty and a mess with her long brown hair fanned out and stuck in strands against her back, crying out in equal parts pain and pleasure and finding herself incredibly pleased by being used like a filthy object.

And you’d make sure no one else could get the chance to see the sight but you.

“I’m gonna come again, Y/N,” she cried, breasts pressed against the cold wood of the lectern and arms pressed against her back. “This is my last, please, I can’t take anymore.”

You let go of her wrists and wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her from the lectern. She was arched at a slight angle so your arm could assist in continuing to fuck her, but she was now much closer, and she was now able to loll her head back against your shoulder.

“This is the closest thing a slut like you will ever get to heaven, angel,” you told her, kissing her temple. “Make your God proud and come on my cock, filthy bitch.”

Wanda reached back and held onto you for support while her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parting as a silent cry escaped her, her third and final orgasm coming over her without mercy.

You squeezed at her breast and leaned your head down and bit at her shoulder and up the back of her neck, getting in as many markings of your ownership as you could.

She sighed out and uttered your name, to which you ran your hands up her stomach, one hand moving up to her face and gently tilting her head over so you could kiss her lips.

Her knees buckled out and you carefully set her down on the floor before sitting down beside her. Wanda panted heavily into your chest, one hand on your knee and the other arm wrapped around your shoulder.

You had your arms around her waist, rubbing her back supportively and whispering in her ear words upon words of how beautiful she looked, how good she’d been for you, then soon confessing how much you’d been thinking of her over the last few weeks, how much of your mind she occupied and how much of your time you spent thinking of her.

Wanda liked hearing that last part most, but she particularly enjoyed when you told her how it felt to masturbate to her, to imagine her looking up at you and choking on your cock at your final point of release, and how really being with her was plenty more enjoyable and, quite frankly, more beautiful than you ever could’ve fantasised about on your own.

The both of you were on your knees, sweaty with the labour of sex and kneeling in each other’s arms at the foot of the towering crucifix, whispering and giggling to each other all the equally sweet and dirty confessions you could exchange before the service was over.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen #heliumknife

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hannieehaee · 4 months

Note

hii I loved loser!chan fics and I was wondering if you could do loser!jihoon as well? anyway you want works for me I’m just insane over jihoon being all subby and your fics are amazing!!!

18+ / mdi

content: loser!jihoon, virgin!jihoon, sub!jihoon, afab reader, smut, dry humping, handjob penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2466

a/n: ive always thought of writing loser!jihoon u read my mind lmao i hope i made him loser enough <3

masterlist

jihoon wasnt too much of a social person. it had been like this throughout elementary and all the way too high school, even manifesting up until college. currently, he had his usual group of friends, but he was as still pretty much a very antisocial guy. he liked it this way. it kept things simple.

his lack of socialization, however, also came with a lack of social skills, which in very obvious fashion also meant he lacked experience in social situations; dating included.

his romantic life had been fully nonexistent thus far, making him fall far behind most of his friends, who were all thoroughly experienced in one way or another.

it's not like jihoon didnt have any interest in that area of his life. it was just that he was too shy. a bit of a loser too, to be honest. this was a trait of his that he had wanted to finally rid himself of, which wad how he ended up attending one of his good friend's mingyu's many frat parties.

this wasnt his usual scene. he had been invited to these gatherings multiple times, but always turned them down, knowing he could never keep up with his popular friends (not that he wanted to anyway; as he said, this was just not his scene). however, something his friend mingyu had said about a week back had caught his attention, making him insist that mingyu let him tag along this once.

he had been in the cafeteria at the time, looking across the room as he usually did while his friends engaged in conversation. he was the only member of the friend group who was not a member of the frat, so it was easy for him to blend in the background most times. this time, however, mingyu had caught sight of what was keeping jihoon so distracted. this had just gotten interesting.

it was you.

by some strike of luck, it turned out that mingyu knew who you were. you were a frequent attendee to his frat parties. he knew you pretty well, actually. had spoken to you a few times, and coincidentally knew you had a bit of a thing for his friend jihoon – at least that's what he gathered from your occasional inquiries as to where he was any time he'd be absent from mingyu's parties. mingyu had never attempted to hook you guys up before, but he had decided in that same moment that he liked you for jihoon, which only meant one thing; he had to play matchmaker.

considering jihoon's clear interest in you as he stared and stared while sighing at the pretty sight, mingyu felt very justified in not-so casually dropping the fact that you were usually in attendance to his parties, meaning that you'd very likely be at his following party. this caught jihoon's attention immediately, who tried to nonchalantly make some excuse as to why he'd wanna be in attendance this time around. mingyu considered it a mission accomplished and simply awaited the fateful day of the party.

at the party itself, mingyu immediately got to work, making sure jihoon remained alone and in close proximity to your location – also letting you know that jihoon was wandering somewhere in the frat house, taking note of your smile as he relayed that piece of information to you. as soon as he located the two of you and deemed the situation manageable for jihoon, he went his own way to party with his friends. he had a hunch that it'd work out on its own. he had seen you sneak a few glances at his friend tonight already, which gave him all the confidence to leave the two of you to eventually interact.

it didn't take long for the two of you to bump into each other at some lone corner of the frat (it's not like jihoon had been keeping track of your movements and making a calculated effort to incidentally bump into you in a not-so casual way). upon crossing paths, you immediately engaged in conversation, rendering jihoon slightly speechless at your friendly disposition.

although he had a hard time keeping up with your outgoing personality, – barely being able to mutter full responses as his eyes avoided yours at all costs – you seemed interested enough to suggest the two of you move onto a quieter part of the house in order to have a better chance at understanding each other.

that remote location manifested itself as mingyu's room, which had conveniently been left open for jihoon to access (something gyu had made sure to let jihoon know about, "in case he grew tired or something").

for some reason, sitting on the edge of the bed by your side as a booming party occurred downstairs felt a bit too intimate for jihoon, someone who was not used to any sort of interaction with women of any kind, much less the girl he'd been secretly crushing on for months. you seemed relaxed, though, simply maintaining sporadic conversation as the two of you enjoyed the muffled music coming from downstairs.

at some point you seemed to sense his unnerved state, deciding to call attention to it.

"parties not your thing?"

"oh, uh .. yeah. just not used to the environment , i guess."

"this is my first time seeing you at one of these. what changed?"

"h– how'd you know it's my first time?"

"i wouldve noticed you before."

oh. oh.

"why do you think i brought you in here, jihoon?"

"you know ... you know my name?"

you had scoot closer now, sitting side by side with your legs gracing against his, which were stuck together as he made himself as small as possible.

"of course i do. i've been keeping tabs on you jihoon."

he felt himself shiver at your proximity, despite the fact that everything was still very much friendly and platonic. but he couldnt help himself in feeling shy at the implications of being alone with you whilst sitting closely to each other on the bed.

"o- oh."

"jihoon? why wont you look at me? are you okay?", you took your hand and placed it under his chin, making sure he was now facing you.

your face was far too close to his, and the expression you carried was not one of worry, but one of want.

"n- no, i mean, yes. it's just–"

"just what, jihoonie?", you tilted your head, somehow coming into even closer proximity to his lips.

he gave up the clueless act first, being unable to control himself in his need for you.

"please ... just– please."

that was enough for you to close the gap, sighing softly against his lips as he froze, unknowing in what to do. his arms also remained on his sides as his posture stayed rigid. luckily for him, you didn't mind his temporary inactivity, simply urging him with your own hands and lips to take some action.

these notions were enough for him to nervously begin to kiss you back, copying all your movements as he opened his mouth to allow yours in. his hands were also now awkwardly resting on the small of your back as he leaned a bit towards you. it was all very awkward on his part, but he was truly having the time of his life as you made love to his mouth.

your kiss had quickly grown filthy, making jihoon's eyes roll back as he attempted to keep up. you only kissed him like this for a short while before pulling away breathless, inquiring for more.

"can i? will you let me take charge, jihoonie?", you said in a hot breath against his lips, eyes still glued to his pout.

"i– ive never ..."

"that's okay ... i'll show you, jihoon. ill make you feel good. i can ... i cant teach you."

he wasnt sure if you'd meant to sound like a siren's song when you said this but the effect was just the same, because he found himself breathlessly nodding in agreement, allowing you to lay him down as you straddled him on the bed.

just moments later and you were already starting a slow and sensual grind against his hips as you made a show of arching your back and throwing your head back at what was likely just minimal pleasure for you. for jihoon, however, it was the most action he'd ever gotten. he always assumed that his first act of intimacy with a girl would be a quick peck, not the girl of his dreams dry humping him on his friend's bed.

he took a leap by putting his hands on your hips, unable to control his moans and the way his hips pushed upwards a bit to match yours. this seemingly caught your attention, causing you to make eye contact with him once more before leaning down and connecting your lips.

once again, he was unable to help himself in kissing you back, although sloppy and inexperienced, he enjoyed your kiss all the same, nearly losing his mind at your ability to turn such a sweet act into one of pure desperation so quickly.

"always wanted you, jihoon ...", you breathed against his lips, "knew you were friends with gyu, so i kept coming here hoping to see you, but you never showed up. made me wait so long for you ..", you pouted.

"i– i didnt know. i wanted you too, i swear ..."

you gave him a sweet smile, caressing his cheek softly as your hips slowed down for a moment, "i know, hoonie ... which is why you're gonna be good for me, right, baby?"

"y– yes. i– anything. ill do anything you want, just–", he was interrupted with yet another kiss; a kiss which he instinctively gave back without even having to process it.

"anything? oh, jihoonie ... gonna have so much fun with you."

his confirmation had been enough for you to take further action. jihoon wasn't sure how it ended up happening, but eventually you had managed to undress the two of you, now sitting in the exact same position as before, – you on top of him as he laid back on the bed – except this time fully nude.

from the moment you'd thrown off your shirt, jihoon had been unable to stop staring at your tits. he didnt wanna sound like a total creep or anything, but he wouldve given anything to bury his head in them and never come back. luckily for him, you seemed to read his mind pretty well (re: took a hint from his endless staring and licking of his lips) and leaned down, enticing him to kiss your tits by bringing his face close to them.

with a quick nod in confirmation, jihoon went to town on your tits. he didnt know he had it in him, but his lips and tongue explored every inch of your breasts, breathing against them at how supple they felt under his touch. he drank in every single sigh you let out at the feeling, with his arousal growing to an extent he didn't know was possible.

"oh, hoonie ... fuck ... such a good boy. play with my tits, shit ..."

your hands eventually reached out to play with his dick, which he had been neglecting thus far. his actions halted upon the feeling of your warm hands encompassing him, jerking him in a way that had his kisses against your chest becoming even more sensual in nature as he moaned into your breasts.

"you– oh ... that's .... please ...."

"like it, baby? want me to keep playing with your dick?"

"yes, fuck. please! want–"

"but, baby ... dont you want my cunt?"

that statement took him to another planet altogether.

your cunt? you were going to fuck him? oh. oh.

the simple thought of you wrapping around him, bouncing up and down as he lost his mind under you almost had him cumming. the best he could do in that moment was lift his head from your chest and beg you to please let him have it as he kissed your lips.

you took advantage of his begging to lick his lips, teasing his tongue with your own as you positioned yourself to lower yourself on him. jihoon was sure you could feel his heartbeat almost beat straight out of his chest as you pressed your hand against his chest for support, but he didnt care. he wanted you to know how carnally he wanted you.

"this is your first time, right, baby?"

"yes, b– but its okay! i want it, i swear!"

"oh, i know, pretty ... just wanted to make sure. gonna make you mine after this. you know that, right?", you leaned down to kiss his neck as you said this, making him shiver at the thought, "gonna be my pretty little jihoon that only i get to have ..."

"yes ... yours, just– wanna be yours, please ..."

that was all you needed to finally sink down on him, moaning out at the feeling. similarly, he arched his back against the mattress at the warmth and tightness he felt around his cock; a pleasure he never knew was humanly possible.

you rode him like a champ, wasting no time in speeding up and he himself lost his mind. he couldnt help it when his hips began to cant up against yours, loving the way you threw your head back at the impact. at some point all rhythm between the two of you was lost, making you hump against each other like you were in heat.

"hoonie! gonna cum, please ... cum with me, pretty. wanna feel you cum."

"gonna cum for you ... feel so fucking good ...", he whined at you, knowing his end was right there.

the two of you cried out and held each other through your respective ends. his came slightly before yours, making him wince at the overstimulation as you tightened up around him after he had fully ridden his high. but the feeling was extremely pleasurable nonetheless.

laying down next to him, you cuddled up against his side, giving his chest a sweet peck before gesturing at him to look at you.

he felt shy making eye contact, but felt less so than before. he felt such a strong connection with you at this moment, smiling at knowing that you liked him back (at least going off on your rambles as you fucked him).

"i like you. so much," he interrupted whatever you were about to say, not even realizing his words until after he'd uttered them.

you chuckled at his widened eyes upon realizing what he'd said, "i know, hoonie. i like you too."

you stayed quiet after that, choosing to fall asleep in his arms as he held you against him. he wasnt sure what exactly came next, but he was content in that moment.

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 months

Text

Neighbors 🩵 Lovers

What if Erik was your sneaky link and your neighbor?

The life of a Museum Curator for the Metropolitan Museum of Art has its ups and downs. Fae McAdams had just gotten promoted and after celebrating over drinks with friends and colleagues, she returned home to her high-rise, luxury Manhattan apartment with stunning skyline views and high-class amenities.

Her girl friends took pictures of her dressed in a sexy evening gown with a plunging neckline that sparkled. Fae posted the photos to her Instagram and received tons of congratulations. She worked hard to get that promotion. A few lemon drop martinis and hookah was much deserved. Now, she can book that flight to Indonesia.

Despite having an amazing Friday night, the one person she’d expect to show up and support her was currently unavailable for whatever reason. Just then, she was reminded when she opened her apartment door and saw him standing there with her dog, Deuce, in his arms. His name is Cordell and he’s a shitty boyfriend.

“Did you get my texts?” Fae questioned with a flat tone while locking her door.

Cordell sat Deuce down and he skirted off to play with his chew toy. Cordell— tall, chocolate, handsome— walked over to Fae, staring down at her from his imposing height. Fae liked them tall, built, and rough around the edges. Wasn’t always the best choice in men since all of her exes have been known to cheat on her. Cordell had never been caught cheating, but he has his faults. This being one of them.

Cordell was the best she’d ever had. He wasn’t some broke nigga laid up on her couch in the same draws. He was an elementary school teacher who was the first man to ever treat her like a gentleman. Butterflies crept up her stomach when he snaked one bulky arm around her hourglass waist, drawing her in so they were glued together. Cordell had to bend his back to get closer. She rolled her eyes and turned away, his soft lips catching her cool cheek instead of her plump lips.

“Fae, it slipped my mind. I would have been there but I had that thing I was telling you about.”

Fae tilted her head back to stare at him, “What thing, Cordell?”

“You know,” Cordell smacked his gums, “That thing with school.”

“The parent-teacher conference?” Fae questioned.

“Yeah. I couldn’t miss this. I hadn’t had the chance to call you back, baby.”

Fae squirmed against Cordell, “You could have sent a text letting me know all of that, Cordell. Why is that so hard for you to do? Simple communication.”

Fae felt Cordell’s arm slip away and she removed her heels before walking past him, brushing against his bare arm. It sent shivers down her back. She was tipsy and horny. He didn’t deserve to have her but the way her coochie was throbbing like a heart-beat, she couldn’t ignore it.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Cordell followed her to her room, “I’m proud of you. I’m happy you got promoted. That’s amazing.”

Fae ignored him and tossed her bag on her bed. She started to undress but Cordell grabbed onto her zipper first, pulling it down. Her dress fell from her shoulders, breasts defying gravity. He lowered the dress past her waist, then her hips, until it fell to her ankles. Cordell crouched down to grab the dress and in the process he kissed her right butt cheek. At his full height, he looked at her reflection through her floor-length mirror, his dark brown eyes sweeping over her body with lustrous desire.

“You a dime-piece, baby,” Cordell grabbed Fae by the chin to force her to look at him through the mirror, “How long you gonna stay mad at me?”

Fae responded with a half shrug before walking away, her hands gathering her hair into a bun as she walked over to her vanity. She secured her hair with a claw clip and started removing her jewelry.

“I did get you a gift. It’s not here yet but I figured you’d be happy about it.”

Fae’s chestnut eyes focused on him through the mirror and a small smile teased her glossy lips.

“I’ll be waiting on this gift.” Fae spoke with disbelief.

Cordell walked over to her at a slow pace, his cologne crowding her personal space. Fae could feel his warm body against her back, pressing her into the vanity. Cordell leaned forward and started peppering her neck with kisses. Fae’s pussy quivered when he added tongue.

“I wanna eat your pussy.” Cordell whispered into her neck.

Fae wasn’t going to tell him no. She turned around, breasts with stiff nipples stroking his chest.

“Can I eat your pussy, baby?”

Fae didn’t say a word. She blinked her eyes away from him and pushed him, taking two steps towards her bed before climbing on top. She went to lay back, her fingers dragging her black thong past her hips. Cordell took a seat on the edge of the bed before turning onto his stomach. Fae pressed her thighs together with one of her dainty hands cupping her pussy.

“Can I see that wet pussy?”

“Depends…I don’t think you deserve to taste me.”

“You say that now…you tipsy, ain’t you?”

Fae let out a suppressed laugh, “I am. I should be upset with you right now.”

“Baby, how can you stay mad at me,” Cordell moved her hand out of the way, “When I make you feel like this?”

Cordell used his middle finger to rub up and down between Fae’s slippery pussy lips. She turned her head away, a low moan escaping her mouth. Cordell positioned himself with his face pressed against her pussy, his strong hands separating Fae’s thighs. Her legs dropped open and that pussy covered in peach fuzz and dripping wet was in his mouth. Cordell pushed Fae’s thighs back and swiped his tongue over her clit lickety-split. One of her hands sat on top of his waves while the other twirled a nipple.

Cordell’s dark brown eyes were half-lidded and his thick tongue moved hastily over her clit and inner lips with the right amount of pressure that had Fae bucking her hips.

“Your pussy taste sweet.” Cordell said with a lick of his lips before going back in to eat some more.

“Fuuck,” Fae frowned her face in ecstasy.

Cordell adjusted his body so that he could slip a finger past her opening. He inserted his middle finger slowly, Fae dripping onto the bed from being opened. She could make a big mess. Cordell sucked on her clit lightly while twirling his finger around, swiping her spot and her walls.

“You gon’ cum in my mouth, sexy?”

“Yes!” Fae gripped the back of Cordell’s head, “That’s my spot, baby!”

Her nipples were hard and pointed to the ceiling. Her pussy leaked all over the bed as if she’d sprung a leak. Her inner thighs quivered the more Cordell sucked and licked all over her pretty pussy. She was sensitive, soaking wet, and ready for dick.

Fae’s entire body convulsed and Cordell grabbed her waist to keep her still. He continued to devour her through her orgasm, alternating between licks and sucks.

“Cordell, babe,” Fae whined, “I’m gonna squirt.”

Cordell sat up and quickly slipped his sweat pants and briefs past his hips, his chubby brown dick with a pink tip nothing but a hard, flesh covered pole ready for insertion. He pushed Fae’s hips back and her pussy opened up more. He dropped his seven inches in her wet, warm sex and as soon as his dick hit her spot, Fae squirted all over him.

“Still mad at me, Fae?” Cordell spoke with a quiver in his voice because of the way his dick felt snuggled between her walls.

“Just give me that dick.” Fae replied with tenacity, “This pussy ain’t gonna fuck itself.”

Cordell started moving his toned hips, pumping in and out of her pussy. Fae locked her ankles around his waist and reached down to rub her clit. Cordell increased the speed of his hips and Fae could feel his nut sack slapping against her ass.

“Harder, Dell,” Fae spoke hastily, “I’m so fucking wet, fuck this pussy.”

That lemon drop martini shot straight to her pussy. Cordell puckered his lips and spit on his dick, his way of adding more wetness. Fae rolled her eyes a little so Cordell wouldn’t catch it. She held her legs back and Cordell went harder, his hips snapping into her’s.

“Mhm…this my pussy…” Cordell whispered between strokes, “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” Fae moaned, “Here it comes—”

She leaked the more he stroked. It was so wet between her legs that his dick kept slipping out. Cordell pulled Fae up and with his dick still inside he got behind her and Fae arched her back.

Her favorite position.

“Oh, shit,” Fae brought both of her arms out and gripped the sheets, “Yes, baby, don’t stop, oh my god—”

Cordell slapped Fae’s left cheek before using his long fingers to grip her flesh. Fae threw it back while Cordell met her pound-for-pound. Everything became sticky and loud because of her dripping-wet pussy. Fae’s ass made all types of clapping noises from how hard she would thrust back. Eventually, Cordell was close to letting it off. He grabbed her hips and banged her pussy from the back, making Fae cum one final time before he pulled out and came all over her back and ass.

He stepped back and sat down on the bed to catch his breath. Fae collapsed onto the bed and turned her sweaty cheek over her equally sweaty shoulder to see all of his ejaculate dripping between her cheeks. Cordell looked at her like he wanted to go for round two, but Fae was tired.

“You can’t be worn out already, Fae,” Cordell complained.

“I came more than twice.”

“What stopped you before? Come on, ma. Let me make it all up to you.” He begged.

“You did. I got what I wanted, and now I’m satisfied.”

Fae pushed herself off of the bed and positioned herself between Cordell’s legs. She smoothed her hands up his chest and brought her lips to his, giving him the type of kiss that had him moaning in her mouth. His dick bounced between his legs when she sucked on his tongue. Fae giggled before slipping away.

“You’re dead wrong for that!” Cordell shouted after her.

Fae entered her bathroom to take a long shower, laughing at Cordell’s weak attempts to get her back in bed.

“Can you change the sheets please?!”

Fae opened her eyes and grabbed her phone from her side table to check the time. The television was still on and re-runs of Law and Order continued to play on mute. Cordell was snoring like a grisly bear beside her causing Fae to mush his head to try and stop him. After two attempts, Cordell rolled over onto his left side and the snoring seized.

Fae threw her black satin sheets back and climbed out of bed to pee. She flicked on the light and quickly lifted the seat to relieve herself. After she used her bidet and some wipes, she washed her hands with some peach-scented hand soap and removed her satin bonet. Her long, silky, black hair fell over her shoulder and she turned to grab a grey robe from behind the bathroom door. Back in her room, Fae slipped her feet into a pair of matching slippers before exiting the room.

She decided to go and grab some mail from her box since she forgot to check it earlier. It was 2 AM and she didn’t expect too many people to be wandering about this early in the morning. Fae grabbed her keys and placed them in the pocket of her robe and she was out the door. The hall was a little chilly, the slight breeze stiffening her nipples. Fae pressed down on the elevator and waited for two minutes before it reached the top.

The ride down was peaceful, Fae admiring her reflection through the doors of the elevator. It dinged and she was let out onto the lobby floor, making a left towards the mailboxes. She scanned the many gold slots until she found hers; 13F. She opened it with a little gold key and grabbed a stack of envelopes with a small package she assumed was more gloss that she purchased from Fenty Beauty.

Tucking her mail in the crease of her elbow, Fae secured the mail slot and as she was walking away, a man that also lived here that she recognized in passing entered the building wearing a khaki beanie, a white hoodie, light wash jeans that sagged a little in the thighs and crotch, and butter Timbs on his feet. He didn’t spot her at first, his attention drawn to his phone. When he finally looked up, she noticed he wore glasses with a gold rim.

Fae turned away to walk back towards the elevators and she assumed he was going to check for mail as well but he was right behind her, heading in the same direction. She pressed the button and waited as he made himself comfortable next to her. She tried to look at him discreetly, but he was already staring at her. Fae gave him a faint smile, her inner dialogue begging for the elevator doors to open. Why was she feeling queasy?

“Hi”

His voice was deep and raspy with a hint of playfulness.

“Hi.” Fae replied.

The doors opened and he allowed her to enter first before he did. Fae made herself comfortable in a corner of the elevator while he pressed the number thirteen. Nothing else. Fae looked at him and watched as he took a few steps back towards the other corner. The only sound was the constant beep whenever they reached a new floor.

“Thirteenth floor too?” He asked while looking at her over his shoulder.

At that point it was too late for that question.

“I’m sorry, yeah, I live on that floor as well.”

His onyx eyes fell on her and he smirked.

“I was wondering if you were gonna tell me what button to press.”

Fae chuckled, “It’s 2 AM, I’m not all the way there at the moment,” Fae said with a grin.

“2 AM is like 8 PM for New Yorkers though.” He replied with his own smile and a lift of his brow.

“I’m not originally from here.”

“Neither am I.” He said.

He held her gaze for a few seconds before turning away to see what floor they were currently on.

“I’m Fae,” Fae held out her hand for him to shake, her robe opening slightly to reveal more cleavage. She noticed and quickly shook his hand so she could fix herself out of embarrassment. Heat crept up her neck and she didn’t know for sure, but it felt like he was amused by the entire thing.

“Erik.”

“Didn’t mean to flash you, Erik.” Fae said with a nervous laugh, avoiding his eyes.

“All good.”

The elevator opened and Erik went ahead of her to stop the doors from closing.

“Thank you,” Fae slipped out sideways, her arms wrapped around her as if she felt exposed, “Have a good night, Erik.”

“You too, Miss Fae.”

They both began opening their doors, keys jiggling. Before Fae crossed the threshold into her apartment, she brought her attention to Erik one final time, but he was already halfway into his apartment and shutting his door behind him. Fae blinked away, entering her place and closing the door softly.

The slight rays from the morning sun peeked through the long drapes that covered his ceiling to floor windows. Erik rolled over onto his back, his gold chain slanted around his neck. He sat up slowly and grabbed his phone from the wireless charging station on his night stand. Stopping the alarm, Erik fully sat up in bed before stretching his muscular arms above his head.

Erik always kept a tall bottle of water on his bed side table to drink in the morning. He grabbed it and unscrewed the top, taking a few sips before securing it. He checked his phone for texts and noticed a few from old friends and one from a woman named Patrice that he’d been messing around with for a couple of weeks. Opening the text, he was blessed with fat pussy.

Patrice: Good morning, King. Can I see that dick that was deep in me last night?

Erik decided to entertain her and show off his morning wood. His room was flooded with just the right amount of natural light. The golden rays of the sun against his moisturized erection would be art. Already nude, Erik opened his camera and when he caught the perfect light, he angled his phone to catch his lower abdomen and down to his bobbing girth. Erik sent the picture with a kiss emoji.

After doing a couple of stretches, Erik entered his bathroom to start his self care routine. He turned on his shower to allow the steam to circulate and activate the fragrance from the eucalyptus plant hanging from his shower head. He stood at his mirror and went in to brush his teeth first. After brushing twice, he used his tongue scraper, flossed, and rinsed with mouth wash.

Erik entered his shower and cleansed with a lightly scented soap first, then he exfoliated, and lastly he used a body wash to finish. He stepped out of the shower smelling like Italian Bergamot, Hinoki, Grapefruit, and Amber. He wrapped a fluffy charcoal grey towel around his waist and stood at his foggy mirror to do his facial routine. Afterwards, Erik added some maracuja oil and shea butter to his locs and facial hair.

He covered his body in a lotion with the same notes of Bergamot and Hinoki, and got dressed in a white beater with grey joggers and white Nike socks. He strolled out towards his office to check his work laptop for any new information on a current job. So far, all he knows is that it’s in Bangkok. He was enjoying the time away from getting his hands dirty for a change. A new email attachment informed him of when he would be leaving. He had a month to prepare and everything from flight, to hotel, to transportation was covered.

Most days for Erik between jobs weren’t very eventful. He didn’t complain though, he’s used to being alone with his dog or working out. He didn’t have any friends in New York and he honestly didn’t care to make any. From time to time, he’d travel back to the Bay Area or Boston to catch up with old friends, but his job required him to travel often. No time for a relationship either. Not that he ever actually had one.

He has needs, and he satisfies those needs. But commitment isn’t something he could do with his line of work. No one really knows what he does, at least not the people in his personal life. Erik has a well rehearsed explanation as to what he does for a living. To them, he works for a security company that pays him well to travel, stay prepared for anything, deterring crime from the people he protects, and occasionally threaten. In between his job as a bodyguard he’s a personal trainer.

Erik made himself a mug of lemon ginger tea and prepared a veggie omelette with a side of avocado toast. He fed his dog; Diesel, a brown and white American Pitbull Terrier, before putting on a hoodie and some running shoes to take him for a walk. As Erik was leaving his apartment with Diesel, his neighbor, Fae, was leaving her apartment with her Frenchie.

Fae locked eyes with Erik and smiled, waving hello to him. Erik returned the wave with a smile of his own. He looked down at her dog dressed for the fall weather.

“Hi, Erik,” Fae greeted.

“Hello, Miss Fae. Going to the dog park too?” Erik asked.

Fae stared up at him through her lashes with a smile, “Yes. I figured I could go a little earlier. Your dog is cute!”

“Thank you. This is Diesel. He’s friendly to most,” Erik bends down to scratch behind his ears, “What’s your dog’s name?”

“Deuce Brix! But you can just call him Deuce.”

“‘Sup Deuce?”

Erik crouched down to rub Deuce. He barked a few times but not because he felt threatened. He let Erik pet him and scratch behind his ears. Erik stood back up and continued walking alongside Fae. He pressed the button for the elevator and they both watched Deuce and Diesel sniff each other.

“Sleep well last night?” Fae asked.

“Yeah. I had a bit of jet leg. Took some melatonin and I was out.”

“Do you always have trouble sleeping?”

Fae instantly regretted asking him, a sorry look in her eyes.

“You don’t have to answer that.” Fae said.

“It’s okay. It’s only the hardest when I’m back in from work. After about a week, I’m back to normal.”

They both left the elevator and walked out of the apartment building. Deuce was sniffing around while Diesel was ready to take off and leave Erik behind.

“Chill out, boy! I’ll let you off when we get to the park.”

Fae giggles, “Must be moving a little slow for him!”

“Always like this too.” Erik said.

“How old is Diesel?”

“Almost two years old. How about Deuce?”

“He just turned one like…a month ago. I had a doggie cake for him and everything.”

“Hm, cute,” Erik raked his eyes up and down Fae’s frame, “looks like you spoil him too. Look at his lil fit.”

“This is my baby, of course I’m gonna spoil him.”

Only two blocks away on W. 25th Street, they entered Jemmy’s Dog Run at Madison Square Park. It’s a six point two acre green space at the heart of New York City. It’s open year-round and it’s a fun place for pets to exercise, socialize, and play.

Fae and Erik found a nearby bench near a small play area. They both unhooked their dog leashes and watched as they scurried off—paws to dirt—joining the other dogs in some fun. Fae crossed one of her legs over the other and relaxed into the bench. Erik was leaning forward with his elbows propped up on his knees. Fae scrolled through her phone and Erik kept an eye on Deuce and Diesel. He would occasionally look over at Fae and at times she would look up at him and smile.

She’s a baddie. A brown sugar beauty. He liked everything about her from her smile to her hair. He liked that she was into dogs. He loved that she lived right next door to him. Erik wondered if she was available. Something told him she wasn’t. He could sense it in the way she maneuvered around him. He hadn’t seen a man coming and going from her apartment.

“You said you weren’t from here. Where are you from if you don’t mind me asking?” Erik asked.

“Jersey.”

“Oh, I was thinking D.C or something. You’re not that culturally different. It’s just cheaper to live there than here.” Erik said.

“True,” Fae fiddled with her hoop earring, while staring at Erik,” most of my old friends from Northern Jersey are content with staying there and rarely ever come to NYC. I just wanted something different. I knew I wanted to go to school here. So, I packed up and moved. It wasn’t easy…”

Fae continues, “People come to New York to challenge themselves and partake in great art, music, movies and food. They want excitement, late nights, strange encounters and places that stay open past 10pm. This doesn’t make these people any better than those who don’t come but they may be more willing to take on a risk and more open-minded in dealing with different types of people.”

“Jersey may lack some of the urban excitement of New York, but it can be a peaceful, idyllic place.”

“I miss it. I don’t have the strongest relationship with my family ever since my mom died. I keep in touch with my little sister often. We make time to see each other. You got to, you know what I’m saying?”

“…sorry about your mom,” Erik gave Fae a once-over before his eyes fell to Diesel’s leash in his hands, “I know all too well how that feels.”

Erik could feel Fae’s brown eyes observing him.

“Wow,” Fae exhales, “You lost your mom too…”

“When I was a youngin’. I’m better now that I’m older but…I still think about it and…I’m sure you know…It’s never easy.”

“Definitely,” Fae sat up straighter, “You kinda learn to suppress it. I get triggered whenever it’s her birthday, Mother’s Day, you know…”

“Same.”

Erik’s mouth curved into a smile.

“What?” Fae asked.

“I actually talked about her without getting all sad.”

“I’ve been told that I have this presence that makes it easier for people to talk to me. I just listen…know what to say…”

They sat in silence, occasionally getting up to check on their pets. When they both returned to their designated bench, Fae sat a little closer this time.

“Where are you from?”

“Cali. Born and raised in Oakland.”

“That’s so far from here. Why New York?”

“Uh,” Erik toyed with his hood, “I went to school in Boston and I was trying to figure out if I wanted to stay here or go back home. I decided to move to New York because it was a change of scenery and I won’t run into anybody I know.”

“You like meeting new people?”

“Depends,” Erik stretched his arms before leaning forward again, “I’m not really a people-person.”

“Okay,” Fae nodded her head, “I sort of have to be, it comes with the job.”

Erik leaned in closer, “What do you do?”

“I’m a Curator at the MET. I love my job.”

“Seems like a cool job. Surrounded by art and history.” Erik said.

“It is. I just got a promotion so, not only do I get to do what I love, I get paid well for it.”

“You got to in this recession.” Erik chuckled.

“What about you?” Fae questioned, tilting her head with curiosity.

“Me?”

“Work?—”

“Oh, I’m a Bodyguard. I also do a bit of personal training.”

“Really? So you’re a bodyguard for who?”

Erik leaned back and slipped his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“Anybody with money and power pretty much. It requires me to travel a lot. Not just in the U.S, but other countries.”

“I would assume you have to have some sort of background with that shit, right?”

“Mhm. You definitely have to be qualified. Credentials and all. I used to be in Special Ops.”

Fae’s eyes went wide with surprise. Erik’s eyes narrowed playfully at her.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-six. Why?” Erik asked with a lop-sided grin.

“I figured it would take years to like…accomplish all of that.”

“It does. A lot of discipline. A lot of sacrifice.”

“Hardly any time for family I’m sure.”

“That’s the choice you make.”

Fae straightened her back and her smile slipped from her beautiful lips when she looked at Erik’s expression. He drew his lower lip between his teeth and he looked at her with eyes so ablaze that she turned away quickly to check for Deuce. Fae stood up and the breeze swept up into Erik’s face, Fae’s scent crowding his senses. He followed, a part of him wanting to confirm if she indeed had a man. He hadn’t had this much interest in a woman for years. Crazy that he just met her hours ago.

“Deuce!” Fae called out for her Frenchie.

“Diesel!” Erik whistled, “Diesel!”

Fae and Erik walked forward towards the doggie playfield. Her smell kept drawing him in.

“I like your perfume.” Erik said.

Fae’s big, brown, pensive eyes stared back at him and then she blushed, “Thank you. It’s Kayali Vanilla.”

Diesel charged towards Erik and leaped up at him. He was still in a playful mood so Erik pulled out a ball and tossed it for him to fetch. Fae picked up Deuce and coddled him while he licked her cheek. Diesel came running back with the ball in his mouth and his tail wagging.

“I forgot to bring my ball.” Fae said with a pout.

“You think Deuce would play?” Erik asked.

“Yeah,” Fae let him down, “Look Deuce!”

Erik tossed the ball and Deuce and Diesel ran after it. Fae giggled watching both dogs wrestle for it. Deuce grabbed it with his teeth and ran back to them with Diesel on his tail, barking loudly.

“Good boy, Deuce!”

Erik tossed the ball again.

“Look at ‘em go.” He said.

“They really are good with each other. We should plan more doggy dates together.”

Erik cocked his head with a teasing look in his eyes.

“Just doggy dates?”

Fae shifted her eyes but couldn’t hide her obvious blush.

“Just doggy dates, sir.”

Erik let out a suppressed laugh, “my guess is you have a boyfriend?”

He tossed the ball again.

“I do,” Fae gave Erik a friendly smile.

“Cool,” Erik shrugged both of his shoulders with a playful smile, “You ready to head out, Miss Fae?”

“Yes.”

After securing Deuce and Diesel, they headed back to their apartment building. Erik wasn’t quite ready to part ways just yet. Her sweet smile and warm voice he couldn’t get enough of among other things.

“You sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind our doggy dates?”

Fae gave Erik an enigmatic smile. His plump limps turned up into a dimpled-smirk.

“No.” She finally replied.

“It took you way too long to answer that.”

Erik laughed and Fae rolled her eyes before glancing at him.

“He wouldn’t mind. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Hm.”

Erik tucked his lips into his mouth, dimples deeper in his cheeks. Fae looked at him with those angelic eyes of hers.

“What is hm?”

Erik’s brows disappeared behind his locs, “Nothing.”

Erik held the door open for Fae and of course he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t check her out from behind. He was pleased. They made it to the elevators to make their ascent to the thirteenth floor.

“Got any plans for the rest of the day?” Erik asked.

Fae tucked her chin and smiled.

“Why do you wanna know?”

“Just having small talk,” Erik shrugged, “I like talking to you.”

He knew his words would have an effect. Fae looked at him and he could tell her breaths quickened.

“No need to get all nervous, Miss Fae.”

The elevator doors opened and Fae left first. At their respective doors, Fae put the key in but didn’t turn the knob to enter. Erik waited, his eyes compelling her to say what was on her mind. She shifted, that sensual look in her eyes again.

“I had a really great time, Erik.”

“Me too.”

“Uhm,” Fae reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone, “What’s your socials?”

Erik smirked at her and retrieved his own phone.

“I have Twitter and Instagram.” Erik said.

“Okay,” my handle is fae.mcadams on instagram and Twitter it’s beautifulfaee.”

Erik followed her on both. Fae waited for his notification to pop up and she returned the follow.

“Don’t use it much.” Erik revealed.

I can see that. Last post was a year ago on instagram.”

She looked up at Erik through her lashes with tender eyes.

“I’ll see you around, neighbor.” Erik said.

“Likewise,” Fae smiled, “Bye, Erik.”

A few days had gone by and Erik hadn’t seen Fae. He hoped to catch her leaving her apartment or coming in from work. So, to stroke his curiosity, he pulled up her Instagram to just have a look. He’d just finished a training session with a client and went to do his own workout. He worked for Equinox in between jobs. He brings a holistic approach to his workouts and although they may be advanced, his clients leave the gym satisfied and transformed.

Erik did a little bit of cardio first to warm up and then he hit the weights. Today was lower body day for him. He started with heavy back squats, three sets with five to seven reps. He went on to doing barbell RDLs, leg extensions, and calf raises all with the same reps. He finished his workout with a core circuit and headed for the showers.

In the locker room, Erik took a minute to admire his physique. His tattoos stood out against his sculpted arms from all the sweat dripping down his body. He took a few pictures with no real intention of uploading them to his social media, just as progress pics. He just got back into sculpting his body more than bulking up.

After taking a shower, Erik got dressed in an all black hoodie with matching joggers and headed back to his apartment. The drive over only took him twenty minutes. He entered his building greeting the security at the door before walking over to his mailbox. He didn’t expect to find anything except for bills and a few magazines he wasn’t going to keep. Sifting through his mail, he strolled over to the elevators the same time a dark skinned male and a light skinned woman did.

Erik looked up and noticed the guy in passing but not so much as the woman. The elevator doors opened and he entered first, pressing button thirteen. They came in behind him, the woman giggling. Erik turned to look at them over his shoulder to get their attention.

“Which floor?” Erik questioned.

“My bad, thirteen, boss,” the man replied.

Erik nodded and focused his attention back to the elevator doors. He had his AirPod Max headphones halfway covering his ears so that he was aware of his surroundings. The woman had auburn hair sleek down her back and she was dressed like she’d just returned from brunch. The man with her was dressed in flashy attire, all designer, drawing a lot of attention to himself.

“‘Dell,” the woman whispered, “You owe me for last time.”

“I gotchu, baby.”

The elevator doors opened and Erik went his way. The couple left the elevator with their hands all over each other. Erik gave them one final look at had to do a double take when he noticed which apartment they were heading to. The man apparently named Dell opened the door while the pretty yellow bone wrapped her arms around his waist. She noticed Erik was watching and gave him a flirty wink.

“Yo, you good?”

Erik slowly pulled his eyes away from the woman to look at him.

“I said, you good?”

His tone was abrasive and Erik simply chuckled with a shake of his head.

“Yo, dead-ass, you keep staring like you got a problem?”

“Calm down, Cordell, it’s cool. Ain’t that serious.”

“I’m only asking questions,” Cordell gave Erik an icy look with his lip turned up into a mug.

“Why don’t you go inside before you get yourself hurt." Erik said with an even tone of voice, just the slightest bit of playfulness. He knew dudes like Cordell very well. Liked to play tough in front of their bitch. He could see that man shaking from where he stood.

Erik walked into his apartment and shut the door behind him. He could still hear the woman trying to calm Cordell down. As long as he didn’t come knocking on Erik’s door, he can talk until he’s blue in the face. Erik wasn’t much for talking.

He flopped down on his couch and mulled over what he’d just witnessed. All he could think about was Fae. What type of dumb ass piece of shit do you have to be to cheat on a woman and disrespect her by bringing her back to where she lays her head? He hardly knew Fae and he was so furious.

Erik went to Instagram and he didn’t need to go to her page, she was the first thing he saw as soon as he opened Instagram.

Outfit of the day. First day back to work as Lead Curator! I’m so excited for this journey 🤎 🖼️

Erik went to her page and was blessed once again with how fine this fucking woman is.

He clicked on a picture that he knew was from a few days ago when they went to the dog park.

How could you cheat on this? Erik needed to tell her. She needed to know that her man was doing her dirty.

_ES87: Big Deuce! 🐾

Erik got a reply back two minutes later beneath his comment.

fae.mcadams: ☺️

Going to his notifications he noticed ten. Fae had liked pretty much all of his photos. Erik couldn’t help but to smirk. He decided to DM her.

_ES87: what’s good mama Deuce!

All he could think about was her cheating boyfriend. He didn’t feel right telling her about it through a DM. If he was going to let her know, it was going to happen in person.

fae.mcadams: nothing much daddy Diesel!

_ES87: are you supposed to be on your phone at work?

fae.mcadams: I’m off actually 🤨

_ES87: Any plans for your evening?

fae.mcadams: my boyfriend is taking me out to celebrate my promotion.

Your boyfriend is fucking some other bitch brains out at the moment.

_ES87: have fun. Much deserved ✨

fae.mcadams: thank you.

Fae got home and she was happy to be in her domain and away from work. It was a pretty busy day for her. She took off her heels and greeted Deuce at the door. He licked her affectionately and Fae went looking for Cordell. She found him in the living room with a gift bag and a big grin.

“Hey, beautiful,” Cordell kissed Fae, “Your gift for being such a hard-working woman.”

“Thank you,” Fae beamed, “I wonder what it is.”

Fae sat the bag down on the coffee table and she pulled out a Louis Vuitton box. She gasped and looked up at Cordell with wide eyes.

“No you didn’t!”

Cordell laughed as he watched Fae rip the top off of the box and pull out the most gorgeous bag she’s ever owned. She had a Louis Vuitton bag years ago but it had gotten damaged in a house fire back in Jersey. She pulled out the cutest little bag that would be perfect whenever she went out for drinks and needed something small to carry her things.

“It’s just perfect,” Fae pouted, “Thank you so much!”

Fae jumped into Cordell’s arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. She stared longingly into his eyes before pecking his lips a few times. He tapped her on the butt and then let her back down. Fae grabbed her gift and headed for her room, giddy and smiling from ear to ear.

“We got dinner reservations in about two hours!” Cordell shouted from the couch.

“I’m gonna freshen up and get ready now!”

Fae undressed and went to take a shower. She double cleansed, exfoliated, rubbed down in body oil, and spritzed herself all over with Eilish Eau de Parfum. She got dressed in a black turtleneck dress and paired it with black boots and her new bag. She styled her hair in a half-up, half-down look and accessorized with gold jewelry. She walked out to find Cordell wearing an off-white cable-knit sweater with black jeans and black Timbs. He had on his gold Rolex and gold cross chain. He looked great and his outfit complimented hers. As they were leaving hand-in-hand, Erik was exiting his apartment dressed in black jeans as well with an olive green crew neck, and black Doc Martens. He had diamond studs in both of his ears, rings on his fingers, and a thick diamond Cuban link hanging from his neck.

Erik and Fae locked eyes and Erik was devouring her with one look. There was no denying his attraction to Fae. He started from her feet all the way up to her hair, dragging his eyes over her frame slowly, like he was studying a canvas. Fae could feel her stomach lurch when his sensual gaze focused on hers again. He was silently telling her that she looked damn good. When he looked away at Cordell, his eyes became cold and menacing. Fae looked at Cordell and he mirrored Erik’s expression.

What the hell is going on?

“Hi,” Erik greeted Fae before pressing the down button on the elevator.

“Hello.”

It was safe that they didn’t mention names. Something transpired between the two of them and Fae wanted to know what happened.

They all entered the elevator, Cordell with his arm around Fae, pulling her close, while Erik remained in front of them, keeping his eyes forward. It was eerily silent the entire ride down. They made it to the lobby floor and Erik stepped out first. Fae went ahead of Cordell and when she stepped out she shared a sneaky glance with Erik. What happened next she wasn’t prepared for.

“You look amazing.”

Fae's eyes went round with surprise at his boldness. She parted her glossy lips to say something, but Cordell grabbed her hand, leading her in the opposite direction.

“I swear, this nigga is asking to get his ass beat.” Cordell spoke angrily.

Erik smirked and walked towards the garage entrance. But he didn’t leave without a final word.

“Don’t hurt ‘em love.”

Fae blushed and gave Cordell a stern look for him to chill. He was so pissed a vein appeared in the middle of his forehead.

“Let’s go, the ride is waiting,” Fae lightly shoved Cordell and he finally walked out of the building.

The ride over was uncomfortable. Fae would cut her eyes to Cordell and see him jerking his leg and blowing out his breath harshly. Fae grabbed his hand and rubbed it with her thumb to calm him down.

“Do you want to tell me what happened back there?”

“Ask that nigga. I don’t even know that clown. He had the issue with me first.”

“Cordell,” Fae looked heavenward, “It was just a compliment. If that’s why you’re upset you really shouldn’t be. I’m your woman.”

“This Michael B. Jordan looking-ass nigga got one more time to look at me like he wanna do something.”

Fae shut her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose.

“And do you know him or something?”

“I’ve seen him in passing, Cordell.”

Fae felt small beneath his accusatory gaze. She knew that she’d done more than see him in passing. She spent a lot of time with him some days ago with their dogs and exchanged socials. She even stalked his Instagram page, liking all of his photos. And his Twitter, on the surface level it looked innocent with not many posts, but his likes…

“You let me know if he tries anything, Fae. I’ll knock his ass out, dead-ass.”

“Cordell, are we going to talk about this all night? Everything was going so well.”

Cordell dragged his hand down his face.

“I’m sorry.”

He grabbed Fae by the hand and brought it to his lips to kiss.

“This is supposed to be your special day.”

“It is. And you’re ruining it.” Fae said with a whiny voice.

Cordell chuckled, “I am. Daddy sorry.”

It’s been a week since they both crossed paths.

But Fae didn’t stop looking through his Instagram.

She spent an unhealthy amount of minutes staring at his pictures.

And an even unhealthier amount of minutes scrolling through his Twitter likes. Post after post after post had her squirming. It’s obvious that’s his passion. Fae had it bad. So bad.

What was she thinking?! Fae stood up from her work desk and gathered her things to leave. She wasn’t going to get herself caught up. She’d never been this distracted by another man in her life. Fae bid farewell to her coworkers and made her way towards her car. She got in and followed the exit out of the garage and out onto the bustling New York streets. She preferred to drive in silence to keep her focused.

Her fingers tapped impatiently against her stirring wheel twenty minutes into traffic. All she could think about was Erik’s body. His voice. His eyes. His Twitter likes. She was losing it. She knew it was wrong to think these thoughts about him. Fae also knew that she had to distance herself from Erik indefinitely. She’s in a relationship and it’s not appropriate to allow another man to flirt with her.

Finally home, she parked her car and took her time exiting. Her back was turned and she was reaching for her work bag when she was startled by a pair of hands on her waist. She shot up and turned quickly, sighing with relief before glaring at him.

“Erik! Don’t do that. What is wrong with you?”

“My bad, ma,” Erik furrowed his brows, “I called you like three times just now.”

“…you did?”

Erik slowly nodded his head, “yeah. I’m sorry I scared you. Need some help?”

“No thanks,” Fae shut her car door and slipped past him.

“How was work?”

Her eyes took in his appearance and she wished she hadn’t. He had on a leather letterman jacket, a white T-shirt that clung to his chest and torso, and medium blue denim jeans with Jordan’s on his feet. His locs looked freshly retwisted and that tapered fade was lined up with the sharpest clippers known to man.

“Productive.”

Erik opened the door for her and Fae thanked him. She walked as fast as she could to the elevators but Erik was right on her heels.

“Sorry about last week.”

Fae looked up at Erik, “It’s okay.”

“You don’t look like it’s okay. You look like you’re mad at me.”

They entered the elevator and Fae pressed the button before Erik’s finger could even touch it. He blinked his eyes and poked his lip out playfully.

“I’m not mad at you.” Fae said with a flat tone.

“Uh-huh.”

Fae kept staring at his hair and he caught her looking. Erik chuckled, hands in his pockets.

“How my boy Deuce doing?”

“He’s good. Diesel?”

“Same old pit.” Erik said.

Erik rocked back and forth on his heels as if he wanted to say something.

“You okay?” Fae asked, genuinely concerned.

“…Whatchu got planned for tonight?”

Fae felt her stomach do a somersault.

“Uh—Erik–I don’t think—”

“Fae,” Erik turned to look at her, “I wanna tell you something…something important…something you should know. I figured you could meet me at that bar across the street. It’s not a date, I promise.”

Fae studied his face, looking for any signs of untrustworthiness. He didn’t take his eyes off of her, and he looked upset about something. She wondered if this had anything to do with Cordell. She’d been trying and trying for days now to get him to open up and he keeps shutting her out. They even argued about it a few times. This could be her chance to find out what the hell happened.

“Alright. I can meet you at the bar tonight. To talk.”

Fae emphasized on the talk.

“Yes ma’am. Just talking.”

Erik gave her a smirk and held the elevator door for her. She gave him a shy smile before walking towards her apartment.

She had to figure out what she was going to wear.

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hisunshiine · 11 months

Text

—college nights, diner fights | jjk

pairing: waiter!jungkook x waitress!reader au/genre: diner au, e2l, angst, smut, fluff rating: M wc: 9,664 warnings: POV switches (obvious, tho) mentions of domestic abuse and alluded infidelity (parents not pairing), JK's mom has terrible boyfriends and his dad is a petty "Disney" dad, Reader's parents are better but not around often, mentions of Jungkook having to protect his mom from the bad boyfriends, mean teachers, enemiesssssss, triggering middle school memories can be brought up upon reading the banter of middle school JK and reader LOL but also not LOL, swearing, vulgar statements, forced proximity, secret mutual pining, a drunken physical altercation/assault at work (mild), mentions of blood, minor cuts/scrapes, kissing, tattoo tracing SMUT warnings: oral (f receiving), praise an: shoutout to my beta readers @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @mrsparkjimin18 @peachiilovesot7 for helping me get this thing done in time despite me being on vacation and dragging my feet! thank you all so much for the motivation, for brainstorming, and just all around positive feedback! summary: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen! You and Jungkook have been enemies for as long as you can remember—elementary school even—and when Seokjin hires him despite knowing this, you have to call a truce during working hours. When an incident at work leads Jungkook, and you, to put things into a different perspective, will the heated diner fights become a passionate college night? Or will it fizzle before it can start?

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by ME of @bangtanwritershq

My Big 3 are: Sun (Member): Gemini- Jungkook, Moon (How They Met): Scorpio- Late Night Diner, Rising (Trope): Libra- Enemies to Lovers

Part 1: Elementary School

Elementary school is supposed to be fun. For you, 11 years old and in the fifth grade, elementary school is perhaps the best time of your life so far. Your dad signed up for career day, and you are excited beyond measure for him to come in and meet with your class to talk about his job.

It’s rare that you get to spend time with your dad, as his job keeps him pretty busy. The fact that he was able to show up today was a miracle in and of itself, but he negotiated presenting first so that he could leave first to get to work.

“Everyone, please welcome our first parent speaker, Mr. Cha.”

Your classmates applaud as your dad steps forward to the podium in the front center of the classroom and you beam from ear to ear. He looks all spiffy—hair styled well, suit pressed, and shoes shined.

“Good morning, boys and girls, I am Mr. Cha, and I am here to speak to you about my career. To be honest, I have two jobs,” he pauses as the kids, including you, look at him in both awe and confusion, “I am the father to that little girl right there,” he points to you and you giggle. “That is a full time job all on its own, but for the other time spent working, I am a plastic surgeon.”

You can’t help the pride you feel from your classmates clapping as your dad shares. He talks about the schooling needed to get to his position, shares study tips for the transition to middle and high school, which—while still some time away—will be good to begin practicing even now.

“You’re so handsome, Mr. Cha! Have you ever had any work done yourself?” one of the students asks during the question time.

“Ah, great question! I have tried some of the treatments that we offer at my clinic, because if I don’t believe in it, why should others have faith in me and the services I offer?” he explains. “I had a colleague of mine fix my deviated nose bridge, which I injured playing basketball in college, and I maintain my skin with various anti-aging treatments as well. It’s important to start taking care of your skin even at this age! Princess, come help me please.” Your dad gestures to you, and you rise from the chair, only a little embarrassed at him using your nickname. “Help me pass these out to your classmates.”

You begin walking around the room, placing the small cardstock printouts on each of your classmates’ desks as your dad continues speaking.

“These are coupons for my office. You can give these to a family member, or if your parents will allow you to come in, we offer a free consultation to check your skin, and a reduced rate for any skin care products or procedures for any of my princess’s classmates and their family.” He wraps up his presentation there, pulling you into him for a side hug as he smiles at your classmates and the other parents waiting in the wings to present. “Thank you for letting me present, I’ve got to run because I have a rhinoplasty scheduled today, and I need to prepare, but I had a lot of fun talking with you all today!” As your dad kisses your forehead, he whispers a quick goodbye as he leaves your classroom. You’ve never felt so proud.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Okay, everyone, let’s line up for P.E.,” Ms. Kim directs, and you jump in line with your peers to walk down to the field. Your classroom teacher disappears for his break as Ms. Kim takes over, and thus ensues a battle between your class as you play ‘Capture the Flag’.

“The rules are simple,” Ms. Kim explains, “a ball is placed on each side of the field in that box.” She points at the four cones creating a safe zone with a kickball inside of it. “Once the game begins, players have to cross the midline into ‘enemy’ territory to try and capture the ball and bring it back to their side. The other team has to stop you from stealing the ball by pulling the flags to remove your waistband—no tackling! Understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Kim!”

“Good. If your belt is pulled off, you stand off to the side at the cone here, okay? That’s the jail. To rescue your teammates from jail, you have to high five them. You must return to your side before attempting to go after the ball again. Once a player enters the box, they are safe, but they cannot stay in there forever…”

You tune out Ms. Kim because you already know how to play, and instead busy yourself with wrapping the tan belt around your waist, adjusting the position of the three blue flags hanging from it. The red team moves to their side of the midline, and you stretch your legs idly as you wait for the teacher to blow her whistle.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽��🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

Huffing, you pout as you walk to the jail cone, re-attaching the waistband that your classmate pulled off. He’s put you in jail several times now, almost as if he’s targeting only you during the game. It’s getting a little irritating, since Jeon Jungkook is the fastest boy in the fifth grade, but he’s spending all of his time chasing you instead of helping his team win. Even now, he’s guarding the jail so your best friend can’t come to save you again.

“Dang, JK, you pulled her flag again?” Kim Taehyung snickers loudly as he jogs over to where you’re held captive.

“Can’t let the princess get everything, now can we?” he taunts, a sarcastic tone to his words.

Kim Taehyung, unable to whisper to save his life, leans into Jungkook and asks, “Do you think her dad worked on her face? No way she’s that pretty on her own.”

Your feelings are split between irritated and pleased at the backhanded compliment.

“She’s not that pretty, it looks more like her dad messed up her face, ‘cause she’s so ugly,” Jungkook counters, and it’s hard to decipher if his cheeks are red from playing or from talking about your looks.

“But, you said last week that she was—”

Ms. Kim’s whistle blows to end the game, and you miss the end of Taehyung’s statement. Walking away from the two fools, you barely get a foot outside of the jail zone when a sharp tug at your waist stops you in your tracks. You look down and see your belt missing, and hear a soft thud a few moments later as it hits the grass in the opposite direction several yards away.

Taehyung is laughing, his large boxy grin behind his hand as Jungkook smirks at you.

“You lost.”

The two then take off towards where your teacher is collecting the game belts, leaving you to backtrack to get yours.

“What took you so long? Everyone else has already returned to the building. Taking your time to head back to class is not good sportsmanship.”

“But, Jungkook—”

“No excuses. Hurry up and get inside.”

Jogging back to the building, you get another scolding when you reach the classroom, with your teacher telling you that just because your dad is a surgeon and came for Career Day does not mean you get to behave this way. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jungkook eats up every second of the scolding, seeming to enjoy the way you wilt as it continues. As you walk back to your seat, you don’t see Jungkook stick out his foot, and you trip loudly as the desks and chairs nearest you clatter and clang as you try to regain your footing.

As the boys snicker at your forced clumsiness, you vow to yourself that Jeon Jungkook is the worst person to exist, and you will hate him for as long as you live.

Part 2: Middle School

Jungkook’s had a hard week. Chuseok just ended, and he had to spend it with his dad’s family instead of with his mom this year, per their divorce agreement. He’s partially thankful because it allowed him a moment to rest. His hypervigilance with his mom’s new boyfriend is tiring, and his grades are suffering for it. But Jungkook is tired of these men sniffing around for a piece of the ‘supposed’ alimony his mom receives from his dad, because everyone was aware when the CEO of Jeon Industries divorced his wife and married his secretary. Jungkook begged to switch schools, but his parents refused, despite it being reported on several news outlets for a month in sixth grade.

Eighth grade hasn’t been so bad for him though, no one talks about the divorce anymore, and Jungkook is able to be just Jungkook, known for his athletic abilities and gaming. He was able to guilt his dad into a new gaming computer, since he forgot to take him back to school shopping, and Jungkook is able to help his mom pay the bills each month with the earnings he makes betting on Overwatch.

So when he returns back home, tired of hearing tales and seeing pictures of the trip to Cancun with the new baby that conveniently interrupted the planned shopping trip, to see his bed holding a Nike box with the shoes Jungkook begged his mom to get at the start of the year, he’s elated. He erupts into shouts and whoops of excitement, running to the kitchen to hug his mom.

“Ouch!” she can’t hide the wince as Jungkook pulls back from the embrace.

“I didn’t even squeeze you that tightly, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, you know how clumsy I am, I ran into the dining room table the other night—”

Jungkook doesn’t even think as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, barely lifting it to see an ugly burgundy bruise spreading across her abdomen.

“Mom! Did he do this to you?” Jungkook demands, fury building in his body.

“N-no, honey, you know how I c-can be,” she stutters through the lie, but they both know the truth.

“Mom, if he did this because of money, just return the shoes, it’s fine.”

“No. I bought those for you. You deserve them.” His mom is resolute, turning away and adjusting her shirt as she goes back to cooking dinner. “Plus, we broke up. He won’t be back.”

Up in his room, Jungkook readies the shoes for school tomorrow. He has a few nice things, his dad is a CEO after all, but after the divorce, Jungkook chose his mom, and his dad took it personally. His dad didn’t understand, but the choice was clear to Jungkook. His dad had a new wife, but his mom had no one. Jungkook couldn't leave her too. But his dad became spiteful after that, and so Jungkook can’t take most things his dad buys him to his mom’s house, including certain clothes and shoes.

It’s why he’s so upset about his dad missing back-to-school shopping, because those were usually the only things he was allowed to take to his mom’s, but this year he has nothing new. Not until his mom bought him the Nike Dunks he’s been coveting. Jungkook is happy, proud of his mom for choosing him over the newest boyfriend, and lying in bed, he finally feels like maybe his life isn’t so bad. He hears a knock at the door, and his mom’s tired feet shuffling to answer it.

“Please, Jongyeon-ah, I promise, it won’t happen again.”

Jungkook rolls over, grabbing his headphones to drown out the sounds of the pleading, good for nothing, weaseling himself back into his mom’s life.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Yo, Jungkook, those dunks are fly!”

Jungkook props his shoes up on the desk next to his in class, showing off the brand-new kicks to Taehyung.

“Yeah, they're limited edition.” Jungkook knows his response is a little douchebag-esque, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted these shoes for the longest time, and after all of the bullshit he dealt with during Chuseok and now waking up to see that greasy slimeball his mom said she was done with shirtless at the table for breakfast, he just wants to pretend for once that his life is perfect.

“Take your crusty shoes off my desk,” you scoff. Jungkook ignores you for a few seconds, leaving his feet where he has them propped on your desk. He hates that you called his shoes crusty, knowing that they’re not. They don’t even have a speck of dirt on them! He made sure of that upon his arrival, being overly cautious with each step and wiping away any blemish he perceived to be there.

“Awe, is the princess jealous she doesn’t have the limited edition dunks?” Jungkook can’t pinpoint when this rivalry started, he just knows that for as long as he can remember, the two of you have been enemies.

“There’s a reason the supply is limited. It’s because they’re ugly and they stopped making them once they realized someone would have to be an idiot to wear them. You sitting here with them just proves this point.” You push his crossed feet off your desk and he lets you, but Jungkook holds you in his glare.

“One day you’ll stop being a hater, drowning in all that Haterade you’ve been drinking,” Jungkook makes a play on words, and his friends ‘ooooh’ and high five at his middle school burn.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

At lunch, Jungkook precariously steps between the seats to avoid damaging his shoes. His shins are starting to hurt from how he’s walking to avoid creasing his sneakers, but it’s worth the pain to him. He’s successfully avoided getting any food on his shoes from the sloppy eaters, and as he makes the last stretch to the door, a loud yell catches him off guard.

“Watch it!”

Nayeon, one of your lackeys, warns everyone as she’s bumped by you and her red sports drink goes flying. Jungkook is stuck between tables, backpacks cluttering the aisle and Nayeon’s body flailing taking up all of the space. It all happens in seconds—a hip check, a flying drink, and the contents now strewn across the floor and Jungkook’s new sneakers and laces now stained a bright red, dripping across the leather and fabric of his brand new, limited edition Nike Dunks.

“Oh my god, Nayeon, you are so clumsy!”

Jungkook gawps at you, unbelieving, as your annoying voice fills the silence that took over the room only moments before.

“So sorry, Jungkook. Nayeon bumped into me and then she spilled her haterade—I mean Gatorade—all over your new shoes! I hope those weren’t hard to get or anything! I’m sure your CEO daddy can get you a new pair.”

Jungkook storms from the room, seething at your audacity. If you had any idea about his life, would you treat him this way? He wishes you could walk a day in his shoes, maybe you would realize that life outside your perfect, princess bubble is not always sweet, and would think twice before being a bitch to him, but it’s too late for him to change his view of you. You are the devil’s spawn and Jungkook has never hated someone as much as he hates you.

Part 3: High School

Getting into BTS-U should be easy for you, what with your dad being an alumnus, but you don’t want to rely on nepotism. You’ve been working your ass off for good grades all four years of high school, and the final determination of your competency is about to start. Only one student can represent your high school as the Youth of the Year, winning prestige and honor by being granted early admission into any four-year university in the country of their choice without needing CSAT scores.

The last of the trials, the oral interview, is scheduled for today and as you sit outside the room in the creaky, overly hard chair, your heart pounds. Of course, the final two students competing for this merit would be the two students who despise each other the most in the school, making the competition that much more important to you.

You cannot lose to fucking Jeon Jungkook.

“We’re ready for you!”

The chipper voice startles you from your thoughts as you steel yourself to go into the final challenge.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Thank you all for your participation in the Youth of the Year program. As you know, the contenders were all very high achieving and will have plenty of options available to you for your future. Do not let not being named deter you from the future awaiting you all. Now, today, we interviewed the two finalists from this wonderful school, and while both were outstanding, one student really opened up and shared a vulnerable side to him that inspired us. He has already begun an incredible journey in his young life, showcasing a will to succeed. Jeon Jungkook, please stand.”

The crowd in the auditorium bursts into applause as you burst into tears. The one good thing about this ceremony is that the finalists do not sit on stage, so in the chaos and celebration, you are able to sneak away to the bathroom. Jeon Jungkook looked so shocked to have been chosen, but you knew that he couldn’t actually be shocked. His mom stood up with him, hugging him with pride, and your parents couldn’t even be bothered to show up for such an important moment.

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal, that you have done well and will most likely have the same options for college as Jungkook does, but being a Youth of the Year finalist is not the same as being the Youth of the Year. What really hurts you the most is that if the roles were switched, Jungkook’s mom would be there to hug him and tell him he did great and fought hard. If you had been chosen, you still would’ve been alone, but at least the loneliness wouldn’t have hurt as much.

The judges who interviewed you must think you don’t need the help, that you have everything you could ever want, so why would they choose the spoiled little rich girl? Why would they choose the girl who eats dinner with the maids, who read bedtime stories to herself growing up, the girl who has everything—everything except a family that loves her more than their careers and supports her unfailingly?

Facing the mirror, you reach for your purse and pull out the small makeup pouch so that you can erase any evidence of the sadness you feel today, brimming with the unshed tears of yesterday, and prepare your battle face to go back out there and be cordial as the runner up. Another battle you’ll face alone.

Part 4: College at BTS-U

“Welcome to Jin’s Diner, have a seat wherever you’d—what the fuck are you doing here?”

The chiming of the door opening caught your ear, so you’d turned to greet the newest customer, except instead of an overly tired trucker or a group of post-clubbing college students, you’re faced with one Jeon Jungkook.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asks, eyebrow pitched and smirk full of snark.

“No, I kiss your father with this mouth. Now get out.” You go back to wiping down the counters, ignoring the stare of your arch-nemesis as you finish cleaning.

“Now, now, Baby Cakes, let your new coworker into the diner so you can finally get the help you've been asking for.”

You turn to the owner’s son, Kim Seokjin, mouth gaping open in confusion. “Coworker? I thought you read through the notes I made on all of the applicants?”

“Yes, I did, and they were very helpful. He’ll be working nights with you, so show him to the back while I grab a lock for his locker and a uniform.”

“Sir—”

“Now, Cakes.”

Seokjin disappears into the hallway towards his office, and you turn back to Jungkook, who’s standing smugly with his arms crossed watching you.

“Ugh, keep up, small fry.”

Jungkook’s black boots squeak along the freshly mopped floor as he hustles to catch up with you. The doorway behind the counter opens into the kitchen, where the two line cooks, Hoseok and Yoongi, work diligently. Hoseok is sitting next to the recently delivered products with a clipboard in hand as he counts the items, while Yoongi is wiping down his area before the rush begins. You clear your throat loudly to gather their attention.

“We have a new waiter, his name is Jeon Jungkook, but he shall go by Small Fry, I think.” The smile on your face is devilish, and the two men snicker as they take in the newbie rushing in behind you.

“Wait, why am I ‘Small Fry’?” he asks, only a little out of breath from having to round the counter and catch up to you.

“Because everyone who works here gets called a food nickname, helps with the creeps, especially on nights.”

“I’m Suga,” Yoongi greets, “and this here is Hobi-Honey, but we just call him Hobi for short.”

“And I’m Baby Cakes, as you heard bossman say.”

“What’s your real name again, Small Fry?” Yoongi asks, his platinum hair shining in the fluorescent kitchen lights.

“It’s Jungkook,” he answers, emphasizing his name as he glares at you.

“Hmm, Baby Cakes, I think he might be better suited to Cooky…”

“Isn’t that too close to his name?” you argue, hoping to keep Small Fry, but when you see Hobi shake his head, you know you’ve lost.

“Fine, Cooky it is then! Next new hire will be called Small Fry no matter what!” you concede, waving Jungkook to follow you towards the back of the kitchen.

He trails you quietly as you push a swinging wooden door with a circular window in it and lead him into the employee lounge. Seokjin is whistling to himself as you enter, twirling a metal lock around his finger. You look around the room, surprised at how quickly he had everything ready.

“Great, you met Suga and Hobi then?” he asks, nodding at the door you just entered.

“Yes, I figured it would be best to do that first on the way here.”

“So, Jungkook—”

“He’s Cooky,” you interrupt, but Seokjin just shakes your rudeness off.

“—Cooky, this here’s the lounge. The door you just entered is used while you’re on shift for breaks and such. When you arrive for your shift and leave for the night, it should always be through the door behind me.” He gestures to a purple-handled door. “To the left are the employee cubbies, and to the right, we have the laundry station, small kitchenette, and door to the staff bathroom.”

You nod at the TV mounted on the wall next to the swinging door. “The remote always stays on this table,” you tap the main table in the room that seats six, “and we typically keep the TV on ESPN, MTV, or my personal favorite, HGTV.”

“Thank you, Cakes. Now, your Jin’s Diner gear stays here, we’ll wash it for you after each shift you work.” Seokjin points to a stacked washer and dryer in the corner. “Just throw it in the wash after your shift each night. We’ll put it back in your cubby for you once dry.”

Jungkook nods, but he looks a bit overwhelmed from all of the information. You take the lead and sit down first hoping he’ll follow you. You know Seokjin talks fast and moves through the employee information even faster, and despite not liking Jeon Jungkook, you need the help on your shift since Mochi quit to focus on his last semester.

You grab a permanent marker and white label from the center of the table, tossing it across to Jungkook with a little more force than necessary.

“We each have a cubby, with a small locker inside. Use this to write your name and then claim an empty spot, and you can also write your name on the tags of your uniform.”

Seokjin grabs plastic-wrapped clothing articles from the cabinet next to the laundry station and approaches the table, too, tossing down the new clothing.

“Your gear. Shirt, apron, and a ballcap. If you want a visor instead, let me know. Black, khaki, or blue jeans, black non-slip shoes, keep the blingy jewelry at home.”

“Dammit, I was planning to choke him with his chain after the first shift.”

Seokjin levels his gaze at you, and you know you’re pushing your limits with him.

“I’ll have you follow Baby Cakes around to learn the drill for taking orders, but mostly you’ll be bussing tables tonight. I’ll work on the final processing of your paperwork in the meantime. Cakes, come with me while he changes.”

You follow Seokjin out of the lounge and back towards the office. He opens the door and steps back to allow you to enter first, shutting the door behind him as he follows you into the room.

“You need to tone it down. I know you said that you and he have some bad blood, but we need the help and he’s the best applicant we have.”

“It’s deeper than that, Jinnie, he’s literally been tormenting me since elementary school. We work with heavy-duty machinery and cutlery. You might come in one morning to find that one of us has stabbed the other to death.” You push out your bottom lip and give him your best, roundest, watery puppy eyes. “Is that what you really want?”

“What I want is to have a fully staffed evening shift so that my best girl can stop having bags under her eyes and complaining about her feet hurting every shift.” Seokjin smiles teasingly at you. “Plus, you need a good annual review to get a raise, and training new employees looks good to the owner.”

“Your dad is the owner! You can just tell him to give me a raise!”

“I could…but this is so much more fun. Who knows, he’s kinda hot…maybe you find out that the reason he’s picked on you your whole life is because he has a crush on you.”

“That fallacy is just a way for the patriarchy to continue to push abuse acceptance and the ‘boys will be boys’ agenda.” You cross your arms, but overall you know Seokjin is right. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to adapt well to situations, put a fake smile on when you need to deal with rude customers or your parents missing another monumental event in your life. “But fine. At work, it’ll be a ceasefire. That’s about all I can promise you.”

“I thought you said there would be a ceasefire!” Seokjin yells at you from where you sit in his office. Jungkook is seated next to you, slouching in the chair with his head turned away towards the wall. You can see his jaw clenching every few seconds as Seokjin continues berating you. “Instead, I got a call from a family friend that you two were so busy yelling at each other for not doing your jobs that you effectively stopped doing your job!”

You huff as you roll your eyes, turning away from Jungkook’s severely hot—no—aggravating jawline, (where did that thought even come from?) to respond to Seokjin.

“That’s not even what happened last night! This idiot decided to fuck with the seating and of course, since the big game is tomorrow, we had a lot of people stop in and it was noisy. I was trying to seat the guests who were being louder and rowdier on one side so that our regulars,” you glare at Jungkook, who’s still refusing to look at either you or Seokjin, “could dine in peace, but when I ran to the back to restock the napkins for the bar top, he seated people himself. He’s not the host. He’s still a newbie! It’s been, what? Three, four months?”

“...Four,” Jungkook mumbles, but you ignore it.

“And so then poor Mrs. Hana ended up dealing with the hooligans who disrupted her meal, and yes, it was when I was trying to explain to him how seating works—”

“I know how seating works, it’s not rocket science!”

“So then why would you mess with the flow of the diner and seat them there?!”

“Because you,” Jungkook finally breaks the stoic act and turns to face you abruptly, so much so you almost visibly jump, “kept seating the large groups in your sections, which meant that you were giving yourself the better tips and leaving me with the geriatrics who barely leave anything!”

“Are you serious? You think I was trying to take tips from you? I hate dealing with the sports crowd! I would have gladly traded with you if you had said something to me, but you were too busy ignoring me when I was trying to talk to you about dividing up the floor—”

“—you talk to me like I’m a child, so of course I was ignoring you, you dolt—”

“—really piss me off, you think I would stoop so low, probably because it’s what you would do—”

“Shut up, both of you!” Seokjin’s eyes have a hardness to them you are not used to seeing. He’s usually laid back, but the stress lines on his face speak to an underlying tension you aren’t aware of. “Look,” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes briefly, “this can’t happen again. Mrs. Hana could’ve broken her hip slipping on the spilled soda, and her son is debating suing us. My dad is obviously handling this situation, but that means your jobs are on the table. If her son demands it in exchange to avoid a lawsuit, I can’t stop it.”

It settles on you at that moment, how severe this is. You know that the little, old lady regular slipped and fell, but both you and Jungkook rushed over to help her up, comping her meal and walking her outside to sit quietly and assess how she was feeling while waiting for her son to arrive. Not only that, but he didn’t seem mad when he picked her up—just worried about if she was in pain and if she needed to go see a doctor. Apparently, after the shock wore off, his anger set in.

“I’m sorry, Seokjin. It won’t happen again.”

“Get to your shift, I’m sure Nam—I mean Porkchop—is ready to go. Remember, Suga will be late today, the championship game is tonight. So no more ignoring the hooligans and Cooky,” Seokjin gives his leveled glare to Jungkook this time, “Baby Cakes is in charge. I know you’re eager to prove yourself, and you’ve done well so far, but she’s worked the aftermath of championship games before.”

Jungkook stares back at Seokjin, a low humming tension filling the room before he answers with a “Yes, sir.”

The diner is louder than Jungkook’s ever heard before as he goes around clearing tables now that the game is over. His coworker, Yoongi, did amazing from what he saw on the screen. BTS-U wore their white home jerseys with purple and black lettering, so it was easy to see when number 3 hit the game-winning three-pointer.

Now, as the same white jersey is stepping into the diner, all of the fans cheer and bang their cups and silverware to congratulate the MBC Cup National University Basketball Championship’s MVP for the win tonight.

Jungkook looks across the dining area, where he sees you kneeling on the countertop clapping your hands above your head. The uniform dress that you chose for tonight has risen higher up your thigh than normal—probably from the way you climbed up onto the counter—giving Jungkook a pretty good view of the skin leading up to what he’s sure are lace panties. He’s walked in on you changing one too many times to not know your preference.

He can’t look away from you; something about the sheer energy radiating off of you is magnetic, as if you’re lit from within, and before he knows it, he’s moving closer to you. Jungkook knows he can’t stand you personally, but physically? He’ll never admit this aloud—not since Taehyung almost told you the truth back in elementary school— but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

He doesn’t have much time to ponder your looks as you bring two fingers to your lips and let out a loud wolf whistle, setting you off balance with the action. Luckily he’s already been pulled into your orbit, because he catches you with two strong hands on your waist before you can fall off the counter.

“Thanks, Cooky!” you say, eyes alight and voice pleasant, as if you’ve forgotten who Jungkook is to you, and who you are to him.

“No problem, Baby Cakes.” Jungkook helps you climb down, and when you bend forward to place your palms on the counter to dismount, he sees his hypothesis on your panties is right. His eyes remain on your ass as you extend a leg to the floor, and despite the trouble the two of you got into before your shift, Jungkook can’t seem to care to remember why he shouldn’t be enjoying the view.

“Congrats, Suga!” Jungkook watches as you launch yourself into Yoongi’s arms, giving him a loud smooch on the cheek.

“Thanks, Cakes, that last shot was for you.” He winks, and Jungkook doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so affected, but he wants to blame it on those panties you unknowingly flashed for the irritation he feels toward his friend for flirting with you. She’s your enemy, Kook, get it the fuck together.

Jungkook stalks away, grabbing his bussing bin and rag so he can clean up the table of the group in line to pay.

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“Fuck you and your sorry-ass school!”

Jungkook turns his head to see you standing feet shoulder-width apart with your arms crossed, looking so much like the evil bitch he’s come to know. Only this time, it’s directed towards an EXO-U fan, by the looks of the silver and black shirt he’s sporting.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

You command the space well, and had the man been sober, he probably would have listened to you when you gave him the polite option to leave on his own two feet. As luck would have it, the man grew more belligerent with each passing moment, causing Jungkook to run and grab Yoongi from the back to help handle the situation. Jungkook doesn’t like what he’s hearing when he returns to the front.

“You dumb cunt, we don’t have to leave! Come over here, baby, suck my cock like you suck their players, bet that’s why they won, huh? Saw you all over their star player earlier, let me get a piece, bitch.”

Jungkook wants to lunge at the man, but Yoongi beats him to the table, effortlessly grabbing the man by his arm and neck to yank him from his booth seat.

Jungkook gets to his other side, helping the man walk towards the double glass doors as Yoongi mutters menacingly at the patron.

“Best not show your face around here again, if you know what’s good for you. Find another place to eat, and we won’t beat your ass.”

Yoongi lets go of the man once they clear the sidewalk into the parking lot, the man’s friends stumble out behind, but Jungkook shoves the man hard, and he falls to the ground. He feels no remorse for the man; he reminds him too much of the creeps his mom dealt with: stench of alcohol on their breath that grew with each vulgar word that rolled out of their mouths, animosity leeching from their greasy skin—Jungkook needs to wash his hands and splash his face.

Fleeing inside, he bypasses you cleaning up the mess the rowdy table left behind, unable to hear the words you say clearly enough to decipher them. He knows that it’s almost time to close up and he has a few tasks to do to help speed up the process, but he’ll get to them in a minute. He just needs a minute to shake off this feeling, and then he’ll be okay to do the final cleaning for the evening, and find out what you said.

You’ve always hated dealing with the championship game guests, but always loved being with the crowd because of the thrill and your love for the game. The shift wasn’t terrible work-wise, as Jungkook really pulled his weight throughout the shift, allowing you to be in charge as the hostess and main waitress, filling in where you needed and bussing tables as the guests rotated through the double doors.

And you can’t lie, when you almost lost your balance on the counter, it was kind of hot that he was there to catch you, and help you down safely. With his jawline that can cut glass and his warm hands sitting large on your hips, you were a little sad to have them drop away, but you hid your disappointment in congratulating Suga and then moved on with the shift.

Of course, such a perfectly good shift had to end with a douchebag. To your surprise, when you turn to look to Jungkook for help, he’s already approaching with Suga in tow. And damn your worst enemy if he doesn’t do the second hottest thing of the night, vanquishing the drunkard with the sailor’s mouth from your sight, his foul friends trailing behind.

You clear off the table, the half-eaten food discarded in the trash and you realize that it needs to be taken out now before the last of the tables are done. Jungkook speed walks past you, so you call out to him, “Cooky, take the trash out, please!”

You finish sweeping under the table, then wipe down the booth’s table as Suga also returns inside, pausing to check on you.

“Everything good, Cakes?”

You nod, placing a hand on your hip as you reflect on the incident. “Yeah, he was a real fuck boy, but you and Cooky saved me just in time.”

“Always…I’m surprised Cooky was so worked up when he called me from the kitchen. Usually you two are at each other’s throats, I would’ve thought he’d enjoy seeing you deal with a rude customer.”

“Well, we did get yelled at earlier by Jin for last night, so we promised to work together and drop whatever rivalry we have during working hours. So maybe that’s it.”

“Mmm…maybe. Well, let me go help Hobi, this last wave will keep us later if I don’t.” Yoongi takes a few steps to round the counter, then calls back out to you, “The trash is about to overflow, Cakes!”

Frowning, you notice that Jungkook has yet to return to take out the trash. Glancing around the room, you see most of the tables are in stages of eating or waiting for their food. They all seem well and distracted with clips from the post-game coverage, so you decide to take out the trash yourself. Maybe the truce between you and Jungkook isn’t as intact as you think.

Grumbling to yourself, you tie off the bag and lift it from the bin, foot angled to keep the wheels from sliding across the floor from the tug. You eye the replacement black bag, but decide to put it in once you return from the dumpster.

You hate taking out the trash; you love feminism but some tasks are just made for men. You refuse to use the loud trolley with the janky wheel, so you carry the bag gingerly, resting it down every few steps as you make your way across the sparsely lit back parking lot.

“Well, if it isn’t the bitch who didn’t let me finish my meal.”

You snap your head around, eyes roving for the source of the raspy words, finally landing on the douchebag discharged from the diner only 10 minutes ago.

“We didn’t charge you for it, so I suggest you leave before this turns into a real problem.” You keep your eyes on him, watching as he shifts around on his feet, inching closer to you. You hold your stance, refusing to look weak in case he decides you’d make a good target.

“Maybe if you come suck me off like a good girl, I won’t leave a bad review online about how much of a cunt you’re being. Matter of fact, throw in some pussy, let me fuck you properly and I bet all that attitude will drop. You just need someone to tame you.”

The man lunges for your left arm, his meaty fist closing around your wrist and you pull back to break the contact but he’s strong. You yell out, stumbling back away from the trash bag and he follows, heavy footfalls adding to the sounds of the evening.

“Let go, you freak!”

You jolt your arm, wrenching it in as many directions as you can to try and relax his grip but he pulls you closer to him until you can smell the ethanol on his breath as he places his other hand forcefully on your shoulder.

“I said I wanted you on your knees, stupid bitch,” he utters, and reflexively you punch him in his dick. He groans and releases you, hunching over in pain. You make out a figure stepping through the service door, and you call out for help. Attempting to step around the man, you only make it a few steps before you feel the weight of the man bearing down on you again.

“You stupid bitch!”

You try to run, but the man has the back of your dress in his grip so instead, your shoes scrape the asphalt in the same place repeatedly. A loud thwack of flesh on flesh sounds right before you’re released, dropping the short distance to the concrete. Your palms and knees feel the sting of the gravel but the relief of being out of the man’s hold overpowers any lingering pain as you scramble to your feet.

Behind you, Jungkook is pummeling the man in the face, and you pause for a moment in shock before you rush back to him, grabbing his bicep to stop him from swinging again.

“Cooky, stop, I’m okay! Jungkook!”

He freezes, turning to look at you as if to see if your statement is true, and seeing that you’re serious, he appears to deflate a bit, no longer an attacking watchdog but a protective knight, making sure his charge is unscathed.

“Let’s go.” He gestures for your hand and you place yours in his, letting him guide you away from the groaning sack of trash and the garbage bag on the ground.

The fluorescent lights of the break room are blinding after the darkness of outside. Vaguely you hear Jungkook yelling at the others working, followed by the clattering of kitchen items, but you’re so out of sorts you don’t even realize that Jungkook has maneuvered you into a chair and is gently checking your knees, palms, and arms. He brushes off the remaining dirt from your skin.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

His voice sounds pained, and this pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present with him.

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Where all did he touch you? It might not hurt now, but once the adrenaline dies off, you might feel it.”

“Um, my arm, my shoulder, I can’t…I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, let me check your neck…he grabbed your dress and pulled you, so I wanna make sure it won’t bruise.”

He takes your face in his hands delicately, tilting your head to expose your neck to his view. The proximity has your head spinning, his cologne enveloping you as he leans closer, a hand leaving your cheek to allow a finger to trail across your neckline. You know he’s just checking to make sure that there’s no lingering marks, but you don’t think that the after effects of tonight will be anything anyone can see. He grabs a glass of water for you, and you sit quietly while he tends to the minor cuts on your palms from the jagged gravel in the parking lot.

Time seems to pass as you’re deep in thought, but you’re not sure how much until Seokjin appears, his purple and white painted face replacing the doe eyes and clenched jaw. He looks frazzled, as if he just left an after-party for the championship and was pulled into work. You realize after a moment that that’s actually what happened, and chuckle at yourself. He says your real name, pulling you out of your laughter.

“I’m so sorry this happened, luckily Jungkook was there. I don’t know what I would've done if something happened to you.” Seokjin pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, squeezing him tighter as the feeling of being held feels good. He pulls away sooner than you like, but he continues talking to you about what’s been going on since you’ve been sitting in the employee lounge.

“Look, don’t worry about staying and cleaning up tonight, okay? We’ve got everything under control. Hobi called the cops and Yoongi made sure the guy didn’t flee before they came. He’s in their custody now.”

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, uncharacteristically using his given name.

“He’s giving his statement to the police now. They’ll want to talk to you too, but I can put it off for tonight if you need,” Seokjin offers kindly, but you want to get it over with.

“It’s okay, I’ll speak to them now.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll grab one of the detectives now and they can take your statement, and then I’m sending you home. Jungkook will drive you, okay? You’re still a bit shaky.”

You look down at your hands, seeing the tremble Seokjin is referencing and nod. There’s no use in putting up a fight. All of the men you work with have now proven that you’re safe with them. Seokjin walks over to the door, popping his head out to call for an officer, and he paces quietly as you recount what happened, starting with the attacker growing belligerent in the dining area. Once finished, Seokjin grabs Jungkook from where he’s talking with Yoongi outside the door, ushering him to take your belongings and get you home.

You follow along, compliant, waving goodbye to the others as Jungkook pulls off into the main road back towards campus.

“You live by BTS-U, right?”

“Yeah, at Omelas, next to the train tracks.”

Neither of you speak again until he parks, turning off the engine to his jeep.

“Here, let me help you.” Jungkook grabs your backpack and climbs out of the SUV, coming around to the passenger side door to open it for you. You jump out and lead the way to your first -floor apartment. Unlocking the door, you flip on the lights as you toe off your non-slip work shoes.

“My roommate is out of town visiting her parents this weekend.”

Dumping your purse onto the kitchen counter, you walk further into your home, Jungkook trailing you slowly. He kicks off his shoes, socks shuffling quietly along the carpet as he enters your living room after closing and securing the front door lock. He places your backpack on the couch, and the two of you stand there awkwardly.

“Um, do you want some water or something? I have juice, milk, beer…” you trail off, uncertain.

“Water is fine, thanks.”

You grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it with ice water to return the favor from earlier as you bolster your courage to thank him. You hand him the glass and before you can think too hard, you just start speaking.

“Jungkook, I just wanted to thank you, for coming out there and, you know, saving me. I know we don’t get along much, but you really came through and I appreciate it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, blinking up at you from where he’s sitting on your couch. He takes a long sip from the glass, and he seems uncertain if he wants to speak but does so anyway.

“It was nothing, really.”

“Why, um, why did you help me, I mean—I’m just saying, oh this is coming out wrong—”

“Look, I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with creeps like him. I’ve had to do it plenty for my mom, and I just don’t like to see anyone getting hurt, not even my arch nemesis.” Jungkook tries to joke it off at the end, but his tone reveals so much more to you about what he’s not saying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was like that for you back in high school.” You sit down next to him, closer than you normally would with your backpack taking up part of the seat, but you don’t mind it. You feel safer being closer to him.

“I mean, why would you know?” he asks, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip. “You have a perfect family, I’m sure nothing like this happened on the weekly at your place.”

“No, but like, my perfect family isn’t what everyone thinks it is, either. My parents didn’t pay attention to me, always busy working and what not. Honestly career day, back in like fifth grade was the only time one of my parents made it to something, and even then, it was so my dad could advertise his business. I felt so sheltered growing up, like I had no life skills. It’s why I work at the diner.”

Jungkook digests your words, understanding blooming through his chest.

“I get that. It’s funny, I remember that day so well, I was so jealous of you, because your dad showed up for you. I guess our dads are the same though…I think if I had grown up with my parents still together, I would’ve felt like you do. My dad kind of left me behind when he remarried, you know? In a way, that made me less sheltered, because when I was with my mom, I had to grow up fast. I couldn��t always have the nicest things because she couldn’t always afford them.”

“I didn’t realize that you had to split time between them. One of my friends, Jimin? He told me about how your dad wouldn’t let you take things back and forth between houses.”

“Why did he do that?” Jungkook looks a little scandalized, and you’re sure it’s because Jimin is one of his best friends. He’s the one who recommended that he apply to Jin’s Diner in the first place, and how you knew to warn Jin to not hire Jungkook, not that it worked. “I didn’t know you were close with Jimin!”

“We used to work together…you actually replaced him. It’s why we were hiring in the first place. But, he told me that because he was trying to get me to ease up on you one day. I was complaining about something and he was trying to make you more human, I guess.”

Jungkook just nods. You know he probably realizes there’s no reason to be mad, it was all in the past and Jimin was coming from a good place when he revealed that.

“Well, it’s true. My dad is kind of the worst. My mom saved up to get me some Dunks back in middle school because my dad couldn’t be bothered to take me back to school shopping. As if I didn’t grow a foot and 3 shoe sizes.”

“Oh fuck, you know, I’m sorry for making Nayeon spill her drink on your shoes. That was really evil of me.”

“We were like 13? 14? All middle school girls are evil.” Jungkook chuckles. You’re relieved at how gracious he’s being, but a little annoyed. You turn to him to say as much, but he continues to speak. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we went toe to toe like that. We probably would’ve been best friends if we had combined our smarts. You were really great during the Youth of the Year competition. I’m sorry that you didn’t win, I think you deserved to.”

Jungkook is looking back at you now, with his pretty doe eyes, sitting so close to you. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, instead focusing on his star-filled eyes and the way they’re staring into your own. His arm moves slowly, lifting to bring his hand to your face, curling a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“It’s getting pretty late now, I should get home,” he starts, but his eyes speak volumes and it doesn’t seem like he wants to leave just yet. “But there’s still one more thing I need to apologize for.”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to what incident it could be when his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, not too forceful but not shy either—just the right amount to let you know this isn’t a mistake. It takes you a few seconds to respond, but when you sense Jungkook about to move away you pull him in closer, keeping his lips where you can access them. It’s not enough though, so throwing caution to the wind, you straddle him as your tongue swipes for entry, pushing him further into the couch as you lean into his fit body. He groans at your boldness, large hands planted firmly on your ass as the kiss deepens. You feel dangerously high, lacking oxygen, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. He’s intoxicating.

His fingers tighten imperceptibly, and you know he, too, is at the end of his air, so you break apart, chest heaving as you stare at his lips, red and plump from the kiss.

“That was your…apology for? Or you were…apologizing for…kissing me?” you pant, trying to catch your breath.

“Both?” he says with a cute, bunny-like smile, “one, for hating you all these years, and two, for kissing you out of the blue.”

“And if I want you to apologize to me more?” you half-question, half-goad, and Jungkook gives the right answer, leaning into you once more so he can kiss you hard, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away.

“That’s something I can do.” Jungkook uses his strength to flip you onto your back on the couch, knocking your backpack out of the way and onto the floor. “Is this okay?” He searches your eyes for your consent to his hands on your thighs, fingertips skimming the hem of your dress.

You nod, and he trails them higher until he’s grasping the band of your panties and sliding them down without haste. You enjoy the commanding presence he takes on, unlike the people you deal with on a daily at work, indecisive with what to order, he knows exactly what he wants, and when Jungkook pushes up your dress and buries his face between your thighs, it takes everything in you not to climax right then. His tongue flits around your clit, teasing you as his hands massage your thighs while keeping them wide for him.

“Jungkook,” his name is a breathy whisper in the air as your fingers curl around his locks, tightening your grip when he flicks closer to where you need him. “Please.”

You wiggle your hips, searching for more friction from his tongue but he just pulls away, tutting his tongue at you for being bad. You sit up slightly to glare at him.

“Patience, baby.”

Whining, you lay back on the couch with a huff. “This is why we hated each other bac—oh, fuck me,” you finish with a moan as he flattens his tongue across your pussy and stimulates every nerve he can cover. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he begins to suck, gently flicking his tongue every few seconds as he positions two fingers at your dripping center. Delving inside of you, the plunge of his fingers reaches the ache inside of you, causing your legs to tremble as he fine-tunes your body like an instrument.

“Feels so good, mmph, fuck,” is all you can manage to say as he continues to pump his fingers, the squelching of your walls suctioning them back in with every tug out only making you wetter. Jungkook hums, and the thrumming sensation curls your toes. Arching your back, you tug his hair hard as you mewl loudly from the impending orgasm.

“You can do it, baby, cum for me,” Jungkook praises, “you’re doing so well, squeezing my fingers so tight, watch me.”

When his mouth once again finds its rhythm on your core, it takes just a few seconds of making eye contact with Jungkook, doe-eyes wide as he watches you enjoy his tongue, before you shiver and melt into the euphoria he’s bringing to your body.

“That’s it, fuck—you look so pretty, baby.”Body spent, you stare up at the ceiling blinking as you come back to earth. Jungkook tucks himself behind you, holding you in his arms. You look down at the arm over your waist, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his exposed full sleeve. You can feel his bulge, know that there’s so much more…apologizing you both need to do after years of being enemies, but you have all night for that. And in the morning, you don’t know what will happen, if there will be more to come after tonight, but what you do know is that at this moment you don’t hate Jungkook; not even a little bit, not even at all.

🍽️🍽️🍽️

thank you for reading!!!

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ratsarecute4 · 2 months

Text

Some Hatchetfield Headcanons

Richie had a Warrior Cats phase in elementary school

Ruth owns a pet chameleon named Yoda

Max thinks that Pizza Pete's is owned by Pete, and that is where he gets the money for his rich kid bowtie

Mayor Lauter pays Steph's allowance in cryptocurrency

There was a month where the Clivesdale Chemists and the Hatchetfield Nighthawks had an even higher amount of hatred for eachother than usual. The Chemists accused the Nighthawks of stealing their mascot (they didn’t, the kid just moved to Hatchetfield)

Because of the mascot stealing allegations, the Chemists decided to steal the Nighthawks mascot for ransom, but they let Richie go after an hour because he wouldn't stop explaining the plot of One Piece

The problematic puppy Steph got in a Twitter fight about was the cop dog from Paw Patrol

Ziggy owns a couple of pet snakes

The Smoke Club has a rule that you must wear at least one weed-patterned item of clothing to meetings or else you're out of the club

Ted is one of those guys whose bedroom has just a mattress on the floor and a TV sitting on a bunch of cardboard boxes

Also Ted gives big lives in his parents' basement vibes

Steph had a creepypasta phase

No one at CCRP ever knows what to get Paul for work holiday parties so now he owns a bunch of gifted mugs and he's starting to run out of cabinet space because he doesn't want to get rid of anything that was gifted to him

The Hatchetfield High theatre department has never payed for the rights to a play. The students don't know about this. Ms Mulberry is fully aware of how illegal that is but continues to do it anyway. Hatchetfield is a small town, they won't get caught. Also the theatre department has like no funding

Grace was a horse girl in elementary school and she used to eat grass

Charlotte sells DoTERRA essential oils on the side. Everyone at the office has tried to tell her its basically a pyramid scheme but she doesn't believe them

Miss Holloway was a famous rockstar in the 80s, but after she made a deal with the Lords in Black, her past existence was wiped from everyone's memories and no one ever listened to her songs again

Grace has OCD, specifically religious scrupulosity

Richie owns so many body pillows that he no longer has room for himself on his bed

Ruth and Sherman Young have beef with eachother from Ruth's middleschool My Little Pony phase

Kyle is autistic and I will die on this hill

Max's mom dissapeared after being crowned Honey Queen. She wanted the prize money to support her family because Max's father was layed off from his job

I just know Brenda and Stacy are super into astrology

Local teens describe Paul's aesthetic as "cardboardcore"

Ted has one of these tattoos. He doesn't remember getting it and it took him forever to notice because it is on his back. It is a miracle that it never got infected

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lizzyk137 · 6 months

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Genuis Vs Genuis: A Spencer Reid Story (Spencer X Reader)

Summary: Spencer and you have known each other academically since they were kids and never got off on the right foot. When you transfer over to the F.BI. behavioral unit from N.C.I.S., Spencer starts to not play nice. Warning: Angst, swearing, mentions of death/murder.

Part 2 on its way! Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

The day started off great. It was actually relaxing for Spencer. His files had been finished and no new cases had presented themselves in the last couple of days. So there he sat, coffee in hand as he watched the team fool around as he threw in a chuckle here and there. He was content.

It was all good till he heard the shrill of your voice calling his name out.

He turned away from the group to see you bounding over to him, enfulfing him into a hug before his brain could even register the what, why and how's of the situation.

The team snickered at the interaction, the newcomer's face bright and happy with the biggest grin while Spencer's was a face of horror.

He had no idea how you found him or why you were here but he wanted you gone.

"Spence! It's been so long! How have you been?" You asked, ignoring the physical cringe Spencer had given to you using his nickname.

He collected his thoughts and replied with a short but curt answer of fine, then went back to drinking his coffee like it was the only way it could get rid of you.

The smile you had on your face couldn't hide the hurt that you felt. You thought after years of not seeing each other and maturing into adults that Spencer would at least come around to being nice to you or at least be polite. But Spencer was still the Spencer you knew. Childish. Though you'd never say it outloud it was clearly present for all to see once they got to see the dynamic between you two.

You were academic rivals growing up. You never met each other until high school but growing up you saw your names in the paper or during award ceremonies. You were always fighting for the top spot even if it wasn't the intention. Both of you were the same, no matter how much Spencer fought it. Both having the same IQ (187, to which Spencer would claim that you can't accurately quantify intelligence), and you both had an eidetic memory along with being able to read 20,000 words per minutes. You were practically the female version of him.

He hated you though. During elementary school and middle school, he enjoyed the competition. It pushed him to be better, but when high school came, it just got annoying. He didn't fit in to begin with and with teachers and students comparing the both of you together, it was a blow to what little ego he had.

You both finally came face to face during an awards ceremony during your highschool years. He remembered it clearly. You coming up to him before the ceremony, introduced yourself and then acted like you both were best friends and stuck to him like glue throughout the whole thing. Both of your families cooing at the sight of the both of you, a giant grin on your face while he scowled.

Spencer and you had ended up going to the same college- Caltech. He never told you where he was going but somehow on the first day of school, you came running up to him so happy to see him. All throughout his college years he couldn't shake you. Always making the same friends, always inviting him places, showing up at the same places he was. It annoyed him to no ends. You even forced him to attend a house party where you both partook in too much alcohol causing a lapse of time where you both have no idea what happened. You could later recall waking up next to Spencer in bed, both of you had no clothes on while you struggled to wake him up and get changed as the cops busted up the place. To which Spencer still denies since he can't remember a thing.

Three years before joining the BAU, you disappeared out of his life, which he was beyond grateful for. At first it made him nervous cause you just disappeared without a word to him, but then he eventually put his thoughts elsewhere and the thought of you never arose in his mind until now.

"Everyone, this is Dr. Y/N Y/LN. She's from NCIS. She works as a forensic specialist there along with a field agent." Hotch spoke to the group before him as he watched them eye you. "She's been assigned to our team to get more of an understanding with profiling for their team back at NCIS. She'll be working on cases with us for the next couple of months."

You smiled and gave a little wave to the team, a few waving back and all of them but Spencer smiling up at you. Hotch gave a small squeeze on your shoulder then climbed the stairs to his office.

An older gentleman came up to you first, introducing himself as Rossi, then the rest of the team introduced themselves. Your profiling wasn't the greatest but you could tell they were curious to know what was going on between Spencer and yourself. Your lips were sealed for the time being though, you could tell Spencer still didn't care for you and for the sake of your learning and the work environment you decided it best not to bring up anything.

You knew Spencer didn't care for you. As much as you were alike academically, you were the opposite socially. Your parents brought you up letting you enjoy being a kid, having you socialize with kids your age even if you weren't in the same grade at school. They wanted normalcy in your life since school was the exact opposite. Growing up, you had always wanted to meet Spencer. You saw his pictures and had developed a little crush on him which only grew as you got older. You thought he would appreciate a friend who could understand him, so you put yourself out there, always trying to be friendly and be there for him. Have him experience things that people your age where doing or things that college kids would attend or do. Nothing pleased him though. You made friends only to find out that they were friends with him which only made him dislike you more. You tried to pull away from him because you could tell he wasn't fond of you, but the universe kept pushing you together.

The only thing that got you two apart was the Navy. You enlisted and past all their requirements and you were given the opportunity to help build communities back up in the Middle East with new housing and building's and eventually helping with creating medication for underdeveloped communities that were affordable along with equipment and weapons that could help serve the Navy. You were doing good, but your heart still yearned for Spencer, no matter who you tried to get to replace him. You came to love Spencer throughout your college years, while he came to resent you even more. You wanted to tell him you were leaving but he never came the night before your enlistment date. Leaving you stranded in the park at night with a broken heart.

You had started at NCIS five years ago, you were a forensic specialist working side by side with Abby. You were both Ying and Yang to each other, best friends but the polar opposite appearance wise which you loved. While she wore black, you wore white or pastels. She called you her angel which everyone adopted into becoming your nickname.

When Vance came to you with a chance to learn more about profiling from the BAU, you took it. You were good as a field agent and even better with a weapon. It hurt to leave your family, but Gibbs assured you that the team you were working with was great. Fornell vouched for them too, and you were excited to meet the team. As you entered the glass doors, you were surprised to see Spencer there sipping his coffee, his smile setting butterflies off in your stomach.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, you can call me Angel though! It's really nice to meet everyone."

"Angel?" Emily questioned, as she took a seat.

"Um, yeah, my team calls me it back home because I wear a lot of white." You gestured to your all while jumpsuit and blazer.

"And you're a forensic specialist and a field agent and you wear white?" Morgan asked as he eyed you, with a small smirk on his face.

"Yeah, it's my colour. Plus, I know enough not to get too dirty." You laughed. You rummaged through your bag, pulling out a picture of the team back home and showed it to the new team standing before you. "This is my family back home. The girl in all black is the other forensic specialist I work with."

Rossi chuckled. "I think she would get along with our Penelope. She's got quite the wardrobe."

"I met with her the other day, she's sweet."

The rest of the morning was spent with getting to know everyone, Spencer alone at his desk annoyance written all over him as he watched his team, his family, surround your desk laughing and having a good time.

Weeks have gone by and the atmosphere surrounding Spencer and you was staring to become sour more each day. You tried your hardest to work well with everyone and bring as much as you could to each case in order to solve it, but Spencer hated that. It felt like with each case, you were getting better at figuring out the clues that he could. Each case seemed to get easier for you as you made your way through the evidence and what you were profiling. Your knowledge in forensics came in useful, he had to admit, but the team started relying on you more than they did him.

Hotch at first had paired the two of you up after the team found out that you and Spencer had a few things in common in the genius department after you went all out on your first case together. Now Hotch was pairing you with Emily or Morgan, even Hotch himself, once they saw you use a firearm and take down two grown man bare handed. It took him years to be comfortable with his firearm and here you were leaving him in the dust. You never boasted your intelligence or not fit in unlike Spencer. It wasn't so much you as a person he didn't like but how much of a blow it was to him to not be able to compete with you.

Spencer watched you as you looked at the deceased couple on the table before you. Hotch had sent the both of you together, hoping Spencer would finally come to his senses and maybe even try to like you. The sexual tension between you the two of you was clear as day to everyone but the both of you. Spencer kept his feelings in check by acting like he disliked you while you were always nice to him but tended to pour yourself into work whenever he was nearby. As intelligent as the both of you were, you weren't geniuses in the feelings department.

"I think we should let Hotch know, what we found out." Your voice bringing Spencer out of his thoughts. He nodded his head as you dialed Hotch's number.

"How do you know so much about autopsies?" Spencer questioned once you were off the phone.

You shrugged as you hopped into the car. "I watched Ducky and Palmer do enough of them throughout the years, so I know a thing or two about them. Plus, I took a few courses on it too while I was with the Navy."

Spencer didn't say anything, just nodded his head as he buckled in.

A few days into the case with no leads, everyone was going a bit stir crazy as the team got no sleep. You came in that morning with muffins and donuts along with a few jugs of freshly brewed coffee unlike the imposter that called itself coffee in the precinct.

"Oh, how I love you, my sweet angel!" Emily said as you set down the jug of coffee in front of her. You chuckled at her remarks and blew her a kiss before you turned around to see Spencer looking at you in disgust. You quickly looked away and turned to Rossi on the other side of the conference room.

"Coffee and a donut?"

"Yes, please!" He said with a smile.

You looked down at the pictures of the deceased that was in his hand. "Are those the crime scene photos of the last couple? I saw the bodies after their autopsy but haven't seen much of the crime scene. Can I take a look?"

He nodded and handed the stack to you. You studied each one carefully before you got to the last photo, your eyes growing wise and you stood up, running over to Hotch, the team looking at you questioningly.

"Was this crime scene gone over with forensics yet?" You asked hurriedly, bouncing on your toes with excitement.

"Partily but it was mostly blood, so they didn't get anything."

You shoved the photo at him and pointed to the small smudge on the wall. "Did they see this?"

"What is it supposed to be?" Hotch asked, squinting at the photo trying to see what you were seeing.

"It looks like a possible print. We need to go back there and collect it."

You heard a sigh behind you then Spencer's hand reached out from behind you and grabbed the picture. "It looks like nothing but a speck on a blown-up picture. The forensics team covered the entire scene, they would have noticed it if it was anything." He looked at you with pure anger in his eyes that it made you lean away, hands shaking. "I don't know what they do at N.C.I.S, but our forensic team does things correctly."

You felt your body stiffen and your eyes slightly water. All you were able to do was given a curt nod and nudge your way around him, as you made your way to the front bullpen. You didn't need anything, but you had to get away from the environment. Spencer was starting to get to you, no matter how much training you had to stay composed, he was just able to break down your walls and make you feel so small. And with this frustrating case and over a month worth of him belittling you, you were finally breaking.

Running a hand through your hair, you sat at a computer to check the forensic findings, no fingerprints were found but you couldn't be too careful. You headed out of the precinct and took one of the SUVs to the crime scene. You arrived at the crime scene quickly and walked inside to find what you were looking for. And there it was, right where it was on the picture. A perfect fingerprint.

"I can't believe they missed that." Jenn said, as the team was finishing up the last of their paperwork on the case back at their home office a few days after the team took down another killer.

"She was just lucky." You heard Spencer mutter from behind you.

You took a deep breath in and started to stack your paperwork. The room cleared out besides Spencer and yourself. Hotch came down and stopped by your desk. "The paperwork is being processed and they'll get you transportation back to Quantico. You'll have to do exit paperwork tomorrow but take the rest of the day and the day after for yourself."

You smiled up at him, not before noticing Spencer was looking over at the two of you. "Thank you for everything, I've learned so much."

"No, thank you for all your help with the past cases. I look forward to working with you again." He held out his hand to you and you shook it before standing up and giving him a large hug, Spencer's eyes growing big at the affection you gave to Hotch. "Oh, and remember, dinner tomorrow night at Rossi's."

"Wouldn't miss it." With that said, Hotch smiled and walked away.

You started packing up the rest of your desk items then grabbed your jacket to head out, ignoring Spencer's watching you with curiosity. You nearly made it to the elevator before you heard your name being called out. You turned around to find Spencer standing only a few feet behind you.

"Can I help you?" You knew how it sounded, snappy and short, but you didn't care, you were finally done with Dr. Spencer Reid.

"Um..." He started to take a step forward but thought better of it. "You're leaving? You still have a few more months left here, though. Why are you leaving early?"

The elevator dinged behind you as it opened, and you took a step back into it. You couldn't help the short laugh that escaped your lips as you shook your head. At this point, you didn't care what answer came out because you would never be seeing Spencer again. Your breath shook as you breathed in as the doors started to close, Spencer worriedly looking at you. "Because of you, Dr. Reid."

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